The Girl Who Stuttered Through Her Tears
"U-um...! E-excuse me. H-Hero...!"
Almost simultaneously, the Hero and the Saintess turned their gazes toward the direction of the voice.
There stood a girl clutching a staff tight to her chest.
A young face that looked to be about sixteen. An ill-fitting robe, a staff stained with years of use — and the enormous crystal mounted at its tip seemed to respond to the mana around it, drinking in a faint glow. Judging by the worn satchel slung over her shoulder, she was evidently someone who handled magic.
The girl's face was flushed deep red. Her eyes were moist and shining, as if brimming with joy, but her lips trembled endlessly with nerves. It was a complicated expression — expectation and worry, delight and fear, all tangled together at once.
"Yes. What can I do for you, Mage?"
"I, I'm..."
After stumbling over her words several times, the Mage finally managed to introduce herself.
"I see."
The Hero nodded politely and committed the name to memory.
But in that very moment, the Mage's brightly shining face began, little by little, to harden — as if she had realized something.
"C-could it be...?"
Her grip tightened hard around her staff.
"Y-you don't... remember me...?"
Those last words were barely more than a crawl, a whisper dragged up from the bottom of her throat.
At this, the Hero calmly studied the Mage's face. The robe, the staff, the face wound tight with tension. Her tear-filled eyes swayed precariously, as though they might crumble at any moment.
The Mage opened and closed her lips again and again, as if trying to explain herself. But not knowing where to begin, she couldn't get the next words out, and what finally spilled from her was a hopeless tangle:
"I-I was there...? I-in that v-village. At the village...! I-I met you, H-Hero, and... s-so, th-then... my name isn't really Mage, I... no, wait, th-that's not — before that — you s-saved me and I was th-thankful, and... s-so. I-I wanted to see you... s-so I came all the way from the v-village, all the way here, the wh-whole way..."
Stammering and tripping over herself, words failing to connect to words, she simply vomited out everything in her head. Naturally, it was nearly impossible to follow, and the Saintess hesitated for a moment before opening her mouth on the girl's behalf.
"Perhaps you should take a moment to catch your breath—"
The Hero raised a hand to stop her.
"Saintess."
"...Yes."
Called out so abruptly, the Saintess shut her mouth. Something about it stung a little — as if her help wasn't needed.
Without turning his head to her, without rushing the Mage whose body now shook with sobs and whose tears had begun to fall one by one, the Hero simply waited quietly for her to finish.
"Take all the time you need."
And it was when the Hero spoke those words himself that—
"...Ah."
Something seemed to surface in his memory, and his expression shifted, just slightly.
"You're the one who was trapped beneath the rubble, back then."
"...! Y-Yes, yes...!"
In an instant, the Mage's crumbled expression lit up again, and nodding furiously even as tears welled in her eyes, she answered with pure joy. Moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes in that moment.
"Y-you r-remembered me..."
In her village, the girl had been famous — famous as a target for mockery.
She cried easily, and her stutter was so severe that even finishing a single sentence was an ordeal. The children imitated her speech and her sobbing to tease her, and among the adults, too, there were those who treated her like someone simple-minded.
The girl could not remember her parents' faces. The first and last thing she recalled was how they had looked at her with displeasure before abandoning her on a rain-soaked street and walking away.
And yet the girl had not always been alone. An old woman who ran the laundry shop nearby had taken her in, and as the woman's granddaughter she worked alongside her — not a wealthy life, but one where there was always food on the table. Right up until the day the old woman collapsed and never woke again.
After that, the girl lived on, running the laundry alone, lonely and quiet. Had there never been anyone at all, perhaps it wouldn't have hurt so much. But the death of the one and only precious person who had taken her in was still too heavy for the girl to bear.
She grew more timid still, running the shop by herself, spending more hours working than speaking. Her one small comfort was going to the church to pray to the Goddess.
