~ FTC ~

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Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: Don't own Fairy Tail. Story is inspired by the I Am Number Four (Lorien Legacies) series.

The first time it happened, he was ten years old.

That day the evening sun was a blood orange — an omen of what was to come.

He had been training in the backyard with Igneel, his long-time guardian and father figure. At the time they were living in the countryside. The location was chosen almost specifically due to his reckless and wild nature. As Igneel had put it, the countryside gave them plenty of room to roam around and without the fear of unwanted, wandering eyes.

When it happened, he had been in the middle of his stance progressions while Igneel monitored from the back porch. Igneel was usually a calm and cool-headed man, if not sarcastic in his attitude, but when it came to his training his intensity levels would spike. He would often find himself on the wrong end of his critical eye; nitpicked and chastised until he could get the movements down a hundred times over. Perhaps their student-master moments would have gone over smoother had it not been for his big mouth and hot head. Critiques of his form were usually accompanied with backtalk, swears, and challenges; all of which earned him too many blows to the back of the head than he can remember.

Sometimes he misses those early training days.

He'll never forget the moment his life was turned upside down and reality burned its way into his chest — literally. The initial burn was what caused him to collapse to the ground suddenly, with his breath shortening into long gasps immediately after. It wasn't until the searing of his skin and the smell of burned flesh when he realized what was happening. Then the pain began to set in.

He remembers Igneel shouting something but his senses were too numbed to take it in. All he remembers doing is screaming and thrashing around on the floor. Tears ran down his hard-shut eyes and his hands gripped into the ground below. He would later be told by Igneel that he had tried to claw away at the mark, getting so far as to ripping into his chest before his bloody hands were restrained.

It wasn't until minutes later when the horrendous pain finally let off and he was left a panting, sweaty mess sprawled out on the ground. With a hand that was shaking profusely, it was here when he was finally able to look at his chest. His mark was no longer just a simple tattoo on the surface of his skin. The symbol filled with swoops and swirls no human would recognize was now burned and engraved into his flesh. His skin was still raw where the valleys of the symbol outline ran, along with the newly formed ring that surrounded his mark.

That ring was what caught his eye and caused him to look to Igneel in disbelief, and for the first time in his life he saw fear in his guardian's eyes.

At that moment, they knew the first had fallen.

~ . ~ . ~

The second time it happened he was fifteen, and the memory still haunts him to this day.

What he remembers of that day is the colour black.

Black was the colour of the night sky when the second layer of his mark seared its way onto his chest during his class field trip.

Black was the thing he saw as he fell in and out of consciousness — a combination of excruciating pain, unbelievable stress, and overwhelming fear.

Black was the colour of the car that followed them home, unbeknownst to them who were too busy dealing with his trashing and screaming.

Black was the tip of the weapon Igneel gripped in his fists when figures bursts through their doors and windows from every angle. They had found them.

Black was the shade of cloaks the figures wore as they dragged his unconscious guardian and father figure away while he could do nothing but watch through bawling eyes.

Black was the look in Lisanna's eyes when he found her lying facedown in a ditch during his escape — the cerulean blue that he loved so much, gone, along with the girl he loved. Dead. All his fault.

Black was the feeling of defeat and despair, the overwhelming loss and shattering of life as he knew it.

On that day, the second of them had died and his world had been forever changed.

~ . ~ . ~

In the present day, his eighteen-year-old self stalked around his small one-room apartment. A cheap place he had found that was good enough for four months of living. The owner he rented from didn't ask questions and never bothered coming around to check as long as the rent was pair at the end of the month, which had suited him perfectly fine. He also knew for a fact the owner had this place covered under insurance — a small consolation for what was to come.

He moved from furniture to furniture, ripping open drawers and doors; tossing anything he deemed important or essential into the small bag hanging from his shoulder and throwing the rest to the ground. Most things went to the ground. He had already gone through everything and this was only a double-check.

From the living room he made his way to the kitchen where he proceeded to continue his procedure. No drawer or cabinet went unturned and by the time he was done it looked as though a tornado had hit inside his apartment.

Pausing for a moment, he looked around and practically admired his handiwork. He always did have a knack for destroying things. If this was sometime a year or two ago he would have used this moment to remember all the good memories he had in his living arrangement. Now, he just didn't care all that much.

Spinning around on his heels, he approached his stove and gave it a sneer. It was childish but this thing was the worst kitchen appliance he had ever used, and as a result he had gone hungry many nights because he didn't want to deal with the frustration. Almost in a vengeful glee, he quickly turned up every dial to 'HIGH' and cranked the heat up for the oven, ripping off the oven door soon after. He noted that only two of four burners lit up and he sighed in resignation. Even at the end the stove still caused him grief. Mumbling about how much he despised the shitty appliance, he gently ran his fingers over the dancing blue flames, taking solace in its welcoming heat and soaking in the energy.

His stomach grumbled at the sight but he ignored it, knowing there were far more compelling matters at hand than having a final snack.

Moving away from the kitchen, he followed a trail of flammable objects, ranging from old clothes to rolls of paper, that ran from the kitchen to the living room then into the narrow hallway, ending in the middle of his bedroom. Much like the rest of the house this room was equally as wrecked, with drawers and items sprawled everywhere on the floor. In the corner he eyes the mattress he had propped up against the only window in his apartment; a trick he discovered that not only blocked sight from the outside but prolonged flames from erupting through the window until it ate through the thick mattress.

Rubbing his hands together he focused on the pile of flammable material that sat in the middle of the room. Closing his eyes he concentrated hard on the familiar heat flowing from deep inside him, willing the energy to climb up his body and extend out to his palms. Feeling the tingle that ran down his arms, he opened his eyes to a flame resting in his hands. About the size of a tennis ball but crackling with unbounded energy and hunger. A grin came upon his face as he admired his element in materialized form.

