Gajeel's nostrils flared, his steel eyes scanning the horizon from the infirmary window. The once bustling town had grown eerily quiet, the only sound a gentle rustle of leaves. The late afternoon sun painted the cobblestone streets with a warm, golden glow, but the air held a tension that was palpable. His scarred hands gripped the windowsill tightly, knuckles whitening. The faint, acrid scent of something burning tickled his nose. It wasn't uncommon, not in a place where mages often practiced their craft, but this... this was different.
In the corner of the room, the soft hum of a healing spell filled the air as it wrapped around the bruised and broken forms of his comrades. They lay still, eyes closed, oblivious to the scent that had sent Gajeel's senses into high alert. The last few days had been a blur of pain and recovery, the battles with Fairy Tail etched into every ache and scar. He had fought alongside them, and against them, but now, something more primal called to him. His dragon slayer instincts were stirring, sensing a presence that didn't belong.
A gentle breeze drifted through the open window, carrying with it the unmistakable scent the Salamander. Gajeel's heart quickened. It had not been a long time since he had encountered one of his own kind outside of the guild. His thoughts raced, trying to piece together the puzzle. Why would Salamander be here, now, so close to the very people he had just battled? The same guild that was tasked in stopping him.
Panic washed over Gajeel, his eyes darting around the room. He knew that smell, had lived with it for years. It was a warning, a declaration of intent. It was the scent of fire and destruction, and it was growing stronger. His gut told him to act, to protect what was his.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent one more time before turning to face the room. His comrades barely noticed as they were having their own conversation, their eyes didn't even shift at his attempt to confirm. The color drained from his face as the realization hit him.
"I smell him." Gajeel grunted rising from his seat.
The room erupted in questions and protests, but Gajeel had already moved. He knew the layout of the town like the back of his hand, and he knew where the scent was coming from. It was time to face the fire that had found its way to the edge of Fairy Tail's doorstep. The weight of his mission settled on his shoulders, he left the infirmary, the cries of his friends fading behind like cotton in his ears as he stepped into the warm embrace of the late afternoon light. The smell grew stronger with each step, guiding him through the town like a beacon.
The cobblestone streets were empty, the shops shuttered, their owners hiding in the safety of their homes. His boots echoed off the buildings as he moved swiftly and silently, his eyes narrowed in concentration. He had to find the source of the scent,
As he reached the outskirts of town, the smell grew overpowering, and with it, a sense of dread. He had fought many heavy hitter in his time, but never quite like Salamander. As the cotton in his ears subsided he heard the voice of his friends behind him. The entirety of Fairy stood behind him.
"What the hell, Gajeel!" Erza shouted, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
"Why are you sniffing like that?" Happy, the blue cat, hovered in the air, tilting his head in confusion.
Gajeel ignored them, his eyes locked on a figure in the distance. He recognized the silhouette immediately - tall, with unruly hair and a cloak that billowed like a fiery curtain in the wind. It was, the rogue Salamander. The very man who had left them all bruised and broken just days ago.
"What does he want?" Mirajane whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
Gajeel didn't know, but he knew one thing for sure - this was not going to end well. He turned to face the group, his expression grim.
"I need to talk to him." Gajeel's voice was low and firm. "Alone."
The others exchanged wary glances, wanting to argue, but he held firm. Something about Salamander coming here just didn't sit right with him. In the end he argreed to only a few people to tag along. Those being Laxus, Erza, Wendy, Mira, Cana, and Makarov.
They followed the scent through the edge of the forest, the tension growing with every step. The buildings grew sparser until they reached the town's a part of the forest that has been left untouched, where a clearing opened up. There, standing amidst the tall grass, was the Salamander. His back was to them, his posture relaxed, as if he were simply watching the sunset.
Gajeel stepped forward, his hand twitching ready for a fight. "What do you want?" His voice was tight, the words barely a whisper.
The figure turned, and Gajeel felt his breath catch in his throat. It wasn't exactly what he was expecting. He wasn't wearing his flames and other than a cloak and his tattered pants he was bare. The wounds he suffered from Erza, Mira, Gray, himself... all of them were just barely healed. At a pace too slow that would be considered normal.
"I just want to check on a little bird," the Salamander said, his eyes flicking to Wendy. "And to give you all a friendly warning. Stay out of my business, or I'll turn this place into a bonfire."
