A/N: HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL MY FANS AND NEW READERS ALIKE! AND THE REQUEST YEARS ROLL ON AND ON AND OOOOOON~! Just got back from black Friday and I'm feeling inspired, so when I saw this holiday request I just had to dive into it.
Remember my old fic, Guardian of the Heart? Remember how it mysteriously vanished without a trace? Well, turns out I meant to remove a fic by a similar name only to accidentally DELETE that one it and by the time I realized my mistake, well, it was gone.
*facepalm*
So, tada!
Consider this...
...a remastered version.
I'M BACK ON THE FAIRY TAIL BANDWAGON BABY~!
It also expounds on an interesting ability I once saw...
...and a funny little idea on just "who" makes all armor Erza wears!
There are other minor crossovers and referenses here, too, if one knows where to look =D
I shall name this chapter...
...The Heart's Smith!
"So your magic is called the Knight, huh? Nice ring to it. Blows "the Smith" right out of the water, ya know?"
...excuse me?"
"Sorry, just rambling."
~Erza and the Smith.
Smithy
What would you do if you could create life?
Breathe it into any substance?
Just by touching it once.
Creation itself.
Imagine it.
If you possessed the ability to breathe life-that is, actual physical sentience-into any object, what would that be like. Contrary to popular belief, its not as hard as the tales make it sound. Its not even difficult, really. You just have to learn to listen. Let the skill take you where it will, impart a bit of energy and BAM! There you go! Then your skills would be in high demand, no? You'd be correct. When you can create something from nearly nothing, turn the most base of ingredients into a work of art and power, each creation incomparable and better than the last!
Just think of it!
Armor that moves with you to withstand even the more dire of blows, swords that cleave the very heavens themselves, staves able to attack without a wielder, to name a few!
But selling, making a living off of them...ah, that's the hard part. When you've created a sword that lives, armor that breathes, a weapon that NEVER misses, its like auctioning off your own child to market. You want the absolute best for them, and nothing less will do. You won't sell to a thug looking to club a rival over the head with a blade-or a gangster looking for protection or worse, a dark mage looking for an edge up on his enemy. I know my magic is a wonderful gift, one I give thanks for every day, but even the best of blessings aren't without cost. When you give life into something you don't want to give it away. To anyone, really.
After all, any wizard would kill for such an ability.
They'd do whatever you asked them.
They'd give an arm or a leg.
Some surely would.
I already have.
Erza Scarlet was well and thoroughly buggered.
Every fiber of her being was focused on the list in her hand, an agonizing series of names painstakingly scratched out through trial and error. Mostly trial on her part, though there had been a good deal of of error as well. The error being that she'd thought this a simple task in the first place. Something one could easily-effortlessly!-accomplish in a matter of minutes, if not hours. When in reality it was anything but. Perhaps Erza had misunderstood the enormity of such a trial, for if she had, she might have been more caution in accepting Mirajane's sly little bet.
"This isn't fair!" she wailed, balling her hand into a fist! "Not fair at all!"
Her voice echoed down the empty streets of Magnolia, a cry born of pure frustration.
For in her arrogance, she'd made a foolish wager with her rival. Just this morning. It seemed a lifetime ago. Now the sun, once high in the sky when she'd begun her task, was beginning to saga across the horizon in smug streamers of golden amber, berating her even now for her failure. If she didn't find herself a smith by sundown she was never going to hear the end of it. Not just from Mira, but Natsu and Gray as well. Nay, the entire guild would be privy to her failure and all because of a stupid gamble!
The details of said bet, you ask?
Erza shuddered at the thought of them.
She could just hear Mira's snide voice now.
With each step she took, she imagined her laughter:
'Aw, what's wrong, Scarlet? You couldn't find anyone to patch up your armor? You know what that means...
The teenager convulsed in a full body shudder.
No!
Never!
She'd never live it down!
She would have to wear that!
No, no, no, a thousand times no!
At this rate though, it seemed her quest would be in vain after all.
