one—here, it begins

Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived with a dragon.

There was an old man the size of a flea staring at him.

Natsu blinked and spoke up.

"Who are you?"

Which he immediately regretted, because it seemed his throat and body were having a violent war with each other, and those three words gave him a terrible coughing fit.

"I probably should have told you not to speak." The old man smiled slightly, and if Natsu's eyes hadn't already been squinted, he would've glared. As it were, he rested a gnarled hand between Natsu's shoulder blades, helping him until he could finally take a deep breath again. Natsu scrubbed at his moist eyes and looked up to see him holding out a glass of water. "Slowly," he warned when Natsu snatched it. It took way more self-control than he thought he had, but he paced himself as he drained the cup.

"Who…are you?" Natsu repeated, his voice breaking on each word. He grinned and folded one hand across his knee, the other draped over a smiley-faced wooden staff.

"Makarov, but most of my brats call me Gramps."

"Mm…" He craned his neck to look around. He was in an off-white painted room on a plain bed, and a window to his left looked off towards the tops of a lot of tall buildings. The place had a weird scent, clean if he had to describe it as anything, and beyond the closed door, voices and mechanical noises abounded. "I'm still in Magnolia?"

"Yup."

"But where…why…" He pressed a hand to his forehead as a wave of vertigo went over him. He fell back onto the pillow with a long sigh. "Ah… I feel like I ran laps around Igneel all day…" Makarov raised a bushy brow.

"Igneel… That's an odd name."

"Not for a dragon."

"Hm… So, you know a dragon."

"You can laugh, it's fine." His tone said otherwise, and he turned and buried his face in the pillow, muffling his voice. "Everyone else does."

Makarov indeed laughed, but it wasn't at Natsu's expense. "I've seen crazier things in my life. If you say you know a dragon, I believe you."

"Stop lying."

"I believe you." The shift in his tone caused Natsu to sit upright again, giving him a headache at the sudden movement. His eyes were wide and his heart was loud in his own ears.

"Nobody believes me," he said just to confirm. Makarov smiled with a familiar fatherly warmth.

"Well, call me the first."

"I…" He closed his eyes for a second, swallowed, then looked at Makarov with a grin so wide it hurt. "I'm Natsu."

Natsu didn't see Makarov again until the next day. By that time, he had learned a lot more of his situation. He was in a place called a "hospital," where sick and injured people go in the cities. He was found near Makarov's "Guild" (the word sounded familiar, maybe Igneel explained it once when he wasn't paying attention) almost a day before he woke up, dehydrated and starving. Truth be told, he couldn't remember the last time he stopped to rest between journeys.

"So, Natsu." Makarov sat by the bed again as Natsu wolfed down the hospital's food. It was some kind of stew, not fresh caught meat, but he hadn't eaten in so long it tasted amazing. "The nurse said you caused her some trouble."

"She jus' came in an' started grabbin' me," he said, swallowing.

"She was taking your vitals. That's what nurses do." Then he inclined his head. "You said Igneel was a dragon. You didn't happen to be raised by him too?"

"Yup!" he said with a wide grin, then he frowned. "I haven't seen Igneel in a long time though, which is why I went looking for him. Although I don't know much about cities… I got lost a lot, and people aren't big on handing out food without work, and they 'don't wanna give a dumb kid like me a job so's I can break stuff,' and when they see how strong I am, they get scared and back off." He pouted at the memory while Makarov hummed curiously.

"Well, I assume that being raised by a dragon means you have Dragon Slayer Magic."

"'course!" He set down the empty bowl and lit his fists on fire. "Wanna see? Igneel taught me this one. Fire Dragon's Iron—"

"Let's save that show for later," Makarov interrupted, pushing Natsu's fist aside as he prepared to hit the bed. "You shouldn't give the nurses even more grey hairs." He pouted and extinguished the flames. "You do possess a lot of magic power, I see," he added, stroking his moustache. "Maybe as much as Gray."

"Who?"

"One of my brats, you see. A member of my Guild."

"What's a Guild anyway, old man?" He cocked his head to the side curiously as Makarov grinned.

"On paper, it's a place where wizards gather to get work. In person, though, it's an entirely different story, one I can't put into words. I can take you there when you're released, if you'd like."

"Nah." He shook his head. "I hafta find Igneel—that's more important."

"Is that what you were doing before?" He nodded and picked up the glass of water. "How long have you been looking?"

"Dunno. A few months? A year? I'm not good with time." Makarov made a funny face at that. Natsu wasn't too good at reading people's faces either. Better than he was when Igneel left, sure, but still not the best. People were just so…complicated compared to dragons.

"When I found you, you were starved and dehydrated. Did that happen often?" Natsu shrugged a shoulder.

