Wow, this is amazing! So many reviews for the first chapter alone...thank you so much, guys! We're glad you're enjoying ITR so far. You've got some interesting theories going from just two tidbits, we love to hear what you're thinking. Those long paragraphs astound us and bring us to the brink of tears, as it means we kept you interested enough to spend five to ten minutes just expressing yourself and what you thought - thank you, we're so flattered and honored. And as many of you hoped, Natsu makes his official appearance in this chapter!
Also, we had a question about whether or not there is magic in this story. Now, if we're talking fairy dust magic, then sadly no. The only magic that exists in this world is hardwork, love, and the occasional miracle.
We hope you're excited ufufu...
As always, any and all thoughts are appreciated (even if it's just one or two words). Your comments bring our writing mojo to life!
Back into the Ring we go...
rated: M for mature content
summary: In a world of underground fighting only the strong survive, abiding by the rules of kill or be killed. In the Ring, a feeble emotion like hope is all it takes to destroy you. And yet it exists– and those who hold onto it play a dangerous game. But once you enter into the Ring, it will never let you go.
CHAPTER TWO
Caught Cold
a fighter knocked out early in the fight who was not mentally prepared or warmed up properly
The steady pounding of feet dancing across a mat and harsh breathing were the only sounds echoing in the quiet. Thick chains and rope hung from the ceiling, some used as support for sandbags while others were empty.
Occasionally the sounds would break with a dull thump of a fist or heel striking a sandbag. The movements belonged to a man, his body twisting in complicated motions as he brought his imaginary enemy down. Pink hair, a little shaggy, hung just over his eyes while the rest was tied back into a small tail.
Fifteen years had transformed the young, frightened boy Natsu had been into something else. Something a little more dangerous.
He snapped an elbow down onto the bag he was pounding on, letting out a noise of satisfaction when it groaned under his assault. The seam had begun to loosen when Natsu started, and the steady trickle of sand that hit the mat told him the stitches popped.
Breathing out hard through his nose, Natsu yanked the wrappings loose from around his knuckles and headed towards the ring. He smiled at the sight of his strange, blue cat sitting by the ropes, stubbornly waiting for him. His butt was plopped firmly on Natsu's scarf, as if he were guarding it while his owner was distracted.
"Hey, Happy," Natsu greeted his cat with a smile and bent over to pet him behind his ears and down his spine.
Happy meowed at him loudly, waving a paw through the air but moving enough for Natsu to retrieve his scarf.
One end of the scarf was tossed over the ropes so Natsu could rub a towel over his face and neck. He didn't much care for worrying about making his scarf sticky, but he wasn't going to go out of his way to make it that way.
Once a month they had their clothes all confiscated, leaving them naked or in just a towel while they waited for them to dry. And then it was a race to retrieve what was theirs. If he wasn't fast enough he could end up with a shirt that was two sizes too small or a pair of pants that engulfed him.
No, his scarf was too important to be thrown in with the wash. Luckily, Happy had his claws and protected his scarf like the best sort of anti-theft device money could buy.
His thoughts were derailed halfway through the process of slinging his scarf back around his neck. The doors to the gym slammed open, startling Natsu and causing him to reflexively stiffen. His nerves were alight and adrenaline burned through his veins. Each thump of his heart whispered fight...fight...fight…
Slow, he managed to strangle the impulse to blindly swing when he spotted three people walking into the room. Natsu's eye caught on a blond haired, wild-eyed man. His lip curled into a sneer at the sight of him, an expression that was reflected back with a superior smirk. Back when he was younger, and the muscle men tormented him while he was in his cage, Natsu had no idea who they really were.
But looking at the blond man in front of him reminded him that sometimes people chose to be the muscle. Even fighters who were captured like him. If anyone asked Natsu, he always thought Zancrow was little touched in the head.
Not even he could hold Natsu's attention when he looked past him. Because his stomach turned to lead at to sight of the man Zancrow was flanking. Black hair and eyes, pale, and deceptively calm.
