Cringe.. 2014 me is cringe.. Anyways, I'm glad that you don't remember what this monstrosity is about and reading it at 2025. As an apology, I'm rewriting this from scratch.
The world burned.
Not from fire—but from war, chaos, death.
Natsu Dragneel had felt pain before. Physical agony was nothing new. But this... this was different. His body was breaking apart from within. The tumor—Zeref's gift, the END that lay sleeping—had awakened. And it was killing him.
He collapsed, gasping, feeling the weight of everything. The battles. The losses. The lies. The truth about who he was.
As darkness began to consume his vision, the scent of ash and smoke fading around him, Natsu could only think one thing:
So this is it... huh.
His body hit the scorched ground. Still. Silent. The war around him carried on, unaware that one of its fiercest flames had just flickered out.
Not from fire—but from war. From chaos, screams, the clash of steel, the thunder of magic tearing the earth apart.
Natsu Dragneel had fought in many battles. He'd bled on battlefields, stared death in the face, challenged demons, gods, and kings. But never—never—had he felt pain like this.
Not even when Igneel died.
Not even when he watched Zeref stand unscathed in the middle of a battlefield of corpses.
This pain wasn't from a blade. It wasn't from wounds or broken bones.
It was from within.
Something deep, dark, and wrong curled inside him like a serpent made of fire and hatred. The tumor in his chest — that thing born of the Etherious magic Zeref sealed inside him — was no longer sleeping.
It was awake.
It was eating him alive.
His breath hitched.
Natsu stumbled across the scorched battlefield, his hand pressed to his chest as if that could stop the searing agony in his heart. But the heat wasn't his own. This wasn't his flame — it was END's. Wild. Corrupted. Twisting the very magic in his veins.
"I… I can't…" he gasped, smoke trailing from his mouth.
A crater yawned before him, the sky above torn open by the fury of god-tier spells. In the distance, the screams of his friends echoed—Lucy, Gray, Erza, Wendy—all still fighting. Still believing in him.
They didn't know.
Didn't know that the boy they trusted was breaking from the inside.
His knees buckled then he collapsed. The world tilted sideways, and he could feel the scar on his side—the place Zeref had struck him—pulsing with unbearable heat. His vision blurred, and all he could see was fire. His fire. Flaring, failing, flickering. He clawed at the dirt. Memories hit him all at once.
Lisanna's laugh. Lucy's smile. Happy's voice calling out his name. Erza standing tall even when she was wounded. Gray… crying at their fight.
And Igneel.
Always Igneel.
"I'm not… done…" he growled through clenched teeth, the flames around his body flaring for just a moment.
But the pain didn't stop. It deepened.
His magic was turning against him.
His heartbeat slowed—like something inside had snapped. Cracks spread through his body, faint glowing lines of Etherious magic blooming like spiderwebs under his skin.
The tumor had reached its peak.
Zeref had warned him: "You're not human, Natsu. You're my creation. When END awakens… Natsu dies."
So this is it... huh.
His face hit the ground. There was no final scream. No dramatic blaze of glory. Just a quiet fall. Natsu's body went still—half-submerged in ash and cracked stone, flames still whispering around his limbs like they didn't realize their master was gone.
His scarf was burned. Tattered. Threads of Igneel's scale unraveling in the breeze.
The war raged on behind him, unaware that the flame that had burned through darkness time and time again... had gone out.
And then—
Darkness.
But not the peaceful kind.
Not the gentle quiet of death, nor the numb surrender of unconsciousness.
This was heavy.
Suffocating.
A pressure that bent time and space around him like molten glass.
There was no ground. No sky. No pain. Just weight. Like something was holding him down—pulling him into the core of himself.
His heartbeat was gone.
But his fire wasn't.
Somewhere deep inside that emptiness... it still smoldered.
And with it... a voice.
"Natsu."
It echoed across the void like thunder in a canyon. Deep. Familiar. Untamed.
He knew that voice.
Even in death, he could never forget it.
His eyes snapped open—
Only to find himself floating in a place beyond the living world. A space of pure red light. Heat shimmered like a mirage. The air itself was flame.
A presence coiled nearby — massive, powerful, ancient.
Natsu turned.
"I-Igneel…?"
Everything was red.
But not blood-red.
Flame-red.
It shimmered around him like a memory on the edge of burning out. The ground beneath his feet was scorched obsidian, cracked with glowing seams of molten light. The sky—if it could even be called that—was a swirling void of crimson heat.
Natsu stood still, chest rising and falling in shallow, confused breaths.
"I… I was dead." His voice was hoarse.
There was no battlefield. No smoke. No screams. No Lucy. No Fairy Tail. Just this space. Quiet and hot, like the center of a forge.
"...Where the hell am I?"
He turned slowly, one step at a time. The air was thick—not choking, but heavy. Like it was watching him.
Then he felt it.
That presence.
Old. Massive. Fierce.
His pulse skipped.
