Chapter 2: The Dragon of the East.
The transition from elementary school to junior high is often described as a new chapter in life. For Natsu Dragneel, it felt more like reading a book with half the pages missing.
The spring air was crisp, carrying the scent of cherry blossoms, but the walk to Aldera Junior High felt lonely. For the first time in years, there was no pink-skinned girl walking beside him, no playful teasing. Mina Ashido had transferred to a different district, chasing her own path to high school.
Natsu kicked a pebble down the street, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. He was twelve now, his jawline slightly sharper, his muscles beginning to define themselves under his school uniform. But inside, a storm was brewing.
"I'm going to fail," he had told her.
"I'll pray for your success," she had replied.
"Success..." Natsu muttered to himself, watching the pebble skitter into a gutter.
He was passing through a busy shopping district, the towering buildings casting long shadows over the afternoon crowd. People bustled about—salarymen checking watches, mothers pushing strollers, students laughing in groups.
Suddenly, a piercing shriek cut through the ambient noise.
"SNOWBELL! NO!"
Natsu's head snapped up. The sound came from a high-rise apartment complex across the street.
On the fifth floor, a small white cat had slipped through the railing of a balcony. It was clinging desperately to the edge of the concrete with its front claws, mewling in terror. A woman on the balcony was reaching down, her face pale with horror, but she was too far away.
The cat's claws slipped.
"Ah!" The crowd below gasped. Time seemed to slow down.
The cat plummeted.
Natsu didn't think. He didn't calculate the distance. He didn't check for traffic. His body moved on pure instinct..
I can't reach it by running! Natsu's mind raced as he sprinted into the street. I need height! I need to fly!
Focus the heat... down!
Natsu gritted his teeth, channeled the caloric energy sitting in his gut, and pushed it all toward the soles of his feet.
"FIRE DRAGON...!"
BOOM!
A massive, uncontrolled explosion of orange flame erupted from his sneakers. The force was tremendous—far greater than he anticipated. It didn't launch him gracefully into the air; it blasted him upward like a misfiring rocket.
"Whoa!" Natsu screamed.
The heat instantly melted the rubber soles of his favorite sneakers. The lack of balance sent him spinning wildly in mid-air. He flailed his arms, trying to correct his trajectory, but physics was a cruel teacher.
He missed the falling cat by a full meter.
"Damn it!" Natsu yelled, watching the white blur fall past him.
Momentum carried Natsu forward, slamming him face-first into the brick wall of the second floor. CRACK. He bounced off the masonry, gravity taking hold of him again, pulling him down toward the unforgiving pavement along with the cat he had failed to catch.
I missed...
The ground rushed up to meet them. Natsu shut his eyes, bracing for the impact.
It never came.
Suddenly, the air temperature spiked drastically. It wasn't the chaotic, wild heat of Natsu's explosion. This was a refined, overwhelming pressure—like standing next to a dormant volcano.
WHOOSH.
Something massive and crimson swept beneath them.
Natsu felt a strong arm wrap around his waist, halting his fall with impossible gentleness. He opened his eyes.
They were hovering ten feet above the ground.
Holding him was a tall man. He stood nearly seven feet tall, with a broad, muscular chest visible beneath an open, high-collared dark red vest. He had wild, dark red hair that flowed like a lion's mane and a jagged scar running down his neck.
But the most breathtaking sight was on his back.
Two magnificent, ethereal wings made of pure, concentrated crimson flames extended from the man's shoulder blades. They beat slowly, keeping them aloft, the heat waves shimmering in the air.
In the man's other hand, nestled safely against his chest, was the white cat.
"Gotcha," the man rumbled. His voice was deep and gravelly, vibrating in Natsu's very bones.
The man descended slowly, his flame wings dissipating into embers as his boots touched the sidewalk. He set Natsu down and then gently placed the shivering cat onto the ground.
Natsu stood there, dazed. His face was scraped from the wall, his feet were smoking, and the soles of his shoes were completely gone, leaving him standing barefoot.
The crowd erupted into applause, but they looked confused.
"Who is that?"
"I've never seen that Hero before."
"Is he new?"
The tall man ignored the crowd. He turned his sharp, reptilian eyes toward Natsu. He crossed his massive arms, looking down at the boy with an unreadable expression.
"That was reckless," the man said.
Natsu clenched his fists, shame burning hotter than his quirk. "I know! I... I tried to save it, but I messed up. I missed."
"You missed because you have no foundation," the man stated bluntly. He pointed at Natsu's feet. "You tried to use a jet propulsion technique without the necessary core strength or balance control. You've even burned your own shoes.."
Natsu looked down at his ruined socks, his toes wiggling against the pavement. He felt humiliated. "I just wanted to help.."
The man's expression softened slightly. The stern lines around his eyes relaxed.
"Your body moved before your mind could process the danger," the man mused. He leaned in closer, his presence intimidating yet strangely comforting. "That is not a flaw, boy. That is the prerequisite of a Hero."
