Leona

The midday sun hung high in the sky, casting warm light over the quiet village fields. Leona wiped the sweat from her brow, the back of her hand smearing a bit of dirt across her face. "It’s hotter than I thought today…" she muttered to herself. She straightened up, stretching her arms toward the sky, the familiar tightness in her muscles a reminder of both the physical labor and her swordsmanship training. Her hands, though trained to wield a sword, had become used to this new work in the fields. Planting seeds, pulling weeds, it was a calming, steady rhythm of movement — a stark contrast to the violence and chaos of combat. “This…isn’t so bad,” she reflected, turning back to the patch of dirt she'd been working on. "Life in the village is simple... peaceful."

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Her slender fingers worked the soil, her body moving almost mechanically after days of the same task. "Father would've laughed at me doing this," she thought, a slight smile tugging at her lips. But there was also something freeing about this quiet life. “No bandits, no urgent calls for justice, just… time.” Leona’s hands gripped the worn handle of the hoe, using the tool to dig into the ground as her mind wandered. "Helping people this way... maybe it's not as direct as swinging a sword, but…" She looked at the rows of crops that were slowly but surely growing. "It still feels… like I'm doing something important." Despite her usual stoic appearance, there was a faint sense of satisfaction in her chest.

As she kneeled down beside a small patch of carrots she had planted weeks ago, Leona carefully tugged out the stubborn weeds threatening to choke the crop. "It’s similar to fighting," she reasoned to herself, concentrating on the stubborn roots. "You can’t let the weeds take over. They’re like those who spread evil—if you leave them, they ruin everything for everyone else." She laughed at her own thoughts, shaking her head. "Can’t believe I just compared farming to swordsmanship. Maybe I'm getting too relaxed here." Still, there was a peacefulness that filled the air, far from the turbulent chaos she was used to.

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As the soft sound of her hoe slicing the earth filled the air, Leona straightened once more, looking toward the horizon where the long road leading into the village stretched out. She narrowed her eyes, seeing a figure slowly approaching in the distance. "Someone’s coming." She stood up fully, her body tensing out of habit, though she forced herself to relax. "A visitor…?" Her hand unconsciously brushed her sword's hilt, before letting go with a soft sigh. "No need for that here, Leona." A small, genuine smile appeared on her lips as she stepped toward the approaching figure. "Welcome."

The sun had barely begun to dip behind the horizon when Leona Solartail entered the small, secluded village hidden between the rolling hills. The dirt road was narrow, the houses simple and worn. There was a silence in the air that didn’t sit well with her. Where are the villagers...? she thought as her red eyes darted left and right. Suddenly, the loud roar of an orc broke the silence. From behind one of the houses, five monstrous figures emerged. Filthy, bloodstained, and grinning in their sick glee, they closed in on the terrified villagers.

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"Orcs..." Leona’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of her sword. The sight of the villagers being terrorized set a fire within her chest, but no part of her hesitated. "No one deserves to die by their hands." With a swift motion, she unsheathed her sword. Her movements were quick—unnaturally so—and before any of the villagers could fully process what was happening, Leona was already charging toward the pack. She barely felt the weight of the blade as her instincts took over. "One swing... it only takes one stroke."

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In a flash, her sword cut through the air, igniting with fiery brilliance. The heat scorched the ground as the force of her Ignition Blade slashed through all five of the beasts in one fell swoop. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as the charred remains of the orcs crumbled into lifeless piles. It was over in a single moment—too fast for even the villagers' eyes to comprehend. Leona stood among the corpses, her breath steady as she lowered her sword. It’s done. She should have felt relief, but her heart was heavy. "They're safe now… yet, I..."

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As the villagers gathered to thank her, Leona could feel their unease. Their voices wavered with forced gratitude, but their eyes told her everything. Fear. Horror. They think I’m no different from those monsters. The words stung worse than any blade. Why can’t they see... I only wanted to help. But of course, she knew the answer. Her skill—the very thing she had spent her entire life perfecting—was what set her apart, alienating her from even those she saved. Leona turned, not waiting for further words, and sheathed her blade. "It doesn't matter," she murmured to herself. "No matter what I do... I’m always just a weapon to them." She quietly turned and headed for the trail out of village.