"Happened enough that I didn't notice it until I'd blacked out." Makarov's look turned even funnier.

"And that doesn't concern you in the slightest?" About to take a sip of water, Natsu glowered and set the glass down.

"I just gotta find Igneel, alright? Everything'll be fine then."

"But if you die before then," he interjected, raising a finger and giving Natsu a familiarly stern look. So familiar, in fact, that his lips tightened into a frown and he lost his words for a moment.

"…You're a real pain, old man."

"I've been told." His face lightened and he gave a blithe chuckle that served in making Natsu even more annoyed. He grabbed the glass and quickly chugged the water, slamming it down again with enough force to crack it at the base. "You have a dragon's temper, that's for sure."

"You're asking too many questions."

"I'm only concerned." He lost his words again and stared hard at his fists in his lap. Then Makarov's weary sigh caught his attention, and he looked up to see the old man cracking his neck and yawning in an exaggerated fashion. "Sure is boring in here, don't you think?"

"Don't have to tell me twice."

"And I don't suppose you've gotten to exercise your magic against an opponent in a while." Natsu's interest was fully piqued, and he leaned forward with narrowed eyes.

"You're not saying…"

"Indeed." Makarov grinned. "I think they'll allow a quick spar, since you're nearly back in good condi—" But Natsu had already stopped listening, and he was standing on the bed and pulling the needles from his arm. The machines let out an even more ear-piercing noise when he did so, and Makarov held his hands up to wait, but it was no use: he was already excited.

"You're gonna regret challenging a dragon, old man!" The same nurse from earlier appeared in the doorway, frazzled and out of breath, as he shouted, "Fire Dragon's Iron Fist!"

Makarov didn't seem to move at first, still warning Natsu against it, but suddenly his fist collided with a much larger and sturdier one, then he was lifted and slammed into the wall. Natsu blinked the stars from his eyes to see Makarov's arm and hand had grown to gigantic proportions. He grinned and laughed maniacally as he pulled at the man's fingers to no avail. "So you have some good magic after all, Gramps!" he said with stars in his eyes.

"I've already warned you about you and your wizards' fights, Mr. Dreyar!" the nurse huffed at him, earning a repentant laugh.

"Sorry, sorry…"

A few minutes later, after Natsu had the needles replaced and both ears talked off, Makarov politely bashed his brains in with his staff. "Ow, you crazy—!" he complained, rubbing the bruise on his scalp.

"Listen to an old man's advice, brat. This isn't a place for fighting." Natsu growled at him, which he went on to ignore. "You don't know much about how things work out here, do you?"

"Old man—"

"I'm saying this with good intentions, Natsu. I believe your dragon taught you much about the world, but hearing and experiencing are two different things."

"So, what's your point?" He wasn't really growling anymore, but his tone was still of warning. Makarov frowned and folded his arms.

"My point is you're a young boy not even thirteen and you're running all over the place with no clear idea of where you're going and no clue to handling yourself in the places you do end up in. That is not a good combination."

"Shut up, will you? I'm a dragon, I'll be fine!" he shouted through clenched teeth. The machine to his left was beeping like crazy to match his heart. Makarov's face was blank and his tone calm when he responded.

"No, you're a kid." The words struck Natsu like Igneel's fist and he stared wide-eyed for a moment. "And kids shouldn't be wandering all over the place with no clear idea of their next meal or bed." And…just maybe…Makarov was right. Maybe kids shouldn't be doing that, he didn't know. But above all, he was a kid who loved his dad, and he would find Igneel for sure. Natsu turned his face into the pillow and covered himself with the blanket, shielding himself from Makarov's face and words. Eventually, he left.

The next day, Natsu was released from the hospital. Makarov was there to sign him out, but when they exited the sliding doors, he gave Natsu another unreadable look before walking off towards the east. Natsu stared at his back until his eyes hurt, then turned away.

"Gotta find Igneel," he muttered, digging his knuckles into his scalp. "Nothing else matters." He buried his face in his scarf, finding Igneel's scent past the cheap lemon soap the hospital washed it with, and he let it grant him strength. He stopped in a nearby alley to check his backpack—he would need more food and water before he could set out, and his sleeping bag was looking kind of worse for the wear as well. Plus his medical stuff and spare clothes and…well, his wallet was sorest of them all. Asking Makarov crossed his mind for only a second, then his eyes trailed across a poster set on a bridge's post. There was a drawing of a man punching the shit out of another man, and below that was 8000 J in big letters. It looked like some kind of job offer, but… That much money for beating down someone else? It sounded too good to be true.

"Might as well check," he decided, hiking his bag up higher on his small back. "No harm in that."

