The Frog and The Beast

The Frog Chapter 9

Wendy poured her heart into making the terrarium she bought for me as comfortable as possible. With meticulous care, she arranged the tiny plants, ensuring each one had ample space to grow and thrive. The vibrant greens, along with a small man-made pond, infused the glass enclosure with a sense of life. She even added decorative stones and a few of Mom's hibiscus flowers to create a more natural ambiance.

As she worked, she shared her vision of the terrarium evolving into a little ecosystem, a miniature world flourishing under her care. I watched her, a smile creeping onto my face, appreciating the effort she was putting into this gift. It was more than just a decorative piece; it symbolized her thoughtfulness and creativity.

Once she finished setting it up, Wendy placed the terrarium on my windowsill, where it would bask in just the right amount of sunlight.

"I'll move the TV into your bedroom later," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "That way, you can at least watch television. This isn't so bad, right?"

She was trying so hard to uplift the situation, but starting a new life as a frog felt overwhelmingly bleak.

I glanced at the terrarium, its bright colors starkly contrasting with the dullness of my new reality. "It's beautiful, Wendy," I replied, forcing a smile. "It really is."

Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm at my compliment. "I thought you might like it! And look, I even found this little frog figurine to add to it!" She carefully placed the tiny ceramic frog beside the pond, its glossy surface glinting in the sunlight.

As she stepped back to admire her work, a pang of sadness struck me. I was meant to inhabit that terrarium, not just observe it. The idea of hopping around in the grass or catching flies seemed appealing, but the reality was far less glamorous.

Wendy must have sensed my unease. She knelt beside me, her expression softening. "I know this is hard for you. But remember, you're not alone. I'll be here every day to take care of you, and we'll figure this out together."

Her words were comforting, yet they couldn't erase the fear gnawing at me. What if I never returned to my human form? What if I was destined to live out my days as a frog, forever confined to this glass box?

"How are Mom and Dad taking things?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. They had been sick with worry about me, terrified that I had been kidnapped or worse. Dad had kept the shop closed for a week, spending every day and night searching for me.

Wendy sighed, her brow furrowing slightly. "They're worried, you know. I overheard Mom crying last night. She thinks the worst has happened."

A wave of guilt washed over me. I wished I could reassure them, tell them I was okay, that I was right here in front of Wendy, albeit in a different form. But all I could do was croak softly, a sound that felt woefully inadequate for the weight of my emotions.

"I wish we could tell them," she said.

"Me too, but we both know they'll never believe it. Not without hard evidence. And what evidence could possibly prove that their only son has been turned into a frog?"

"I know, I know. On the plus side, since they're so busy looking for you, they haven't suspected me of hiding an animal in the house."

"Yeah, but eventually they'll stop searching and notice things, like you buying supplies to care for frogs. They'll get suspicious, and then what?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, Natsu."

Wendy's determination was admirable, but I couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. The weight of my situation pressed down on me like the glass of the terrarium, trapping me in a world where I felt utterly powerless.

As if sensing my turmoil, Wendy leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What if you tell me how I can find this Erza witch? You said she might help."

"Not a bad idea," I said, though concern gnawed at me. "But I'm worried you might run into her crazy sister, Minerva. She could turn you into a toad or something."

Wendy chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. "I think I can handle a toad. Besides, I'm not going to let a little danger stop me from helping you. You're my brother, and I'll do whatever it takes to get you back to normal."

I admired her bravery, but the thought of Minerva sent a shiver down my spine. "You don't know what you're up against, Wendy. Erza might be able to help, but Minerva... she's bat-shit insane! You could end up in a lot more trouble."

Wendy straightened, her resolve hardening. "I'm not afraid. I've faced tough situations before."

Just then, a soft rustling sound caught my attention. I turned to see a small bug crawling along the edge of the terrarium. Instinct kicked in, and I felt an overwhelming urge to leap toward it. I hesitated, glancing back at Wendy.

"Oh no!" I shook my head. "No! No! There's no way I'm eating a bug!"

Wendy laughed, her laughter ringing like a melody in the otherwise quiet room. "Natsu, you're a frog now! It's kind of part of the deal. You might actually enjoy it!"

I rolled my eyes, even if it was a little difficult as a frog. "I'd rather starve!"

"This coming from the guy who ate toxic mushrooms at our last family picnic?"

I let out a croak of indignation at her teasing. "That was a mistake! I thought they were edible!"

Wendy chuckled again, her laughter infectious. "Well, now you have a chance to redeem yourself. Think of it as an adventure! You can explore the world from a whole new perspective."

I sighed, looking back at the bug that was now inching closer to the pond. It was small and unassuming, but the primal urge within me was undeniable. "No! I don't want to give in to this. I want to be me again, not some slimy creature hopping around."

"Alright, you big baby. I'll make you a sandwich before I go."

"Ham and bologna with red peppers and spicy mustard?"

"Of course."

Wendy stood up, brushing off her knees, and headed toward the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the terrarium. I watched as the bug continued its slow crawl, taunting me with its freedom. The sunlight streaming through the window illuminated the tiny plants, casting playful shadows across the glass.

As I sat there, I couldn't help but feel a mix of envy and frustration. The bug had no idea of the weight of its existence; it was simply living, free to explore and experience the world. I, on the other hand, was trapped in a glass box, my identity reduced to that of a mere amphibian.

But then I thought about Wendy. She was doing everything she could to help me, to make this situation bearable. I remembered her laughter, her determination, and the way she had carefully crafted my little ecosystem. Sweet kid. I didn't know what I would do without her.