After what felt like an eternity in the sun-dappled forest, Natsu pushed open the creaky door of his cabin, his arms laden with the day's catch—five plump milkfish strung on a line—and the wooden bucket brimming with fresh river water that sloshed gently with each step. He set the bucket aside by the entrance with a soft thud, the cool droplets glistening on its rim, before turning his attention to the quiet hum of mystery that had invaded his solitary haven. Treading lightly across the polished oak floors, he approached the bedroom doorway, his gentle black eyes narrowing with a mix of curiosity and concern. There, in the soft afternoon light filtering through the lace curtains, lay his two enigmatic guests. The previously injured woman rested peacefully on his bed, her chest rising and falling in steady, rhythmic breaths, her face still shrouded by the hood but her form relaxed in the embrace of slumber. Beside her, slumped in the wooden chair, was her companion, equally lost to exhaustion—hood drawn low, body limp as if the weight of their unseen ordeals had finally claimed her. Natsu lingered at the threshold, his gaze tracing their vulnerable forms, a whirlwind of emotions stirring within him: pity for their plight, a flicker of wariness at the unknown dangers they might carry, and an unexpected surge of protectiveness that tugged at his guarded heart. He scratched his head in quiet resignation, abandoning the tangle of thoughts midway, and turned away to retrieve his haul.
In the modest kitchen, where the scent of herbs and woodsmoke mingled warmly, Natsu set to work with practiced efficiency. He gutted and filleted the fish, the knife gliding through scales with sharp precision, while rice simmered in a pot over the hearth's crackling flames. An hour slipped by in a haze of steam and savory aromas, culminating in two steaming bowls of hot congee—thick, comforting porridge laced with tender fish flakes, ginger, and scallions that evoked distant memories of a life long buried. He carried them back to the bedroom on a tray, setting them gently on the nearby table where the golden light caught the rising vapors, infusing the room with an inviting warmth. With a soft sigh, he glanced once more at the sleeping figures, then stepped out into the midday sun to tend his farm. The animal pen buzzed with life—chickens clucking indignantly as they pecked at the earth, cows lowing contentedly in their stalls, pigs rooting through fresh straw—while his modest farmland stretched out in neat rows of swaying crops: golden wheat, vibrant vegetables, and herbs that danced in the breeze. Natsu immersed himself in the labor, hoeing soil and scattering feed, the rhythmic work a meditative escape from the drama unfolding within his walls.
Four hours melted away under the sun's relentless arc, the afternoon deepening into a golden haze. In the cabin's quiet sanctuary, the previously injured woman stirred, her eyelids fluttering open to the unfamiliar sight of a wooden-beamed ceiling, its knots and grains staring back like ancient runes. She attempted to sit up, a sharp twinge of weakness shooting through her limbs, forcing her back onto the soft mattress with a frustrated gasp. Lying there, her breaths shallow and labored, she scanned the room—the simple furnishings, the flickering candle stubs, the faint scent of pine and herbs—and her gaze softened as it landed on her companion, still asleep beside her, hood casting shadows over a face etched with worry even in repose. A deep sigh escaped her lips, heavy with relief and lingering dread, as she turned her eyes upward once more, lost in the swirl of fragmented memories: the chase, the pain, the encroaching darkness. Outside, the steady thud of digging echoed through the open window, a grounding rhythm that pierced her reverie.
Natsu, attuned to the subtle shift in the air like a predator sensing prey, paused mid-swing with his hoe, earth clinging to its blade. He wiped sweat from his brow, a prickle of intuition drawing him back inside. At the bedroom entrance, he halted, his eyes widening as the woman—now awake and gazing ceilingward with a mix of confusion and quiet resolve—turned toward him. In that moment, as her hood slipped back slightly in her movement, Natsu was struck silent, his breath catching in his throat. Beneath the fabric lay a vision of stunning beauty: a young woman whose captivating, softly seductive expression held him captive. Her long, flowing wavy hair cascaded in a rich warm brown with subtle reddish undertones, tumbling past her shoulders in loose, voluminous strands that caught the light like polished silk. Blunt, straight-cut bangs framed her forehead, falling just above neatly arched eyebrows that matched her hair's hue. Her heart-shaped face was a masterpiece of delicate porcelain skin, glowing with an inner luminescence, flawless and smooth. Large, expressive golden-amber eyes dominated her features, framed by thick lashes and tilted upward at the corners, radiating an intense, hypnotic warmth that seemed to draw him in like a moth to flame. A small, refined nose led to full, plush lips glossed in coral-red, parted slightly in subtle invitation. High cheekbones flushed with a natural rose, a soft jawline, and an aura of sultry confidence blended with feminine delicacy left him momentarily breathless, his heart pounding with an unwelcome rush of admiration and vulnerability.