Wendy gasped, taking a step backward. Gajeel could feel her fear, and his own anger grew. "You're the one who started this, coming here like a coward, threatening us!"
The Salamander's smile never wavered. "I'm no coward," he said calmly. "I'm just a man who knows when to fight and when to walk away. And if I'm not mistaken you were the ones that jumped into my business."
The air grew thick with anticipation, the smell of burnt oxygen hinting at the power the Salamander wielded. This wasn't going to be a simple conversation.
"Wendy," Gajeel said, his voice steady despite the fear that coiled around his heart, "are you okay?"
The young mage nodded, her eyes wide. "Yes," she squeaked, clutching her staff tightly.
The Salamander's gaze drifted over to Gajeel. "Your concern is touching, but unnecessary." He took a step closer, the grass crackling beneath his bare feet. "Your guild is not my target. I have no desire to cause more destruction here."
Gajeel's hand clenched around the handle of his iron pipe, ready to unsheathe it at any moment. "Then why are you here?"
The Salamander's smile grew into a grin, revealing teeth sharper than any dragon's. "Let's just say I have unfinished business with the world, and I don't need you or your friends getting in the way." His eyes searched the group, lingering on Laxus, Mirajane, and Cana before returning to Gajeel. "You're the Iron Dragon Slayer. I respect strength. But if you stand in my way, I'll have no choice but to show you the true meaning of fear."
The words hung in the air, a silent promise of pain and destruction. Gajeel felt his comrades tense beside him, but he knew better than to let the Salamander's taunts bait him into a fight he wasn't ready for.
"We're not afraid of you," Erza said, her arms blazing with magic.
The Salamander chuckled, his eyes alight with an unsettling amusement. "Fear is a choice, Erza. One I hope you make wisely." He took another step closer, the heat from his body growing intense. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've said what I came to say."
With that, the rogue mage turned and began to walk away, the flames of his cloak dancing in the breeze. Gajeel watched him retreat, his mind racing. The Salamander hadn't come to fight them. Not yet. But he had made it clear that he was watching, and that was more unnerving than any battle could ever be.
"We can't just let him go," Mirajane said, her voice filled with frustration.
Makarov, the guild's grandmaster, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We've done enough for now. We need to heal and prepare. Gajeel is right. This isn't our fight alone."
The group reluctantly nodded, their eyes never leaving the retreating figure. As the Salamander disappeared into the forest, Gajeel couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much larger, something that would change the course of their lives forever.
Back in the infirmary, the injured Fairy Tail mages began to stir as the news of the Salamander's visit spread. The room buzzed with whispers and hushed conversations, but Gajeel remained silent, lost in his thoughts. He knew that the peace they had found would be short-lived. The scent of fire lingered in the air, a constant reminder of the storm brewing just beyond the horizon. And as the sun dipped below the treeline, painting the sky with shades of orange and red, Gajeel made a silent vow to himself: he would not let his newfound family burn in the flames of the Salamander's wrath.
Those minutes after the trek back felt like hours. Those hours turned into days, and the tension in the guild grew with each passing moment. Gajeel took it upon himself to train harder, pushing his limits in anticipation of their inevitable encounter. His eyes never left Wendy, studying her every move, every expression, looking for a clue to her past with the rogue mage. The scar he saw that cut clear across the rogue's body left a nagging feeling at the back of his head.
One evening, as the last rays of light danced through the windows, Gajeel found her sitting alone in the guild's garden, her eyes closed, deep in thought. He approached her cautiously, the crunch of gravel beneath his boots the only sound. When she didn't flinch at his presence, he knew she was aware of his approach. He sat down beside her, the silence stretching out between them like a tightly wound thread.
"Wendy," he began, his voice low and measured. "You know something about him, don't you?"
Her eyes remained closed for a moment longer before finally opening to meet his. There was a sadness there, a weight that seemed too heavy for her small frame to bear. "Yes," she murmured. "I know more than I wish I did."
Gently, he prodded her for information. "How did he get that scar?"
Her expression grew pained, and she took a deep breath before speaking. "He got it... fighting something," she said. "A dragon. That's why I got attached to him. Someone else with ties to a dragon. At first I thought he was a dragon slayer like me and he got it during training, but nothing he said actually led me to believe he was."
Gajeel's grip tightened around his knuckles. "So?"