Within her prayers, the girl dreamed. She dreamed that the grandmother who had left her first might have gone to heaven. That someday she might set out on an adventure and see all manner of beautiful things. That she might meet wonderful people, share delicious food with them, and at night fall asleep in the arms of someone she loved.
And when she traced her wishes in her head, at least then — just then — she never stuttered.
Then, one day, a day when her heart stirred more restlessly than usual arrived. No matter how much hope you carry, no matter how stubbornly you live, the heart has its limits. A heart rotting away from the inside. A life that repeated itself without changing one bit. When small things pile up one upon another until an unbearable day finally comes, anyone — everyone — begs to be let out of that kind of life.
The girl wanted to be someone who was no longer shut out, someone who could be of help. And, ironically enough, in that very moment a sound came from outside.
"Kyaaaaaagh!"
"...?!"
Seated alone in the church, the girl cautiously poked her head through the gap in the window — and there she saw a massive, green-skinned figure.
An orc. A savage species that dwelt in the North. These creatures, who made war their trade — why they had come all the way to the remote South didn't matter. Not anymore.
"I-I-I have to r-run...!"
The moment she opened the door, an acrid stench rolled over her. Everywhere her eyes landed, orcs were assaulting the villagers, and the fires they had kindled were slowly staining the girl's world red.
The bakery that grumbled whenever she came by, yet still handed her an extra loaf of bread. The old man who teased her by skimming off her laundry fee, yet always paid the proper price. The well where she was scolded every single day for drawing too much. All of it — all of it was turning black in the flames.
The girl's world was turning black.
"A-ah, ahh..."
This wasn't what she had asked for. There was no way wishing for something had brought this about. And yet somehow, all of it — all of it felt like her fault.
"Mommy..."
Then, in the distance, she saw a child. That bratty little troublemaker who always tormented her — the one who mocked her stutter, who fake-cried just to rile her, who had sometimes made her furious, sometimes made her hate him. That child was huddled against a building, clutching his knees to his chest, curled up small and shaking.
Perhaps it was only natural. How could a child so young accept a reality too heavy even for the girl herself? Frozen in fear, unable to run anywhere, his body had simply refused to move.
To the girl, that child was nothing but a nuisance — an enemy. Not a single good memory existed between them.
And yet. Why?
Why did the girl's feet carry her toward him?
Crash!
From the burning building, debris that had finally given way came crashing down upon the child. It wasn't overwhelmingly large — but it was more than enough to crush a boy his size.
Still, no matter how much she hated him, the girl could not simply leave him to die.
"R-run. G-go, n-now."
Crushed beneath the weight that had struck her, the girl could barely form words. Her bones ached deep and raw, and in some places she could feel nothing at all.
"B-big sis...!"
For the first time, the boy shed real tears. Not the fake crying he used for teasing — tears that belonged to a child.
Through her dimming consciousness, the girl gazed at the boy collapsed on the ground, eyes brimming. She was the one who was always crying — but in this moment, in this moment of pain and terror, she did not cry. For the first time in her life, she smiled instead.
"I-I'm f-fine. I'll c-catch up, r-right away."
The boy hesitated, wavered — then ran, following the warmth of her voice. And only after he vanished from her sight did the strength finally leave the girl's body, her forehead sinking to the ground.
Lukewarm liquid trickled down her brow and blurred her vision. In her slowly fading consciousness, the girl watched the orcs draw closer.
'That's right. I'm the only one here.'
For the first time in her life, the girl thought it was a mercy that she was alone. Because no one else would lose a family member because of her. Not ever again.
"...Hoo."
And yet, in one corner of her heart, loneliness and the desperate will to live still remained. She did not want to die. Not yet.
So she prayed.
'Please... someone. Save me. Save that child. Save this village.'
She didn't know to whom the prayer was directed. She only — only hoped it would reach someone. Anyone.
Darkness.
