There are several things that make the world spin
There is love; there is camaraderie; there is money
But then there is hate
And more than you'd care to know
Hate is the source of everything
I look up at the full moon. It's always been a source of interest for me, how things can exist beyond our petty little world, though in all honesty I much prefer the Sun, even though fire and I have never been the greatest of allies. Fire is the reason that I live in Magnolia, a mere blot on its populace, nothing more than an erroneous mark on its people. I don't get a job; I don't join a Guild; I don't make friends; I don't make myself a home. I exist only because I have to, a hallmark of my kind in its entirety.
It isn't that I feel guilty for what's happened - I stopped feeling guilt long ago, at the same time losing the last of my humanity - but that I despise the arrogant, loathing world that we exist in. A world where magic, the gift that humans have been granted out of a serendipitous quirk of fate, is used as weaponry against one-another. Everybody is a human, so why nitpick the minor differences? The fact of the matter is that the same blood runs through everyone's veins, and the same hearts beat in everyone's chest; somehow, the ignorance overrules, and the world falls into the disarray that it is.
It's sitting there, contemplating ubiquitous matters, that I have an epiphany, a strike of lightning knowledge that I haven't seen before: I'm hungry as shit. It confounds me how I can miss trivial things like that at times; though my father always said that I have a diode of a mind. I prepare to go scavenging stray-animal style when I notice a second thing: a very sweet scent permeates the air, one completely different of the running rivers and vestiges of productivity. This scent is more like flowers and of paper ink. I don't have the time to turn before a cold blade presses against my windpipe.
"Would you bet a thousand Jewel I won't drive this knife in?" she says. It has to be a she, that or a very effeminate male.
"I would, actually."
The knife digs further into my throat; a bead of blood stains its shining surface. "Why's that?"
"Because, firstly, you do not smell of blood or metal, which means that this is a first for you, and a very haphazard first at that, and secondly, these are the soft hands of an aristocrat, and if that is so - which I do not doubt - then you would rather hire someone to do away with me than sully your little hands."
The knife disappears, whistling as it cut through the air in her haste. Then she plops down on the eaves next to me. "Well, you're almost right," she sighs tiredly. "I'm no aristocrat anymore. And I was just trying something; obviously, I'm not a very frightening Mage."
That was a point I was going to bring up, because I could smell Celestial Keys on her. I turned; she was young, seventeen or eighteen, with a thin figure and soft blonde locks. She reminded me somewhat of an old friend. Grandine. "I don't like company," I say, and begin to slide down the eaves when she grabs me by my cloak, pulling me back up.
"But I'm lonely," she whines. I grimace.
"Then go home." Once more, she stops me from leaving.
"I can't..." She pauses, looking at her boots. "I'm sorry, but I can't. Being at home is the same as being alone. But you're some sort of company."
"Bad company," I correct. "Being with me is just going to cause you trouble, lady."
"I don't believe you."
I settle back on the eaves. "Do you believe in stories?"
"Yes," she says without hesitation.
"They tell stories about dragons, how they're the only beings alive that, instead of manipulation the etherion in the air, pull infinite magic from the One Magic."
"I've heard them," she says with low conviction.
"Well, what would you say if I told you that I'm one of them - no, that I'm the last of them?"
"I'd say your pink hair dye is leeching your IQ points," she says, basically giving me a vocabulary-punch to the gut. I fight back the instinct to recoil at the mention of my very natural salmon hair.
"Alright, then." This time, I manage to Magnolia's dirt pathway. "I'll be seeing you then."
"Wait!" she calls, chasing after me as I take loping strides, strides that have to be matched by a wild sprint on her part. She catches me by the wrist. "Just because I don't believe your made-up story?"
"Precisely, because I'm not lying." I don't know if it's my serious tone, or the fact that I'm still walking very fast, but she relinquishes her grip. "Maybe I just am that rare and I want to stay that way."
"What?" she asks.
"I'm a dragon, damn you!" I say, momentarily not caring about who hears. "Does that not make sense? Do you not speak English?"
She looks very distraught, momentarily dredging up the sandy wisps of memories I've long since tried to trample and shove into the forgotten crevices of my mind. I see fire, hot and red and destructive and painful, fire licking at everything I care about, laughing as it gulped down the bits of my past and plaintively razing over the few remainders of it. I stagger away from her, now as overwhelmed as she is. "I'm cursed," I whisper. "Cursed with death. Any friends I make, the slightest camaraderie I spread, is repaid with death on their part. You see? I can't join a Guild."
"I don't believe you."
I can't help it - I laugh at her. How stubborn and adamant she is! "Why? Why the hell can't you?"
"Because just by looking at you - looking in your eyes - I can tell you're a good guy, and you're lonely."
