After a stretch of companionable quiet... The soft clink of utensils. The occasional sip of tea. The cabin's atmosphere shifted from tense anticipation to a fragile normalcy.
Tanya lay tucked in bed, her breathing steady in sleep's embrace. Meanwhile, Natsu bustled about, serving up plates of garlic soy honey chicken.
The tender pieces were glazed in a sticky, savory sheen that filled the air with an irresistible aroma of caramelized sweetness and subtle spice.
Death sat gracefully at the table. She cradled a mug of chamomile tea he'd brewed for her, the steam curling like whispers from the golden liquid. Anyael, still in her apron, hovered near the stove. Her mind was a whirlwind as she grappled with the bombshell of Natsu's partner being... Death herself. The goddess, for her part, sipped serenely. Her amusement was veiled behind a composed facade, though her icy-blue eyes flickered with quiet delight at the young woman's evident turmoil.
"Since Tanya's out cold, looks like it's just us three for lunch," Natsu said, sliding plates across the table with a casual grin. "By the way, I whipped up garlic soy honey chicken—Anyael pitched in too. Turned out pretty great, if I do say so myself."
Anyael barely registered the words. Her gaze was fixed on the window, lost in a daze of swirling thoughts. Natsu with a goddess? The implications crashed over her like relentless waves.
Natsu noticed, concern softening his features as he approached. "Hey, you okay?" he asked gently.
Then, he poked her side with a playful finger. He repeated the jab until she squirmed. The ticklish assault snapped her back, giggles erupting despite herself. "Stop—Natsu!" she gasped between laughs.
She swatted at his hand as she caught her breath, her pout forming naturally amid the relief of the moment.
He chuckled, stepping back with hands raised in mock surrender. "Your angry face is adorable, you know that? Not sure if Tanya's ever told you."
Anyael's pout deepened, but it held no real edge. "Just answer why you did that," she grumbled, though a smile tugged at her lips.
Natsu's expression turned earnest. "You were spacing out—looked like you needed a reset." "I'll explain everything over lunch, okay? No need to overthink it alone. But if you want the full rundown, one question at a time."
Anyael nodded, the seriousness settling back in. Her curiosity sharpened as she gathered herself. Lunch commenced with the clatter of forks against plates. The savory chicken yielded tender bites that balanced sweet honey with garlic's bite—a comforting distraction.
Death positioned herself beside Natsu on his stool. Her presence was a subtle claim.
Anyael sat opposite, her eyes darting between them with barely concealed scrutiny. She watched Death, whose hand occasionally brushed Natsu's arm in quiet intimacy. As if sensing the undercurrent, Death decided to probe. Her actions were deliberate yet graceful. She speared a piece of chicken and offered it to Natsu. He accepted with a fond smile—a gesture simple but loaded with years of shared ease.
Anyael's fork paused mid-air.
Irritation flared in her chest—a jealous twinge she swallowed down. She reminded herself that confessions didn't rewrite reality... yet. She wasn't one to back down. Beneath her meek exterior lay a stubborn resolve, and this only fueled it.
Natsu, oblivious to the silent tension, wiped his mouth and turned to her. "So, Anyael—what do you want to know first? I'll answer what I can." She inhaled deeply, steadying her voice. "How did you end up with... Death? And is she really Death?" "I mean, magic's real here, sure—but gods just wandering around, living with mortals?" "Shouldn't the deity of death be overseeing the afterlife or something? And why... why is Death a woman?"
The questions tumbled out, laced with genuine confusion and a hint of awe.
Natsu sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, first—one at a time. But yeah, that's a lot. How do I even start with the first one?" Death chuckled softly, her hand still on his arm. "Want me to handle this, dear? You seem at a loss."
Natsu's face lit up with relief. He took her hand, pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles. "Yeah, help a guy out?" The goddess nodded, then reached up to lower her hood. It revealed her striking features: long jet-black hair framing pale, flawless skin. Icy-blue eyes rimmed in dark liner. Lips a deep matte black. Anyael gasped, mesmerized by the ethereal beauty that seemed to draw the light itself.
