Chapter 22: The Mummy, The Stone Age, and The Forbidden Festival
U.A. General Hospital. Main Entrance.
The automatic glass doors slid open with a soft, pneumatic hiss.
For the first time in two weeks, Natsu Dragneel stepped out of the sterile, white purgatory of the hospital and into the real world.
He stopped on the pavement, closing his eyes. He took a deep, greedy breath. The air didn't smell like rubbing alcohol, old flowers, or latex gloves anymore. It smelled of exhaust fumes, heated asphalt, distant food stalls, and city dust.
To Natsu, it smelled like freedom.
"Finally!" Natsu stretched his arms high above his head, his spine cracking audibly. He winced slightly as the movement pulled tight against the bandages wrapped around his healing ribs, but the pain was a welcome reminder that he was alive. "I thought I was gonna grow mold in there! I felt like a mushroom!"
"Aye!" Happy cheered, perched on Natsu's shoulder. The blue cat was munching on a raw fish he had mysteriously acquired from the cafeteria. "The air tastes better out here, Natsu! It tastes like adventure!"
Natsu grinned, adjusting his white, scale-patterned scarf. It fluttered in the gentle afternoon breeze, a familiar weight around his neck that grounded him. He wasn't 'Patient 304' anymore; he was the Dragon Slayer.
A yellow taxi pulled up to the curb.
The back door opened, and a woman with soft, pale pink hair and gentle, worry-lined eyes stepped out. Following her was a tall, broad-shouldered man with messy crimson hair and a stern, rugged face.
In this world, they were his parents. Adoptive, perhaps, but they were the ones who raised him.
"Natsu!" his mother cried out, rushing forward. She wrapped him in a careful, gentle hug, mindful of his injuries. "Oh, thank goodness! I was so worried! You reckless, foolish boy!"
"I'm okay, Mom! I'm totally fine!" Natsu laughed, patting her back awkwardly. "The doctors said I'm tough as a rock!"
His father approached, placing a heavy hand on Natsu's shoulder. He looked at his son with a mixture of relief and gruff pride. "We heard the news. You protected your teacher. You stood your ground against a monster while others froze."
The man grinned, a savage expression that mirrored Natsu's own. "That's what a man does."
Natsu's grin widened, blinding and confident. "Yeah, Dad! It was nothing! I kicked their butts! You should have seen me!"
"Come on," his father chuckled, opening the car door. "Let's go home."
They piled into the taxi. Natsu slid into the backseat by the window, Happy on his lap. His parents sat in the front.
"Into the Nerima district, please," his father said, buckling his seatbelt.
"Understood," the driver replied, shifting the gear.
The car hummed to life. The driver pressed the gas pedal, and the vehicle lurched forward, merging into the flow of traffic.
In the exact second the wheels began to rotate, Natsu's reality shattered.
The bright, confident smile he had plastered on his face to reassure his parents vanished instantly. His complexion shifted from a healthy tan to a sickly, vibrant shade of blue-green.
"Urrgh..."
Natsu clamped a hand over his mouth, his cheeks puffing out as if he were holding back a tidal wave. He slumped against the cool glass of the window, his equilibrium completely destroying itself.
"Natsu?" His mother turned around in her seat, her eyes wide with panic. "Honey? Is it your ribs? Are you in pain?"
Natsu tried to wave his hand to dismiss her worry, but the motion only made the world spin faster.
"No..." Natsu choked out, his voice sounding wet and pathetic. "I'm... urp... f-fine... Just... the car..."
"Oh," his father chuckled sympathetically from the front. "I forgot. You still have that terrible motion sickness."
Natsu didn't answer. He couldn't. He pressed his forehead against the window, trying to focus on the horizon, but the city was blurring past in a nauseating streak of colors. Skyscrapers, pedestrians, trees—everything was a swirling mess.
He wanted to brood. He wanted to sink into a deep, serious contemplation about the battle, about the Nomu, and about his own weakness. He wanted to look like a tragic hero reflecting on a loss.
But he couldn't even do that with dignity.
He stared at his reflection in the darkened glass of the moving window.