Igneel would be proud.

His powers did only start to appear a few months ago. Everything so far has been self-taught, and he was quite proud about that feat.

With a deep breath, he dropped the flame onto the pile of material and awed as it so quickly ate up the fuel and burst into a snake of burning destruction. This was nowhere near the first time, yet it amazed him every time. He couldn't help but take a moment to bask in the ever-growing heat and inhale the rising smoke that was quickly filling the apartment.

Eventually he had to force himself away, knowing it was past time he left. With a last soak of the burning atmosphere he swiftly shuffled out the door, locking it behind him before he strolled his way towards the stairwell and began the climb down.

Most would call his actions as arson, but to him it was a necessity. The things found in previous homes can often be the clues a hunter needs to find its prey. Scents, fingerprints, memorabilia, among others, were things he had learned from a very young age to never leave lying behind. So, he burned it.

It was simple, easy, effective, and in recent times completely harmless. He's long since learned to control the flames and knew exactly how much fuel was needed for the fire to burn only the apartment and nothing more. Sometimes he added just a little extra depending on how responsive the local fire department is to ensure things were sufficiently destroyed before they could extinguish the flames.

Just as he swung open the door that led outside, he heard the fire alarm begin to blare behind him. With a smile at his timing, he spotted the car waiting for him a few feet away and quickly moved to the driver's side. Hoping into his old, beat-up Honda Accord, he tossed the bag into the back seat before starting up the engine — the vehicle grunting to life as best as a third-hand car could.

"Ready to go little buddy?" he asked the other occupant in the car, throwing on his seatbelt as the car stutter, then begin its path towards the parking lot exit.

In the passenger seat sat a little blue cat, sadly peering out the window before letting out a sigh.

"Yeah," it mumbled, watching the flames finally eat through the mattress and explode out the window. Bits of mattress and ash followed. "I hate this part."

"But we have to do it."

"I know."

The pair drove in silence, ducking only when they pulled over for multiple fire trucks rushing in the opposite direction. Once the sirens disappeared in the distance, they continued on their way. It was an eerie silence, yet familiar, as the car came to a stop at the traffic light, its blinker signalling a left turn.

"So where to?"

The cat shifted around so it could remove something from the bag strapped behind his back. It pulled out multiple rolled up documents along with a road map, unravelling the latter to point at a specific spot circled in red.

"I was thinking here."

He took a glance at the map, noting the circled location before turning back to the road as the light turned green and the car lurched forward once again.

"Magnolia? Never heard of it."

"It's about a day and a half's drive from here."

"What made you choose it?"

"I liked the name."

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Of course you did."

The pair drove in silence once more, the only noise coming from the papers rustling in the cat's paws as it sorted through the documents.

"So what name are you going to go with in Magnolia?" it asked.

"Natsu," he answered swiftly, already haven thought about his new identity.

"You're going with your real name?"

"Yeah, haven't used it in a while. Might go back to my natural hair color too."

"But Natsu… last time-"

"I know."

"And using it-"

"I know. But I want to. It's fun pretending to be someone else every time but I miss being myself."

Silence.

"Alright."

Another stretch of silence.

"What about last name?"

"Dragneel."

"Dragneel?" the cat perked. "Where'd you come up with that one?"

"I heard Igneel say it once. Sounded pretty cool so I guess it stuck."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Alright, I've got your identity all set up now," the cat said a few minutes later, gathering up the papers that were scattered in its lap. "Once we get to Magnolia you'll be Natsu Dragneel, set to attend Fairy Tail High as a senior."

"Great, thanks Happy," he replied, giving his partner a soft smile. "I sometimes wonder where I'd be if you weren't around."

"Probably in a ditch somewhere."

"Probably."

"Hey Natsu, how do you think people would react if they found out your cat was creating your credentials and documentation?" Happy asked, grinning.

He chuckled. "I think they'd probably be more surprised that I have a talking cat to begin with."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," the cat laughed as well, putting the papers away safely into his pack and setting it on the ground. Afterwards a yawn escaped Happy's mouth as he curled up in his seat. "I'm going to take a nap, ok? Wake me up if something happens."

"Sure."

Moments later all he could hear were the soft snores of his partner and he shook his head, smiling. But as his eyes shifted to the road ahead his smile slowly dropped, replaced by a firm line that displayed no emotion other than uncertainty. A small, nagging feeling pulsed in his chest.

Natsu Dragneel. Magnolia. That was his new identity.

What exactly was in store for him in the future?

~ . ~ . ~

Number One was killed when he was ten.

Number Two was killed when he was fifteen.

The symbol on his chest represents his number.

He is Number Three.

He is next.

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Author's Note:

Growing up my favorite book series was called I Am Number Four, also known as the Lorien Legacies. For those not familiar with the title, it's a series about a group of teenagers who are the last of their alien race who develop powers pretty similar to those in Fairy Tail. They are hunted by an enemy group of aliens who wiped out their home world and are trying to finish the job, but the catch is that the nine survivors can only be killed in a specific order (this also leads them to be known by their number instead of a name). Since there are so many similarities with Fairy Tail, I've decided to combine both and put a little spin on it to make it a little more interesting.

Also in regards to my other story, Legends, that's currently on hold. I ran into a severe writer's block, coupled with being rusty from a long previous hiatus, so I'm hoping this new story can rejuvenate my creativity and writing and provide a spark for that other story.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Be sure to look for many more, coming soon.

Cheers.

~FTC