Wendy's gaze fell to her lap, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't know," she replied. "But seeing that he was a slayer and didn't tell me anything. I don't know, it hurts."
The revelation hit him like a ton of bricks. "Did he say anything else? How he got it or from what dragon?"
Wendy shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. "No, he was always so... guarded. Like he was hiding something. Even when he was smiling and playing around it felt... I don't know how to describe it."
Gajeel leaned back, his eyes scanning the horizon, lost in thought. The scent of the rogue Salamander was still etched into his nostrils, a constant reminder of the looming danger. He knew he had to tread carefully with Wendy. She was still recovering from the battle, both physically and emotionally, and the last thing he wanted was to push her too far.
"Wendy, I understand if you don't want to talk about it," he said, his voice softer than usual. "But if there's anything you can tell me that might help us understand him better, it could be vital. Did you notice anything about the cut? Maybe how it took too long to heal?"
"You noticed it too?" Wendy gasped.
Gajeel nodded solemnly. "I did," he said. "It's not normal for a wound like that to heal so slowly, especially not for a dragon slayer."
Wendy's eyes searched his face, looking for understanding. "He said it was from a dragon, but it was so much more than that. The way he talked about it, it was like...it was personal."
The two sat in silence for a while longer, each lost in their thoughts. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the garden. Finally, Gajeel spoke up. "We need to be ready for when he comes back. And he will come back. He has something planned, and I can't let it happen."
Wendy sniffled, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. "What are we going to do?"
"We're going to find out what he's after," Gajeel said with determination. "I see that he still cares. Get some rest kiddo." He tussles her hair and heads out.
With Salamander
Natsu sat hunched over on a bench in the middle of a crowded park. His eyes were glued to the chessboard in front of him, his knuckles white from the grip of his opponent's pawn. The midday sun cast a warm glow on his face, but the chill of the wintery air was a nice feeling against his burning skin. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves around his feet, sending a shiver down his spine. He wore a tattered, oversized jacket that had seen better days, his breath fogging in the cool air as he contemplated his next move.
"Checkmate," murmured the old man across from him, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. Natsu didn't look up, his eyes still focused on the board, the reality of his defeat slowly sinking in. He reached for the king, toppling it with a gentle touch. His opponent's eyes twinkled as he pushed the pieces back into their starting positions. "Again?"
Natsu nodded, his gaze drifting to the children playing tag nearby, their laughter piercing the cocoon of concentration he had wrapped around himself. Their carefree games were a stark contrast to the weight of his thoughts. He had a way of finding the quietest, most solitary spots in the busiest places, a talent honed over the years. "In a bit," he said, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the city.
The old man studied him for a moment before nodding, picking up his cane and leaving the bench. "Take your time," he said, before shuffling away. Natsu remained still, watching the chessboard as if it held the answers to his unspoken questions. The world around him was a blur of movement and noise, yet he felt eerily alone.
A young girl, no older than eight, approached him with a tray of hot chocolate. "Would you like one, mister?" she asked, her voice sweet and hopeful. Natsu looked up at her, his eyes tired but not unkind. He fished a coin from his pocket and handed it to her. "Thank you," he said, taking the warm cup. The scent of cocoa wafted towards him, a comforting aroma that seemed to hold the promise of a better day.
The girl beamed before skipping away to the next potential customer. Natsu brought the cup to his lips, savoring the first sip as it warmed him from the inside out. But even as he felt the warmth spread through his chest, his mind was elsewhere, lost in the frosty embrace of the future and the price he knew he would have to pay. He successfully hid his flinch from the paining building all over his body.
He had been on the run for what felt like an eternity, dodging shadows and fighting battles that seemed to never end. Each victory left him weaker, but he knew that the alternative was not an option. His mission was clear: protect the innocent, no matter the cost. The warmth of the hot chocolate was a stark contrast to the icy resolve in his veins, a reminder that despite his weariness, he could not afford to let his guard down.
The bench groaned under his weight as he shifted, his muscles protesting the movement. His wounds from the last encounter were slowly healing, a testament to his unyielding spirit. He knew he had to keep moving, keep fighting. But for now, in this moment, he allowed himself a brief respite. The park's serenity was a deceptive sanctuary, one that he cherished more than words could express.