He knew that presence the way a child knows the warmth of a parent's hand. It was a feeling burned into his bones, one he had spent years chasing—and mourning.
And when he turned—
His heart almost stopped.
There, resting among the flames, curled like a sleeping volcano, was the dragon he had spent half his life searching for.
Red scales. Black horns. A massive tail curled beneath a body scarred by time and war.
Igneel.
Natsu's lips parted.
He tried to speak, but no sound came out. His throat caught with everything—grief, disbelief, rage, longing.
He took a step forward.
Another.
Then he ran.
"I-Igneel!" His voice cracked as he stumbled into the dragon's side, pressing his fists into the hot, pulsing scales.
The heat should've burned him alive.
It didn't.
Igneel stirred slowly, golden eye peeling open with an exhausted grumble. "...Tch. All that noise again. You always did yell too much, brat."
Natsu's body trembled. Not from fear.
From everything.
"You—You're alive?"
Igneel's gaze narrowed. He exhaled a small breath — embers dancing in the air. "Alive's a strong word. So is 'dead.' Not everything's so black and white, boy."
"But… I saw you die." Natsu's voice broke. "In front of me. You fought Acnologia. You tore him apart. You were ripped apart."
"Hn." Igneel turned his head, looking off into the fire-washed horizon. "And yet here you are, crying on my scales like a hatchling."
"I—I thought I lost you again…"
"You did," Igneel said plainly.
That silence again.
Painful.
Real.
"You were dead," Natsu repeated. "I couldn't save you. I couldn't even say goodbye."
"And you think that's your fault?" the dragon asked, voice quieter now. "That because you weren't strong enough, I died?"
Natsu gritted his teeth. "I should've been stronger."
"You were a child," Igneel said, not harshly, but firmly. "You did everything right. You've always done everything right."
The words hit harder than a fireball to the chest.
"...Then why did you leave?" Natsu whispered. "You disappeared when I needed you most. You were inside me the whole time and never said anything. Then you came back just to die in front of me. Why?"
Igneel didn't flinch.
Instead, he looked at his son — really looked at him.
And for a long moment, he was silent.
Then he said:
"Because I believed in you."
Natsu's eyes widened.
"I could've torn that monster apart with you inside me. Could've burned END to the ground before he ever woke. But if I had... you wouldn't have grown into this." He gestured with a claw. "The fire you carry now — that's not mine. It's yours. You earned it."
"But… look where that got me," Natsu said quietly, gripping his chest. "The tumor… the END thing… it nearly killed me."
"It did kill you," Igneel said without hesitation. "At least for a moment. That's why you're here."
Natsu's body stiffened.
"This… this place. Is this the afterlife?"
The dragon's golden eye studied him, calm and unreadable.
"This is the in-between. The place where flames don't burn out — they wait. You're not dead. But you came closer than ever. The only reason you're not gone is because someone kept holding on to your flame."
"...Lucy."
Igneel nodded.
"She dragged you back. Through magic. Through pain. Through love. That girl has the stubbornness of a dragon, I'll give her that."
Natsu looked down at his hands. They weren't cracked or bloodied anymore, but they still trembled. "I don't get it. I'm not supposed to be here. If I died… why do I feel alive?"
"Because your will's louder than your death," Igneel said. "And because someone—you—refused to be finished."
A beat passed.
Then, slowly, Natsu smiled.
"Guess I'm still a pain in the ass, huh?"
"Always," Igneel muttered, but something like pride burned in his voice.
Then his expression turned serious.
"But you can't go back like this. Weak. Torn apart inside. If you want to rise again... then you've got to remember what you are."
Natsu met his gaze. "And what's that?"
The dragon leaned forward, eyes burning gold.
"You're a Dragon Slayer."
Flame.
Roaring. Consuming. Cleansing.
For days—weeks?—there had been nothing but fire. And pain.
Igneel had not held back. His training was relentless, feral, merciless. Every blow was like being hit by a meteor. Every breath felt like it tore his lungs apart just to rebuild them stronger.
"You wanted to get stronger," Igneel growled, standing over Natsu as he coughed through smoke, body smoldering with raw energy. "Then act like it."
"I am," Natsu growled, teeth gritted, muscles shaking. "You said I need to remember what I am. I will. I'm a Dragon Slayer. I'm your son."
"And?" Igneel's shadow loomed, golden eyes glinting.
"I'm also human. I'm Natsu Dragneel." He punched the ground, fire spiraling up his arms. "And I won't lose again. Not to END. Not to Zeref. Not to fate."
The flames answered.
Not just the ones he summoned — but his. The ones buried in his soul. The fire Igneel once said was unlike anything he'd seen.
The fire that was his own.
The training ended in silence.
Igneel stood tall, eyes narrowed in something like pride.
"You've burned away the rot," the dragon finally said. "The END inside you… it's no longer in control."
Natsu exhaled, shoulders trembling with exhaustion. "So it's over?"
"For now."
