Legends Don’t Retire… But I’m trying anyway!!

Penulis: Grace Prikasih – UKI

A legend don’t retire… but this swordmage is trying anyway! With a desire for peaceful retirement after his achievements, he instead pestered by nosy and unexperienced young adventurer team with no sense of danger and recklessness of a kitten.

The Hermit’s Garden

The mountains in the far west of Senchira had long been whispered about in tavern songs and bedtime stories. They were green and fertile, a place where rivers ran clear and the air was crisp enough to sting the lungs. Yet, most who knew the truth never dared to climb them. Not because of beasts, or the treacherous paths, or curses etched into the stone—but because of the man who lived there.

Ramune Mochizuki, the legendary Swordmage.

His name had once shaken kingdoms. He had led armies, shattered the advance of demon hordes, and driven back the abyss when its soldiers spilled from Tartabyss. His blade, Tsukimichi, had burned with divine thunder and sung with starlight. Whole legions had fallen before his wrath, and the world owed him peace. And so, after centuries of battle, Ramune chose to step away.

And they say legends don’t retire… But this one sure is tying anyway!

“Ahh… how beautiful my Azalea today…” Ramune woke to the sound of birdsong, the gentle gurgle of the river, and the smell of his flowers blooming beautifully. His prized possession, his garden, full of flowers and vegetations of all kinds to grow.

The cottage itself was a picture of stubborn simplicity. Ramune had built it with his own hands—timber walls polished smooth, a stone chimney where smoke curled at dusk, and rows of carefully tended vegetables stretching toward the riverbank. Every evening, with a steaming cup of tea in hand, Ramune sat on the porch and muttered the same words with relief:

“Finally. Retirement. Peace at last.”

At least, that was the plan.

Because peace, he would soon learn, has a way of being ruined. And legends, no matter how far they try to run, are never left alone for long.

The Razeblazers is Born!

At the Senchira Adventurer Academy, the teachers had long since abandoned the illusion of order. Classrooms echoed with clashing practice swords, alchemical smoke explosions, and the constant thrum of magical wards being strained past their limits. Students were meant to learn discipline here, but the academy often looked more like a war zone than a school.

And in the middle of this chaos, a boy sit on his twin’s desk. Swinging his legs out of boredom and sighs dramatically. “Ughh! So boreeed!” Houto Kokoa whine dramatically, His dark hair stuck out at all angles.

Maru sighed into his cup of water. His hair was neater, his gaze calmer, his voice a contrast of even tones against Houto’s thunder. “And what do you want me to do? I’m a student, not a miracle worker.” Maru set his cup down and flip a page of his book about myth and legends.

Akame Onizuka strummed his lute despite the fact that this was supposed to be a strategy lecture. His voice rang out in a sing-song chant: “Oho~? Shall I start strum a tune and make a ballad~?” A chalk was thrown towards him, hitting him square in the forehead “PEH-?! heeyyy! What’s the deal, Amai-chan!” He rubs his forehead with a mock pout.

Amai Terashi drawled, not even looking up from the half-built gadget she was tinkering with at her desk. Her words dripped sarcasm sharp enough to cut. “Doing the God’s work by eliminating voice nuisance.” Glaring at them to retort more. But…

CRASH!

Airi Ochizawa, clumsy mage, had tripped over her own staff and fell down. “S-sorry! I’m okay! I swear I’m okay!”

Amai just facepalm and helped her up as Maru sighs, “Never a peace in this place…” He shakes his head. Akame chuckles and strum from his shamisen “Oh come on, Maru-kun~ Peace is boring anyway, a little chaos in your life never hurt~” Maru just roll his eyes and mumbles, “When you’re with Houto, every day is chaos…”

Houto observes in silence before he decided to stand up and jump onto the table instead “That’s it!” He declared, “We’re forming a party!” His eyes burned with reckless fire as he thrust a wooden sword toward the ceiling. Maru rubbed his temple. “Houto, just because we’re all in the same class, doesn’t mean we count as a party-”

Houto cut him off. “No, listen! Us five—we’re different. We’re strong, we’re fearless, we’re unstoppable—”

“You’re loud,” Amai corrected. “—and loud!” Houto agreed. “Which is why we’re going to find a mentor who can make us legends!”

Akame strummed dramatically. “A mentor? A hero? A shining beacon of power?”

“Yes!” Houto jabbed his wooden sword toward the distant mountains visible through the window. “We’re going to find the Swordmage of the West!”

Silence envelop. And then…

“The Swordmage…?” Airi repeated nervously. “You mean… The Ramune Mochizuki? The one who killed a thousand demons in one night?”

“The one who leveled an entire legion with a single spell,” Maru muttered.