I stop moving. "What are you, a freakin' psychic? A bad one, too, because you're obviously getting horrible reception."
She puts her hands on my chest, pressing me against a wall. I have nowhere else to go. "No... I'm very sure," she presses, her soft eyes hardening with assurance. She's a persistent little princess, I'll admit. "Who cursed you?"
"What?" It's my turn to be stupefied.
"Who cursed you, I said? Do you not speak English?" she mocks, irritating me to a slight degree.
"It's of no importance for you to know." I gently grab her arms - she is smaller than I, and my strength is probably three times her own - and pull her hands away. She huffs and presses them against my chest again angrily, trying to back me into a corner. "Are you serious?" I sigh.
"Very. I won't let you go until you tell me."
I correct myself: she's a persistent little bitch. "You're aware that I'm much stronger than you are?"
"I don't care."
I roll my eyes and grab her around the waist, hefting her over my shoulder like a regular bundle. She yells and punches my back to little effect. Initially, I try to drop her a few feet away, but her thrashing boots land a kick a little too low and I stumble. She slips from my grip and falls noisily into the river. I wait a few seconds; she come up spluttering and gasping. While she attempts to climb to the bank I run ahead, leaving her behind as I made a roundabout way through Magnolia, tearing down the streets I am so used to but despise. Despise because I always tread them alone, without the warm tinge of friendship that brightens even the murkiest outlooks. I do not have that. I have nothing.
When I'm in one of the shadier portions of Magnolia, content I've lost her, I fall against one of the dilapidated buildings, panting for breath. I've run farther than I intended; even my body has limits. I slide to the ground, pleased knowing that she can't have followed me. Grown men struggle to match my running pace, and she's just a teenager. There's no change-
"I caught you!"
She scares the shit out of me. I literally blinked and she was standing in front of me, hands on her hips, a coy smile on her face. I fall flat on my back out of surprise. "H-How the hell?" I ask, gathering my wits. She turns to the side.
"Thanks, Virgo," she says to a pink-haired woman in maid's clothes. She bows respectfully. She smells like a Spirit.
"There is no punishment today, Princess?" she asks.
"Punishment?" I ask. She flushes terribly.
"Gate closed!" she announces petulantly, and Virgo the maid disappears.
"Damn it," I say. "You're like a bad itch - can't get rid of you."
"It's because I know you're being stubborn," she says.
"Me?" Ain't that ironic?
"Yes, you. Even if you don't want to admit it, you want a friend. I know what it's like to be lonely without another soul to be with you, and I don't want you to feel like that. You understand?" She looks very sincere, which surprises me a bit. I don't recognize humans for their sincerity.
"I don't want your charity."
"But it's not charity. I really do want to be friends."
She smiles, and something in my heart pulls. Damn it - way too sincere. I'm actually starting to get convinced to become friends with her...
"Fire!" someone in the distance screams. I look up and a sinking feeling fills my body. The horizon is starting to turn orange.
"I'm sorry," I say hurriedly, "but I have to leave!"
She follows my eyes, shocked. "That's... That's my apartment! The landlady was sleeping there! I have to check on her!" She pulls out a golden Key. "Open, Gate of the Lion! Loke, come help!"
A flash of golden stars blind me for a minute; when my vision returns I see a spiky-hair man in an immaculate suit and azure glasses. He spots the fire and jumps into action. "What to do?" he asks her.
"Take me to my apartment! Fast!" she yells. He scoops her in his arms and starts running at twice my fastest speed, and I'm out of breath to begin with (and still hungry), and even as I start running fast, terror shackles my legs, weighing them down.
"Wendy!" I shouted, pushing aside the smoldering remains of a tree. Again, I couldn't see her. The acrid taste of smoke filled the air, blocking her scent, and my hearing was muffled by the crackle of flames. I whirled around, frantic, but the only thing I could see were forest trees burning like matchsticks. Because of me, the forest was alight and my friends were in danger.
"Natsu-san," a weak cry came. I barreled through the blackened trunks like a bull, using my arms to cushion the blows. Finally, I spotted a bit of blue lying on the ground. I took a deep breath, inhaling the flames within a five-feet radius, even though I was already too full from initially trying to quell the wildfire. The area around us dulled to sooty grey and black. Wendy was lying on the ground, her pale skin streaked with ash, her usually vibrant eyes dulled. "Natsu-san..." She couldn't even manage a smile. I grabbed her as gently as possible, lifting her by the shoulders.
"Wendy, keep your eyes open," I ordered, lifting her in my arms. "I'll get you out of here. I promise."
She reached up, her small hand trembling as it grasped my shirt. "I...I'm sorry, Natsu-san. I couldn't...kill...the fire..."