She needed armor and weapons, the best of the best. Everyone had turned her away. No one was willing to accomodate the requests of a fledgling mage. And why should they? She didn't have the gold and no one was willing to accept the letter of credit Master Makarov had given her. Not even the esteemed name of Fairy Tail seemed enough to move them. If anything, the mere mention of her guild seemed to drive them away. In her heart of hearts she couldn't understand why no one wanted anything to do with her guild this week, though perhaps Natsu and Gray's last rampage might have something to do with that...
She glanced down at the list once more, one final name at the bottom of the list in Master Makarov's hasty scrawl.
"Only one left...
They called him the Heart's Smith.
It wasn't a particulary fancy title, but, that it was all she had to go on. All she had left. Some claimed he was something of a prodigy, born with an inate talent when it came to crafting weapons and armor. Others said he'd inherited his father's smithy and worked his way up through sheer diligence. Sill more-and this was where the rumors bordered on the obscure-whispered that he wasn't from Fiorre at all, but a distant land across the sea. A few insisted he wasn't from this world at all, but rather some demon from a dark dimension aross space and time, horribly maimed for his transgressions.
Yeah, she was calling bullshit on the last one. A demon? Really?
In the end, it didn't matter.
This was her last stop.
He could be the second coming of the apocalypse itself for all it mattered, but he was the only smith in Magnolia who'd yet to turn her down. And he still might. Having exhausted all other options and the sun well on its way to setting, she had nowhere else to turn. There was just one problem. Another pothole on the already rock road she'd traveled today. Makarov might know the city like the back of his hand, but she, however, most assuredly did not. It was familiar to her in places, alien in others.
She had no idea where she was supposed to find him.
So, in the end she'd come here.
For a fleeting moment she caved and gave in; crumpling the list into a dense paper ball in her hand. In a fit of pique she flung it away, sending the ruined list sailing down a nearby alley. Flung with tremendous force it sailed straight and true, striking the awning of a distant building. She regretted her action almost immediately and raced after it. Ironically, it was this very act was what helped her catch sight of the sign.
A harsh clang perforated the air a heartbeat later.
Creak.
Erza startled slightly.
Straightened.
Blinked.
In the fading light she would've walked right past if she weren't aware of it; that proud-if slightly faded-emblem of a great kitsune etched against a wooden backdrop of flame stylized in the symbol of an amber heart. A true intricate sign, and one she could have easily missed if not for her tantrum, and that small, almost humble little building beneath. Tethered to a metal post by a bit of chain, the beast's eerie red eyes almost seemed to watch her as she approached. Surely that was just her imagination. A sign couldn't come to life, even if magic was involved, right. No, surely it was a trick of the light, she reasoned.
Sure enough from the awning, she could just catch the glimpse of gold lettering etched against the orange. Then another, as she drew near, second sign nailed into the door:
Heart's Smith!
Always Here! Always Open!
Would You Kindly Knock First?
Anyone Who Doesn't Will Be Pranked!
In Other Words, Tormented Into Oblivion.
=D
Erza regarded the smiley face in quiet disbelief.
...I don't even have a response fo this."
Why would one want to prank someone just for refusing to knock in the first place? It sounded silly, vindictive, childish even. An odd request, but she didn't begrudge the Heart's Smith his motto. Surely these pranks ofhis weren't that bad, so long as she remained polite.
Beggars couldn't be choosers, after all!
Her hand tightened around the brass knob, heartened to find that it was unlocked and thus turned easily. It felt strangely warm to the touch, as though it were heated from wthin. Before entering, she complied with the sign's request and knocked. It wouldn't due to be rude, after all. So she respectfully tapped her first upon the frame.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
After rapping her knuckles against the battered wood frame for the fourth time however, Erza's patience began to slip away from her. No one came to call despite her insistent knocking, and she was beginning to feel a fool for standing out here in the gloom. Peering through the lone window, she caught sight of a burning hearth within, its faint luminance casting twisted shadows against the room. Of the owner or any inhabitants, she saw nothing, not a soul.
'Well, here goes nothing-
"OUT!"