“The Master Swordmage that has declared very firmly he’s retired,” Amai added dryly.

“Exactly that one!” Houto’s grin stretched wider. “We’ll find him, we’ll drag him out of retirement, and he’ll have no choice but to train us!”

Akame jumped to his feet, shamisen swinging dangerously. “Now we’re talking! Aye-aye, captain of destiny!” Airi hesitated, then raised tilt her head with a confused smile. “I—I guess? I don’t really have plans this weekend.”

Maru sighed again, long and heavy. “You’ll drag us anyway, even if we said no, so…” and Amai pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alas, I am on babysitting duty once again…” She and Maru exchange glances and sighs heavily while shaking their heads. Houto was already gathering his things, eyes blazing with excitement. “Come one, Razeblazers!” he shouted. “That’s our name! We blaze through anything—razing limits, razing fear!”

And so, amidst ink stains, broken desks, and a howling teacher in the background, the Razeblazers were born. The world, unfortunately, was not ready for them.

Adventure, Heave Ho!

The group stumbled out of Senchira City gates like a caravan of misfits. Akame was already strumming his shamisen and singing at the top of his lungs about “heroes on the march.” Airi carried twice her weight in luggage, most of it spilling out with each step.

By the time they reached the countryside roads, they looked less like an adventuring team and more like a band of runaways. And after a bit more walk, they see smoke curled above the trees, and the faint outlines of rooftops appeared in the distance.

“Village,” Amai said. “Finally.”

The group staggered into Tivalen Village like lost pilgrims. The locals eyed them with a mixture of pity and amusement, whispering at the sight of Akame’s broken shamisen, Airi’s mud-stained robes, and Houto’s wild grin despite looking half-dead.

At the edge of the village sat a modest home where smoke puffed gently from the chimney. Outside, two figures rested on the porch:

A tall man, silver hair falling over one eye, his posture straight as a blade yet softened by the calm warmth in his expression. Even seated, he radiated a quiet aura that made the Razeblazers straighten instinctively. Machi eyes sharply glance towards the group before softening. Beside him sat a woman with long dark hair braided over one shoulder, her hands folded politely in her lap. Her eyes were gentle, smiling shyly when the Razeblazers approach. Kaffu, pouring tea for Machi and her as they sit quietly on the bench porch.

“Excuse me!” Houto rushed forward, bowing so deeply he nearly faceplanted. “We are the Razeblazers, noble adventurers on a grand quest to seek the Swordmage of the West! Do you know where we might find him?”

Machi’s lips twitched upward ever so slightly. “The Swordmage?” he repeated, his voice low and even. Kaffu hid a soft giggle, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Ah, the hermit? He lives by the river, some ways upstream. He doesn’t get visitors often.”

“Perfect!” Houto grinned.

Machi’s calm gaze lingered on the boy, then on his tired companions. There was something faintly amused in his eyes. “You can’t miss him,” Machi continued, his tone carrying both kindness and warning. “A cottage by the river, gardens all around. Knock loudly.”

“Very loudly,” Kaffu added softly, her voice warm and kind with a playful lilt. “He might not hear you otherwise.”

Maru tilt his head suspiciously. “Why do I feel like you’re being somewhat untruthful…”

The two immortals only exchanged a glance, silent laughter passing between them.

But Houto was already marching toward the river with renewed vigor. “Come on, Razeblazers! Our destiny awaits!” Behind him, Amai muttered, “More like our funeral…”

The sun dipped lower as the group followed the winding path through the forest, the sound of rushing water growing louder with every step. Eventually, the trees parted, and they saw it: a neat little cottage by the river, surrounded by carefully tended gardens bursting with color.

As they approached, the air seemed to hum with invisible power—wards etched into the very soil, an aura of watchfulness. Airi tilted her head. “It looks… really nice, actually. He has… Azaleas… so pretty!”

Houto raised his fist with a grin. “This is it. Today, we meet our master!” And with all the reckless confidence of youth, he marched up to the door and pounded his fists against it.

“LEGENDARY SWORDMAGE! WE HAVE COME FOR YOUR GUIDANCE!”

Inside, Ramune Mochizuki chocked mid-sip of his green tea. His eye twitched. He counted to three. Then ten. Then fifty.

The banging didn’t stop.

Ramune sighed, muttered a curse under his breath, and prepared for the storm about to descend on his peaceful retirement.

Daily Chaos and Relentless Chase

The first knock had been loud. The second became hammering. By the third, Ramune had enough.

The door slammed open with such force that the hinges creaked. Standing there was a man with long, jet black hair, red eyes sharp enough to cut glass, and a presence so heavy it made the Razeblazers freeze in their boots.

“WHAT?!” Ramune growled.