As Natsu sipped his drink, a shadow fell over the chessboard. He looked up to see a woman with piercing blue eyes, a fur-lined hood framing her face. She was tall, with a confidence that seemed to demand attention. "Mind if I join?" she asked, her voice as cool as the winter breeze. Without waiting for an answer, she took a seat across from him and began setting up the pieces. Natsu studied her, his instincts on high alert. She was not like the others. There was something about her that made him feel both safe and on edge at the same time.
Her movements were deliberate, almost as if she was playing a dance with the pieces. Each piece found its place with a grace that spoke of a deep understanding of the game. Natsu felt a strange sense of kinship with her, a bond that transcended the simple act of playing chess. As they played in silence, the tension between them grew, palpable as the snow that began to fall around them. With every move, the anticipation grew, each piece a silent declaration of intent.
The woman was good, very good. Her strategies were unconventional, leaving Natsu to wonder if she was testing him or simply playing to win. His thoughts raced, trying to predict her next move. Was she an ally or an enemy? He had been betrayed before, and his trust did not come easily. Yet, as the game progressed, he found himself enjoying the challenge she presented. The simple pleasure of the game was a balm to his weary soul.
Their eyes met over the board, and Natsu saw something in her gaze that made his heart skip a beat. A spark of recognition, of understanding. He knew her, but for the life of him he couldn't remember from where. It irked him. The snowfall grew heavier, turning the once vibrant park into a serene winter wonderland. Yet, in the quiet, their game grew more intense, each move echoing through the silence like a shout in a deserted hallway.
Their game was a dance of intellect and intuition, each player probing the other for weaknesses. Natsu felt a strange thrill, a reminder of the days when he had been the one doing the hunting, not the hunted. The world around them melted away, leaving only the stark contrast of the black and white pieces and the sound of their breathing. It was a brief, beautiful moment of normalcy in a life fraught with danger and chaos.
But as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and purple, Natsu knew he couldn't linger. His enemies wouldn't rest, and neither could he. He made his final move, the queen toppling his opponent's king. The woman looked up, her eyes holding his for a moment before she gave a small nod of respect. "Thank you for the game," she said, her voice softer than the falling snow.
With that, she stood, her hood slipping back to reveal a cascade of silver hair that glinted in the fading light. Natsu felt a pang of regret, a sudden desire to know more about he. But he knew better than to get attached. With one last look, she disappeared into the snowfall, leaving him with the lingering scent of her perfume and the memory of a game that felt like so much more than just chess.
Natsu took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs.
This time he couldn't hide the flinch of pain. It shot through him like lightning, a stark reminder of his fragility. He looked down at his hand, his once-white knuckles now stained a vibrant red. The color stood out against the stark white of the snow, a crimson beacon of his struggle. His hand trembled as he reached into his pocket for the makeshift bandages, his movements awkward and pained. The sight of his own blood seeping into the fresh snow brought him back to reality with a jolt. He had to move, had to find shelter before the next round of battles.
The price for power was something as simple as this: enduring the agony of healing wounds while the world went on around him. It was a price he'd paid time and again, a currency of pain that bought him the strength to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. As he carefully wrapped his hand, he thought of the smiles on the faces of those he'd saved, of the quiet moments of thanks from those who knew the cost. It was effective, yes, but it came at a price that seemed to grow heavier with each passing day.
The snowfall grew heavier, the flakes now sticking to his eyelashes and clinging to his hair like tiny ice crystals. He took a deep breath, the cold air stinging his lungs, and stood up with a grimace. His legs protested, but he ignored the pain, his thoughts on the path ahead. The warmth of the hot chocolate had long since dissipated, leaving him with only the bitter taste of reality. He had to find a place to rest, to heal properly before the next battle called.
The park was emptying now, the families retreating to their warm homes, leaving Natsu to his solitary struggle. The lights from the streetlamps cast a warm glow on the fresh snow, a stark contrast to the coldness seeping into his bones. He knew he couldn't stay here, not with nightfall approaching and his enemies likely to be searching for him. He had to keep moving, keep fighting, no matter the cost.
With a heavy heart, he gathered his things and began the slow, painful journey through the city. Each step was a battle, but he refused to let it show. His thoughts drifted back to the woman with the piercing blue eyes, her silent challenge on the chessboard a reminder that there were others out there like him. He hoped they were on the same side.