A man hurtled through the door before she could think to turn back toward it, flinging the wooden frame open and forcing the redhead to leap out of the way lest she be crushed beneath the straggler's weight. Then he was gone, tumbling past Erza, rolling head over heels until he finally crashed into a nearby pile of trash, spattering bits of rotten fruit and garbage everywhere. It would've been hilarious if his face hadn't been a bruised, swollen mess. He twitched once and lay still, wholly out cold. Or dead. She wasn't sure which, but maybe-
"ORAH!"
Another shout took those thoughts and scattered them to the winds.
Instinct compelled Scarlet to duck and she did, just in time to witness a flash of something from the room beyond. Whatever it was, it proved more than powerful enough to eject another unwanted customer from the humble abode and into the streets. This one wasn't quite so lucky as his comrade; his flailing body rapidly gained altitude and pinwheeled away into the sky, vanishing with a distant twinkle of light. Erza experienced a distant twinge of pity for the poor man and wherever he might land, it wasn't going to be pleasant.
"Hey!" a boy's voice cried from within the smithy, rising in distress. "Hands off! You didn't pay for that!"
"We'll have what we're due, brat!" came the reply.
"Like hell you will!"
She could hear the sounds of a struggle now, rising up from one of the lower floors. Easing through the now-open door, the young redhead dared to enter, ducking beneath the broken frame and slipping inside. It was a mistake she'd soon come to regret. No sooner had Erza entered than a third blast rocked the building to its very foundations, hurling her to the ground. Over her viciously ringing ears she thought she heard some insipid comment about where idiots belonged in society, punctuated by a muffled explosion, then another scream.
This time Erza found herself more than prepared for the aftershock, steadying herself to stand as the house quaked anew. Rounding a corner, she took the bend at full speed, sword in hand.
She wasn't disappointed.
The main hall was larger than the outside of the building had let on, and it was very much occupied.
A number of curiously-clad individuals awaited her within, crowded around a single point. Whomever they might, Erza decided this lot was undoubtedly up to no good, for their faces were hidden by hoods and dark robes, and each clutched a staff. They numbered five-no, less now as their prey barked a spell that hurled a stream of molten metal down upon one of them. Through their ranks she glimpsed a flash of orange and red, a shock of blond hair, accompanied by blazing blue eyes burning like angry sapphires. As she looked on the owner of those eyes lashed out with an arm, sending one of his attackers sprawling.
That was all Scarlet saw before they noticed her.
"Shit, there's another one!"
One of survivors startled at the sight of Erza and spun, staff flaring. She promptly smote him senseless for it with the flat of her blade, driving him to the ground in a heap. In the time that it took the man to realize he'd been had she'd already requipped a poleaxe and upended him into the ceiling.
"What the hell?!"
Stirred by the shout of their fallen comrade the rest drew back fully and rounded on her instead, revealing the one they'd been accosting. A slender young man wrapped in a scarlet coat and battered orange pants stood exposed to her eyes, his whiskered face fixed in a tight scowl. Said scowl vanished once he realized she'd struck down one of his attackers. His arm snapped up with a jarring pop, waving intently in her direction.
"Hey, thanks for the assist, whoever you are!"
It was then that Erza noticed something else.
His arm.
Or rather, a lack thereof.
His right arm had been severed just below the elbow at some point and scarred over heavily, lending him a strange air of menace. An old injury? It seemed to have healed well in any case, and it didn't seem to slow the blond anymore than a gnat would bother a horse. Not from the way he brandished that staff at any rate. It looked like he knew how to use it, judging by the bodies strewn at his feet.
"Right, then!" he barked at the intruders, voice sharp. "Excepting the redhead, the rest of ya better get out, or I'm throwing you out!"
That seemed to be the tipping point for the would-be thieves.
"Listen you fucking cripple," One of them, taller than the rest piped up, "We paid good money for that sword and-AARGH!"
Whatever prompted one of the rabble-rousers to make the mistake of speaking, they sorely regretted it as a scalding iron struck them in the face, searing him through the cowl. Curious, Erza thought to herself, that a cripple would be in charge of the smithy here at all, rather these people, rather than someone with both arms. With that thought in mind, she renewed her scrutiny on the boy, just in time for him to speak.