"Zeref." Natsu's greeting was short and clipped.
Zancrow's face twisted into an odd expression, half-smile, half snarl. "That's Master Zeref to you, swine!" he cackled. "Or has the Salamander already forgotten and need another lesson in manners?"
Natsu grit his teeth and his shoulders rolled forward. "Why don't you try it? I'd love another chance to drag your ass across the matt for everyone in this dump to see."
"Oho! Sounds fun..." Zancrow snapped back, ready to advance on the tense Natsu.
But before he could take so much as a step, the sound of a throat being cleared stopped them. It was quiet, but could as well have been a gunshot judging from the impact it had on the whole room.
Both Natsu and Zancrow froze, neither daring to take even another inch towards the other and make good on their threats.
Zeref had demanded quiet, and his presence alone was enough to fill the room, smothering all fights inside. The Master of their ring - the title certainly suited him, and he had worn it well every day since he'd obtained the rank...fifteen years ago, when Zeref had slaughtered their previous Master.
Anger burned in the back of Natsu's throat, and he ached to lunge at the man he had once considered his brother - before Zeref had given up every shred of decency he once had in his body. However Natsu's own sense of self-preservation tore through him with equal strength to his rage, forcing his body to remain immobile. Instead, his eyes followed over the dark man who was leading a small figure inside.
"Let's try to refrain from such harsh language in front of our new recruit. She's still very young, after all," Zeref continued as if blind to the seething glare he was being given by Natsu. It probably didn't even bother him, with how rare it was Natsu looked at him with anything other than rage.
Green eyes snapped down to the small girl by Zeref's side, and Natsu felt something cold drop into his stomach like weights of ice.
Oh no…
Not again.
The girl's hair was long and in two pig tails down the side of her head. On each tail was a bright red ribbon, shiny and so out of place in a place like this. Natsu's heart ached already, but his jaw felt like it was wired shut.
"Little Wendy here will be joining Tartaros," Zancrow announced to everyone present, but received no reactions save for cold stares. It seemed to only spur him on. "Maybe she can even fight in the next tournament," he laughed coldly. "Two weeks should be enough, eh?"
Natsu wanted to punch the ugly grin right off his face.
Before he could rip through the invisible wires holding him back and release a tirade of insults, however, the master chose to speak again, dismissing Zancrow with a cold glance.
"In fact, the upcoming tournament is another reason for today's meeting," Zeref said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "The participants will be announced as soon as the matter at hand is settled."
Natsu's fists clenched forcibly at his sides, dry skin straining over his bruised knuckles. 'The matter at hand' was a scared little girl, not some document to be filled out and filed away. Well - not to him, anyway.
"As of tomorrow, since trainer Acnologia is out on some business, Wendy's basic training will be conducted by Natsu," he informed them, eyes moving to his younger brother without batting a lash.
Natsu froze at the mention of his name. He might as well have cut him open and dumped a rock in his stomach. Something told him Zeref knew exactly that the thought of playing a part in breaking down the spirit of this little girl repulsed Natsu to the bone. He had to know.
And yet he had chosen him. Sure, Natsu was good - better than good - but there would have been other skilled fighters jumping at the chance of proving their worth, or inflicting the same pain they had lived through on the newcomer.
Maybe then, it was good. Maybe he could lessen her suffering to the best of his ability.
Vowing this to himself, Natsu gave a short nod before averting his eyes and clenching his jaw. Acnologia was not a merciful trainer. He'd make sure to protect this little girl from him and any other bastards - just like he had protected the last whose fate had intermingled with his.
But that was long ago now.
The little girl called Wendy was led off at Zeref's command, to be taken to her new home - a small, dirty cell underground, where sunlight never reached. It was where everyone was taken first: only one of many steps to quench their hope and make them obedient.
Her eyes locked with Natsu's for just a small instant as she was ushered past him, wide and teary-eyed, and the smile of encouragement never made it to his face.
