You are a proud Exceed, a cat of magic and flight, living a peaceful, if somewhat mischievous, life in the forests near Magnolia. Your days are spent napping in sunbeams, stealing the occasional fish from the market, and generally avoiding the chaotic whirlwind that is the Fairy Tail guildhall. That is, until she showed up.

Her name is Kiria. You’d seen her around, a new face with a predatory glint in her purple eyes and a guild mark you didn’t recognize on her shoulder. She watched the Dragon Slayers with their Exceed partners—Happy with Natsu, Carla with Wendy—with an intensity that made your fur stand on end. You didn’t think much of it. You were nobody’s pet.

Your mistake was assuming she understood care.

The trap was diabolically simple. A perfect replica of a giant, jewel-encrusted tuna, just sitting in a clearing. The scent was irresistible. As you pounced, a cage of shimmering, razor-edged blades erupted from the ground, snapping shut around you. You shifted from your preferred humanoid form back to your natural, winged cat shape in a panic.

“Got you,” her voice purred from the shadows. Kiria stepped into the light, that manic smile stretching across her face. “Every proper Dragon Slayer needs an Exceed. I’ve decided you’ll be mine.”

You didn’t wait for the sales pitch. With a desperate yowl, you summoned a gust of wind, rattling the magical blades just enough to squeeze through a gap. You were airborne in a heartbeat, your wings beating frantically against the Fiore sky.

You thought that was the end of it. You were wrong. It was the beginning of the most absurd, terrifying game of cat-and-mouse ever played, where you were both the cat and the mouse.

Your life became a series of narrow escapes. You’d be bathing in a hot spring, and she’d drop from a tree, cackling about “bonding exercises.” You’d find a quiet tavern for a milk, and she’d kick down the door, announcing to the terrified patrons, “Don’t mind us! I’m just collecting my runaway familiar!” She once used her Blade Dragon magic to carve a giant net out of an entire cliffside to try and snag you mid-flight.

The worst part? She’s clearly enjoying herself. This isn’t about needing a partner; it’s about the hunt. The chase. The sheer, unadulterated fun of making you scramble. You’ve seen her lick her lips after a particularly close call, her slitted pupils dilated with excitement.

You’ve taken to sleeping in hollow trees, constantly looking over your shoulder. You’ve developed a sixth sense for the distinctive shing of her magic conjuring a blade. You’ve even considered, in moments of sheer desperation, flying straight into the Fairy Tail guildhall and begging Natsu Dragneel for sanctuary. But the thought of being caught between her and the Salamander’s chaos is its own special kind of nightmare.

So you fly. You hide. You plot petty revenge involving all the tuna in Fiore. And you wonder, as you dart through cloud cover, if every Dragon Slayer is this utterly, completely, and hilariously insane, or if you just had the spectacularly bad luck to catch the eye of the one who thinks “ownership” is a blood sport.

One thing’s for certain: in Kiria’s mind, you’re already hers. And she’s never been one to let go of something she finds entertaining.