"But…" He looked down at his hands. "...it doesn't feel like I'm going back."
"That's because you aren't," Igneel said, voice suddenly sharp.
Natsu's brow furrowed. "What?"
The space around them—once shimmering red—began to fracture. Cracks, like those in glass, tore through the void, glowing with threads of brilliant white.
A pull started at Natsu's core. Magic. Raw and chaotic.
"Igneel?!"
"Something's wrong," the dragon growled, turning toward the sky, nostrils flaring. "This isn't your path."
"What are you talking about?! Lucy rewrote the book—she's pulling me back, right?!"
"She was," Igneel snapped. "But your soul has been altered. The training. The power. You've become… unstable in time."
The pull intensified.
The red void began to collapse, falling in shards around them.
"No—No, no no!" Natsu shouted, claws of light latching onto his limbs. "Where is it sending me?! What's happening?!"
"I don't know!" Igneel thundered. "But wherever it is—remember who you are!"
"Igneel!"
Natsu reached for him.
Their hands never met.
Chapter 1: Gone Back in Time
And then—
White.
Searing white.
Not like death.
Like birth.
Cold.
Dew on stone. Wind through trees.
Birds chirping overhead.
The smell of... pine?
Natsu gasped awake, lungs expanding like it was the first breath he'd ever taken. He sat up violently, chest heaving.
No smoke. No war. No blood.
Just a quiet forest morning.
His heart pounded. His body felt small—light. But still strong. Too strong for how small his frame was. Something was wrong.
He stood shakily, looking around.
"Where…?" His voice was younger.
Then he saw it.
The cave.
Not the scorched ruin it had become during the war—but whole. Pristine. As he remembered it from childhood. Vines still clung to the stone. The charred marks of old fire spells still on the wall.
He looked down.
His arms were thin again. His hands—small, unscarred.
But the power inside him? It was all still there. Dormant, resting — but not gone.
And then it hit him.
He turned, wide-eyed.
There was no one there.
The cave was empty.
"Igneel…?"
Silence.
He staggered outside.
Nothing.
No shadow overhead. No massive wings blotting out the sun. No deep, rumbling voice calling him "brat."
Just the wind.
And a scarf. Folded neatly on a nearby rock.
White.
Unburned.
Untouched.
His chest tightened.
"No…" he whispered.
He picked it up, shaking. Ran back into the cave. Checked every corner. Every crevice. Shouted until his voice cracked.
"Igneel! IGNEEL!"
No answer.
He fell to his knees.
And that's when it hit him.
The date.
The sky.
The heat of the summer wind.
This wasn't after the war.
This wasn't even the present.
This was...
"…The day after he disappeared," Natsu breathed. "X777…"
He stared at his trembling hands.
"I went too far back."
The cave was dead quiet.
Not silent.
Empty.
That was worse.
Natsu sat cross-legged on the cold stone, Igneel's scarf clenched in one hand like a lifeline. His other hand rested on his chest — over his heart. Searching.
Waiting.
Nothing.
No flame pulsing beneath his ribs. No ancient magic curled tight in his soul. No second heartbeat. No lingering warmth like a dragon's breath on his spine.
He closed his eyes.
Focused.
He reached deep inside himself the way he had during the war — when Igneel finally revealed he'd been hiding within Natsu all along, protecting him, watching.
That time, he'd felt it: a massive, coiled presence. A wall of fire that was not his own.
But now?
He found nothing.
Just his own magic. His own will. His own fire — hotter than before, stronger than this body should've been able to hold, but still... his.
Igneel was gone.
Not sealed.
Not sleeping.
Just… gone.
He opened his eyes.
The scarf slipped from his fingers.
"...Guess this really is a second chance," he whispered. "You're not here to carry me this time, old man."
He swallowed hard.
No more being protected from the shadows.
No more last-minute saves.
No more goodbyes.
Just him.
On his own.
Natsu stood.
"Alright," he muttered, brushing dirt off his pants. "First things first. Figure out what's changed."
He stepped out of the cave, into the crisp morning air.
He'd lived through this day once already — woke up, cried for hours, screamed Igneel's name until his voice died in his throat. Then wandered alone for weeks before finding Fairy Tail.
But that Natsu didn't know anything.
This one knew everything.
He climbed the nearby ridge — the one he used to scale as a kid. From the peak, he could see the valley below: forests, rivers, the far-off mountain range.
All still there.
No modern settlements. No damage from wars or guild battles. This was the world before it changed.
Before Phantom Lord.
Before Nirvana.
Before Edolas.
Before Zeref.
The sky was too blue. The wind too calm.
Peace.
He hated it. It felt like waiting for something to go wrong.
As he went down the clearing, He closed his eyes and focused again.
Fire Dragon's Roar.
He breathed deep — then exhaled, unleashing a stream of flame that tore through the nearby trees, carving a clean scar across the ridge. Birds scattered into the air.
"…Still got it."