"You, you, and you." his good arm rose ponderously, thrusting a finger at the leader of the band, the very one he'd branded. "Out of my shop! I already said I won't sell to the likes of you!"
"We're not leaving without that sword!"
"Is that so?" the smith tilted his head, "Too bad. You've had already had your obligatory scene. Now we're onto more important things!"
An awkward silence pervaded the room.
"What does that even-
Blue eyes burned.
Violet.
"Almighty Push!"
Erza never saw the spell fire, or even its magic circle, but she most certainly felt it flare as the blond thrust a hand forward. A blast of pure force was the only word she could think to use for what happened next. As if a giant, invisible hand had reached down from on high to the congregation, so too did the blast violently sweeping them outside in a tangled heap of arms and legs. The blond let off another blast nor five seconds later, all but hurling the riffraff out of his home and into the streets. Judging by the groans they uttered, they wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.
The youth stalked out after them and, hefting the fractured door, slammed it in their faces with a resounding bang.
"AND STAY OUT!"
Erza stood there in shock.
Everything had transpired so quickly; she simply hadn't the time to think, only react. Now that the chaos was over and peace restored, she found herself wondering what-if anything-she ought to do. Idly fiddling with her braid, she stood there for a moment, uncertain and hesitant.
"Bunch of cheeky dickwaffles!" the blond railed angrily at the door. "Serves 'em right!"
"Um...?" she managed eloquently. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Meh, just rambling."
A beat of silence passed between them.
"Sorry you had to see that," the blond muttered, dabbing at his sooty face with a bit of cloth. "Just some disgruntled customers. They paid me good coin to make them weapons and armor, but I'd never met them face to face until now. My mistake." a low growl fled from his mouth as he furiously scrubbed at his face. "See, this is why I don't like dealing with intermediaries! I don't sell to black mages!" Muttering to himself, he turned and began righting the upturned furniture with some effort.
Well, that explained things.
"You're...the Heart's Smith?"
Her fellow teen turned, laughed, and straightened up.
"Aye, that'd be me." he bowed clumsily, "Uzumaki Naruto. Finest arms and armor in Magnolia. What can I do ya for? Oh, but first, could you give me a hand with this thing...over here? Its heavy!" Beckoning, the boy bade her come closer and help him with an old anvil. Together they righted it with some effort, turning the battered implement on its end once more. In the end, she helped him settle a number of upturned items and push aside others until the forge once more possessed some semblance of dignity. She also made a bit of a discovery.
"You talk funny."
"Sorta my shtick." chuckling, the blond seated himself at the edge of the forge, leaning on his weathered staff. "So your magic is called The Knight, huh? Nice ring to it. Blows "The Smith" right out of the water, ya know? Not bad, Scarlet. Not bad at all."
Erza started.
She hadn't given him her name.
"You know who I am?"
"A crazy redhead who requips faster than anyone else I've ever seen." Naruto eyeballed her smugly, looking rather pleased with himself. "Who else could you be? So, did Makarov send you here? Old timer always had a knack for picking good people. I haven't crafted anything for Fairy Tail in a long time." he patted at a dusty shelf, cackling." Reminds me of the good ol' days."
Once more, Erza found herself at a loss for words.
Naruto spoke like an old man yet he didn't look to be that old at all. By appearances alone they seemed the same age, even if he held a few inches on her. It was nearly impossible for her to take him at his word but she hadn't come here for that, she reminded herself. She'd come here for weapons and armor -desperately needing the latter!- and she refused to leave without at least broaching the subject. Gathering up the last shreds of her dignity and courage, she bowed deeply at the waist, nearly smacking herself with her own braid.
"Please, craft me some armor!"
Naruto squawked.
"Why are you bowing, oi?! Raise your head!"
Reluctantly, she did as she was bade.
A blue eye fixed on her.
"You really want me to make you armor?
"More than anything!"
"It isn't cheap, you know." Naruto warned, wagging a finger. "I charge a high price!"
