The scene flickered back to life with the soft groan of a cabin door swinging open, revealing Natsu—once the enigmatic young man of shadowed memories, now a figure of quiet domesticity in his simple linen shirt and trousers—stepping out into the gentle morning light. He carried a weathered wooden bucket in one hand, its handle worn smooth from years of use, as he ambled toward the nearby river. The air was alive with the symphony of nature: leaves rustling in a gentle breeze that carried the earthy scent of moss and wildflowers, birds flitting overhead with cheerful trills, and the distant hum of insects weaving through the underbrush. Natsu strolled leisurely, his black military boots crunching softly on the leaf-strewn path, while he hummed an off-key melody—a haphazard tune born of whimsy, its notes clashing discordantly yet endearingly with the forest's harmonious backdrop. A faint smile tugged at his lips, his gentle black eyes reflecting the warm embrace of the day, a rare peace settling over him like a comforting blanket after the storm of his past.
It was a fine day indeed, the kind that whispered promises of serenity. As he reached the river's edge, the steady stream flowed peacefully before him, its crystal-clear waters glinting under the sun like a ribbon of liquid silver. Scattered groups of fish darted through the currents in graceful schools, their scales flashing iridescent hues of blue and green. Natsu paused, inhaling deeply, feeling a profound sense of tranquility wash over him—a fragile balm for the scars etched into his soul. He knelt to fill his bucket, the cool water splashing against the wood with a rhythmic gurgle, but his gaze lingered on the fish, sparking a spontaneous decision. Lunch would be fresh today. Spotting a sturdy branch nearby, he fashioned a makeshift spear with deft hands, sharpening its tip against a rock until it gleamed with makeshift lethality.
Time slipped away as he fished, his movements fluid and instinctive, born of survival honed in darker times. With ease, he speared three fairly large freshwater milkfish, their bodies thrashing briefly before stilling in his grasp. A quiet satisfaction bloomed in his chest, mingling with the simple joy of self-sufficiency. He settled his catch on the riverbank, drawing a small knife from his belt to clean them—slitting bellies, removing guts and organs with practiced precision, the viscera washing away in the current. But as the water ran slightly red, a subtle anomaly caught his eye: the crimson tint deepened unnaturally, not from the fish alone, but from an upstream source that tainted the flow with an ominous hue. Curiosity prickled at him, laced with a twinge of unease, compelling him to follow the trail. He rose, wiping his hands on his trousers, and ventured upriver, the peaceful ambience fracturing with each step as faint cries pierced the air—desperate, heart-wrenching sobs that echoed through the trees like a siren's lament.
There, partially concealed by overhanging foliage, he spotted them: two women clad in rugged leather tunics, their hoods casting deep shadows over their faces, both bearing the marks of brutal conflict. One lay slumped against a mossy boulder, her left ribcage rent by a deep, jagged wound that oozed blood in relentless pulses, staining the ground and seeping into the river. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her skin pallid and clammy, teetering on the precipice of oblivion. The other woman knelt beside her, hood askew to reveal tear-streaked cheeks and eyes wide with terror and grief, her hands pressing futilely against the injury as she cried out, "Hang in there! Please, just hold on—we'll make it through this, I promise!" Her voice cracked with raw anguish, a torrent of despair that spoke of unbreakable bonds tested by unimaginable horror.
Natsu observed from a distance, hidden behind a cluster of ferns, his heart clenching with a mix of empathy and wariness—the ghosts of his own losses stirring like shadows in his mind. Compelled to draw closer for a better look, he shifted his weight, only for a dry twig to snap underfoot with a sharp crack that shattered the fragile veil of secrecy. The alert woman's head whipped toward him, her hooded eyes locking onto his form with a desperate gleam. "Help! Please, help us!" she cried, her plea a gut-wrenching fusion of hope and heartbreak, tears cascading freely as she extended a blood-smeared hand.
Natsu froze, scratching the back of his head in a gesture of reluctant resignation—there was no turning back now, no retreating into the solitude he cherished. He approached cautiously, his expression a mask of calm resolve amid the storm of emotions swirling within: pity for their suffering, caution born of his secretive nature, and a flicker of reluctant heroism. Without wasting breath on questions that could wait, he knelt beside them and addressed the conscious woman firmly yet kindly. "I'll save her," he said, his voice steady but laced with underlying gravity, "but on one condition: you don't speak to anyone about what you'll see right now. Understand?"
She nodded profusely, her hooded face a canvas of streaming tears and fervent gratitude, her body trembling with the weight of relief and lingering fear. Natsu didn't hesitate further. Drawing upon the dormant power within, he released a controlled wisp of his shadowy essence—a coiling tendril of darkness that hummed with ethereal energy, flickering like midnight flames. It enveloped the wounded woman's injury, knitting flesh and staunching the flow with a surreal gentleness, the air shimmering faintly as the wound closed before their eyes. The injured woman, barely clinging to consciousness, let out a weak sigh, her ragged breathing steadying into a shallow rhythm, though her pallor remained ghostly from profound blood loss.
"She's safe now," Natsu assured the companion, his tone softening with quiet compassion, "but she's lost a lot of blood. She'll need rest." Effortlessly, he scooped the once-injured woman into his arms, her weight light against his sturdy frame, and nodded to the other. "Come with me. My home is nearby."
They retraced his path back to the cabin, the journey fraught with tense silence broken only by the companion's muffled sobs and the rustle of leaves underfoot. Natsu's mind raced with questions—who were they? What peril had driven them here?—but he pushed them aside, focusing on the immediate drama unfolding. Inside the cozy haven, he gently laid the barely conscious woman on his bed, tucking a blanket around her with unexpected tenderness, her hood slipping slightly to reveal strands of matted brown hair. The companion settled nearby on a wooden stool, her body sagging with exhaustion and emotional drain. "You'll be okay," Natsu murmured to them both, his gentle black eyes conveying a depth of unspoken empathy. "Recuperate here for now. Whatever you're running from... it can wait."
The hooded woman nodded again, her tears subsiding into quiet sniffles, a fragile trust forming in the midst of crisis. Natsu lingered for a moment, the weight of this intrusion into his solitude stirring a complex brew of protectiveness and apprehension, before stepping out once more. He returned to the river for his forgotten bucket and catch, the water's peaceful flow now a stark contrast to the turmoil he'd uncovered. Deciding to catch a few more fish—sudden guests meant shared meals—he speared additional prey with mechanical efficiency, his thoughts drifting to the enigmatic duo now under his roof, layering his peaceful day with unforeseen drama and the shadows of impending revelations.