He didn't have the full power of END anymore — Lucy must've sealed that part again when she rewrote the book. And the Lightning Flame Mode Laxus gave him? Gone. He tried to call it, but no static surged through him. Still... his raw power was leagues beyond where it had been at this age. If he could fight like this in a child's body... then no one in this timeline would be ready for him.
Not even Zeref.
The biggest question remained:
Was this the past exactly as he remembered it?
Or had something changed already?
He pulled the scarf tight around his neck and started walking toward the nearest town.
"Guess it's time to find out."
It was a small, quiet village nestled by the forest — a place he vaguely remembered passing through on his way to Magnolia the first time. No signs of battle or destruction.
Good.
As he walked past the market stalls, he caught whispers.
"Did you hear? The dragons are gone. All of 'em. Vanished into thin air..."
"Same day, every last one. Like they were never real."
"Bah, just myths. Dragons haven't existed in decades—"
Natsu clenched his jaw.
No. Not myths.
They were real. They are real.
But he bit back the fire. No point burning anyone yet.
Instead, he approached a posted bulletin board by the village inn.
Wanted posters. Guild notices.
And—
His heart skipped.
A faded map. With all the major guilds.
There it was.
Fairy Tail — located in Magnolia.
Still there.
Still active.
He grinned.
"Okay. So some things haven't changed."
He walked for hours — through the woods, across the same trails he used to wander as a kid looking for food. His legs ached from the height difference. His old clothes from the cave hung just a little loose.
He caught a reflection in a puddle along the path.
Rounder face. Shorter hair.
His own eyes stared back at him — only they didn't match the body.
They were older. Sharper. Tired in a way no ten-year-old should be.
"Yeah," he muttered, looking himself over. "This is gonna be weird."
But his jaw set.
He had work to do.
By the time the sun was past its peak, he reached a hill overlooking the wide open road — the one that led to Magnolia.
Same curve.
Same tree stump where he'd once broken his toe trying to kick a rock that turned out to be metal.
Even the air smelled the same.
"…Everything's the same."
That truth finally sank in.
The world hadn't changed.
The people hadn't changed.
Only he had.
The smell of fire still lingered in the air — smoke rising gently from the charred ground, curling upward like a memory that refused to leave.
Natsu sat on a warm stone, one leg pulled up, elbows resting on his knee. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths. The fire in his lungs, the dragon-soul in his veins — they were under control again. For now.
He ran a hand through his hair, now shorter again, just like it used to be. It felt strange — his body light and unfamiliar. Limbs that hadn't yet grown into their strength. But everything inside? Still there. Waiting. Coiled and patient.
He was about to get up and find a place to camp when—
Snap.
His entire body tensed before the sound even fully registered.
A twig.
Crunching under a boot.
Someone was watching him.
The atmosphere changed — not threatening, not hostile — but dense. Familiar. It pressed into the clearing like heat on skin.
Natsu stood slowly, cautious, hands loose at his sides, ready to fake innocence if it came to that.
And then he saw him.
Short. Broad. Draped in a large, worn cloak that fluttered faintly in the breeze. His signature bottle in one hand, the other resting lazily on his hip.
Thick white brows. Eyes sharp, thoughtful.
Makarov Dreyar.
Alive.
Untouched by war.
Still whole.
Still… here.
Natsu's heart twisted. For a second, he forgot to breathe. His throat tightened.
Gramps... You didn't die in front of me this time. You're not a ghost. Not a statue. Not a sacrifice.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to breathe normally.
Don't lose it. Don't show it.
Makarov stared into the clearing — at the scorched trees, the smoldering path left by the last fire spell. His eyes drifted to the pink-haired boy standing at the center.
His expression shifted — confusion first, then concern, then a quiet surprise that he quickly masked.
"…Kid."
Natsu blinked. Pulled on his best confused-but-cocky face.
"Y-Yeah?"
Makarov stepped forward, boots crunching over burned leaves.
"That spell you used just now. Where'd you learn it?"
There was no judgment in his tone, but it wasn't casual, either.
It was the voice of a man who had seen too much magic and knew exactly what dangerous power felt like — even in the hands of a child.
Natsu shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.
He forced a laugh.
"I learned it from a dragon?" he offered, voice a little too high-pitched, a little too quick.
Makarov's expression didn't change.
"…A dragon?"
"Yeah. His name was Igneel," Natsu said, more naturally this time. "He raised me. Taught me Fire Dragon Slayer Magic."
He avoided eye contact, looking down at his feet like a shy kid who knew he was being judged.
But he could feel Makarov's eyes scanning him.
Not suspicious.
Just... trying to understand.
Trying to place him.
Makarov finally spoke again.
"That wasn't a child's magic I saw."
Natsu looked up.
The old man's gaze was sharp now, focused, his brows low.
"That was battle magic. Fire with control. Precision. Not just power — you fought with that. Like someone who's been throwing spells on the battlefield for years."
He narrowed his eyes.
