Tanya slipped into a profound slumber. Her consciousness unraveled like threads pulled from a frayed tapestry. In the vast expanse of her mindscape, she plummeted into an abyssal pool.
The water enveloped her in a chilling embrace—dark and viscous. She descended slowly. The pressure built around her like unspoken regrets.
The silence was broken only by the faint echo of her own heartbeat. Deeper she sank, shadows coiling like serpents, until a subtle pull tugged at her core.
A hand emerged from the murky surface above. Ethereal and insistent, it reached out with quiet promise. Desperation surged through her. She stretched toward it, her fingers brushing warmth, and was gently hauled toward the light. The depths released her with a reluctant sigh.
She breached the surface.
She awoke.
Tanya's golden-amber eyes fluttered open to the familiar wooden ceiling of Natsu's cabin. Its beams were etched with the patina of time. Soft morning light filtered through the windows, casting a gentle glow over the room. Beside her lay Anyael, sleeping soundly.
Her sister's face, unhooded and serene, evoked a rush of bittersweet nostalgia. It mirrored that first awakening here, when Natsu had pulled them from the brink. Anyael's features were relaxed in true peace, her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic calm free from the shadows of pursuit.
Tanya's heart swelled. Her fingers instinctively reached to stroke Anyael's hair.
The cabin door creaked open. Natsu stepped inside, his presence a steady anchor in the morning hush. He paused mid-stride toward the kitchen, catching sight of Tanya's tender gesture.
He hesitated, his hand lingering on the doorframe.
Natsu veered into the room instead. His gentle black eyes met hers with quiet concern. He offered a small smile—warm yet understated. He was gauging her state before speaking.
Tanya spoke first. Her voice emerged soft and tremulous, laced with the raw edges of turmoil. "You saved us again," she said. Her words caught, emotion thickening her throat. "That's twice now you've had to trouble yourself with people like us. You're not responsible for our wellbeing, you know that?"
She paused, her hand stilling on Anyael's head. Tears pricked at her eyes as vulnerability cracked her composure. "And don't even try to tell me it wasn't you. I caught your figure just before I blacked out. I hate myself for feeling this... this sense of comfort."
Her tears spilled over, tracing silent paths down her cheeks.
"I'm ashamed of myself for feeling relieved," she whispered. "And I hate myself because deep down... I knew you'd come. I know for a fact that you're not a normal person—the way you carry yourself, the way you reacted when Anyael went missing."
Natsu remained silent, his gaze unwavering.
"That look you gave me, like you were peering into my soul," Tanya continued, her gaze locking onto his with fierce intensity. "You already knew what happened, didn't you? Even though I told myself I didn't want to involve you."
She drew a shaky breath. "I also noticed how your shadow felt... unnatural. Anyael thought she was seeing things, but not me. I know you're hiding what you really are, but I chose to ignore it because all I saw was someone trying to live a peaceful life."
Tanya's voice faltered. Sobs hitched as she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.
"And yet... we brought it right to your doorstep. Now you're tangled in our mess." She looked up, her voice breaking. "So tell me why, Natsu? Why did you save us again? Why ruin the peaceful life you've worked so hard to build for two strangers?"
Natsu regarded her for a moment. His smile faded into something more introspective, a quiet depth surfacing in his eyes. He pulled up a nearby chair, settling into it with a natural ease.
"Why not?" he replied simply. His tone was steady, carrying the weight of hard-earned wisdom. "I could save you, so I did. That's all there is to it, Tanya. At first, yeah, I was reluctant. Back by the river, I knew getting involved meant saying goodbye to the quiet I'd carved out here."
He paused. A flicker of vulnerability crossed his features. "But if I hadn't stepped in, the regret would've eaten me alive. I have enough of that already. I wanted to help. I chose to."
Tanya's gaze remained fixed on him, her eyes shimmering with doubt. The weight of his simple explanation pressed against her like an unyielding tide.
"NO!!" she burst out. Her voice rose in a raw cry that echoed through the cabin. "I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT—IT COULDN'T HAVE BEEN THAT SIMPLE!"
The outburst shattered the fragile calm. Her chest heaved with the intensity of her frustration.
The sudden volume stirred Anyael. Her amber-brown eyes fluttered open in confusion. She blinked at the scene, seeing her sister locked in a heated exchange with Natsu. Instinctively, Anyael shrank back into the corner of the bed, pulling the blanket up like a shield.