"I have a letter of credit-
The blond cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand.
"Bah, I'm not talking about money!"
Then he slapped his hand upon a nearby counter.
At least, Erza assumed it was a slap; his hand moved far too swiftly to tell anything else.
One moment his palm had been empty.
The next, it wasn't.
A massive cleaver now filled his hand, a towering blade nearly as wide as he was tall and just as long. Jet black and brandishing silver edge, it was every bit a weapon, and a part of her quailed at the sight of it. Naruto pivoted on one heel and swung it slowly, a gleam of white trailing after the blade when it moved. It seemed to sing to Erza, a sad mournful cry, trailing through the air; an ancient, eldritch hum almost as though it were just begging to be held, to be put too good use by an owner.
"This is Zangetsu." the boy announced proudly. "My latest creation. Those thugs you saw earlier? They wanted to purchase him. He disagreed, and they put up a fight."
Shouldering the hulking cleaver, he flashed her a toothy smile.
"We took exception to that."
"We?"
"Did I stutter?"
Erza found herself beginning to wonder if this boy was truly sane. He spoke of the blade as though it were alive, a living entity of flesh and bone rather than steel. Surely that couldn't be true. And yet...there was clearly something about the weapon that spoke to the untoward, an
"Here's my price." the blond replied. "I want your oath. That you'll do no evil with my creations."
"Gladly-
"Now, wait just a second!" Laughing, the blond set the hulking blade aside, almost lovingly, upon a nearby stand. "If I'm going to make you something I'll need some specifications! Naruto scrutinized her for a moment longer. "I also have a bit of a condition." he warned, "Anyone who uses my weapons and armor has to be a good person. Else I won't sell to 'em. So, Erza-chan? Why should I make anything for you? Why should I move heaven and earth and set sword to steel for you, hmm?"
A myriad of responses swam in her mind's eye.
So that I can never be weak again.
Never fail those dear to me.
Never be defeated.
Never lose.
NEVER.
Her response came before she could think to hold it back.
"So I can protect my family."
That got a blink out of him.
Followed by a sly smile.
"Oh, I like you~!" he darted forward, clasping her hand in his, shaking firmly. "Yosh, that settles it! I'll make you the finest weapons known to man. For you and only you! I'll even waive the fee, just this once!"
Erza nearly guffawed.
A small giggle leaped from her lips.
"So?" Naruto stepped back and extended his arm anew, grinning. "Do we have a deal?"
Despite herself, Erza smiled.
And she took his hand.
"You're hired."
It was the beginning of a rather odd friendship indeed.
The Smith and the Knight.
A/N: Aye, it be true! I've been bitten by the Fairy Tail bug and caught up after all these long years! I had a TON of catching up to do, yet it was rather amusing getting back into the swing of things. Where does this story start, you ask? Before the beginning. Before Natsu and Lucy met. Back when Erza and Mira were teenagers. I decided a fresh, original start would be much better rather than simply tossing him headlong into things and expecting you guys to catch up.
Okay, to the rest of your questions, I can answer them all! What are Naruto's capabilities? If I had to name them, its only the one. Creation. Its heavily implied he lost his arm to get it as well as a very important part of himself. Creation is his ONLY ability in this story, but don't underestimate it.
Its downright deadly if you get imaginative.
Hence why he doesn't deal with anyone possessing the faintest touch of malice.
He can literally create whatever he wants. With substance and steel comes sentience, and all his creations contain some degree of individuality. YES, that was Zangetsu making a cameo there. That was all it was. With elements, its a matter of control. This is essentially a magic version of his chakra abilities. He's even capable of creating clones, to a lesser degree when he's serious. Ordinarily however, he's a right goof though, ain't he? But what did he mean when he said he wasn't a kid, I wonder?
You'll just have to wait and see.
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!
So...in the Immortal Words of Atlas...
...Review, Would Ya Kindly?
(Preview)
"Wait, wait, wait, I an't joining no guild-
He paused abruptly, seeing her armor.
Taking in its ruined state.
Clicked his tongue.
"OI!"
R&R! =D