Author Puff:
Hello readers, so I've sped up the development Hello everyone I Speed up but don't be surpris The development was far too boring for me and is important for building rapport, but I want to slowly start focusing on Fairy Tail and the world.
By the 6th day, I began to notice patterns. The way Porlyusica selected leaves, the way she tested roots. My small knowledge from Dad and Garron helped me anticipate her needs. I found a rare plant she needed and held it out.
She paused, inspecting it, then nodded sharply. "Good. You can carry these with care."
I realized then she wasn't telling me why she needed it. I didn't push. But a thought lingered at the back of my mind: perhaps this plant had a special purpose, important enough for her to be meticulous. Someday, maybe she would explain.
I carried the plant carefully, my muscles humming faintly with Massage Magic, steadying my grip. I didn't need to impress her with words. Actions mattered more.
Day 7– Subtle Trust
I arrived early again. Porlyusica was crouched in her usual spot. I moved carefully beside her, handling bundles and leaves with as little disturbance as possible. Today, I felt my Magic respond more noticeably to my own determination and hope—my heart pumping steady, calm, focused.
She glanced at me more often, observing without speaking. I could feel her watchfulness, her assessment, but it wasn't hostility. It was… measured. Calculating. Allowing me to be part of the work, but keeping the distance intact.
Small moments of connection emerged. She handed me a bundle and didn't snatch it back. I corrected a small mistake without prompting. Her eyes lingered longer than before. Ordinary as I was, I was beginning to matter in the rhythm of her work.
Day 8 – Preparation for Next Step
By the 8 day, I had learned enough to plan the next step. I knew the rhythm of her work, the plants she valued, the careful attention she paid to each selection. Tomorrow, I would propose a more concrete deal—my help for guidance.
Tonight, I knelt beside Dad, hands warm on his shoulders, Massage Magic humming softly. Not healing. Not curing. But steady, stabilizing. I thought of Miko and Taro, of the villagers struggling through their routines. Every little bit mattered. Every ordinary action counted.
I whispered quietly to myself: tomorrow, I would return. I would try, calmly, carefully, to show her that even an ordinary boy with subtle magic could make a difference.
The village felt wrong the moment I stepped outside.
Not loud. Not chaotic.
Just… slow.
Day 9
Doors opened later than usual. Footsteps dragged. People leaned against walls they never needed before. A cough echoed from somewhere down the street, sharp and dry, then faded again.
I didn't stop.
If I stopped looking, I might not keep walking.
Dad was still asleep when I left. His breathing was shallow, but steady enough that I could tell myself it would last a few more hours. I let that be enough.
For now.
The satchel rested light against my side as I followed the familiar path beyond the fields. My legs moved on their own, guided by routine and urgency more than thought.
Beneath my skin, the faint vibration was already there.
Not stronger than usual. Just… present. Like my body understood what today meant before my mind fully caught up.
She was already in the clearing.
Of course she was.
Porlyusica crouched among the herbs, pink hair catching the morning light, hands moving with the same sharp precision I had watched for days. No wasted motion. No hesitation.
I slowed my steps, letting her notice me instead of announcing myself.
She did. Immediately.
"You're earlier than usual," she said without looking up.
"I couldn't sleep," I answered.
That earned me a brief glance. Not concern. Just confirmation.
We worked for a while without speaking.
I handed her what she indicated, kept the bundles sorted, adjusted when she clicked her tongue in irritation. Eight days of this had taught me when to move and when to stay still.
But today, my focus kept slipping.
Not from the plants.
From the village.
From Dad's pale face. From Miko's shaking hands. From the way Taro had needed help just to sit up yesterday.
Porlyusica straightened suddenly.
"You're distracted," she said.
I didn't deny it.
I tightened my fingers around the strap of my satchel. "I need to talk to you."
She turned toward me fully this time, arms crossing. "Then speak."
I took a breath. Just one.
If I hesitated now, I wouldn't get another chance.
"I can't just help you gather plants anymore," I said. "Not only that."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't interrupt.
"My father is barely holding on," I continued. "My friends don't leave their beds. The village is running out of time."
"I know," she said flatly.
The words hit harder than I expected.
"…You do?"
"I'm not blind," she replied. "And I didn't come here for scenery."
She turned away, plucking one last leaf before standing.
"You've been wondering why I didn't start treating them immediately," she said. "Haven't you?"
I nodded.
"Because rushing without preparation kills people," she said. "And half-finished medicine is worse than none."
Her gaze shifted back to me, sharp and assessing.
I stepped forward.
"Then let me help properly," I said. "Not just carrying. Not just watching."
She waited.
"I want a deal," I said. "I help you however you need. And in return… you help me make the medicine. Now."
Silence stretched.
The vibration beneath my skin grew warmer, steadier. Not power—never power. Just the feeling that my body was bracing itself, like it always did when I refused to back down.
"You're seven," Porlyusica said.
"I know."
"You don't have proper training."
"I know."
"You can't brew medicine alone."
"I know," I said quietly. "That's why I need you."
She studied me for a long moment, then turned toward the forest.
"Describe it," she said.
I blinked. "Describe…?"
"The plant you mentioned before."
My heartbeat skipped.
"Thin stem," I said carefully. "Dark green leaves. Silver veins in the shade. It grows where the ground stays damp but not flooded."
She stopped walking.
"…Continue."
"It wilts fast once picked," I added. "But if dried the same day, it keeps its effect longer."
Porlyusica clicked her tongue.
"You've seen it."
"Yes."
"You didn't touch it."
"No."
That mattered.
She exhaled slowly, then shook her head.
"That plant isn't meant for villagers," she said. "Used wrong, it makes things worse."
"I won't touch it unless you tell me to," I said immediately.
Another pause.
Then—
"Fine."
The word landed heavier than any shout.
"I'll help you make the medicine," she said. "All of it. Today."
My hands clenched at my sides.
"But you follow my instructions exactly," she added. "No guessing. No rushing. One mistake, and we stop."
I nodded. Hard.
"I understand."
We moved immediately.
Faster now. Focused.
She pointed, I moved. She corrected me once—only once—when my hand hovered over the wrong root. After that, she let me work.
By midday, the village came into view again.
She didn't stop at one house.
She stopped at all of them.
I carried water until my arms burned. Ground herbs until my hands shook. Kept fires steady while she adjusted mixtures with practiced precision.
The vibration beneath my skin stayed constant, gentle but supportive, helping me push through the exhaustion.
By evening, the medicine was ready.
By night, the coughing had softened.
Dad slept deeper than he had in days.
Porlyusica washed her hands and paused at the door.
"They'll live," she said. "This time."
I bowed deeply. "Thank you."
She scoffed. "Don't."
Then, quieter—
"…You did well today."
For a moment, that was enough.
Outside, Date Village finally exhaled.
And standing there, hands aching, body trembling with exhaustion, I knew one thing clearly:
This wasn't the end.
It was the first real step.