"How old are you, boy?"
Natsu tried to laugh again, more relaxed now, arms swinging loosely.
"Uh… ten? I think? Igneel never really kept track. We didn't exactly celebrate birthdays."
Makarov studied him silently for a moment.
The lines on his face softened. Just a little.
"…What's your name?"
"Natsu. Natsu Dragneel."
Something in Makarov's eyes flickered.
Then he sighed — not in frustration, but something closer to acceptance. The weight behind the exhale felt like a decision being made.
"You got a home?"
Natsu shook his head.
He tried to keep his tone light.
"Nah. Just been training. Wandering around since Igneel disappeared."
"…Disappeared?"
"Yeah. He just… vanished one day. No note. No goodbye."
His voice dipped — just for a second — and Makarov caught it.
The old man scratched his beard, stepping into the clearing fully now. The embers near his boots sizzled softly, reacting to his magic. The man was a living pressure field. Even at his most relaxed, he was a wall of presence.
He folded his arms.
"You're looking for something, aren't you?"
Natsu shrugged.
"Guess I'm just looking for a place to belong."
Makarov nodded slowly.
The wind stirred the trees above them. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of the Magnolia river rolled like a whisper.
"You got power, boy," Makarov said. "More than most at your age. Probably more than most full-grown mages."
Natsu blinked, feigning surprise. "Really?"
"But that power doesn't mean a damn thing unless you have somewhere to put it. A reason to fight. People to protect."
Natsu's chest tightened.
That hit harder than it should have.
Because it was exactly what he'd forgotten before.
Before Lisanna. Before Lucy. Before Fairy Tail made him more than a weapon.
Makarov turned toward the trees, gesturing for Natsu to follow.
"Well?"
"Well what?" Natsu asked, stepping cautiously.
"You looking for a guild?"
Natsu blinked. "I mean… yeah."
"Then come on," Makarov said over his shoulder, walking into the forest like it was already decided. "Let's see if you belong in mine."
Natsu stood frozen.
It hit him like a punch to the gut.
The memory. The voice. The invitation.
He'd heard it before.
But back then, he hadn't understood what it meant.
Now, he knew exactly what this moment would lead to.
What it would cost.
What it would give him.
His throat tightened.
For a second, all he could do was stare at Makarov's back as the old man walked away.
Then Natsu smiled — real and raw — and wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist before jogging after him.
"Yeah… alright, old man."
His voice cracked with a mix of excitement and buried grief.
"Lead the way."
The guild was smaller than he remembered.
Not physically — the building was the same wide-wooded hall with its crooked beams, bannered walls, and creaky porch steps. But the feeling was different.
Quieter.
No brawling in the back. No tables flying. No beer fountains or Gildarts-level collateral damage. The air was calmer. More focused.
Less family… more guild.
Natsu stood just outside the doors, Makarov already inside speaking to someone near the job board. His hand trembled against the wood.
Not from fear.
But because this was real.
He was back.
Before everything.
Before Edolas.
Before Tenrou.
Before Lucy.
Before Happy.
He took a deep breath.
And pushed the doors open.
The hall fell into a soft hush as the new face entered.
A few adults looked up from their food or paperwork. Several mages near the request board gave him a once-over — pink hair, scarf, barefoot, looked like he'd slept outside.
A girl sitting near the middle of the room blinked up from a pile of papers — messy brown hair, wide eyes, maybe around his age.
Cana.
Younger. No bottle in sight. No sarcasm, no drunken bravado. Just quiet curiosity.
She tilted her head at him.
"You're new."
"Y-Yeah," Natsu said, rubbing the back of his neck.
He tried to smile like it was the first time.
Cana climbed off her seat and padded over, arms crossed, but not aggressively. Just observant.
"I'm Cana. My dad's in the guild."
Natsu blinked.
So… that's how she introduced herself back then.
She didn't know her father was Gildarts yet. Not for years.
He kept his expression neutral.
"I'm Natsu. Natsu Dragneel."
She frowned slightly. "Dragneel… never heard of you."
"Well, I just got here."
"You smell like smoke."
Natsu grinned. "I get that a lot."
Before Cana could question further, a new voice cut across the hall.
"Oi, brat!"
A tall, gruff older mage stomped over — heavy boots, big hands, square jaw.
Macao.
Younger, bulkier, still a full-time job-taker back then. No trace of the laid-back barfly he'd become.
"Master says you're joining the guild?"
"Yeah."
"You got any magic, or are you just another kid who thinks shouting real loud counts as a spell?"
Natsu raised an eyebrow. Then smirked.
"I've got magic."
Macao snorted.
"Uh huh. Let's see it, then. Right here, right now."
Cana took a step back. Some of the other guild members turned to watch.
Natsu shrugged.
"You sure?"
"Don't hold back, kid."
Natsu exhaled.
Then—
With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a burst of fire — a tight, controlled spiral that danced in midair for a few seconds before vanishing in a clean puff of steam.