He didn't see a fierce warrior or a Dragon Slayer. He saw a sick, trembling boy with a green face, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, helpless against a simple machine.
I kicked their butts? Natsu thought bitterly, the bile rising in his throat. Liar.
He watched his pathetic reflection vibrate against the glass.
Look at you. You can't even ride in a taxi without falling apart. You told them you were strong... but you couldn't scratch that monster, and now you can't even handle a drive home.
I'm not a Dragon, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut as the car went over a bump. I'm just a weak kid who needs saving.
He clenched his fist on his knee, digging his nails into his jeans, not just from the nausea, but from a burning, self-directed anger.
"Happy..." Natsu whimpered, sounding small.
"Aye..." Happy rubbed Natsu's back gently, understanding the double meaning of his partner's pain. "Hang in there, Natsu. We're almost home."
It was going to be a very long ride.
Two Weeks Later. U.A. High School.
The lunch rush was in full swing.
The cafeteria was a cacophony of chatter, clattering trays, and laughter. But something was different today. The air was thick. Heavy. Charged with electricity.
Natsu sat at a table with the usual crew—Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka. He was devouring a mountain of spicy chicken wings, stripping the meat from the bone with terrifying speed.
He still had bandages wrapped around his torso under his uniform shirt, and a small plaster on his cheek. He had missed two full weeks of school, returning well behind the others.
"Hey..." Natsu paused, a wing halfway to his mouth. He narrowed his eyes, his nose twitching. He looked around the room. "Is it just me, or does it feel like we're being hunted?"
"You feel it too?" Uraraka whispered, looking uncomfortable.
Natsu glanced toward the entrance of the cafeteria. A group of students in grey uniforms—General Studies students—were standing there. They weren't eating. They were just staring. Staring specifically at Table 1-A.
"Why are they looking at me like I'm a piece of meat?" Natsu grumbled, pulling his plate closer protectively. "Do they want my chicken? They can't have it!"
"They're scouting the competition, Dragneel-kun," Iida explained, adjusting his glasses. "The Sports Festival is in three days. Class 1-A has been all over the news because of the villain attack. Everyone wants to see the students who survived the 'League of Villains'."
"Especially you, Natsu," Midoriya added quietly. "Rumor got out that you fought the main monster head-on. They want to see the 'Salamander'."
"Sports Festival?" Natsu blinked, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy. "What's that? A food eating contest?"
The table went dead silent. Even the ambient noise seemed to drop.
"Hah?" Mina Ashido, who was walking by with her tray, stopped dead in her tracks. "Natsu... are you serious?"
"You don't know the U.A. Sports Festival?!" Kaminari gasped from the next table, spinning around in his chair. "It's the biggest event in the country! It replaced the Olympics! Everyone watches it!"
"I don't watch TV," Natsu shrugged, tossing a clean bone onto his plate. "It's boring. Just people talking in a box."
"Are you from the Stone Age?!" Sero yelled, throwing his hands up. "Do you live in a cave?!"
"I live in a house!" Natsu argued back, offended. "But seriously... a festival for sports? That means fighting, right?"
"Yes," Iida nodded. "It is a tournament. Pro Heroes from all over the country will be watching to scout for sidekicks. If you perform well, your future is set."
Natsu wiped the sauce from his mouth. A new light ignited in his onyx eyes—the first real spark since the hospital.
A chance to fight... A chance to prove I'm not weak.
"A tournament..." Natsu grinned, smoke leaking from the corners of his mouth. "That sounds awesome! I'm all fired up!"
He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.
"I need to ask Aizawa about this," Natsu declared. "I missed the briefing. I need to know the rules so I can win!"
"Wait, Natsu-kun!" Midoriya called out, but Natsu was already marching toward the exit, his scarf trailing behind him like a cape.
The Staff Room.
Natsu didn't knock. He slid the door open with a bang.
"Yo! Eraser Head! I have questions about this festival thing!"
The room was quiet. Several teachers looked up, startled. Sitting at a desk in the corner was Shota Aizawa.
Or at least, something that resembled Aizawa.
