Chapter 19: Plans and Pillars
As the ale-fueled celebration swirled around him, Natsu stood at its center, a quiet eye in the hurricane of Fairy Tail's affection. The slaps on his sore back, the cheers, Happy's joyful tears, it was all background noise to the cold, clear stream of thought now flowing through his mind.
'It's only a matter of time.'
The pieces were moving. The Tower of Heaven arc. That was coming. A cult of Zeref fanatics, a brainwashed Jellal, manipulated by Gray's Master's daughter who he'd forgotten the name of, he remembered, and Erza at the center of it all, slated to be a sacrifice in a mad ritual to revive the Black Wizard. His brother. The thought sent a familiar, icy ripple through his gut, but he pushed it aside. The emotional bomb was secondary to the opportunity.
The arc would be brutal. It would break Erza open, expose the raw, wounded heart she kept locked beneath her armor. And he would be there. Not by chance, but because he had just pointed at the coming storm and told her he'd stand in it with her. It was the perfect crucible to forge the bond he needed, a bond of shared trauma, of rescue, of seeing the strongest person you know at their most vulnerable. It was a faster, more potent path than years of guild camaraderie. He could accelerate the timeline of their connection before the next, unpredictable surge of the Primal Domain gripped him.
He took a slow drink, the bitter ale a grounding taste. The things he remembered from the show, cross-referenced with the dry facts from the guild archives, were lining up. The connections held. The timeline, though frayed at the edges by his own actions and Erza's early use of the Black Wing armor, still seemed to be flowing in its general course. That meant the major beats were likely intact.
Which meant before the Tower of Heaven… the next arc would be Phantom Lord. The arc that would target Lucy.
A grim, almost fated smile touched his lips. Two arcs, back-to-back, with his two primary targets as the central prizes. It felt less like coincidence and more like the universe, or the dragon's instinct within him, was handing him a blueprint. Consecutive crises to bind them to him through fire and necessity. He didn't know if it was some grand design or just the predictable narrative machinery of this world, but he didn't care anymore. This was his life now. His world. His survival.
His goal was no longer passive integration. It was active domination. He would make himself as strong as possible, as fast as possible. And he would build his harem. Not as a trophy collection, but as a fortress of power, loyalty, and stabilizing bonds. A survival mechanism made flesh.
Lucy and Erza were the first two pillars. The foundation. The third… his mind drifted. He remembered a guild of only women. Mermaid Heel? There was a guild that had all women, fierce. A hot chick with a sword, dark brown hair, a body that could stop a heart and a tragic aura you could smell a mile away. He could picture her perfectly, the defiant glare, the powerful stance, the devastating cleavage that was practically a Fairy Tail signature. But her name… it was gone. Lost in the haze of years and half-remembered fan service. Sakura! The name surfaced suddenly. No. That as from Naruto. But he knew she participated in the Grand Magic Games, years down the line. She was a long-term project, a future conquest. For now, she was out of reach.
He needed someone closer. His gaze drifted across the hall, past the brawling and drinking, to land on the bar. Mirajane Strauss was there, smiling gently as she poured a drink, her white hair and stunning figure a picture of serene beauty. Objectively, she was one of the hottest women he'd ever seen, in any world.
But her personality… it was annoying. Too nice. Too… placid. The perfect bartender, the gentle older sister. Where was the demon? The Satan Soul wielder who used to battle Erza to a standstill? That version of her, fierce, competitive, dangerous, that was intriguing… hot. That version could be a pillar. But the sweet, smiling Mirajane of today? She didn't spark the same strategic or spark of interest. It wasn't about aesthetics alone. It was about edge.
It was the same principle that had always guided his preferences, even back when his preferences were just pixels on a screen. In Bleach, he'd take Rukia's sharp tongue and complex loyalty over Orihime's passive, boundless devotion any day. In Dragon Ball, he'd always preferred Bulma's brilliant, demanding, flawed humanity over Chi-Chi's shrill domesticity. He would like Azula rather than Hinata. He liked women with fire, with will, with a bite to them. Women who were forces in their own right, not just orbiting satellites. Perhaps Lucy didn't exactly fit that bill but she was fire and the things she would go on to achieve. That idiot Natsu wasting a chick like Lucy is almost a fucking waste. Almost as bad as wasting a chick like Nami with an idiot like Luffy. He wouldn't make the same mistake here and he has proven that already.
Lucy had it, a spine of steel under her dramatics, a stubborn loyalty, and very soon the power of the celestial king himself in her keys. Erza was the definition of it. The woman he couldn't-name-yet (Kagura) clearly had it in spades.
Mirajane had it, but she'd locked it away. Perhaps that was a challenge in itself. Could he reawaken the demon? Was there a path there?
For now, it didn't matter. The immediate path was clear: Survive the coming arcs. Strengthen the bonds with Lucy and Erza through the trials fate was about to hand them. Grow stronger with every fight, not just by burning hotter, but by fighting smarter. The fight with Erza had proven the value of control. He needed more of that. He needed to master the fire within, both the magical and the primal.
He finished his drink and set the empty tankard down with a solid thunk. The celebration around him was beginning to wind down, members staggering home or passing out where they sat.
He had his roadmap. Two women, two imminent crises, one dragon in his soul on a ticking clock.
Natsu Dragneel looked around the guild hall he now called home, at the family he was preparing to strategically love and bind to himself, and felt not anxiety, but a focused, burning anticipation.
The game was on. And he was just getting started.