Death turned to her, her expression warm yet profound. "Listen closely, child—this might prove useful one day." She continued, her voice a steady thread weaving through the cabin's quiet warmth. Each word carried the subtle weight of ancient recollection. "During one fateful day, as I surveyed the mortal realm from Elysium, a peculiar young man caught my eye. What drew me was his absence—a void where a soul should reside."
"Every mortal bears one, yet Natsu had none."
"He seemed utterly human, radiating no divine or demonic aura to alert the gods. But that was the crux: he emitted no presence at all. Life force is a beacon in itself, but he was a blank slate." "The other deities overlooked it, lost in their whims, but as Death, such anomalies demand scrutiny. Souls are my charge; an entity without one roaming free threatened equilibrium." "So I observed... and in time, attachment crept in. Too much, perhaps." Anyael leaned forward, her brow furrowed in fascination. "Attached... how?" she asked, her voice a whisper laced with quiet awe.
Death's gaze softened, a faint smile touching her lips. "Whenever I watched, he plunged into peril—not from recklessness, but sheer ignorance of the world's harsh rules." "He was adrift, purposeless, his face often shadowed by misery. Yet he extended kindness to all life, without bias." "His isolation mirrored my own eternal solitude, pulling me toward him in ways I couldn't fathom then."
A shiver traced Anyael's spine.
"That sounds so... lonely," she murmured. Her eyes glistened with unspoken sorrow for the man she'd come to admire. "Indeed," Death agreed, her tone warming with fondness. "As guardian of death, I alone can descend freely to guide wayward souls." "I seized that privilege, cloaking myself as a mortal woman to intersect his path."
"Our first meeting lingers vividly: he dove into a raging river toward a lethal waterfall, all to rescue a monster's cub from drowning." "I was unsettled—mortals are often cruel, yet he risked everything without a second thought."
Anyael's eyes widened.
"He... what? That's insane—but so him," she breathed. Death nodded. "He saved the cub, only for it to slash his face in fear. He tumbled over the falls—I assumed him lost." "Yet moments later, he surfaced from the churning depths, gasping but unscathed. No wounds from such a plummet. He was impossible."
"What happened next?" Anyael urged. "I approached, feigning concern, asking if he was alright while hiding my prior vigilance. Instinctively, I offered my hand."
"His expression..." Death trailed off, her grip on Natsu's hand tightening with tender reminiscence. "Do you remember, dear? Your face by that waterfall?" Natsu's smile blossomed, eyes alight with nostalgia. "How could I forget? I was stunned—the most beautiful being I'd ever seen."
"I thought, 'What creature could be so enigmatically stunning?' And honestly, 'What are you doing in a place like this?' crossed my mind too." He laughed lightly, drawing a fond chuckle from Death.
She pressed on. "I visited his humble hut often, neglecting the dead's realm to unravel him." "I learned his void of a past—no family, no origins; he awoke one day knowing only his name." Anyael frowned. "And you believed him?"
Death's eyes gleamed. "Souls betray malice through color, but Natsu lacked one to judge. Our shared time revealed truth: utterly alone, yet relentless." "A busybody, forever innovating—evident in this vast farm, his cabin's ingenuity, his life advanced beyond mortal norms."
"But closeness unveiled the eerie truth I'd overlooked. He wasn't mortal."
A hush fell as Death's voice grew somber. Her clasp on Natsu's hand firmed. "It began with his shadow's unnatural shifts, and this... sensation of being watched by countless eyes." "Primal fear stirred—even in me. I, the observer, became the observed."
The admission hung heavy. A chill settled over the room.
Anyael shivered, dread etching her features. "That... that's terrifying," she whispered. Her voice was barely audible as the story's gravity pulled her into its emotional depths.