He could neither read nor bullshit his way into knowing the address, so he waited until a pair of older guys walked by and jumped in their way. "Hey, could one of ya tell me where's that?" he asked, pointing to the sign.

"Can't ya read it yourself?" the brown-haired guy with sunglasses asked. Natsu pouted and crossed his arms.

"Never mind, I'll go find out somewhere else." He turned away and was immediately grabbed by his scarf. It wasn't a hard pull, just enough force to make him stop.

"Hey, it's alright, kid. Says it's just past Kardia Cathedral. Keep heading down the central path and you'll see a crowd." This was from the guy with spiky blue hair. Natsu was about to thank them, then blinked and looked between them with surprise.

"You're not gonna tell me to turn around, it's no place for kids or whatever?" The two men exchanged a flat look before bursting into laughter. Natsu growled with twin streams of smoke curling from his nostrils. "It's not funny!"

"Kid, 's alright, we're not laughing at you," the brown-haired one said, waving Natsu's anger off. "We don't underestimate anyone where we're from, not even the little guys. There are some girls in the Guild that can kick our asses for sure."

"Guild?" he repeated, then the wind changed and he suddenly caught their scent. Booze, a little sweat, cigarette smoke—ew—and most surprising, a trace of Makarov's smell.

"Yeah. We're a coupl'a Fairy Tail wizards," he said with a grin, jerking a thumb into his chest. "Name's Wakaba, and this is Macao."

"Sorry if we offended you, kid." Macao crouched to rest a hand on Natsu's head, ruffling his hair. He stared wide-eyed for a second—he hadn't had anyone do it to him since Igneel disappeared, and it left a warm sensation bubbling in his stomach. "Knock 'em dead out there."

"Y-Yeah! I'm already fired up!" He lit his fists ablaze with wild laughter. "I'm gonna kick some major ass! —What's ass anyway?"

"There ya go, corrupting more youth, Wakaba," Macao said with a smirk, glancing at his friend. Wakaba scoffed and folded his arms. Natsu cocked his head to the side. "So, err…"

"Natsu."

"Get on, Natsu, or you'll be late."

"Right!" He bowed his thanks as per Igneel's teachings before taking off down the road. I'll earn money and I keep travelling and I'll find Igneel before the week's over! I'll show Makarov! he thought, grinning into the wind lashing at his face.

The smell of sweaty men and the sounds of fighting hit him long before he came close to the area. He ran past an alleyway and immediately dodged to the side as a burly middle-aged guy came flying through, crashing into the dirt shoulder-first. He groaned in pain and covered his eye, which was dripping blood down his cheek. His not swollen eye suddenly locked on Natsu and he worked his bruised jaw.

"Ya goin' to the fight?"

"Uh-huh," Natsu said. The man tried to push himself up, flopped down again, and gave up.

"Be better off putting yerself in a hospital first."

He was so excited he thought he'd explode in his spot.

He raced the remaining distance until faced with a broken circle of churning bodies. From within that circle came pained grunts and the sharp crackle of magical attacks. The men around were all twice his size and double his weight, but he could dart between their legs, jostling the bodies until he made it to the forefront of the crowd. On a battleground made of crosshatched pavement, two wizards duked it out. One fired lances of concrete and the other fought with a body-sized shield of funny-smelling steel.

"I like yer style, Mallard," the concrete wizard said, relaxing his arms and letting the concrete return to smooth ground.

"Che! Tell me this was worth eight thousand Jewel!" Mallard rested his shield with a loud clang as metal collided with the ground. He smirked and pushed his purple hair back, baring a rugged-looking scar across his brow. "I'm gonna cut things here." He swung the shield to his back with dexterity that belied its weight, then pulled a shiny metal cudgel. Natsu wondered for a couple of seconds if his magic controlled steel or if it only enhanced his strength, then the man swung and completely bashed the concrete between them and Natsu lost his whole train of thought to ohmygoshthat'sthecoolestthingi'veeverseen! The concrete between them rippled into huge broken chunks that caused the other wizard to lose his footing and hit the ground. Mallard used the chance to rush forward and bring the cudgel down on the other guy's upraised knee.

"My leg!" he shouted, his face going red and teary. Natsu couldn't blame him; the sound of breaking bone was enormously loud—he probably wasn't going to walk on that leg again. As two guys from the crowd went to help him away, Mallard turned away, letting the cudgel hit the ground with a deep whomp.

"W-Wow," said a skinny high-voiced guy. He pulled away from the crowd and bowed his head as he presented Mallard with a thick stack of Jewel. He snatched it with a triumphant laugh.

"Anyone wanna try to take this from me? I ain't tired yet!" he announced. Everyone in the crowd took two steps back—except Natsu.

"I'll fight ya!" he said, banging his fists together. Mallard looked him up and down with a sneer.