Within the haze of fading consciousness, scenes changed like frames of a broken film.
Darkness.
The orcs drew nearer still.
Darkness.
Someone stood tall before the orcs. A figure with a billowing cloak, a sword held in one hand.
'...Who...?'
Darkness.
In the next frame, the figure raised the sword. The orcs, too, lifted their weapons and charged.
Darkness.
This darkness was longer than the rest. And when that long, long darkness finally ended—
The crushing weight of the debris was gone.
"I'm sorry I'm late."
As the rubble was lifted away and cleared aside, as if pushing back the dark itself, the world reappeared. The acrid stench still hung in the air, but color was slowly returning to a world that had been nothing but blood and black.
And at the center of that world stood the Hero.
She could see orc corpses sprawled across the ground. She could see the floor, drenched in blood. And she could see the figure walking calmly away from it all.
"Your wounds don't seem deep, but you'll need treatment. Please wait just a moment — I'll fetch a healer right away—"
He had just begun to turn when something seized him, and he stopped.
When the Hero turned his head, the girl was clutching the hem of his cloak in one trembling hand.
The Hero looked at her with his usual sunken, lifeless eyes — then told a nearby companion to bring a healer, and stepped back toward her.
"Is there something you wish to say?"
"Uu... hic...!"
Only then did the girl finally break down and weep. With every ounce of tension and pressure gone, what came flooding out was a wail of misery and pain. Any person, however strong, would do the same — the moment someone appeared whom they could truly lean on, someone who would hold them.
It hurt. Help me. Hold me.
The way a small child whimpers and clings to a parent.
"...I'll wait. Take all the time you need. Say whatever you wish to say."
The Hero waited. And waited. And then, at last, everything she had buried — the terror, the grief, the injustice — burst out all at once.
Her words kept tripping over themselves, her hiccups wouldn't stop, her tears fell without pause — but the girl could no longer hold anything back.
"I-I... I really h-hurt. Hic... it was s-so... so hard. P-people always l-laughed at me when they saw me... got annoyed, i-ignored me..."
The girl tried to draw a breath, but her throat felt sealed shut, and only ragged gasps escaped.
"E-every day, I missed Grandma. R-really, every single day... B-but as time went on... s-sometimes, even in my dreams, I c-couldn't remember her face properly... a-and every time that happened, I was s-so scared..."
"Hic, huk..."
Every time a hiccup burst out, her words broke off. The girl clamped a hand over her mouth, then forced it open again.
"I-I can't forget her. She's the one who raised me... If I f-forget Grandma's face, too... then it feels like Grandma r-really disappears... S-so every time, I c-cried."
The Hero said nothing. He simply watched her.
"I-I tried hard, too. I worked every day... I t-tried to do well... but I k-kept messing up, and... n-not one thing ever went right... and then people got annoyed again, and I had to apologize, but... e-even the apology wouldn't come out right..."
The girl's voice rose higher and higher. Words that had circled inside her heart for years poured out in a tangled, orderless flood.
"And then suddenly m-monsters appeared, and... p-people were screaming, and houses were burning, and... I d-didn't know what to do, not at all... I was so scared I wanted to r-run away. I wanted to hide, too..."
"But my body... m-my body moved on its own... and I pushed that boy... and the tree — the d-debris fell on me... and it hurt s-so much... I thought I was going to d-die, but..."
The girl clutched the Hero's cloak even tighter.
"I-I wanted to live."
The words came out barely, scraped from somewhere deep.
"I was alone, so... I told myself it was fine if I died... but it wasn't fine. It r-really wasn't. I was s-so scared. I didn't want to die. I wanted someone to come looking for me... wanted someone to s-save me... wanted someone to not leave me alone..."
"A-and... you came... and you s-saved me... s-so I should say thank you, I should, but..."
The girl's face finally crumpled.
"Why do I just k-keep crying...? Why can't I even s-speak properly...? Why can't I say one simple 'thank you' right...? Why am I s-such a pathetic mess..."
