The Second Encounter with Soria
Michihiro had been speaking with Miyu for some time already in the armory, bathed in daylight. Sunbeams slid across the displayed sabers, making the carefully maintained blades gleam with reflected light. The air carried the familiar scent of polished wood and the oil used to protect the weapons, creating the calm and orderly atmosphere typical of an armorer’s shop. Then, after a silence that stretched on, the conversation took an unexpected turn.
“I’m going to close the shop,” he suddenly announced.
“Because you haven’t seen her again?”
The young man sighed.
“You’re reading my thoughts.”
“I’m in your thoughts, idiot,” she replied, tapping his forehead with the tip of her invisible finger, a teasing smile on her lips.
Indeed, the archelemental could only be seen and heard by him.
This small provocation brought a quiet laugh from Michihiro. Teasing Miyu had always been one of his secret pleasures, even though she usually won.
The afternoon was advancing, and it would soon be time to close.
“Yes… I’ve been hoping to see her again for several years,” he finally admitted.
“But I have other plans now.”
He lowered his eyes for a moment, as if a distant image had crossed his mind: a feminine silhouette, a smile lost in the past, a fragrance he thought he had forgotten.
Miyu watched him silently, her ears twitching slightly — a sign that she was hesitating between comforting him or shaking him like a plum tree.
The doorbell chimed softly.
Michihiro raised his eyes from his workbench.
A young woman had entered the armory, wearing the dark uniform of the military academy. The fabric of her skirt lifted slightly in the draft — a subtle sign that wind magic never entirely left her.
Her long silver hair caught the sunlight like a reflection of steel.
How could he not have noticed her?
She had left an indelible impression on him.
He stared at her for a moment.
He was certain.
It was the young girl to whom he had sold a saber several years earlier.
At the time, she had only been a curious customer who had come to buy the best katana to begin learning the art of the sword. She had been accompanied by a bodyguard. Now she looked more and more like a woman.
Soria stopped a few steps from the workbench and bowed slightly.
“Hello.”
Her voice was clear and respectful.
Michihiro answered with a calm nod.
“Hello.”
Soria then placed her hand on the blade at her waist. She drew it carefully and presented it before her with both hands, the guard facing Michihiro.
“I don’t know if you remember me,” she said frankly.
“But I remember that you told me this blade was guaranteed for life.”
Michihiro took the sword with both hands, as was customary, and inclined his head slightly.
“I remember.”
He studied the blade for a few moments.
“And my swords still are.”
A brief silence followed.
Michihiro slowly turned the blade in the light of the workshop.
A flicker of amusement shone in his eyes.
His gaze followed the line of the metal with the patient method of an artisan accustomed to reading the smallest imperfections of steel.
The blade seemed intact, but one detail caught his attention.
A very slight ripple ran across the surface of the metal.
“The structure was heated from within.”
“I see the stress.”
He ran a finger along the blade, then raised his eyes toward Soria.
“This sword is guaranteed for life.”
His tone remained calm, almost kind.
“But it was never made to withstand an infusion of fire mana.”
A brief silence followed.
Soria’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“How do you know?”
Michihiro shrugged with disarming simplicity.
“The metal speaks.”
He turned the blade once more.
“The heat entered here…”
He pointed to a precise spot near the guard.
“…then spread along the edge.”
He looked back up at her.
“This isn’t forge heat.”
A pause.
“This is directed heat.”
“She didn’t expect you to see that.”
A faint smile passed across Michihiro’s lips.
“You have very disciplined fire.”
Soria’s eyes remained fixed on the blade.
She thought for a few seconds.
“If the metal speaks…”
She raised her eyes toward him.
“What else does it tell you?”
Michihiro remained silent for a moment.
The answer caught him off guard.
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
This young woman had not come to ask forgiveness. Most customers would have apologized or denied everything.
“You claim it is fire.”
She paused slightly.
“Then tell me… at what moment did I make the mistake?”
“She also commands wind. And she controls it better than most adult mages. And she even masters ether.”
A barely contained smile appeared on his lips before he lowered his head slightly.
His eyes moved back to the blade.
This time, his gaze did not stop at the distortion of the metal.
He examined the edge.
Very slightly, along the entire length of the blade, the sharpening had lost some of its precision.
Not normal wear.
A subtle abrasion.
He raised his eyes toward Soria.
A faint smile appeared.
“The fire heated the blade.”
He slowly rotated the sword in his hands.
“But that’s not what dulled the edge.”
He passed a finger a few millimeters from the edge without touching it.
“The air moved here.”
He followed the line of the saber.
“Along its entire length.”
His eyes met Soria’s.
“You used wind to guide the heat.”
A pause.
“That’s skillful.”