He cleared his throat, breaking the spell, though his voice emerged huskier than intended. "Glad to see you're finally awake," he said, forcing a steady tone laced with genuine relief, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of lingering awe. "You would've been dead if I'd found you two even a bit later— that wound was no joke."
Her golden-amber eyes met his, wide with a storm of emotions: gratitude, bewilderment, and a guarded wariness. "Where... where are we?" she asked, her voice a soft, melodic whisper cracked by dryness and lingering pain, each word trembling with the weight of her ordeal.
"You're in my cabin," Natsu replied gently, stepping closer with measured care, his presence a reassuring anchor amid her disorientation. "I brought you both here to recuperate. You were wounded pretty severely—bleeding out by the river. Couldn't just leave you there."
Memory flooded back in a rush, her hands flying instinctively to her side, probing the leather tunic where agony had once reigned. Her fingers met only smooth, unmarred skin, stained with dried blood but bearing no scar, no trace of the gash that had nearly claimed her. Shock rippled across her face, her breath hitching in a gasp of disbelief. "What... how? There's nothing here. Not even a scratch." Her voice rose with incredulous wonder, tears pricking at her eyes as fear and amazement warred within her. "Did you... were you the one who did this?"
Natsu nodded, his expression turning firm yet kind, shadowed by the secrets he guarded. "Yeah, that was me. But I'd appreciate it if you didn't pry any further. Some things are better left unsaid—for everyone's sake."
She opened her mouth, a barrage of questions bubbling up—Who are you? How is this possible?—but the earnest plea in his eyes, coupled with the debt of life she owed, stilled her tongue. Respect for her rescuer won out, though curiosity burned like an ember in her chest. "Alright," she murmured, her tone soft with reluctant acquiescence, laced with unspoken gratitude.
"Even without the wounds," Natsu continued, his voice warm and steady like a hearth fire, "you lost a hell of a lot of blood. That's why you're still weak. Rest up here—build your strength." He reached for one of the bowls on the table, the steam carrying scents of comfort, and handed it to her with a gentle insistence. "Eat this. It'll help. Questions can wait till you're steady on your feet."
She accepted the bowl, her hands trembling slightly as the warmth seeped into her palms. Peering inside, her eyes widened in pure astonishment, a gasp escaping her lips. "Congee?!" The word burst forth like a revelation, her voice laced with disbelief and a hint of joyful nostalgia that clashed with her dire circumstances. "How... how do you even know about this? It shouldn't exist here—in this world!"
Natsu caught the slip, the implication hanging heavy in the air like unspoken thunder, but he masked his intrigue with a small, enigmatic smile, his gentle black eyes twinkling with hidden depths. "Like I said, questions later," he replied softly, his tone a soothing balm infused with quiet authority and a touch of playful evasion. "For now, eat up. And maybe wake your companion—she could use some too."
The woman—Tanya, as she would soon reveal—bit her lip, a torrent of bafflement and curiosity roiling within her, her heart pounding with the enigma of this man who had plucked them from death's grasp. Yet, in a surge of restraint born from exhaustion and respect, she held back, though one question slipped free, her voice tentative and laced with vulnerability. "Wait... who are you? At least tell me your name."
He paused, a faint smile curving his lips, warmth softening the edges of his guarded demeanor. "I'm Natsu. I think that's enough for now." Then, with genuine curiosity mirroring her own, he tilted his head. "And you, miss? What's your name?"
"I'm Tanya," she whispered, the name carrying a weight of unspoken stories, her golden-amber eyes meeting his with a spark of connection amid the drama.
Natsu's smile deepened, a rare gentleness breaking through. "Tanya, huh? Well, Tanya, eat up for now. We can talk later—when you're ready."
She nodded, emotions swelling in her chest like a tidal wave: relief at survival, awe at her healer, and a profound, tearful gratitude for this fleeting sanctuary. As Natsu turned and faded from the room, his footsteps receding like a promise of more to come, Tanya lifted the spoon to her lips. The first taste of congee—warm, familiar, impossible—brought tears streaming down her cheeks, a silent cascade of respite amid the storm, her heart aching with the fragile beauty of this unexpected mercy.