The guild went quiet again.
That wasn't just raw flame.
That was trained fire.
Efficient.
Disciplined.
Not something any average kid could do — and certainly not without a chant, focus, or seal.
Macao stared.
"…You weren't kidding."
Cana's eyes widened. "That was cool…"
Natsu smiled a little more naturally this time.
"Thanks."
The doors creaked open.
Dust danced in the golden sunlight pouring into the wooden guildhall. Warm laughter, muffled shouts, and a faint burst of magic rolled out in waves — a low hum of energy unique to Fairy Tail.
Natsu stood frozen just beyond the threshold.
It smelled the same.
Wood polish, fire smoke, spilled stew.
Home.
He swallowed hard.
"Go on, brat. Don't make me drag you in by the scarf," Makarov muttered behind him, arms folded and brow raised.
Natsu exhaled and stepped forward.
The sounds inside dulled for a second. Not silent, just... curious.
A few members paused their dice games. Others looked up from sparring. It wasn't a dramatic hush — just the kind of quiet ripple that comes when a stranger enters a familiar place.
Makarov strode past him and stood on a raised bench near the request board. He cleared his throat once — loud and sharp.
"Alright, settle down, you rowdy bastards!" he barked.
A crate flew through the air and shattered against a pillar.
"Oi! I was winning that round!"
"Tell that to the table you blew up!"
"Someone get Cana out of the crate again—"
"I said settle!"
The room finally calmed. Muffled grumbles and awkward shuffling.
Makarov huffed. Then placed a firm hand on Natsu's shoulder and pulled him forward.
"This brat here's the newest addition to our madhouse," Makarov said, with an audible lack of ceremony. "Name's Natsu Dragneel. Says he was raised by a dragon."
There were a few surprised noises. Someone muttered, "A dragon?" with disbelief.
A small figure hopped up from behind a nearby table, her long brown hair tied back messily, freckles dusted across her cheeks.
Cana Alberona.
Maybe eight years old. No drink in her hand — just a stack of half-bent Tarot cards and a pouty scowl.
She squinted at Natsu with theatrical scrutiny.
"He doesn't look like he's raised by a dragon," she said boldly. "He looks like a boy who eats bugs."
"I don't eat bugs!" Natsu barked back reflexively — then quickly coughed. "I mean, uh… no."
She crossed her arms. "Well, he's got a cool scarf."
Natsu grinned despite himself. "Thanks."
Someone behind her snorted.
"You give out compliments now, Cana? That's a new one."
Cana pouted in embarrassment, "Shut up!"
At the far end of the room, near the mission board, another girl leaned silently against the wall. Red hair. Short. Her eyes were sharper than the others — not curious, but cautious. Like she was always waiting for something to go wrong.
Erza Scarlet.
Younger than he remembered her in this setting — maybe ten or eleven, same as him — but already intense. Still in her withdrawn phase. No armor. Just a long shirt and bandaged knuckles.
She didn't speak. Just watched.
Natsu met her gaze.
For a moment, it was like looking at a reflection — two kids who had already seen too much of the world, even if one of them didn't realize it yet.
She looked away first.
"You got any magic?" someone asked.
Natsu turned toward the voice.
A stocky teenager with crooked teeth and a buzzcut leaned over the railing from the upper balcony.
"I've got fire," Natsu said.
He held out one palm, and a small flame sparked into life — precise, controlled, tame. He wasn't showing off yet. Just enough to get a nod.
The boy whistled. "Not bad."
"That all?"
Makarov narrowed his eyes. "I'd like to see any of you cast that at ten years old."
There were a few awkward chuckles.
"Brat says he's a Dragon Slayer," Makarov continued, folding his arms. "You lot ever heard of that magic?"
"Old stuff, right? Like... forbidden?"
"Lost Magic," Makarov confirmed. "Rare, ancient, powerful." He turned toward Natsu. "Might just be you have more in you than you know."
Natsu swallowed, unsure how to respond.
He couldn't overplay his hand — not yet.
"Guess we'll find out," he said instead, forcing a grin.
"Oi, Master! Where you want his mark?" someone shouted.
Makarov looked at Natsu.
"Well? Where d'you want it, brat?"
Natsu didn't hesitate.
"Right shoulder. Red."
Makarov raised a brow. "Specific."
Natsu shrugged. "I like red."
Makarov stamped the seal without another word. The mark burned slightly, but Natsu welcomed the sting. It made this real.
Again.
He was back.
A few members gathered around him afterward — asking questions, testing him with casual spells, some trying to challenge him to a duel right away.
Natsu faked confusion where needed. Gave vague answers. Played the part of a tough kid with no filter, but wide eyes.
But in his chest?
His heart was beating fast — too fast.
He saw Cana laugh and toss her cards. Saw Makarov grumble at two teens cheating over a mission board. Saw the light pour in from the same window that would one day be shattered by Laxus during the battle of the Fantasia festival.