Even after that, words tangled with every emotion poured out of her. She couldn't finish a single sentence — not the thanks, not the fear, not the plea for him not to leave her behind. And the more she stuttered, the more pathetic she seemed to feel, repeating apology after apology, over and over.
"I'm s-sorry... I'm sorry for always crying. For not being able to speak p-properly... I'm sorry for stopping you when you're b-busy... I'm sorry for making you wait for s-someone like me... I'm s-sorry..."
"It's quite all right."
The Hero's voice had not changed in the slightest.
"I am still here. And I will keep waiting."
The Hero was no fool. He knew that simply tending to the wounds on the surface could not be called saving this girl. He knew what it felt like — everything collapsed around you, utterly alone, falling endlessly down into a bottomless pit.
"...The Book of Prayer, chapter seventeen, verse two."
And then, out of nowhere, the Hero began to recite a prayer.
"To the children holding their breath as they weep, or wandering lost upon the road — the Goddess draws near, and speaks."
The girl listened, breath held. It was a familiar sound — the prayer her grandmother had always recited whenever she cried. She didn't know how this being could know it. But slowly, the girl's lips began to move along with him, too.
"My child. My beloved child."
"H-how could the time given to you ever be c-called wasted?"
"I await the story you will one day return to tell me."
"Wh-whatever trial may descend upon you, please... h-hold on, a little longer."
"Live a little longer. And return to me, and tell me: that there was a moment when your life shone."
"Never forget — not for a single instant was there ever a moment in which I did not love you."
Only his voice rang in the girl's ears, and her own sobbing faded further and further away. And by the time the prayer ended, the pain that had been crushing her chest had melted away — when had it gone?
The final verse did not stumble once. She simply followed the voice of another.
He asked:
"Are you all right now?"
She answered:
"—Yes."
Some time later, having heard the Mage's story in full, the Hero slowly nodded.
"Traveling all this way alone, from a village on the southern frontier to here — it must have been quite an ordeal."
"Y-yes! I followed the rumors of where you'd p-passed through, and for w-weeks... I kept s-searching for you!"
The Mage blushed as if embarrassed, fidgeting with the handle of her staff. And even in the Hero's perpetually sunken eyes, the faintest flicker of something new seemed to pass.
Watching the two of them, the Saintess felt her chest throb, just a little. The way he treated her was so different from the way he treated the Saintess herself. Above all, she could sense a bond between them — one deeper, somehow, than her own.
'I've known him longer, though...'
The moment that thought surfaced, the Saintess felt sick at herself. The very person who had pushed the Hero away first, and now she was getting jealous?
"I-I can still only use basic magic, but... I-I got my Beginner Mage certification, too. A-and I r-registered with the Adventurers' Guild officially. S-so..."
The Mage looked up at the Hero with eyes full of hope. She had happened to overhear the two of them talking, just moments ago, about needing a new companion. Wherever he went, whatever dangers awaited — her resolve to follow him to the very end was unshakable.
Hugging her staff to her chest, the Mage gathered her courage.
"P-please, let me j-join your party, too!"
A brief silence fell.
"I'm sorry, but I can't accept that so easily."
KABOOM—!
"...Huh?"
Something collapsed inside the Mage's mind.
Leaving behind the girl who had frozen as though she might burst into tears at any second, the Hero abruptly rose to his feet.
"Besides, it seems we have no time for that conversation now."
The Hero was staring at the inn's door. The Mage belatedly blinked.
KABOOM—!
This time, the floor and the windows shook with it. In its wake, screams and desperate shouts erupted from outside.
"The Demon King's Army!"
Only then did the Mage realize that the sound she'd heard was not the shockwave ringing inside her own heart, but a real explosion — detonating somewhere in the city.
The Hero was already moving, striding toward the direction of the screams.
"Then that discussion will have to wait."