He watched in a state of incredulousness as the tiny body flew through the air, its wings no longer working feverishly to support it as it fell to the ground in a free-fall. In the five or six seconds it took for the tiny little body to fall from its perch in the sky and hit the ground, he had been telling himself that it was just a dream-simply an illusion brought on by the wizard standing before him, and that with an enraged shout and a flourish of power he could break the illusion and find the other body right where he’d left it, floating precariously in the air. But as the seconds ticked agonizingly by and he felt the rage and anger build up inside of him to the point of bursting. Nothing changed. The tiny body lay still on the ground, the smoke that was emanating from its body beginning to dissipate as he smoldered.
He stared at the charred mass, not able to move. Even as a threatening mix of rage, sadness, and fury the likes of which Magnolia had never seen began to aggregate inside of him, all of that potential energy failed to move his limbs. His body felt frozen. Even the legendary Salamander, whose flames were known to be some of the most passionate and intense flames known to man failed to keep the boy warm this time, and made him experience-for the first time since he was small-a feeling of inescapable cold.
Although the shivering that was now wracking his body was not wrought from the inexplicable cold he was suddenly feeling; it mostly in part to the succession of tears cascading from his eyes. The combination of the sudden cold and the sobs now rocking his body made him look like a leaf in a storm. Swaying on his knees, he clenched his hands into tight fists at his side and let the tears fall freely, never once taking his eyes off of the smoldering mass that lay not ten feet from where he’d fallen; the body of his guild mate…the body of his best friend.
His friend whose very existence constituted making those around him emanate the same aura of joviality that he possessed. Whose heart was filled with nothing but good intentions. Whose very name so severely contrasted the emotions that the pink haired boy was currently feeling that thinking the word made the realization all the more painful.
This isn’t happening
This isn’t happening
This isn’t happening
He chanted that same string of words about a hundred times in his head, but every time he did, nothing changed. He could still smell the burnt skin and singed fur, still hear the cry of surprise the flying creature emitted when it was struck. And every time he screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the abhorrent display in front of him that he still wasn’t sure was entirely real, all he could see was the blackened body in mid-fall, the same shocked expression on its face as it hit the ground.
He choked on a sob, the tears stinging his eyes as they flowed more freely now, cascading down his face and splashing at his knees. He paid them no mind however as he looked past them to the body of his former guild mate. Gone was the exuberant demeanor and radiating jubilancy. Gone was the care-free, joyous expression. Gone was the free spirit of his best friend, all but erased from the world by the wizard who now stood before him, laughing maniacally at his pain.
Just then, something snapped inside of him. All of the pain, rage, sadness, and loss that had been coalescing inside of him as he watched his best friend smolder had finally overtaken him. This person standing before him had taken his best friend away from him and left him with a void in his soul that could never be refilled. This rouge wizard from an unknown guild had altered Natsu’s life so drastically that it would never be the same again. This…being that now stood above him, laughing like taking the life of someone he cared for was some type of sick joke had to be made to play for his follies. And with nothing to stymie his anger, Natsu finally let himself go.
The boy rose to his feet, eyes seeping with rage. Steam had long since started to rise from his body, the tears that once stained his face evaporating as his temperature rose to a dangerously high level; the grey cobbled stone he was standing on beginning to liquefy and pool at his ankles. His body begins to glow with a resplendent white hue, temporarily blinding the wizard who’d had his mouth agape the entire time. The already terrifying depiction of ire on the boy’s face was augmented as he started to growl, two small protrusions starting to egress from his shoulder blades. The fire wizard finishes the ensemble by letting out a vicious howl, capturing his pain, rage, and despair more eloquently than any words ever could.
It was widely believed by all of the people of Fiore that all of the dragons had gone extinct or simply disappeared, but seeing the outline of the winged form that was once the legendary salamander through the misty shroud of steam, the rouge wizard began to call into question the stories he’d been told as a child. He honestly believed in that moment that the being inside of the heady cloud of steam that looked about ready to tear his throat out was no mere human, but in fact a full-fledged dragon. And almost as if the beast knew he wasn’t fully convinced it let out another terrifying growl, this one sounding deeper and more aggressive than the last. The sheer savagery of the sound was enough to force the man to take a quivering step backward. It seemed that at last the unnamed assassin was finally convinced that he was not face to face with a man; but ultimately, the realization had come much too late-as before the man could turn around or even take another step, the beast was on top of him.
The entire affair lasted a mere fifteen seconds, but the fear and dread that the man on the receiving end was excreting was immeasurable. A barrage of claw swipes, a litany of flaming jabs and punches, all accentuated by a beastly, primal snarling was the last thing the remorseless assassin experienced before the dragon-like being ended his life with a fatal bite to the neck. And with blood dripping from his maw, accenting his already terrifying appearance he grabbed the lifeless body of his life-long friend and took off into the night, shrouded by the last vestiges of the steam from the boiling stone underfoot.