He was wrapped from head to toe in layers of thick white bandages. His arms were suspended in slings. His face was entirely covered except for one tired, bloodshot eye and a tuft of messy black hair. He looked less like a hero and more like an ancient mummy that had escaped a museum exhibit.
Natsu blinked. Then he burst out laughing.
"BWAHAHAHA!" Natsu pointed at his teacher, doubling over. "Look at you! You look worse than me! Are you going to a costume party as a toilet paper roll?"
"Dragneel," Aizawa's voice was muffled through the bandages, dry and irritated. "Lower your voice. This is a place of work."
Natsu wiped a tear of laughter from his eye and walked over, leaning his hands on Aizawa's desk. "Okay, okay, Mummy-Man. The guys told me about this Sports Festival. Since I was out, I didn't get the info. Is my name on the list? I'm gonna win this thing and show everyone!"
Aizawa stopped typing on his computer. He turned his single visible eye toward Natsu. The air temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
"You aren't participating."
Natsu's smile froze. "Hah?"
"I didn't submit your name," Aizawa stated calmly, turning back to his screen. "You are not on the roster for the Sports Festival."
"What do you mean?!" Natsu slammed his hands on the desk, smoke rising from his palms. "Why?!"
"Your injuries," Aizawa said, pointing a bandaged finger at Natsu's chest. "Recovery Girl healed you enough to walk and attend class, but your bones are still brittle. The structural integrity of your ribcage is compromised. A single heavy impact to your chest could re-shatter your ribs and puncture a lung. You could die."
"I'm fine!" Natsu roared, baring his teeth. "I feel great! I can punch, I can run! Look!" He threw a shadow punch in the air, though a flicker of pain crossed his face.
"No," Aizawa said firmly. "My decision is final. As your homeroom teacher, I have a duty to ensure you don't kill yourself before you even graduate. You will sit this one out and watch from the stands."
"That's not fair!" Natsu gritted his teeth, his fists shaking at his sides. "Everyone else gets to show off! Everyone else gets to get stronger! Why am I the only one left behind?!"
"Because you were the one who took the hit meant for me," Aizawa said softly.
The words hung in the air. Natsu paused, his anger momentarily deflated.
"Don't make me regret saving you," Aizawa added, his voice low. "Sit down, shut up, and go back to class. Homeroom is about to start."
Natsu glared at Aizawa. He wanted to scream. He wanted to burn the desk to ash. But he saw the look in Aizawa's single eye—it wasn't malice. It was protection.
"Fine," Natsu spat.
He turned on his heel and stomped out of the room, sliding the door shut with enough force to crack the frame.
The Hallway.
Natsu stood in the empty corridor, staring at the polished linoleum floor.
The frustration was bubbling inside him like magma. To be benched? To be forced to watch while Bakugo, Todoroki, and Midoriya fought? To sit in the stands like a civilian while everyone else moved forward?
It was unbearable. It felt like admitting defeat all over again.
"Natsu..." Happy whispered, peeking his head out from Natsu's backpack. "What are we going to do? Are we really not going to participate?"
Happy's ears drooped sadly. "It's sad... watching you disappear from the spotlight when you should be shining. You're the main character in my book, Natsu."
Natsu was silent for a moment. He touched the bandages under his shirt.
Then, a mischievous, stubborn smirk slowly crept onto his face. It wasn't a happy smile; it was a defiant one.
"He said my bones are brittle, right?" Natsu whispered.
"Aye?"
"So if they aren't brittle... he has no reason to stop me."
Natsu adjusted his scarf, his eyes burning with a reckless plan.
"Like I'd listen to a Mummy," Natsu scoffed. "We're going to the Nurse's Office."
"To Recovery Girl?" Happy asked, tilting his head. "But she said you need to rest."
"I don't care," Natsu grinned, cracking his knuckles. "I'm gonna force that old lady to heal me completely. I'll beg, I'll plead, I'll bribe her with sweets. I don't care if it takes all my stamina. I'm entering that festival, Happy."
Happy's wings popped out, and he flew up to give a high-five.
"Aye sir!!"
.
.