The elderly Grandmaster sitting atop the guild hall had seen the sun rise many times over the city. There had been dawns that were bright and cheery, somehow full of camaraderie and hope. There had been dawns that were foreboding, with black clouds on the horizon, speaking of despair and oppression. The Grandmaster missed both of those dawns. One reminded him of what he had to fight for, while the other reminded him of all that was out there for him to fight against. In recent years, however...
The old man sighed. The flaming ball in the sky no longer spoke to him as it once did. While he had gained both age and skill, it seemed to him that many of his companions had gained merely age. As his power grew, and grew, and grew yet more, he left his friends in the dust, facing men, gods, and gods among men, destroying them all. Nothing could stand against him for long, and eventually, nothing dared to try. A devastating realization for a man who lived only to fight.
He had decided, after that life-changing epiphany, to try and teach others how to reach his level of skill. He trained boisterous teens, eager children, and even the occasional willing adult. None, however, could attain what the Grandmaster could. Not a one could defeat their teacher. Not a one came close. It seemed more and more to him that what he had learned could not be taught. It could, perhaps, be won, but he had yet to face someone capable of taking that prize. He rarely left his guild hall anymore, so many students had he taken on. None had any hope of being The One.
Wind stirred. A threadbare old scarf, wrapped tightly around the Grandmaster's neck, ruffled up into his face for a moment before settling again. He hummed softly to himself, turning his thoughts once again towards the sunset. It seemed to him...at best, an average dawn. Nothing noteworthy. The sun was rising in the east, as it always did. A few clouds scattered about added accents of color, though not in any spectacular fashion.
He wished for his younger days. Full of passion and fire, somehow finding a way to defeat the next evil villain. There had always been a seemingly insurmountable antagonist then. Schemes, plots, and plans that would lead to the world's demise were up to him (and his friends) to dismantle. Now, he felt his greatest nemesis was himself.
He could not beat himself. He had no schemes, no plots, no plans. He could not overthrow himself. Yet that was all he wished for. He had lived his life fighting, but could not find a way to die fighting. He certainly had no desire to die in the guild hall, surrounded by his trainees. Some might find that satisfying. The Grandmaster would rather die how he had spent his life: fighting for it.
This city could not provide such an honorable death. His reputation alone kept any possible challengers far away. There may be perks to being notoriously difficult to defeat, but the Grandmaster counted them few and far between.
Perhaps it was time to leave it behind, the old man mused. He was only wasting what time he had left staying in the city. It was a nostalgic place for him, to be sure, but even that was wearing down. He had nothing left, to keep him. His guild would thrive just fine without him, as there was no shortage of capable leaders in its ranks. Could he leave it behind? Could he?
Nothing...
Nothing...
Nothing...
The Grandmaster straightened, then stood. His decision was made.
Tomorrow, Magnolia will have seen the last of Grandmaster Natsu Dragneel, leader of Fairy Tail.
A/N: Just an idea I had a while ago. Natsu doesn't seem like the kind of person who would want to die in his bed.
Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and Natsu belong to Hiro Mashima, and not this lowly author.