When he came to a short time later, clothes ripped and covered in blood, he was stricken with a sense of fear that he had not felt in a very long while. The laws for all mages were painfully clear when it came to dealing with death. It was clearly stated that no wizard, no matter how desperate or how justifiable the action is permitted to take another’s life through the use of magic or other means. Should one violate this law; they could be met with imprisonment and possibly death. Even though Natsu sometimes came off as dim-witted, guilds were something that he took very seriously; and as such, he was well versed with the rules and regulations of being in a guild and everything each member represented. However, one glance back to the charred body of his friend resting against a nearby tree-trunk made all of the laws and regulations he’d put the time into learning null and void. He balled his hand into a fist and struck the tree with a roar of anger, feeling little satisfaction from the sickening crack that it emitted.
The tears flowed freely again, along with the nearly unquenchable rage, and he found himself taking everything he had left out on the tree that his friend looked to be resting peacefully underneath. Blow after blow struck the hard outer shell of the large tree, causing it to rock and sway with each egression emotion, testing its sinew against the rage of a dragon slayer who’d just lost a something near and dear to him; and with each successive blow the once mighty oak was finding it progressively harder to stay stable, teetering with the unease of an infant on a balance beam. Once the pink haired boy finally felt that he had no more rage left to discharge on the defenseless structure, he reared back and with one last howl of anguish sent his fist rocketing forward, splitting the now weak and dilapidated organism nearly in two, feeling a twinge of satisfaction as it crashed to the earth with a resounding thud.
Seconds later the boy found himself on his knees, staring at the remains of the once proud staple of strength and resolution with blank, soulless eyes. It reminded him of himself in a way, strong, reliable and nearly unbreakable in the face of opposition. But as sturdy and dependable as he seemed, just like the seemingly unyielding creature that he’d toppled moments ago, he too could be broken if pushed beyond his limits. He once again shifted his tired, bloodshot eyes to what remained of his friend, he felt as though he wanted to cry again, but no tears came…only the stabbing pain that usually came in tandem with them. He picked up the ragged, scorched body of his former friend, cradling it matronly in the crook of his arm as he made his way back toward the guild hall.
The funeral was a mawkish affair; everyone who was present had been crying the minute Natsu pushed his way through the dilapidated double doors carrying what remained of his best friend and hadn’t stopped even after the wake had started. There was little talking during the ceremony as everyone tried in their own way to deal with the overbearing grief and sadness. The only one who did any extensive amount of talking was the master, as he stood in front of the former guild members grave, a seemingly immutable fountain of praise and kind words for their lost loved one.
After he’d finished his bout of commendation for their former guild mate, Makarov went in search of Natsu, figuring that the fire mage would be the one most affected by their family member’s death, only to find that he was nowhere to be found. After asking around he was informed by Elfman that he’d seen Natsu stalking off into the woods not far from the gravesite, so Makarov set out into the thicket as well. He knew he was close to his frazzled child when the acrid smoke from the burning bark of the trees became almost suffocating. He could hear the enraged snarling from his wayward son as he struck down tree after tree in an incensed rage, all logic engulfed by his unbridled fury.
Makarov approached the boy slowly, as if trying to contain a startled stallion; and not unlike a startled stallion, when the boy noticed his master advancing on him amidst the smoke and flames, he turned to run into the forest. However, Makarov was quick on the draw and the minute his brat turned to run, his monstrous fist was enclosed around the thrashing child.
“Natsu, you can’t run away from this!” his master bellowed over his child’s panicked and frantic struggling. “Can’t you see that he’s gone? No matter how far you run or how many things you destroy, it won’t bring him back?” At this, the child went rigid in his master’s monolithic grip. Makarov could feel the child convulse once, and then twice in his hand before going completely slack. The guild master said nothing as he pulled the grieving child across the now ashen field and into a decidedly father-like embrace where he let his brat cry earnestly into his shoulder.
“It hurts so bad,” he heard the tortured child sob into his bosom.
“I know,” he consoled, hugging the boy closer. “But often times, to get through something that may seem insurmountable; we must first be willing to face it head on.” Natsu heard the words that came out of his guild master’s mouth, but he wasn’t willing to believe them. His best friend-the being that had been there for him when it seemed like everyone else was out to get him was gone; and even though he had a guild hall teeming with people willing to offer their condolences and support, he still felt alone. Even after he’d composed himself enough to pick himself up and; through a combined effort of him and his master-make it back to where the funeral ceremony was still taking place, he realized he still felt anger.
He didn’t deny that the words that his master had spoken to him to calm him down rung true, but they did nothing to quell the rage he felt inside himself. In short; he was angry. Angry at the wizard that had taken his friend from him-angry at the gods for weaving such a cruel twist of fate-angry at city’s guard for not being able to detain someone so blatantly malicious; but mostly, he was also angry at himself.
He was angry that he was so weak. He was angry that even though he’d spent countless hours training, honing his skills so that he could be the best mage in all of Magnolia, in the end, he was not able to protect the ones he cared for most. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the overwhelming amount of pain and rage that he had floating around inside his person, or the fact that the truth was far too painful than he could bear; but somewhere along the walk back to the gravesite, he came upon a startling realization.
He realized that no matter what he did, he would never be able to fill the void in his soul left by the departure of the best friend he’d ever had. He realized, in that one solitary moment when he and his master emerged from the bramble only for his eyes to once again fall on the casket containing the individual that he’d valued over even himself, that he’d never again be able to feel Happy…
I half assed the last third of this story
