Chapter 159: Chapter 159 - The Blade That Stays Behind
📍 Fairy Tail Guild Hall, Next Morning
đź“… Early June, X791
Sunlight spilled gently through the high windows of the guild hall, turning weathered wood into molten gold. Abandoned plates, tilted mugs, and scattered crumbs from last night's celebration sat like offerings left behind in reverence. The air still trembled with joy—whispers of laughter tucked into every beam and banister.
Lucy yawned, arms stretching wide as golden hair tumbled across her shoulders. At her side, Wendy ran a comb through her still-damp hair while Carla scolded softly, "You'll catch a cold if you keep ignoring my advice." Wendy just smiled sheepishly.
Natsu, of course, was out cold on the bar top, snoring with Happy curled atop his head like a fuzzy scarf. Gray, nursing a glass of water, stared through the window with a soft, unreadable look in his eyes.
Behind the bar, Mirajane absentmindedly polished a mug, though her focus drifted past the glass. Her lips curved into a gentle smile, but her blue eyes darkened as they flicked toward the light slanting in through the open door.
"I feel her," she murmured.
Lisanna, braiding little Asuka's hair, glanced over. "Feel who?"
Mirajane's eyes didn't waver. "The one who stays outside. The one who doesn't step in, but never stops watching."
"Teresa," Lisanna said softly. It wasn't a question.
"She's always there. A blade drawn but never used. Guarding us… quietly," Mira replied. Then, after a pause, "She chose that cold place. But even chosen loneliness… it still cuts."
Across the room, Romeo sat at a table with Elfman, recounting stories from the gap years. The older man's massive hands clenched with excitement.
"A woman like that—powerful, stoic! That's what true manliness looks like!"
Lisanna giggled. "It's not always about being strong, nii-chan."
Elfman puffed his chest anyway. "Still manly!"
Nearby, the Thunder God Tribe lingered in a corner. Laxus leaned against the wall, arms crossed, gaze trained on Romeo with a flicker of interest.
"She's strong," Freed said softly, trailing a finger around the rim of his glass. "But… her magic feels like a hollow echo. Like something that doesn't belong."
"Creepy creepy!" Bickslow's dolls chimed, and he laughed with them.
Evergreen frowned, adjusting her glasses. "She's not human. Not in any way that makes sense. Not a dragon. Not a demon. Just… something other."
Laxus's voice was low and firm. "As long as she stays out of the way, she can do whatever she wants."
Freed's smile curved just slightly. "You respect her."
Laxus didn't blink. "I respect power."
By the mission board, Erza scanned new requests. Her head turned at Romeo's voice rising across the hall.
"I want to get stronger," he said, standing firm. "Not just to protect her. For all of you. I won't stand in the background anymore."
Natsu clapped him on the back so hard he nearly fell. "That's what I'm talkin' about! Let's spar soon!"
"Only if you want to lose," Gray added with a smirk.
Lisanna laughed. Mira's eyes sparkled with warmth. "She'd be proud of you, Romeo. Whether she says it or not."
Outside, on a rooftop just beyond the window's edge, Teresa stood still as stone, her cloak flaring softly in the wind.
She watched every laugh. Every clink of mugs. Every hug stretched long from lost years.
Her hand hovered near her sword. Her fingers twitched.
Mirajane could sense her. Laxus and the others likely did too. But no one would call out. Teresa never stepped into the firelight. She only circled it, a moon refusing the pull of gravity.
Her silver eyes locked onto Romeo. He laughed without weight now. Without shadows. Her lips twitched—just a little. Almost a smile.
Inside, Macao stood beside Wakaba, his hand firm on his friend's shoulder. On the second-floor balcony, Makarov leaned on the rail, fingers clenched, gaze unwavering as he looked through the window toward the morning sky.
"She chose this," he murmured. "To stay outside."
Macao's voice was thick with meaning. "And we owe her the space to keep choosing."
Laughter rose again from below. A child squealed. Someone dropped a tray. Life, noisy and honest, had returned.
Up above it all, Teresa stepped onto her bike.
The engine purred—a low, steady rumble like a heartbeat wrapped in metal. She glanced once more toward the guild, where colors bled into each other, where warmth ran free.
Then she turned.
And vanished.
A streak of silver across the sky, threading rooftops like a ghost riding the edge of morning.
The guild sang. And the guardian, unseen, kept her silent promise.
Not a shadow.
Not a ghost.
Not quite a blade.
But never far.
Never gone.