Chapter 6: Sea Sickness and Seriousness
The journey back from Galuna Island was a masterclass in dread. The sailing vessel cut through the calm, blue-green water of the Earth Land sea, but the atmosphere on its deck was stormy.
Gray, stripped down to his boxers without even realizing it, was leaning against the rail, scowling at the horizon. "I can't believe I let you talk me into that," he grumbled, shooting a glare at the unusually quiet figure across the deck. "An S-Class quest. We're dead. Erza is going to skin us and use our hides to polish her armor collection."
Happy, curled into a quivering blue ball on a coil of rope, let out a pitiful "Aye…" His oversized eyes were wider than dinner plates. "The second floor… we weren't supposed to be up there… Master Makarov is gonna turn us into fish food! Or… or make us clean the guild cellar for a year!"
"That's if we're lucky," Gray snapped. "Erza got there just in time to bail us out. You heard her. Without her showing up and smashing that weird barrier, the whole thing would've been a 'total and utter failure.'" He mimicked Erza's stern, lecturing tone with a shudder. "She's gonna be insufferable for weeks. It's all 'responsibility' and 'guild hierarchy' and 'you reckless children'."
Erza herself stood at the bow like a red-haired figurehead of justice, arms crossed, the wind whipping her scarlet locks. She didn't need to speak. Her posture radiated a profound, terrifying disappointment that was somehow worse than any shouting.
Amidst this chorus of regret and fear, Natsu Dragneel was silent.
He sat with his back against the mast, his white scarf pulled up over his nose, watching the waves. Not with his usual restless energy, but with a still, focused intensity that was… wrong. For the two weeks Lucy Heartfilia had known him, Natsu had existed in a state of perpetual motionshouting, laughing, eating, or burning something. This quiet, brooding statue was a new model, and it was deeply unnerving.
Lucy watched him from her spot near Happy. He hadn't bragged about beating Lyon. He hadn't complained about the boat (yet). He hadn't even challenged Gray to a fight to pass the time. He just… sat there. Serious.
'Is he thinking about the punishment too?' she wondered. 'But that doesn't seem like him. He'd just yell about how it wasn't fair. Is he… is he thinking about… last night?' A flush crept up her neck. The memory was a tangled knot of confusion, panic, and a deeply embarrassing, visceral warmth she was trying desperately to ignore. The strange, magnetic pull she felt toward him now, like her insides were a compass needle pointing his way, only made it worse. Maybe his silence was about that. Maybe he was feeling the same awkwardness.
His serious demeanor was making her feel strangely guilty, as if her own chaotic feelings were too loud.
Gray followed her gaze and snorted. "What's with the gloomy act, Flame Brain? Finally realizing the magnitude of your stupidity?"
Natsu didn't rise to the bait. He just shifted his eyes toward Gray, his gaze flat and assessing from behind the scarf. It was a look that held no fire, only calculation. Gray actually blinked, taken aback.
"See?" Lucy whispered, more to herself. "He's being so… serious."
It was the seriousness that convinced her. The Natsu she knew couldn't hold a thought that long, let alone a somber mood. This had to be a profound, existential dread about their impending doom at the hands of Master Makarov. A part of her, the part that was still a responsible citizen, felt a flicker of approval. 'Good. He should be taking it seriously.'
Just then, the ship hit a gentle swell. It was a minor bump, the deck rising and falling in a slow, lazy rhythm.
Natsu's eyes, previously so focused, suddenly went wide. The intense, serious expression twisted into one of pure, unadulterated horror. A sickly green tint washed over his face, visible even above the scarf.
"Oh no," he mumbled, the words thick.
He clapped a hand over his mouth. His other hand shot out, grasping blindly at the mast for support. The profound, leader-like silence shattered as his body convulsed with a deep, unhealthy gurgle.
"Bleeeaaaarrrgh!"
He projectile-vomited over the side of the ship, a spectacular arc of half-digested fish and village festival mead splashing into the cerulean waves.
The seriousness was gone, replaced by the desperate, miserable reality of Natsu Dragneel, the world's strongest land-based Dragon Slayer and weakest seafarer. He hung over the rail, retching pathetically, his whole body trembling with the effort of keeping his insides on the inside.
Lucy stared, her mouth agape. All her analysis, her worries about shared silent guilt and profound solemnity, evaporated in the face of the acidic smell now drifting on the breeze.
Gray facepalmed, his earlier concern vanishing. "You've gotta be kidding me. All that 'strong, silent' crap was just you trying not to puke?"
Happy perked up, his fear momentarily forgotten. "Aye! He gets really quiet right before he blows!"
Natsu, spent, slid down from the rail and collapsed onto the deck with a soft thud. He lay there, spread-eagled, one arm flung over his eyes, groaning like a dying man. "The world… is spinning… make it stop…"
Lucy continued to stare, a slow, incredulous blush spreading across her cheeks. He hadn't been serious. He hadn't been brooding about their night, or the punishment, or the fate of his soul. He had been seasick. He was just better at hiding the early stages than she'd realized.
She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, a mix of immense relief and utter exasperation. The weird, intense Natsu from the hut was gone. This was the Natsu she knew. A ridiculous, vomiting, disaster-prone idiot.
Yet, as she looked at him lying there, pale and groaning, that strange, warm pull in her chest didn't fade. If anything, it twinged with a stupid, unwanted fondness.
Shaking her head, she turned her back on the pathetic scene, deciding the impending guild punishment was suddenly a far less confusing thing to worry about.