This was the calm before the storm.
And he was the only one who knew what was coming.
He looked toward the guild doors.
A year until Lisanna arrives.
Another year after that until Gray joins.
Three more until Lucy walks through those same doors.
Natsu clenched his fists.
"I'm not losing anyone this time," he muttered under his breath.
Date: X777 – Two weeks after Natsu joins Fairy Tail
He was sitting on the second floor of the guild hall — the quiet spot, near the old bookshelf where no one really went unless they were bored or hiding from chores. His legs swung beneath the wooden bench, a mostly-eaten meat bun in one hand.
Below, the guild buzzed with life.
He watched them all.
So many familiar faces — younger, livelier.
Macao still had that thick mustache, laughing too loud at his own jokes. Wakaba had hair and no pipe burns yet. Even Nab was already doing his "think really hard about which mission to take" routine, despite being twelve.
And in the corner — with tarot cards spread in a messy semi-circle, chewing on a piece of jerky and frowning like she was doing math with her soul — sat Cana.
She was younger than he remembered. Maybe eight or nine. Her long brown hair was in a ponytail, and she wore oversized sleeves that slipped past her fingers when she shuffled the cards.
Alone.
Not ignored, exactly. But no one sat with her.
Not really.
Natsu tilted his head.
He hadn't talked to her much as a kid, had he?
Back then, he'd been obsessed with Igneel. Loud. Impatient. Always fighting or burning something. Cana had just been "that card girl" in the corner.
He'd never once stopped to wonder why she was always alone.
But now…
Now he knew things.
Things he wasn't supposed to.
And he saw it — the quiet glances she gave Makarov when she thought no one was watching. The way she watched S-Class wizards return from missions like she was searching for someone.
Someone who never came.
Gildarts.
Her father.
She didn't know yet.
Wouldn't find out for years.
And she'd carry that loneliness like armor until the day it cracked.
Natsu's fingers curled around his bun.
"…Not this time."
He dropped down from the second floor, landing with a quiet thump. He walked toward her casually, trying not to look too interested.
Cana didn't look up.
She shuffled her cards again, more aggressively this time. The Queen of Swords flopped out and she scowled at it.
"Bad draw?" Natsu said, crouching next to her.
She glanced at him. "Not really. Just means I'm gonna have to deal with someone annoying today."
Natsu smirked. "Like who?"
She flicked a glance at him.
"...Maybe you."
"Rude."
Cana snorted and finally cracked a grin.
He sat cross-legged across from her, arms resting on his knees. He tilted his head at the spread of cards.
"So what are you doing?"
"Practicing." She tapped the cards. "Trying to read futures. My mom used to say I had the knack for it."
Natsu went quiet.
He remembered that too.
Cana's mother — Cornelia — had passed away just before Cana arrived at Fairy Tail. The guild took her in. She'd been raised among strangers, without answers, hiding her pain behind bold words and careless smiles.
She reminded him a lot of himself.
Just quieter.
"Can you read my future?" he asked.
Cana squinted. "Depends. Are you gonna take it seriously or laugh the whole time?"
"I'll take it seriously," Natsu said, tone genuine.
She eyed him suspiciously, then nodded.
"Alright. Give me your hand."
He blinked. "Huh?"
"For grounding." She reached across and grabbed his hand without waiting.
Her fingers were smaller than his, a little cold.
She frowned as she laid the cards.
Three fell out at once.
She stared at them.
Natsu glanced down.
The Tower. The Sun. Death.
"Whoa." He raised an eyebrow. "Is that bad?"
Cana didn't answer at first.
Then, slowly, she said, "...It's weird."
"How so?"
She sat back, her voice quieter now.
"The Tower means your world already collapsed. The Sun is something new — hope, I guess. And Death..." she paused, brushing her thumb across it. "Doesn't always mean dying. Could be transformation."
Natsu looked at her.
She didn't realize how right she was.
"You're hard to read," she muttered. "Most people are just noise. But you—"
She stopped herself.
"Never mind. You're just weird."
Natsu laughed.
"Thanks."
She stared at him a second longer, then turned back to her cards.
They sat in silence for a while.
The guild buzzed around them.
"Hey," Natsu said eventually, voice soft. "You're here by yourself, right?"
Cana didn't look at him.
"I'm not alone," she said defensively. "The guild takes care of me."
"I didn't mean it like that," Natsu said quickly. "I just meant... it's cool. I get it."
She glanced up.
Something in his tone caught her off guard.
He sounded older than ten. Not in the way he talked — but in the weight behind his words.
"...You're weird," she said again, but without heat.
"Maybe," Natsu said with a grin. "But I think we're gonna be friends."
She snorted. "Yeah? You sure about that?"
"Positive."
She shook her head, smiling now despite herself.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
She watched everything.
Even when she pretended not to.
Erza sat near the far corner of the guild hall, where the afternoon light barely touched the floorboards. Her back was to the wall, legs tucked up on the bench, arms crossed. She wasn't reading. She wasn't talking. She was just... watching.