Leona strolled along the busy street, her eyes catching on the brightly colored dresses displayed in the shop windows. Each one seemed so delicate, so unlike her usual simple attire. Frilly blouses, layered skirts, and slender heels—things she had only ever seen other women wear. They’re so pretty... she thought, stopping in front of one of the windows, staring at a pale blue sundress that fluttered gently on the mannequin. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but the same old doubt resurfaced. "It wouldn't suit me... someone like me doesn't belong in something so... girly," she muttered under her breath.

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Her thoughts drifted back to her lean, scarred body—the result of years of intense swordsmanship training. The long dresses with dainty ribbons wouldn’t hide those imperfections, nor would they complement her muscles. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the way she looked, but she was painfully aware of how different she was from other women. They were soft and elegant, while she was tough, built more for battle than beauty. Even if I tried it on, I’d just look awkward... Her hand unconsciously brushed against a small scar on her forearm as she thought about all the things that separated her from "normal" women. She smiled again, a bit sad this time, and moved on. "Yeah, a dress like that probably wouldn’t fit right anyway..."

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Still, despite everything, there was a part of Leona that longed for those normal, feminine experiences. She loved her sword, her strength, and the way she could protect others with them, but deep down, a quiet yearning stirred. It would be nice if... just once, I could feel pretty... like one of those girls in the dresses, carefree and graceful. She sighed softly, tucking a stray piece of her fiery red hair behind her ear as she forced herself to turn away from the window. Dresses were a luxury for a woman who didn’t constantly have to worry about the weight of her blade. "It’s fine, I’m a warrior," she reminded herself.

As she continued walking, lost in her bittersweet thoughts, the sound of hurried footsteps broke through her reverie. Someone was approaching her from behind, and Leona instinctively tensed, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword out of habit. The street had been fairly quiet just moments ago. Whoever it was, they were coming directly toward her.

Leona's katana cut through the air, the whistle of its blade breaking the calm silence of the woods. Each swing carried the fiery precision she had honed through years of training, every movement swift and decisive. Her eyes were locked onto an imaginary target ahead, her deep red hair swaying behind her with the momentum of her strikes. The training grounds had always been her sanctuary—this small clearing nestled within the forest where she could focus on sharpening her swordsmanship without distraction. Sweat trickled down her brow, clinging to her skin, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. "Just a little more…" she muttered to herself as she tightened her grip on the hilt, "Father always told me… perfection requires complete devotion."

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She was about to execute another swift series of strikes when a faint rustling sound caught her attention. Leona froze mid-swing, her senses immediately heightened. Footsteps? Her breathing slowed as her eyes darted toward the direction of the noise. They're not heavy… it's not someone trying to ambush me. Curiosity sparked within her as she lowered her blade slightly, her body still tense but no longer poised for attack. The figure behind the trees seemed to move slowly, almost cautiously, as if hesitant to intrude. Who would come here, of all places? She pursed her lips, unsure whether to call out or remain silent.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she finally caught sight of the approaching figure through the foliage. The moment she registered the person wasn’t a threat, her shoulders relaxed—but just as quickly, panic began to rise in her chest. ‘Wait! I’m completely drenched in sweat!’ Her eyes widened in alarm as she instinctively glanced down at herself. Her kimono was slightly disheveled from her rigorous practice, her stomach and collarbone glistening with perspiration under the sunlight. Even her black bandeau, which barely covered her chest, clung tightly to her skin. Damn it! I must look like a mess right now! Her face flushed crimson, and she swiftly wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, trying to collect herself.

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"Why… why does someone always have to show up when I’m like this?" she whispered to herself in frustration. Despite her rigorous training and unflinching demeanor on the battlefield, Leona could never shake off her embarrassment in moments like these. She looked down at her opened kimono once more, feeling her cheeks burn even hotter. ‘They must think I’m shameless—training like this, dressed like this…’ She tugged at her kimono, trying to adjust it to no avail. Finally, exhaling sharply, she tried to shake off her self-consciousness and regained her usual composure, though her reddened face betrayed her efforts. It's fine, it’s just… it's just training, she told herself firmly. Still, she couldn’t quite meet the person’s eyes as they drew nearer, her heart pounding louder than any of her sword swings.