Fairy Tail: The Faint Smile in Earthland

📍 Forest Outskirts near Talos Grove — Early Morning

The forest around them breathed in gentle rhythms—leaves rustling, dew dripping, distant birdsong unfolding like cautious greetings. Teresa moved through the trees with quiet grace, slipping between narrow trails and hanging branches as if she were part of the waking mist.

Romeo followed a step behind, his movements weighted by fatigue, but strangely hopeful. He ran a hand over the rough bark of an old oak, letting its solidity remind him that he was still human. Still learning how to balance blade and heart.

They emerged into a small clearing where Macao waited, leaning against a gnarled trunk. Relief softened his stern features at the sight of Romeo. Two Task Force Nine scouts flanked him, eyes scanning the tree line.

"About time," Macao said, voice thick with worry—and something like relief.

He took a step forward and slapped Romeo's shoulder hard enough to send a shudder through him. Romeo winced but managed a tired smile.

"Sorry… we had more than we expected."

Macao glanced at Romeo's wounds—blood at his temple, cuts down his arm. He frowned, but said nothing. Instead, he turned to Teresa.

"You brought him in there," he said quietly. "That seed wasn't meant for a kid."

Teresa met his gaze unflinchingly.

"He chose his path. My blade doesn't guide—it reveals the edge."

Macao exhaled and rubbed his temples. "Echoes, edges… Sometimes it'd be nice if you'd make it easier for an old man."

Romeo placed a reassuring hand on Macao's wrist. His voice was steady, even tired. "I wanted to go. I needed to see it. I can't just stay at the guild hall anymore."

Macao studied him, silently. Then his expression softened.

"You've grown… too fast, maybe. But you've grown."

Silence fell as wind stirred the grass. Teresa stood still by the clearing's edge—quiet, distant, her attention already scanning beyond them.

"Are… you upset with her?" Romeo asked Macao quietly.

He paused, then sighed. "No. Frustrated. She saves us, but always in her own way. It's not easy to understand."

Romeo nodded slowly. "Maybe that's why we need both ways—someone who cuts without hesitation… and someone who holds on to hearts."

Macao glanced toward Teresa, reluctant respect flickering in his gaze. "Maybe you're right, kid."

Then one of the scouts signaled sharply. Teresa vanished into the trees in a blink—no hesitation, no words.

"She doesn't wait for permission," Macao muttered. "She's more ghost than mage."

Romeo's grip tightened on his sword hilt. "She doesn't wait because she's already made her choice. The cut comes before the echo for her."

Macao studied him. "And for you? Which comes first?"

Romeo looked down and flexed his fingers. "I think I need both. I want my cut to carry an echo worth remembering."

Macao smiled—a mix of pride and mischief. He ruffled Romeo's hair, earning a surprised laugh.

"You're too young to talk like that," he said. "But maybe that's what she needs. Even if she'll never say it."

Romeo's chest warmed, despite the soreness in his limbs. He dared a glance toward the shadowed tree line, wondering if Teresa ever looked back—or thought of the people following her silent path.

"I'll catch up to her one day," he whispered to himself. "But I'll bring my echo."

Macao nodded, satisfied. "That's the spirit."

A breeze rustled through the clearing, lifting leaves in a swirl of gold and green. Romeo closed his eyes and felt everything shift—not because he chose one path, but because he realized he didn't have to.

He fell into step beside Macao—each footfall a quiet promise to himself, and to her, wherever she was: that he would make his echo matter.