The dread he felt barely had time to settle in his stomach when Zeref already began announcing this tournament's participants, reading names off a smudged list he'd filled out by hand.
Natsu never paid much attention to the fighters of light and heavy weight class; those were parts of the tournament that did not concern him. With his 77kg, he was a solid middle weight. Every two months, when the tournaments were held, five fighters of each class were elected.
And every time, the closer the date came, tensions spiked and disquiet rose.
Every time their names were called, their thoughts were almost palpable. Not me.
"Ezel, Fran, Max, Natsu, and Keyes," Zeref read with his ever-calm voice, moving on without as much as a glance at the people he had selected.
Natsu, though not surprised to hear his name, grunted angrily. So he was supposed to train a newcomer and prepare for his own fights? Had he pissed someone off lately?
Hard to tell - he always pissed people off.
Last time around he hadn't had to go into the ring, but it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to be selected on the regular. He'd gotten used to it.
A part of him craved it. The rush of adrenaline, the fire coursing through his veins as his body worked, the thrill of the fight, the urge to survive, the moment he knew victory was his; all these things had become a part of him he wasn't sure he could live without.
But he never wanted to seriously hurt people. He hated that he was forced to fight to near-death more often than not, with no rules or judges to stop them. Those were gritty, primal fights for survival; there was nothing pretty about them. They were held like animals in a cage, treated like livestock, valuable but disposable. And there was no way out.
He wondered about the people who paid to see them fight like this.
They were all rich, of course. Rich and bored and voyeuristic.
They paid for a bloodsport, for their fights, their time and their bodies alike. All of the victims of the ring, they were toys in every way.
This had been his reality for most part of his life. How long now, years upon years? Over ten at least. It was hard to keep track of time here, sometimes.
Happy stroked along his legs, as if feeling his discomfort. Smiling down at his old friend, he picked up his constant companion. The cat had been through as much as him, always by his side. Gently flicking his torn ear, he tugged him under his arm and made for the exit.
He didn't grace Zeref with another glance.
-::-
"I thought the police were finished with this runaway nonsense?"
"Just coverin' all our bases, making doubly sure no one missed anything important," Gajeel told the irate, frumpy old woman at the door to the Children's Home. He could tell she wasn't a fan of men in blue judging by the scowl on her face and the way she looked down her nose at him. "I'm just here to ask a couple questions about Wendy Marvel."
He'd already stopped by the public gym and spoken to the trainer's there. As well as the teachers at the school.
They'd all said the same thing - that Wendy was a good little girl, if shy, and that she'd been aching to be adopted for a while now. That she'd been worried and stressed since her birthday a few months prior. That while it was unsettling she'd run away, it wasn't exactly surprising to them.
Kids older than twelve had a harder time being adopted, after all.
The orphanage was the final stop. And so far, Gajeel had found next to nothing to even insinuate that the Ring was somehow involved in her disappearance.
Naturally, it was souring his mood.
"Wendy, Wendy, Wendy…" The old woman rolled her eyes with a scoff. "Little chit is causing problems when she isn't even here anymore. She was more trouble than she was worth sometimes, I swear…"
Gajeel fought the scowl trying to force itself onto his face. "Mind if I come inside?"
The woman grumbled under her breath, something about "no good trouble makers", but stepped aside nonetheless and invited him in. She didn't go out of her way to make him feel welcome, however.
He went through the routine questions - when was the last time you saw the girl, how was she acting, did you see anything suspicious that day, did she leave any notes, has she made contact since her disappearance - and the old woman answered them with clipped, repeated answers. No, no, and no.
She had no idea where Wendy had gone and from her attitude, it seemed that she didn't really care quite frankly.
Gajeel stood in the kitchen as the main caretaker fixed herself some coffee. "Do you think she's the type to run away?" he asked.
"Kids are all the same," was all she said.
Which meant that she honestly had no perception of Wendy's individual personality or habits. Or basically anything useful.
Great.