The buildings grew taller as he approached the city center, their shadows swallowing the last light of day. Natsu's eyes scanned the rooftops and alleyways, searching for the telltale signs of a safe haven. The hustle and bustle of the city was a strange comfort, a cacophony of sounds that made it easy to hide in plain sight. But it also meant that danger could come from any direction, at any moment. He tightened his grip on the strap of his bag, the weight of his trusty weapon a reassurance against the unknown.
The snow grew heavier, obscuring his vision and making the ground slippery beneath his boots. He cursed under his breath, the cold seeping into his very marrow. But he pushed on, driven by the knowledge that every moment was precious, every step bringing him closer to the warmth he so desperately craved. The price for power was high, but it was a price he would pay again and again, for as long as he was needed. The agony was worth it, at least that was what he kept telling himself.
He spotted a narrow alley between two tall, shadowy buildings. The mouth of the alley looked like the gaping maw of some great beast, but it was the safety that lay beyond that drew him in. He moved with the grace of a predator, his senses on high alert. The dumpster at the alley's entrance was rusted and old, but it had served him well in the past. With a grunt of effort, he shoved it aside, revealing the small, almost invisible entrance to his temporary sanctuary.
The space was tight, just large enough for him to squeeze through. The air was stale, reeking of decay and forgotten dreams, but it was shelter. He crawled into the hiding spot, his body protesting every inch. It had been years since he'd last used this particular spot, back when he was a mere child. The walls seemed to have shrunk, or perhaps it was just the weight of his newfound responsibilities that made him feel so confined.
Once inside, he pulled out his makeshift medical kit and began to tend to his wounds. The pain was intense, each touch sending fire racing along his nerve endings. But he gritted his teeth and focused on the task at hand. He knew that if he didn't clean and bind his injuries properly, he risked infection or worse. The sting of the antiseptic was a welcome distraction from the cold that had settled deep in his bones.
The process was slow and meticulous, each movement a silent battle against his own body's weakness. As he worked, he thought of the woman from the park, her eyes holding a world of secrets. He wondered if she too had a hiding spot, a place where she could lay her burdens down and breathe without fear. The idea of an ally was tempting, but he knew better than to let his guard down.
The night grew colder, and the sounds of the city grew muffled, swallowed by the thick blanket of snow. Natsu curled up in the damp corner, his back pressed against the cold brick, and closed his eyes. Sleep was elusive, his mind racing with thoughts of the battles ahead and the people he had to protect. The warmth of the hot chocolate was long gone, replaced by the bitter chill of the night. But he knew that come morning, he would rise again, ready to face whatever the world threw at him.
For now, though, he allowed himself this small reprieve. The pain was a constant companion, a reminder of his humanity in a world that often seemed devoid of it. He listened to the muted sounds of the city, the distant hum of traffic, the occasional shout carried on the wind. It was a comforting cacophony, a reminder that life went on, no matter how much he wished it would stop for just a moment to let him catch his breath.
The snow continued to fall, a gentle lullaby to his weary mind. He wrapped his arms around himself, the fabric of his jacket stiff with ice and blood. But as he drifted into an uneasy sleep, the image of the woman's blue eyes remained with him, he knew her but from where? He knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges, new pains. But for now, he was safe. And that was enough.
In the early hours of the morning, Natsu's eyes fluttered open to the cold light of dawn. His hand went to his arm, where the scales had grown only slightly larger in the night. They were a constant reminder of his burgeoning power, a power that came with a cost he was all too familiar with. A failure, a mistake, had brought them forth. He could feel them, like tiny shards of ice beneath his skin, a stark reminder of his own fallibility. Almost indistinguishable to those who don't know about it.
Hell if it came down to it, he could stop the growth altogether and leaving his skin no different than anyone else. But he needed to heal fast and the alternative was way too slow. Sure the scales speed things up, but... it doesn't matter.
The alley was still, the snow a silent sentinel outside his makeshift shelter. He took a deep breath, the cold air biting at his nose. Time to move, he thought. His hand hovered over the bandages, a silent debate playing out. Remove them and risk infection or leave them and slow his healing? In the end, the decision was made for him as he felt the warmth of new scales pushing through the fabric. With a grimace, he unwrapped the cloth, revealing the freshly grown scales. They were a darker hue than the ones on his back, almost black in the dim light.