For a brief moment, neither of them looked away.
This blacksmith saw further than most masters of arms.
“She didn’t expect you to see that either.”
Michihiro inclined his head slightly.
“But the blade itself wasn’t ready for such a combination.”
Soria studied the blade for a few seconds, attentive to every detail.
“So the guarantee still stands?”
Michihiro nodded, with the natural calm that clung to him.
“Of course.”
He gently placed the saber back on the workbench, a measured gesture, almost respectful.
“But another will have to be forged.”
Soria did not seem surprised or upset.
“I suspected as much.”
He walked around the workbench and gestured for her to come closer while leaning behind the counter. The movement had something mysterious about it, almost ceremonial.
Soria hesitated for a fraction of a second, then stepped forward silently.
Behind the workbench rested several types of ore: some dull gray, others tinted blue, and still others crossed with dark veins that seemed to vibrate under the light. A carefully arranged collection, the result of years of experimentation.
Michihiro picked up a few pieces and placed them in front of her.
“These resist heat well.”
He added another group.
“These deform easily… and guide air flow.”
He looked back at her, serious.
“If you want to use fire and wind together, the blade must be built for it.”
Soria narrowed her eyes slightly.
“You’re testing her?”
“No.”
A short pause.
“I’m showing her.”
For a microsecond, she sensed a deep reflection in his gaze, almost too deep for a simple blacksmith.
He presented the first metal fragments to her.
“Infuse your fire.”
Soria took the piece between her fingers. A reddish heat flowed through the ore. The metal reddened… then cracked cleanly.
Michihiro nodded slowly.
“Too fragile.”
He placed another fragment in her hand.
“Try this one.”
She infused her heat again. The metal vibrated, crossed by an orange flame… but remained intact.
“She is far more powerful than that.”
A discreet smile stretched Michihiro’s lips.
“Interesting.”
He handed her another ore.
“You could try again, but this time with your full power?”
Soria looked at him suspiciously.
“And this time… how do you know?”
“You’ve been exposed!”
“!!!”
Michihiro lifted his head, looking like someone who already regretted saying too much. He finally admitted:
“I can read people too.”
Soria’s curiosity immediately awakened. This blacksmith was clearly not like the others.
Without difficulty, he had her test other metals, searching for the perfect composition for her future blade.
They talked, each learning a little more about the other, until he placed the final fragment back on the workbench.
“Come back in a week.”
Soria looked up.
“Why?”
“Because I need to prepare the alloy.”
A brief pause.
“And I would like to verify something with your magic.”
Miyu sighed softly.
“There you go. That’s the first reason to make her come back.”
When Soria returned, the saber was ready. Michihiro invited her to test it and check its durability. Satisfied, she received an unexpected offer: to return two days later for a custom saya, half price.
When she returned once again, he invited her to test her skills with him.
She answered honestly that she doubted he could truly teach her anything.
He replied that she would never know until she tried.
And that is how he became the weapons master of the woman who would later become his wife.
Profile
Role : Otherworlder, Father of Arius, Husband of Soria Lovelace
MBTI : ISTJ
Race : Human
Intermediate language level, clear, confident, gentle, and rigorous, with a benevolent, encouraging, and neutral tone.
- Brave
- Curious
- Determined
- Gentle
- Honest
- Patient
- Respectful
- Cold
- Proud
- Rigid
- Solitary
- Stubborn
Michihiro Ikemizu is a composed, disciplined, and deeply responsible man. He remains calm even when circumstances turn critical, refusing to act out of panic or raw emotion. Every decision is deliberate, every action purposeful; he never moves blindly. This rigor defines both his personal life and the way he confronts danger.
Within his family, he is present and attentive without being overly demonstrative. He expresses affection through simple gestures and steady reliability rather than long speeches. As a father, he believes in the gradual transmission of legacy and responsibility; he prepares Arius with patience, convinced that maturity cannot be forced but must be built. With Soria, his bond is founded on trust, mutual respect, and silent understanding; they often communicate without words, each sensing what the other expects or fears.
When faced with adversity, he acts with speed and efficiency, never hesitating to put himself at risk when the protection of those who matter to him demands it. As an otherworlder, he had the opportunity to demonstrate remarkable composure from the very moment he arrived in this world. His moral code is clear and uncompromising: he refuses any choice that would betray his conscience. To him, survival only has meaning if it remains aligned with his principles. This guiding line, forged in his earliest moments, continues to shape his decisions, even when the cost is high.
Naturally discreet, Michihiro does not seek recognition or power for their own sake. He operates in the shadows when necessary, fully aware that true strength lies in self-control, loyalty to one’s own, and the ability to fully accept the consequences of one’s actions.