Gajeel pushed the air out through his nose and closed his eyes, preparing to chalk everything up to happenstance to a very unhappy Lucy. He hated happenstance and coincidences almost as much as she did, because in his world there was no such thing as happenstance or coincidence. But, it seemed that this was the one instance where they applied…
Or at least, he thought so until he felt eyes on his back.
The same eyes that had been following him the entire time he'd been in the Home. They'd tracked him relentlessly, trying to be sneaky. But children were never as sneaky as they thought themselves to be.
Gajeel glanced over his shoulder to spy two blue eyes peeking around the corner at him.
Upon being caught, however, the owner of the eyes let out a frightened little gasp and went to hide.
"Hey," Gajeel called before they could disappear, "stop hiding and come on out."
There was a long stretch of silence where Gajeel waited with a startling degree of patience. Slowly, a girl appeared, her eyes a bright shade of blue and hair an even brighter pink. They were done up in two pigtails on either side of her young face, just like Wendy.
She was about the same age as his runaway girl, and he had the vague impression that the two girls could have been friends. She was timid, but held her chin up to him bravely.
The girl had some brass in her. Good, maybe she could tell him something her overseer had neglected to mention.
"All right, kid, what's your name?" Gajeel asked, getting straight to the point.
Before the girl could answer, however, the main caretaker turned around with her coffee. "Chelia, what are you doing?" she snapped and the girl flinched. "Eavesdropping is rude and I know we didn't teach you that here."
The girl, Chelia, hung her head. "Sorry, Ma'am. But I couldn't help myself. I'm worried about Wendy…" she murmured as she scuffed her dirty babydoll shoe against the tiled floor. Blue eyes blinked back tears.
"Were you two friends?" Gajeel asked her.
He relished the thought of speaking to someone other than the older woman behind him. Her voice was growing to irritate him.
Chelia glanced at him for a moment. But again, before she could speak, the caretaker butted in.
"Friends?" the woman snorted and sipped her hot coffee. "More like partners in crime. The two were always together, separating themselves from all the other children, more interested in being outcasts than - "
"I was asking the kid," snapped Gajeel.
He'd had it with that grump and her clearly jaded view of the children in her care. And if he had to listen to her talk for another second, Gajeel swore he was going to punch something. Maybe her face.
He wasn't quite sure.
But, just in case she had any second thoughts about opening her mouth again, he turned a hot glare on her. His eyes on full menace.
The older woman paled and took another sip of her coffee. "Continue…" she whispered.
Chelia glanced between the two adults, unsure if she should speak once she had been reprimanded already. Gajeel twisted a look at the woman who was so deep in her coffee now, it looked like the old bag was about to fall into her cup.
"Don't worry about her," Gajeel grunted. "You're not gonna get in trouble for anything you tell me, and there's a chance I can help find your friend if you share what you know."
The young girl was nervous, and filled with more anxiousness than what should have been right for someone her age. A harboring suspicion was beginning to form in the back of his mind, but he didn't speak on it.
Speaking with a gentler voice than what he was used to, Gajeel bent down to meet Chelia's eyes. "You want to speak somewhere in private?"
The caretaker whipped around at once, her eyes flying open wide and a small splatter of coffee bouncing up onto her collar.
"Absolutely not! She is just a young girl, and she has to be questioned with her guardian present - which is me!" she protested, the grip on her cup tight, fingers claw-like in their hold.
Gajeel lifted a hand towards her, his eyes sharp enough to stop her in her tracks. "Maybe. But somethin' is tellin' me Chelia here won't object. Right?"
Gajeel looked down at the girl, who slowly, almost imperceptibly, nodded.
Smiling grimly, he gave one last glare at the woman that was beginning to remind him more and more of a bone-picking raven, and led the young girl off into the corridor. They slipped into a room she picked out, and Gajeel immediately guessed it had to be her bedroom. The bunk bed next to the wall was empty, and the suspicion grew in him that Chelia might have been Wendy's roommate.