The pain was intense, a burning that seemed to consume his very essence. But he knew that with each scale, he was growing stronger, even as the cost grew steeper. He took a moment to let his breathing even out before pushing the dumpster back into place. He stepped into the alley, his boots crunching on the fresh snow. The city was still sleeping, a rare moment of peace in the chaos that was his life.
As he walked, the scales grew, spreading like a dark fire up his arms. With every step, the pain grew more intense, but so did his resolve. He had made his choice, and he would live with the consequences. The cold air bit at his bare skin, but the heat of his transformation kept him from shivering. He had to find a new place to lay low, a place where he could train and plan his next move.
The streets grew busier as the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched out before him. His eyes searched for somewhere to rest, to recover from the pain of his transformation. It was a constant battle, one he had been fighting for longer than he cared to remember. The price for power was steep, but he had accepted it long ago. Once he was done healing they would fall off. Not too dissimilar to a lizards shedding.
Only for him a small amount of the scales would remain. Most simply fall off.
The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, and his stomach rumbled in protest. He hadn't eaten since the night before, and the energy he had expended was significant. He ducked into a nearby alley, his senses on high alert. His eyes scanned the rooftops for any signs of danger before he allowed himself to focus on the aroma. He hadn't realized how hungry he was, how much he craved the simple comfort of food.
He found a small bakery, the warm light spilling out onto the snow-covered street. Through the window, he watched as the baker pulled a loaf from the oven, the steam rising in a cloud of sweet-smelling warmth. Natsu's mouth watered, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to forget his troubles. He stepped inside, the bell chiming a cheerful tune that seemed to mock the heaviness of his heart.
The baker looked up, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of Natsu's scales. But the shock was quickly replaced with a knowing nod. It wasn't the first time he had seen the likes of Natsu, and it wouldn't be the last. "What can I get for you?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.
Natsu's eyes fell on the loaf of bread, the one that had called to him from the street. "Just that," he said, pointing. "And maybe some tea?"
The baker chuckled, understanding in his gaze. "Coming right up," he said, as he sliced off a generous portion and wrapped it in a piece of parchment. He poured a steaming cup of tea and placed it on the counter. "On the house," he murmured, as if it were a secret between them.
Natsu took the food and the drink, his hand shaking slightly from the effort of holding it all together. He knew he couldn't stay long, but for now, he allowed himself this small luxury. He sat at a table in the corner, his back to the wall, and took a bite of the bread. The warmth and taste filled him, giving him a brief respite from the cold outside. The tea was hot and bitter, but it was exactly what he needed. He took a deep breath, feeling the warmth spread through his body, and closed his eyes for a moment.
As he ate, he couldn't help but listen in on the conversations around him. The chatter of the early risers filled the bakery, a mix of complaints about the cold and excitement for the upcoming holiday season. It was a stark contrast to the battles he faced, a reminder of the world he was fighting to protect. He felt a pang of sadness, a longing for the simplicity of a life that seemed so far out of reach. But he knew he couldn't afford to get lost in such thoughts.
The sound of footsteps outside the alley made him tense, his hand sliding to cover the worst of the scales. The footsteps grew closer, the crunch of snow underfoot growing louder. His heart pounded in his chest, the scales on his arms standing on end. He knew he had to be ready, that the peace was likely to be shattered at any moment. He took a final sip of tea, the warmth a comforting embrace against the icy grip of fear.
The door to the bakery swung open, and in stepped the woman from the park. Her eyes locked on him immediately, the same intensity from their chess match shimmering in her gaze. She didn't seem surprised to find him here, almost as if she had known he would be here all along. Natsu tensed, his grip tightening in a way that almost tore away his growing scales. "You're hurt," she said, her voice cutting through the chatter like a knife. The baker looked up, his eyes flickering to Natsu's scales before returning to his work.
The woman approached, her movements as graceful as a dancer's. She slid into the seat across from him, her eyes never leaving his. "What happened?" she asked, her voice low and concerned. Natsu studied her for a moment before deciding she wasn't an immediate threat. "A fight," he said, his voice gruff. "A necessary one."
Her eyes searched his, and for a moment, Natsu felt exposed, as if she could see the depths of his soul. "I know," she said softly. "I've seen the likes of you before." The words hung in the air, a question unasked but heavy with meaning. Natsu's heart raced as he realized she might be one of them, someone who knew his secret.
The woman leaned closer, her eyes never leaving his. "My name is Elara," she said, extending her hand. "And I think it's time we talked."