"Little young to die, don't ya think?"

"I'm not too young to kick your ass!" The crowd let out a long "ooh" and Mallard's face darkened. Natsu decided he liked that word—it pissed people off and made things happen. He wondered why Igneel never taught it to him before.

(Somewhere not too far, Igneel sneezed.)

"So be it." He pocketed the money and withdrew his shield again before rushing Natsu. He was a lot bigger and carrying a lot of weight, but Natsu had the small size advantage. He vaulted into the air, pushing off Mallard's head and into a flip that landed him on his feet a good distance away. Then he planted his feet shoulder-width apart, took a deep breath ("it has to move your core, otherwise it won't work, Natsu") and cupped his hands around his mouth. The flames in his gut came to a peak and filled his cheeks.

"Fire Dragon's Roar!" Orange and gold fire formed a vortex that collided with Mallard's shield as he swung it around just in time. Natsu knew his flames were more than hot enough to burn through it, but—it held? Mallard's stance didn't change until Natsu eventually ran out of breath and was gasping little puffs of smoke. The crowd had parted asymmetrically from the backsplash of flames and now murmured amongst each other, looking towards Natsu with new admiration. Mallard's face, on the other hand, was purely derisive as he tilted the shield away from him.

"Is that all?" he said, watching Natsu double over trying to breathe. His skin felt feverishly warm and he couldn't gulp enough air to straighten up. Then he got the vague impression of one of Igneel's warnings: "Don't overdo it with the fire, since this magic is still too strong for your current body. You could overheat, and whether it be got a second or an hour, it will give your opponent an advantage over you."

Thanks.

"My fire's hotter than steel," he said hoarsely, glaring up at his opponent. Mallard's smirk widened into a nasty smile.

"This ain't steel, fledgling. This here's tungsten—high tensile strength, high density, and very high melting point. Nothing I suppose your little fire can do." Natsu's cheeks turned red, a feat with no relation to overheating, and he clenched his fists.

"Shows what you know! I'll bash your head into the ground anyway!" He leapt from the ground with the intent of kicking him in his stupid face, but he was quick to draw the club again and Natsu shifted position, letting the flat of his sandal hit the metal surface. Before he could move away, Mallard grabbed his ankle with his free hand and slammed him down into the shield. His forehead hit the metal plating with a sickening sound.

"Looks like yours is already bashed." He laughed as he released Natsu to the ground. His head ached like hell and there was a loud ringing between his ears. When he tried looking at Mallard again, the sunlight stung, and it felt like there was something broken between what he was seeing and what was happening. That suspicion was proven when saw Mallard swinging his club but already felt its impact in his abdomen. It felt like his body was fighting itself. Mallard said something else Natsu couldn't understand, then he was too busy hacking up globs of blood to pay attention to anything else. It wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, but he was pretty sure his skull was cracked.

As pained as he was, his internal clock was still running, and he felt a couple of hours pass until someone else picked him up. He curled in on himself to minimize any damage. His ears had stopped ringing a while ago, but the pain had spread to all corners of his body in the meantime. It wasn't a deep muscle ache like he was used to either; it was red-hot, crying-yourself-to-sleep pain. Except he couldn't cry himself to sleep either, because someone was back and it was probably not for good intentions.

"You have the raw magic and talent for certain, my child, but when it comes to professional Mages…" He recognized the voice, but he couldn't put a name to the face right away. "It looks like you'll be back in the hospital for a while."

"W…" His tongue felt uncomfortable at first, probably because of the sticky blood remnants. "Why are you helping me?"

"I wasn't going to abandon you out here for the night." Natsu raised his head and saw an old man staring ahead. Makarov, that's who it was. The thought gave him a weird rush of emotions: shame, wariness, mostly gratitude. His cheeks reddened and he ducked his head again.

"Thanks, Gramps. 'm sorry you're wasting time on me."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" He sounded appalled and a little annoyed by the thought. "I chose to help you then, and I choose to help you now." Natsu burrowed further into himself, nodding once.

"And…you said you have a Guild, didn't you?" He made a noise of assent. "I wanna…to join. If I still can. I wanna get so strong I can drag guys like him through the mud. Strong enough that I can find Igneel. And…I wasn't doing all that good on my own anyway," he added in a mutter, his whole face changing color. Makarov chuckled in his throat but didn't say anything about it.

"You know, being able to admit your weakness is a truly admirable trait for a man."

"I'm a…" He wanted to say dragon, but Igneel would have kicked Mallard's ass all the way to Bosco. Natsu got thrashed. "I'm a…kid. Not a man."

"You're closer than you think though." The smile in his face made Natsu look up.

"What's that mean?"

"I think you'll fit into Fairy Tail just fine, Natsu."