Tears threatened to spill from my eyes as I charged through the forest. "Wendy, don't talk. Don't talk. Please. It's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay..."
I knew, however, that it wouldn't be okay. What I thought was ash was really her skin, burnt to charcoal. With all those burns she wouldn't possibly be okay, but I wasn't going to say it. Not to her, who hasn't made a friend outside of me, Gajeel and that little Exceed, as she called it. I couldn't say it.
"Damn it!" I shouted, kicking down a large tree obscuring my way. "It's the damn curse! Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
I kept saying that until the smoke finally got to me. I couldn't see a damn thing anymore, and my lungs were getting sore from inhaling it so much, on top of the excess fire I consumed. Even though I had Wendy (who had probably passed while I was running, I don't know) I failed her, and myself.
The street is a streak of fire blazing through the night. People huddle in five-person groups near the river, whispering furiously in wait for a Water Mage or something to come by. I catch one woman saying "I'm sorry-I just left the pot on too long-I didn't mean for it to catch on-I don't even know how it happen-" but I ignore it. Through the fire I smell her and that lion, Loke, in a flaming two-floor apartment. I brace my feet and jump, aiming at a window with a minimum amount of fire. Instead, my head crashes against the glass maladroitly. I would've blacked out and fallen back to the street if a hand hadn't shot out and grabbed me, yanking me inside. I landed flat on my back, now breathless in the smoke-filled room. Loke looks at me gratingly.
"Lion," I say, beginning to thank him, but he puts his hand on my mouth, shushing me.
"You have to go help her," he orders. "This is your fault."
My fault. My fault. The words spin in my mind, making me feel more lightheaded than the smoke. I hardly process what he says next; he decks me in the jaw once, not very hard but hard enough to snap me back to reality. "What did I do?" I ask, still out of it.
"Your curse. I know about it," he says, but he actually looks a little sorry for me. Pity is something I don't need - that is, unless it's from that girl. "Look, I don't really care. You have to help her - she got caught on the first floor, and for some reason, my magic is faulty in here. I couldn't help her even if I managed past all this fire." Yeah, he says that with that manicured, spotless suit of his.
"I would've done it anyway."
"I'm sure you would've, Natsu Dragneel."
I don't have enough time to ask how he knows my name; I charge through the fire, using it to satiate my hunger as I throw burning debris from my path like a madman. Somewhere along the way my cloak can't take the heat anymore and blows into golden flames; I toss it away, leaving my vest and canvas pants that I picked up at some dingy store. I find the stairs, except their crumbling like dirt, and I don't realize it until I actually put my foot on the second one and it falls apart, causing me to fall headfirst to the ground. Good thing I have a hard head.
"Hey-!" I hear her weak shout a little further up, past the train wreck of bunched furniture that is the front door. I kick away fallen beams, burned furniture, and crumbling walls until I find her on her hands and knees, an unconscious lady (presumably the landlady) with a small gash on the forehead lying beneath her. I suck in a sharp breath; she protected her, all right. There's a sharp spike of wool sticking into her shoulder blade and out the other end of her chest, dripping rapidly-drying blood on the burning floor. She sees me and smiles. "What took you so long?" she asks.
"Please," I urge, though I'm not sure to who. "Don't do this to me again. Not again."
Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. Carefully - the same way I held Wendy - I take her into my arms. She doesn't protest at all; she simply watches me with her soft eyes. I hold her carefully with one arm and get the landlady with the other, turning my back to the burning wall. "Try to hold on," I say, then I bring my foot forward and throw it back with all my strength, smashing it into the already fragile wall. Chunks of plaster smash into my back instead of hitting the two and I immediately feel the night's air on my skin. I turn to the opening I created and walk through it and to the front of the building. The crowds look up as I set her and the landlady down; a couple of Healing Mages come over to tend to the lady, but one, a woman with minty-green hair, shakes her head at the girl.
"I'm sorry," she says, looking at the spike still sticking from Lucy's chest. I grab it, frustrated, and pull it free. Blood stains our skin but she hardly reacts. Damn it all. "Do you know her?"
"I wish," I say as the Mage turns back to the crowd. The wound is a long slit from her collarbone to right breast; I put her hand over it, a weak attempt at hiding it. Her eyes are still open, staring at the night sky. I reach my hand out, putting them over her eyelids, when suddenly her hand flashes out, unhindered, very spryly too, unlike a dying person's, and grabs my wrist. Her heartbeat, a sound I haven't heard in a while, thunders in my ears, and her chest, previously still, jumps with a sudden breath.
"What are you doing?" she asks, her voice clear as day. I open my mouth and close it again, over and over, flabbergasted. Then I look down, and what I see completely shocks me. The wound is gone, a simple pink scar on her pale skin.
What the fuck?