“Sensei!” Houto beamed, undeterred. “We’ve come to learn the way of the blade!”

Ramune look at him in silence for a while. His eyes does a quick scan on the team.

“No,” Ramune said flatly, and slammed the door in his face.

That should have been the end—It wasn’t.

They camped in his yard. And from there, all sorts of tomfoolery and shenanigans started.

They sang loudly at night, accompanied by Akame strum on his shamisen. When fetching for water in an attempt to be helpful, Airi tripped into the river—three times in the same evening. Maru accidentally set the shed on fire when his temper flared during an argument with Houto. In which he immediately sorted out by attempting to build back the shed—keyword attempting. And Amai—clever, brilliant Amai—attempted a “small” alchemy experiment that detonated half the vegetable patch and left a crater where the cabbages used to be. In which she received a very firm scolding from Ramune and nervously undo her doing by planting new vegetables patch.

By the end of the week, Ramune had stormed out at least seven times, wielding thunder to put out fires, lightning to chase off wild boars they attracted, and more curses than any immortal man should know. Each time, the children were left sprawled in the dirt, smoking slightly, while he towered over them like divine judgment.

Every rescue ended the same: Ramune’s hair bristling with static, his voice booming loud enough to rattle the river.

“YOU RECKLESS, SNOT-NOSED BRATS! GET OFF MY LAND!” — he said while electrocuting them with his weakest lightning spell.

But when morning came, they were always still there. Still smiling. Still determined.

Sometimes he found them repairing the fence they’d broken, or replanting the carrots they’d uprooted by mistake. Sometimes they were arguing over battle formations they clearly didn’t understand. Sometimes they were just sitting by the river, laughing like they had all the time in the world.

Ramune just see them from afar with annoyance and irritation. A hint of exasperated amusement as he watch the group interacting and clumsily strengthening their bonds. Of course, he’d never say that out loud. Instead, he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Why me? Why now?!”

A Far Cry of Silence

Weeks pass, Ramune sat by his fireplace, absently scratching behind the ears of the lazy black cat curled in his lap. The fire crackled, filling the cottage with warmth. Outside, he could still hear them—the rowdy adventurers bickering, singing, tripping over each other as always. His shoulders sagged with a sigh. “When will they leave…” he muttered, shaking his head. Yet even as he complained, his hand never stopped gently petting the cat.

Then, suddenly, the noise stopped. No laughter, no clumsy footsteps, not even a plucked shamisen string. Just silence. Peace and quiet. Too quiet. Ramune froze, eyes narrowing. He knew that kind of silence. The kind that crawled under the skin and hollowed the air.

The earth shuddered as a soundless wave of malice swept through the valley. Outside, a mile from the cottage, the Razeblazers stood face-to-face with a nightmare. Ambused when they were foraging for berries and fruits to be brought back to their camp. From the mist, blackened forms dragged themselves into the world—soldiers of Tartabyss, armored in despair, eyes like burning coals. The young adventurers fought, but their strikes glanced uselessly off abyssal hide. Houto swung with trembling arms, Maru hurled fire in panic, Amai’s contraptions fizzled, Akame’s shamisen-string snapped mid-chant, and Airi collapsed as her spell backfired. They were bruised, battered, and pale with terror.

“Is… Is this it…?” Houto whispered, his knees buckling as the horde closed in.

And then the sky lit up.

Ramune descended from the sky, like a shadow of judgment, Tsukimichi drawn. His presence was calm, yet it rumbled like distant thunder. The moment his foot touch the earth, the ground itself seemed to bow. His red eyes sharp and bright as rubies in moonlight, his voice was low, steady, resonant as stormclouds:

“Starlight Art…”

The abyssal soldiers halted, as if even they could sense what was coming. The blade of Tsukimichi shimmered, not with ordinary flame, but with a brilliance that turned the night into a sea of stars.

“…Cosmic Flare.”

With a single graceful sweep of his katana, the world itself seemed to split. A river of radiant light carved across the battlefield, slicing through the horde in one blinding arc. The night sky rained starlight, and where the abyss once stood, nothing remained but silence and ash.

The Razeblazers, on their knees, stared wide-eyed—not at the corpses, but at the man who stood before them. Not a hermit. Not a broom wielding, thunder casting, loud yelling immortal man. But the Swordmage himself.

Ramune look at them and kneel. Gone was the grumpy and annoyed face. Only sharp wariness and hard calculated gaze.

“Don’t try to move. You’re all injured. Stay still.”

Without wasting another time, he teleports them all into his cottage with a glint of his blade. Once arrived, he turn on the wards around his land to create a dome of protection.

