The first time they meet, he is eight and she is just a year younger. Some of her pretty golden hair is pulled up into a side ponytail and the rest falls loosely onto her shoulders. Her pastel pink dress flutters behind her in the summer breeze, and her smile is the brightest thing he's ever seen.
She's like the sunshine, or at least that's what his eight-year-old mind registers as she sneaks a glance at him.
The boardwalk is full of people pushing, shoving, and laughing, but he keeps his eyes on her. She's holding her mother's hand, and they're waiting in line for ice cream. Next to her mother, a blond man towers over them, smiling down at the two.
She glances over at him again, smile wavering, and then stands on her tiptoes and beckons the blonde woman who looks just like her to come closer. She leans down, and the girl whispers something into her ear, cheeks tinted with splotches of pink. A wide smile spreads over the older woman's face, and she mumbles something to the blond man pulling out his wallet.
He looks away for a just a second, and when he turns around she's gone. He's disappointed that he didn't get to speak with her, or even learn her name, but then an ice cream cone is thrust in his face. He stumbles backward, and struggles to catch it before it splatters all over the wooden boards under his feet.
The blonde girl smiles shyly at him, holding a cream-filled cone of her own. "You like chocolate, right? Everybody loves chocolate, don't they?"
Her voice is just as pretty as she is, and her eyes are the same color as the melting treat in his hand. He decides that, yes—he loves chocolate very much.
"Hey—quick! Lick your ice cream! You don't want to get sticky, do you?" she points at the cream dripping down the side, and he grins before cleaning the spill up.
"Thanks." he offers, and she waves a hand and takes a seat next to him on the bench.
She starts to giggle, suddenly, and he looks at her in confusion. She points to the scoops in her cone, and then to the top of his head. "My ice cream is the same color as your hair! It's pink!"
He scoffs and scowls down at his cone. "It's salmon…duh."
"Well it looks pretty pink to me."
"It's not."
She looks up at him through thick golden-brown lashes. "Okay, if you say so. Y'know, you looked lonely sitting here all by yourself. Where're your parents?"
He blinks and rubs the back of his head. "My dad he…went to get hotdogs for us. He told me to stay right behind him—'cause I'm too big to hold hands," he lifts his chin, "but we got separated. So I'm all by myself…"
"That's awful!" she exclaims, and the top scoop of her ice cream almost slides off. "We should go look for him!"
He watches as she pumps her small fist into the air and stands, cheeks blown out and fire in her eyes. "C'mon—don't you wanna find your dad? Let's make it a game!"
He flashes her a wide grin and then they're off—winding through the crowds, hand in hand.
And Natsu Dragneel falls in love at the age of eight.
"Aren't you hot?"
He looks up from the crab winding its way through the sand and at the shorter girl standing over him. "What?"
"Your scarf," she points to the white fabric wrapped securely around his neck, "it's the middle of summer and you're wearing a scarf. Doesn't it make you too warm?"
Natsu shrugs. "I don't know. It doesn't bother me. 'Sides, it's a gift from my dad, so…"
She smiles sheepishly and looks up at the sunset. It's a mural of vermillion, fading sunshine, violet, and tangerines, and she laughs. The sound is like tinkling bells and it makes him feel all funny inside.