They sat down at a ridiculously small table, Gajeel's shins bumping against its edge as he grumpily sat on an equally small chair. Great. This better bring him some results.
This room had not been renovated in a long time, and the furniture was much more befitting of toddlers than teenagers. Gajeel stared at the brittle paint on the wall, thinking if he exhaled it might come off altogether.
"So," he started, fixing his whole concentration on the girl opposite of him, "I have a feeling you got a lot to tell me."
The girl seemed torn between intimidation of his looming figure, and amusement of his contrasting surroundings. She took a deep breath, opened her mouth, but then closed it again.
"Maybe start by telling me about yourself," he suggested. "And your relationship with Wendy."
At the mention of the girl's name, determination flashed up behind her eyes.
"My name is Chelia Blendy. Wendy and I were roommates here," Chelia spoke, her tone desperate for Gajeel to believe her.
He propped his elbows onto the wobbly table, moving slow and careful, afraid if he applied too much pressure the whole thing would collapse under his weight.
"All right, Chelia, everyone tells me Wendy was getting anxious to be adopted. You're sure she didn't just take off?" he asked with an excruciating amount of gentleness. The last thing he wanted to do was offend the only possible witness he had that was willing to listen to him, but he had to ask her his questions.
The girl just shook her head, pink pigtails flopping on either sides of her head. They were tied back with bright orange ribbons, and Gajeel wondered if she and Wendy had made matching accessories. From the various pictures provided, it seemed that Wendy wore red ones.
Gajeel's chest twisted at the thought.
"She wouldn't have left without me," Chelia said in a quiet whisper. "Sure, neither of us were getting picked at adoptions, but she wouldn't have just run away without telling me. That's something we would have done together."
Gajeel took that to mean the topic might have come up once or twice. Still, he didn't press the thought. It was bad enough that there was one missing twelve year old, he didn't need to add another to the running case. Hopefully he could convince Chelia to stay right where she was for the time being.
"All right, so you and Wendy were close," Gajeel grunted. "Did you see anyone weird around the home a few days before she disappeared?"
Chelia looked thoughtful, but her expression cleared when she edged in closer to Gajeel. In a whisper, even softer than the last, she answered, "There was a man. He had scary eyes and messy hair."
"You saw him here?" Gajeel reiterated, to which the child nodded. "What was he doing?"
Chelia looked a little conflicted as she thought back to a couple of weeks ago. "He was just following during the last open house we had. I thought it was weird he wasn't talking to any of the kids. He was just walking around. And…watching."
"Watching who?"
"Wendy."
Hissing out a breath between closed teeth, Gajeel leaned back in his chair. There it was.
And then there was a crack as wood splintered, and there was no more resistance where his lower back had been resting. Gajeel barely had time to swear before he toppled over backwards, crashing onto the dusty ground.
"Fff- Flying cats!" he called out as he came back up, quite proud he had at least prevented another catastrophe. His dignity was long gone.
"You can say fuck, you know," Chelia dead-panned. "I'm not a child anymore."
Gajeel coughed loudly to hide the burst of laughter threatening to break free, rubbing dust flakes out of his thick hair. "You're not a kid all right, but ya sure are a brat."
Chelia giggled, and Gajeel found that making her laugh had been his greatest accomplishment of the day.
But he was back to his business face in a heartbeat, and the information he had obtained kept knocking at the very front of his mind. Shit. Lucy had been right.
He'd had a feeling she was, but now with the confirmation that something fishy was going on - it meant they'd found an actual lead to what most likely were the Ring's workings.
Gritting his teeth, he turned back to Chelia.
"This man," he said. "Ye're gonna have to tell me exactly what he looked like."
Chelia nodded, her expression far too tight and mature for a face so young. If the people behind Wendy's disappearance were who Gajeel thought they were, then they had already lost too much time.
No one ever bothered to ask the kids.
That was a mistake.
Natsu is finally introduced, what you've all been waiting for! And more insight into poor, poor Wendy...
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Next time! Chapter 3: Spar