Natsu looked up, surprised. "Huh?"
"Technique can be taught. Power can be refined," the man said, tapping Natsu's chest with a large finger. "But the instinct to act? The fire in the gut that screams 'save them'? That cannot be taught. You have the heart of a dragon, little one. But your wings are still too weak to carry it."
"I'm not little!" Natsu argued instinctively, then paused. "Wait... who are you? You're not a local Pro, are you?"
The man threw his head back and laughed, a hearty, booming sound. "Local? No. I am merely a tourist passing through this beautiful country. I retired some years ago."
He extended a hand. "In my homeland of Taiwan, I was known as Igneel, The Fire Dragon.."
Natsu's eyes widened. "Igneel? The Fire Dragon?"
"You've heard of me?" Igneel raised an eyebrow.
"No, never," Natsu admitted with brutal honesty.
Igneel choked on his own laugh, coughing slightly. "I see. Brutally honest. I like that."
Igneel looked at Natsu's black eyes for a while. He seemed to make a decision. He reached up and unwound the long, scale-patterned scarf he was wearing around his neck. It was white, with a unique texture that looked almost like woven armor.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Natsu. Natsu Dragneel."
"Dragneel, huh?" Igneel smiled, a toothy, fierce grin. "Fitting."
He stepped forward and draped the scarf around Natsu's neck. He looped it carefully, tying it in a way that felt secure.
"This scarf," Igneel explained, his voice turning serious, "is made from a synthetic fiber developed in my country, designed to mimic the heat resistance of mythical dragon scales. I wore it for twenty years. It protected my throat when my own flames became too hot for my body to handle."
Natsu touched the fabric. It was warm, heavy, and incredibly soft, yet it felt indestructible.
"Why give it to me?" Natsu asked, bewildered.
"Because you have a lot of fire inside you, Natsu," Igneel said, placing a heavy hand on Natsu's shoulder. "Until you learn to master it, let this scarf be your reminder. A reminder that fire is not just for destruction or propulsion. It is for warmth. It is for protection."
Igneel stepped back, his silhouette framed by the setting sun.
"I will love to see you as a successful hero in future, Natsu!"
Before Natsu could ask another question, a black sedan pulled up to the curb. Two men in suits stepped out, looking relieved.
"Sir! Mr. Igneel! Please, you can't just wander off!" one of the agents cried out. "The embassy is worried!"
"Bah, stop fussing," Igneel waved them off. He looked at Natsu one last time. I think I have waited a long time to meet a boy like you.. Hope we will meet again soon.
With that, the former Number One Hero of Taiwan ducked into the car. The door closed, and the vehicle merged into traffic, leaving Natsu standing on the sidewalk in his burned socks, the scale-patterned scarf fluttering in the evening breeze.
"You walked home barefoot?!"
Natsu's mother stood in the genkan, staring in disbelief at her son's feet. The ruined remains of his sneakers were in a plastic bag in his hand.
"I had a little accident," Natsu said with a sheepish grin, stepping up into the house.
"An accident?" His father poked his head out from the living room, newspaper in hand. He adjusted his glasses.
"I tried to fly with my Quirk. Didn't work," Natsu replied nonchalantly. He walked past them, heading for the stairs.
"Wait a minute," his mother said, her eyes narrowing. She reached out and touched the white scarf around his neck. "Where did you get this? It looks... expensive. And very old."
Natsu paused, his hand instinctively gripping the fabric. "An old guy gave it to me. He saved me from face-planting into the sidewalk."
"An old guy?" His father frowned, walking over. "Who gives a stranger a scarf like that?"
"He said his name was Igneel," Natsu said. "Said he was a retired hero from Taiwan."
His parents exchanged a glance.
"Igneel?" His father repeated, racking his brain. "I don't know much about international heroes. Taiwan... I can't say the name rings a bell. Was he a Pro?"
"He said he was," Natsu shrugged. "He had fire wings! It was awesome. He gave it to me and told me to keep it until I master my fire."
His parents looked at him. They saw the intensity in his eyes—a look of focus they rarely saw outside of meal times.
His father smiled gently. "Alright, Natsu. If it means that much to you, keep it. But take care of it."
"I will," Natsu vowed.
He ran up the stairs to his room. He tossed his bag on the floor and stood in front of his full-length mirror.
The boy in the reflection looked back. He was still small, still scrawny compared to the Pros. But the scarf... the scarf changed something. It sat around his neck like a mantle of destiny. It hid the vulnerability of his throat and framed his face with a wild, rugged look.
Natsu grinned, baring his teeth. He raised a fist, igniting a small, controlled flame in his palm. He looked at the fire, then at the scarf.
"I won't let you down, old man," he whispered to the empty room. "I'm going to turn this spark into a roaring fire. Just you wait."
Outside his window, the sun dipped below the horizon, marking the end of the day, and the beginning of the long, Three-year journey toward U.A. High School.
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