Chapter 1: The Lurching Beast and the Gates of U.A.
The world was a nauseating smear of gray and green.
"Hhhhrrrggghhh."
Natsu Dragneel's forehead was pressed hard against the vibrating, ice-cold glass of the city bus window. His stomach, a notoriously defiant organ, was currently attempting to climb up his throat. Every rumble of the engine, every lurch as the driver hit the brakes, every sharp turn sent a wave of misery through him.
"Why... why do they keep making these things?" he groaned, his voice muffled. His face was a pale shade of green, a stark contrast to the wild, rose-pink spikes of his hair.
Around him, the other passengers—mostly teenagers his age—were vibrating for an entirely different reason. They clutched their bags, bounced their knees, and stared at their phones with a mixture of terror and anticipation. The air was thick with the scent of nervous sweat.
"Did you hear?" one boy whispered loudly. "They say the exam changes every year. My brother's cousin said he had to fight water villains."
"No way, I heard it's always robots," another argued. "Just focus on your Quirk. I've been practicing my new move..."
Natsu tuned them out. He didn't care about the exam's format. He just cared about getting his feet back on solid, unmoving ground.
He had been born with this strange weakness. Moving vehicles—beasts of metal and smoke, as he thought of them—were his mortal enemy. Trains, buses, cars... they all betrayed him. Give him a forest to run through, a mountain to climb, or a 50-story building to scale, and he was fine. But put him on a cushioned seat moving at thirty kilometers an hour, and he was incapacitated.
His Quirk, 'Dragon Fire,' was a strange one. It wasn't just about the fire, though that was the best part. It was a complete package. He was born with an internal furnace that let him breathe flames, wreathe his fists in fire, and even eat fire to regain his strength. But it also came with a... constitution. His senses were sharper than anyone he knew; his strength was superhuman, and his reflexes were animalistic.
His parents, Mika and Ryu Dragneel, had always been supportive, if a little terrified for their house. They'd gotten used to him treating concrete blocks like punching bags and sniffing the air to tell what his mom was cooking from three streets away. When he was little, his dad had read him a picture book about a great fire dragon named 'Igneel.' The name stuck. Natsu had decided then and there that his Quirk didn't just make fire; it made him a dragon.
He'd seen his first Pro Hero fight on TV when he was ten. All Might, hauling a collapsing bridge onto his back while laughing. "I am here!" he'd boomed.
Natsu wasn't inspired by the rescue. He was inspired by the power.
But then, the villain had crawled from the wreckage and punched the Symbol of Peace. All Might had punched back, and the resulting shockwave changed the weather.
Natsu's eyes had gone wide. A grin had split his face. That. That was it.
He didn't have a noble drive like other aspiring heroes. He didn't burn with a desire to save the innocent or uphold justice. Natsu Dragneel's motivation was far simpler, far purer. He wanted to be a Hero because Heroes got to fight the strongest bad guys.
And this... this U.A. High School... was the first step. It was the legendary arena where the strongest fighters gathered. He wasn't here to be a "Symbol." He was here for the challenge.
The bus gave a final, agonizing hiss and stopped.
"U.A. High! This is the stop!" the driver called out.
Natsu was the first one off. He stumbled down the steps and promptly fell to his knees, pressing his palms and forehead against the cool, blessed pavement.
"Land! Sweet, beautiful, still land!" he whispered, kissing the concrete.
"Uh... is he okay?" a girl asked, stepping around him.
"Probably just exam nerves," her friend replied.
The moment his feet were stable, the color rushed back to his face. The nausea vanished, replaced by a thrumming, electric energy. He stood up, dusting off his simple black pants and red hoodie. He adjusted the white, scale-patterned scarf around his neck—a gift from his parents on his fourth birthday, and he'd never taken it off.
He looked up. And up. The school was a fortress of ambition, all gleaming glass.
Natsu grinned, a sharp, feral expression that showed off his slightly-too-long canine teeth. His senses, heightened by his Quirk, went into overdrive. He smelled the ozone from electric-Quirk users, the tang of metal from support-gear hopefuls, and... something else. Something sharp and acidic, like burnt sugar and... nitroglycerin?
He ignored it.
He followed the massive crowd into a cavernous auditorium. The lights dimmed, and a man with a massive blond pompadour strode onto the stage.
"ALRIGHT, ALL YOU EXAMINEE LISTENERS! WELCOME TO MY LIVE SHOW! EVERYBODY SAY HEYYYY!"
Silence.
Natsu slumped in his seat. "A lecture? Come on, I wanna break something."
The hero, Present Mic, explained the rules. A ten-minute mock battle in a fabricated city. Candidates would be split into different Battle Centers. The goal: amass points by destroying robotic "villains." 1-Pointers, 2-Pointers, and 3-Pointers.
"You gotta use your Quirks to take 'em down! But no fighting each other! That's not heroic, ya dig?!"
A hand shot up. "Sir! On the pamphlet, there are four types of villains listed! It is a massive oversight if U.A., the most prestigious school in Japan, made such a glaring error...!"
Natsu didn't listen to the blue-haired kid's rambling. He was too busy looking at his own card.
Examinee: Natsu Dragneel.
Battle Center: B
"Battle Center B..." he murmured, tapping his foot impatiently.
"Alright, listeners, that's it for me! Now head to your designated Battle Centers! As my favorite saying goes... PLUS ULTRA!"
The crowd shuffled out. Natsu was practically vibrating. This was it. A whole city full of things to smash.
He found the massive gate for Battle Center B. He was surrounded by a new group of hopefuls. He stretched his neck, cracking it loudly.
And that's when he smelled it again. That sharp, burnt-sugar smell.
He looked to his left. Standing a few yards away was a boy with spiky, ash-blond hair, wearing a black tank top. He was scowling at the gate as if it had personally insulted him.
Natsu sized him up. The guy radiated tension. He looked strong. He looked angry.
'He looks fun,' Natsu thought.
The blond kid seemed to feel his stare. He turned, his crimson eyes narrowing. "What the excavation are you looking at, Pinky?"
Natsu's grin just widened. "Just wondering how strong you are."
The blond kid's eye twitched. "Hah? You talking to me? I'm gonna be Number One. You're just a pebble on the side of the road. Now get lost."
Natsu chuckled. "We'll see about that, Spiky."
"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!"
"ALLLLRIGHT, GOOOO!" Present Mic's voice boomed from unseen speakers.
The massive gates began to slide open.
The other students hesitated, confused. "What? There was no countdown!"
But Natsu and the blond kid didn't wait.
"DIE!" the blond roared, igniting explosions from his palms and blasting himself forward like a human missile.
Natsu just crouched, his muscles tensing. Fire coated his feet. "About time!"
With a sound like a jet engine, Natsu launched himself forward, a comet of pink hair and red flame, right on the blond kid's tail. The exam had begun.