Tanya, oblivious to her sister's awakening, pressed on. Her focus was a laser on Natsu. "Or maybe you saved us because you wanted to have your way with us—just like those vile men?! Is that it?!"
She hissed the words like venom, her voice cracking under the strain.
Natsu didn't flinch. He met her gaze with steady understanding, acknowledging the pain fueling her irrational fury without judgment. The look only deepened her self-reproach, making her feel small.
"PLEASE, NATSU!!" she pleaded, her body trembling. "TELL ME THAT'S WHAT YOU WANTED!!... I'd believe that reason more. Please, tell me it is so."
She was a sobbing mess of conflicting storms. Relief at survival clashing with the guilt of dragging him into their nightmare.
"I'll be able to live with that... if that's the case."
Anyael, unable to watch her sister's unraveling any longer, scooted closer. She wrapped her arms around Tanya, cradling her gently. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured.
She rocked her sister as the tears flowed unchecked. Natsu sighed lightly, his eyes drifting to the window where morning light painted the world in soft hues.
"Will it ease your guilt if I told you those words?" he asked gently. "If I said I wanted the two of you here with me?"
He rose from the chair and crossed the short distance to kneel before her. He met her at eye level. Tanya's sobs hitched. Her gaze locked onto his, the intensity softening under his steady regard.
He reached out, taking her right hand in both of his. The warmth of his touch was a grounding force. For a suspended moment, they simply held each other's eyes—a silent exchange of vulnerability and quiet strength.
Natsu's lips quirked into a boyish smile. A spark of mischief lightened the heaviness.
Tanya felt a flush creep up her cheeks. Even Anyael, peeking from her embrace, blushed faintly at the unexpected charm.
"Hey now," Natsu teased lightly. "I'm asking you a question, missy. If you keep staring at me like that, even I'll start feeling embarrassed."
The gentle jest cut through the tension like a ray of sunlight. It coaxed a soft, tear-streaked laugh from Tanya. The sound was fragile yet genuine.
He reached up, his thumb brushing away her lingering tears with tender care. "I'm actually a pretty straightforward guy," he admitted. His tone was self-deprecating, a hint of awkwardness adding to his charm. "So I'm sorry if my words came off as... well, I'm not great at describing these things."
The admission drew another watery smile from Tanya. Her laughter bubbled up more freely now.
In that moment of release, Tanya felt the weight lift. She clasped his hand with both of hers and buried her face against them as if they were a lifeline. She was hiding her lingering embarrassment while clinging to the comfort he offered.
After a brief silence, Natsu turned his gaze to Anyael. His eyes softened with a warm, knowing smile. Anyael felt a fresh blush creep across her cheeks, but she met his look with a grateful one of her own. Her lips formed a silent "thank you."
He shifted his attention back to Tanya, his voice light. "Now now, missy," he said. "You haven't had breakfast yet—and neither has your sister. Let me whip up something quick. It's late morning already, after all. Then we can talk over good food, same as usual. Capisce?"
Tanya managed a small, tentative "okay."
Natsu reached out and pinched her cheek with affectionate firmness before delivering a light flick to her forehead.
"Ouch!" she exclaimed. She rubbed the spot with mock indignation, though a spark of amusement flickered in her eyes.
Natsu chuckled softly. "You should rest a bit more, little miss beautiful." He paused, then added with a wink: "I'll also think about your proposition—of having the both of you as my lovers, since you're so bent on the idea."
He giggled, the sound light and infectious. It diffused the heaviness like sunlight piercing clouds.
Tanya's eyes widened in flustered protest. "Hey!!" she cried, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. The mix of embarrassment and reluctant delight lightened her heart.
Natsu retreated toward the kitchen with a grin. He hummed an off-key tune that wandered through the cabin, the notes clashing endearingly with the morning's serenity.
Tanya watched him go. Her hand lingered on her cheek where his touch had left a lingering warmth. She sank back into the bed with a soft sigh, a warm smile curving her lips despite herself.
Anyael, still nestled beside her, couldn't resist a teasing grin. "What if Natsu actually asked us to be his, sis?" she whispered. "You looked pretty welcoming of the idea just now."
Tanya elbowed her gently, a shy laugh escaping as she buried her face in the pillow.
"Shut it, sis," she murmured, her tone bashful. "I didn't mean it like that."
Outside, the wind picked up, carrying the scent of rain and woodsmoke. Somewhere in the distance, a crow called out, its cry sharp and lonely. Natsu stopped humming.
For a second, the house felt far too still.