And when he is sure everything is tight as a seal he carry the battered group one by one into his cottage. Lifting them like they weigh nothing to him—In which to him, they basically are. Carefully setting them on the plush sofa as he take patches them up without a word.

Truth of the Swordmage

The only sound in the room is the crackle of firelight and the slight winces from the Razeblazers. Their wounds had been dressed, their gear stacked neatly by the hearth. Ramune sat in the chair across from them, Tsukimichi leaning against the wall within arm’s reach. In his lap purred the same black cat, as if nothing at all had happened.

For a long time, the only sound was the pop of burning wood filling the room. Then Ramune finally spoke, his voice heavy and low.

“Do you idiots even realize what you almost walked into?”

Houto winced, clutching the bandages around his ribs. “We—we just wanted—”

“Wanted what?!” Ramune’s voice cracked like thunder, the cat flicking its tail at the sudden outburst. “Glory? Adventure? Do you think this is a game?” His eyes, usually narrowed in irritation, now burned with something sharper, older. “I told you to stay away. And you didn’t listen. You never listen.”

Silence fell. Even Akame, who always had a joke, said nothing.

Ramune drew in a long breath, then let it out slowly. His shoulders slumped. When he spoke again, it was softer, but the weight in his tone pressed down harder than any yell.

“Do you fools think I stay here because I’m lazy? Because I’m hiding?” His hand stroked the cat absently, though his gaze was fixed on the fire. “If I leave—if I step away for even a moment—this land dies. The wards around this cottage hold Tartabyss back. I am the wall between that abyss and Senchira. If I falter… it all comes crashing down.”

Airi’s eyes widened. “So… this place isn’t just a cottage…”

“It’s the seal,” Amai finished, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ramune’s jaw tightened as he finally sigh. Like an old wound opening anew. “…Out of my old team… there were nine of us. We fought, bled, and clawed our way through the abyss so you brats could be born in a world that still had a sky. And now… only three of us remain. Me… and the other two.” He shakes his head as he scoffs. “Which I’m guessing are the one that point you brats here in the first place.” He muses before his face slowly blanking. He closed his eyes, the weight of centuries pressing into the lines of his face. “The rest are gone. Remembered by many with statues on their respective Kingdom… And nothing else but their glory to be remembered…”

Houto trembled, his fists clenching on his knees. “If even you—if even someone like you—lost your comrades…” His voice broke. “Then what… am I doing dragging my friends into this… like it’s some harmless adventure…?”

Ramune finally looked at him, and for the first time, his eyes weren’t just sharp—they were tired. Full of wisdom.

“Being a hero,” he said quietly, “isn’t just about glory.” He pauses. “It’s about sacrifice. It’s about protecting others, even when it breaks you.”

The words fell heavy, sinking deep into the hearts of the Razeblazers. None of them could meet his gaze.

At last, Houto bowed his head, his reckless fire tempered into something steadier. “Then… teach us. Please. Teach us how to carry that burden. How to protect, without throwing everything away.”

Ramune stared at him for a long moment. Then, with a faint snort, he leaned back in his chair, scratching the cat’s chin.

“…You brats are going to be the death of me.”

But there was the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He set the cat down from his lap as he rise from the chair. “Rest up. Your training starts tomorrow.”

And then he left without further words.

Seeds of Legacy

The cottage was a mess. The fence was broken in three places, the shed roof still smoked faintly, and Ramune’s once-proud vegetable patch looked more like a battlefield than a garden.

And yet, for the first time in centuries, Ramune didn’t mind.

The Razeblazers were hard at work under the afternoon sun. Houto hauled buckets of water with determination. Maru rebuilt the fence, each post hammered into the soil with measured precision. Amai sketched schematics in the dirt, already planning “improvements” Ramune knew he would regret. Akame sat cross-legged, shamisen resting across his lap, humming a quiet tune as he watched the others. Airi knelt in the ruined garden, clumsily replanting cabbages with her hands still bandaged.

They bickered, they laughed, they tripped over themselves—but this time, there was a rhythm to it. Less chaos, more effort. Less recklessness, more resolve.

That night, when the cottage had gone quiet, he sat at his desk by the fire and unrolled a piece of parchment. His hand hovered over the page for a long time before he began to write.

To Machi and Kaffu,

“You two are unbelievable. Sending those brats to me—They’re sleeping in MY HOUSE, eating MY FOOD, and taking care of MY GARDENS! Do you have any idea what they’ve done to my cabbages? My porch? My sanity?

Tch, you’re lucky I have higher tolerance now… And… Perhaps I needed them as much as they needed me. Don’t get any ideas, though. I haven’t “joined their team.” I’m only making sure they don’t kill themselves before they can tie their boots properly.

Still… Maybe these Razeblazers brats will be worth the trouble.”

– Ramune

*****