Fairy Tail: The Faint Smile in Earthland

📍 Location: Fairy Tail Guild Hall → Master's Office → Magnolia Streets

📅 June, X791

Guild Hall 

A gentle, golden light filled the Fairy Tail guild hall. With Romeo and Team Natsu away on assignment, the hall felt calmer—an easy, familiar hum beneath the warm lantern lights.

Then the front door swung open, and everything came to a pause. The noise hushed like a blade drawn from its sheath.

In stepped a single silhouette: tall, slim, unmistakably quiet. Pale blonde hair fell behind her in long, straight strands. Her white cloak bore the Fairy Tail emblem, but it felt more like a tool than a badge. Her armor shone, not brightly, but with a subtle glow. She moved with controlled grace.

It was Teresa.

Kinana froze mid-polish at the bar. Reedus shut his sketchpad without a sound. Laki held her chisel mid-air. Jet nudged Droy in a whisper, "Another mission. She never rests." Droy only nodded.

Bisca gave Teresa a respectful nod while gently touching her holstered gun. Alzack stood close by, silent but watchful, offering a nod filled with unspoken understanding.

Macao, seated behind the bar, quietly set down his drink. He rose.

"Teresa… you're early."

She paused before him. Her silver eyes were clear but unreadable.

"I'm here for Task Force Nine," she said. "Give it to me straight."

Macao gulped.

"Makarov's waiting upstairs."

From the upper balcony, Freed leaned over the railing, watching with half-closed eyes.

"Silent, as always," he muttered. Bickslow's dolls repeated after him, "Silent… silent… silent…"

Evergreen folded her arms.

"Still distant as ever," she said. No judgment—just observation.

And Teresa didn't seem to notice. Her gaze swept over the hall—exits, blind spots, possible approaches. She belonged more to strategy than camaraderie. Then she turned and began the long walk up to the second floor.

Master's Office — Clash of Ideals

The office felt small under the quiet morning light. Parchments lay scattered on the desk. Sunlight made the old tapestry flicker in the dusty air.

Makarov waited behind the desk. Mirajane sat on a chair to the side, hands relaxed in her lap. Erza leaned by the window, perfectly still.

The door clicked shut behind Teresa.

Makarov broke the silence.

"We've delayed this long enough."

"Then speak," Teresa answered in calm tones.

Mirajane spoke first.

"We brought you here to say thank you. For everything. For saving them."

She shook her head.

"I didn't do it for thanks," she said. "I did it because it needed to be done."

Erza's voice was soft, but firm.

"Then tell me—why do you wear our mark, if you don't believe in us?"

Teresa glanced down at the emblem on her cloak. Then she looked right at Erza.

"I was made to be a blade. To act without doubt. Bonds slow the strike. Attachments dull the edge. I learned that too late once. Never again."

Makarov leaned forward.

"That must be from before you came here."

Teresa's jaw tightened.

"I once trusted someone deeply. That hesitation cost lives. I won't forget what that felt like."

Mirajane's voice trembled with emotion.

"Trust is how we survive. It makes our strength matter."

Teresa countered quickly.

"You survive by chance. You let enemies go, then pray they won't come back stronger. You call that mercy. I call it recklessness."

Erza slammed her gauntlet into the wall.

"We believe in second chances. People change."

"Change?" Teresa said quietly.

"When you spare them, they just learn more. They return worse than before. You gamble with lives under the illusion of mercy."

Makarov's voice softened.

"And what do you believe you are, then? Justice without mercy? A weapon without heart?"

"I end threats. Swiftly. Completely. So no one else has to carry that cost."

The silence that followed felt heavy, heavy enough to press the air in their lungs.

Finally, Makarov leaned back.

"I won't ask you to leave. Because… we're still standing thanks to you. Maybe we needed someone like you in the dark."

Teresa inclined her head.

"Understood."

She turned. As her boots tapped the old wood floor, she paused at the doorway.

"I prefer Macao's honesty," she added. "He says what needs saying—no blooms around the truth."

Then she vanished down the steps.

Stairwell and Hall 

Macao waited halfway down the stairs. Arms crossed. He watched her descending in silence.

"Briefing?" he asked quietly.

She looked at him.

"Eastern ruins. Hybrid threat. Confirm and eliminate."

His brow furrowed.

"Do it your way… but come back."

She almost smiled.

"No promises."

And she passed through the bottom of the stairs, down into the hall.

Kinana watched from behind the bar. She nodded once. Reedus raised a respectful hand. Bisca and Alzack stood quietly together.

Jet muttered, "She'll never change."

Droy added softly, "Maybe that's why she matters."

Teresa stopped before the guild door. She looked back one last time—not to say goodbye, but to imprint the moment in her mind. Then she walked outside.

Magnolia Streets 

Outside, evening draped the streets in gentle orange light. Street lamps flickered, glowing like distant stars. Teresa knelt beside The Edge, her sleek silver bike, listening to its engine hum quietly.

She swung a leg over the seat. Cloak shifted softly. Then she turned and looked back at the guild's lit windows.

Inside, laughter floated out.

Bright. Warm. Inviting.

She felt none of it.

There was a time when she might have stood there, laughing too. But those ties were cut long ago.

Ignoring one last flicker of regret, she gripped the throttle and kicked the bike forward. The Edge roared to life.

Violet flame flickered behind it, like the ghost of something beautiful.

She was no one's warmth. She was no one's shield.

She was the blade—silent, unyielding, and endlessly beyond reach.