People avoided her, mostly.
Not out of cruelty — they just didn't know what to say.
Even Makarov seemed to give her space.
Natsu stood near the stairs, chewing the last of a meat bun, his eyes drifting toward her like they had been for the last ten minutes.
She hadn't moved once.
Still. Silent. Eyes flicking from table to table, face unreadable.
He could almost see it — the weight she carried. The pieces of herself she kept buried. The Tower of Heaven hadn't been that long ago. She was still Erza of the cages, not yet the queen who would command a battlefield.
She looked his way — for just a second — then quickly looked away.
Natsu took a breath.
Time to try.
He walked across the guild, passing Cana — who raised an eyebrow from her card game but said nothing.
As he approached, Erza didn't look up.
"Hey," Natsu said casually.
No response.
He sat down across from her, elbows resting on the table, mirroring her crossed arms with a casual slouch.
Silence.
He waited.
And then—
"You're loud," she muttered.
Natsu grinned. "You haven't even seen me fight yet."
That earned him a glance — brief, skeptical.
"I saw your fire earlier," she said, voice low. "You're not normal."
"Neither are you," Natsu replied without hesitation.
She frowned.
But she didn't tell him to leave.
He leaned back.
"You always sit here alone?"
Erza shrugged, her shoulders tight. "It's quiet."
"You like quiet?"
"I don't like noise."
Natsu nodded. "Makes sense."
She looked at him again — this time longer, eyes narrowing slightly.
"You're weird."
Natsu laughed. "You and Cana keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
He leaned forward a little.
"You don't trust anyone here, do you?"
Her body went still.
Not defensive — just tense. Like someone who'd had too many things taken, too many lies told.
"I'm not here to make friends," she said. "I'm here to get strong."
Natsu tilted his head.
"Why?"
She glared. "Why do you want to be strong?"
"To protect people," he said honestly.
Her expression flickered — almost imperceptibly.
Then she looked away.
"...I don't believe in people."
Natsu went quiet for a second.
Then said, softly, "Yeah. I didn't either. Not back then."
Erza looked up sharply. "Back when?"
Natsu waved his hand. "Never mind."
He scratched the back of his head. "Look, I'm not trying to be nosy or whatever. I just… thought maybe you could use someone to sit with."
Erza blinked.
Then snorted.
"You're too loud to sit quietly."
"I can be quiet!" Natsu protested.
She raised a single eyebrow.
"Okay, I can try."
She stared at him for a long second.
Then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded toward the bench beside her.
"…Sit. But no talking."
Natsu grinned.
"Aye."
They sat together for the next ten minutes in silence.
Erza didn't speak. Natsu didn't push.
But she didn't move away either.
And that was enough.
From across the hall, Makarov watched from the second floor, mug in hand.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"…Strange little brat," he murmured. "You're not like the others."
July 8, X778
A year had passed.
Quietly, steadily — without war, without loss. Just time.
In that time, Natsu trained in secret, keeping his strength sharp beneath the surface. He deepened his quiet bond with Cana, becoming her shadow when no one else noticed. He earned Erza's guarded trust, not with words, but by showing up — again and again — without asking for anything in return.
And now… the day had finally come.
The Strauss siblings walked through the doors of Fairy Tail.
The Guildhall Doors Opened.
They came in with nothing but a single bag between them.
A tall boy with shaggy white hair and a protective stance. A little girl with silver eyes and a tired smile. And a girl not much older than Natsu, with wild white hair, scraped knees, and eyes that dared anyone to say the wrong thing.
The Strauss siblings.
Mira. Elfman. Lisanna.
Natsu had been waiting for this day with a heart so tight it felt like it might burst.
But when they entered… he froze.
They looked younger than he remembered.
Smaller.
Mira hadn't sharpened into the cold devil-mage yet. Her hair was still messy, not sleek. She looked like she was trying not to cry.
Elfman clutched Lisanna's hand like it was the only thing keeping him standing.
Lisanna…
She looked around the guild with wide, searching eyes.
Hopeful.
Nervous.
But smiling.
Natsu stood slowly.
From the table in the corner, Cana looked up from her cards.
From her window perch, Erza narrowed her eyes slightly.
Makarov came down the steps and greeted the children like he'd done a hundred times — warm and patient.
"Welcome to Fairy Tail," he said.
And Natsu…
He walked forward.
Slowly.
Hands loose. Eyes soft.
Lisanna's gaze flicked to him — unfamiliar, unsure.
He stopped in front of her.
Held out his hand.
And smiled like a boy meeting her for the first time.
"Hey. I'm Natsu."
Lisanna blinked.
Then smiled back.
"I'm Lisanna."
She took his hand.
I'll do my best to redeem myself.
slow and steady this time. I'll try to keep it in line and not a tangled mess.. still cringing.
Same plane, A harem but the girls will not fall in love with Natsu immediately