The Night the Prayer Reached
Then, at some point, the Hero’s fingertips stopped.
Strength entered the tips of the fingers the Saintess was holding.
Until just a moment ago he had been watching her reactions, easing the pressure of his touch. This time it was not the Saintess who stiffened first—it was the Hero.
The caress that had been about to continue hung suspended in the air.
“Why?”
The Hero could not answer at once.
“Just wait a second.”
“Pardon?”
“I don’t have anything ready. I never thought something like this would happen.”
Color rose late to the Saintess’s face.
The instant the Hero tried to rise, her hand closed around his wrist.
“Don’t go.”
His hand froze beneath her grip.
“Ria.”
She looked up at him with flushed cheeks.
“I… I know what that means.”
The Hero could find no words.
Her fingertips were trembling. Even so, the fingers locked around his wrist still held strength.
“I came prepared for that much.”
A long silence settled over the bedroom.
The Hero’s breath did not return for a long while.
Her hand still held his wrist. The force was slight, yet the tips of her fingers had not let go.
Slowly he returned to the bed. He planted a knee beside her and carefully lowered himself.
As he settled between her legs, her knees trembled faintly. His hand traced down the inner side of her thigh.
The Saintess closed her eyes in shame. Her knees could not fully close; they quivered, and her interlaced fingers tightened.
When his fingertips reached the wet depths, she clenched their joined hands harder. The warmth and the slickness that met his touch made the Hero’s breath catch for a moment.
She opened her eyes and carefully took hold of his shoulder.
He bowed his head.
Their lips met.
This time the kiss lingered a little longer. Their breathing still failed to match; their mouths met clumsily, slightly off. Her arms remained carefully around the back of his neck.
The Hero braced a hand on the sheets. He held his own weight on the arm planted against the mattress. The body leaning close stopped just short of touching her; only his breath trembled near her lips.
Only then did she see how rigidly his shoulders had locked.
It was his first time as well.
“Ria… I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
At those words her face flushed deeper. She understood. She understood that he was afraid, and that he was trying not to hurt her.
She had been taught these things—how a husband and wife’s bodies draw near, what to be careful of at first, where pain might begin. Yet all that knowledge felt impossibly distant now, here upon her own body. The mere thought of having to speak of it to him made her face burn hot.
She squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment, then opened them again.
“I… don’t really know either.”
The Hero’s breath stopped.
She took his hand.
“But I’ll tell you as much as I do know.”
Her voice was nearly a whisper.
“Not too hard… slowly.”
Guided by the hand she held, the Hero carefully found his place. At first the angle was wrong; both of them held their breath at once. Too ashamed to look, she turned her face away, and he froze in place, flustered.
“Sorry.”
“It’s all right. I’m… new to this too.”
They looked at each other for the briefest moment.
It was clumsy.
She laced their fingers again; he closed his hand around hers. He steadied his breathing and held her more firmly.
The moment he first entered her, her body stiffened by reflex. An unfamiliar pressure touched the deep place between her legs, and a dull pull tightened low in her belly.
“Ah…!”
The sound she had tried to hold back slipped past her lips.
Hearing it, the Hero stopped moving. She gripped their joined hands tighter.
“Ria. Does it hurt?”
She could not answer at once.
It hurt. Yet “it hurts” alone was not enough. The simple fact that he was truly inside her made her entire body lock even harder.
“Just a moment…”
She managed to speak.
“Just a moment, please.”
He did not move.
“Okay. I won’t move.”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Stay… just like that. Let me… catch my breath…”
“Got it. I’ll stay still.”
His body truly stopped. Strength gathered in the arm braced on the bed; his shoulders remained rigid.
There, she tried to steady her breathing little by little. At first it kept catching at the base of her throat. The strange pain deep inside was still vivid. Yet when he truly did not move, her body began, bit by bit, to accept the sensation.
The sheet crumpled in her fist. Clutching the fabric, she quietly endured the heavy pressure pressing low in her belly.
“Still…”
She spoke with difficulty.
“It still hurts.”
“Yeah.”
He answered briefly and said nothing more. Force remained in the arm braced on the mattress; the movement that had been touching her inside stayed lowered and still.
The unfamiliar pressure remaining within her and the strength in the Hero’s supporting arm were bound together in the same silence. Watching his fingers crumple the sheet, the corners of her eyes slowly grew hot.
“But…”
She opened her eyes gradually.
“It doesn’t feel like I can’t breathe the way it did before.”
“You don’t have to move.”
She looked at his face. He was struggling too. Sweat beaded at the nape of his neck; the fingers braced on the bed were twisting the sheet. Even so he held himself still, waiting for her word.
She was not alone.
“No.”
She said it softly.
His gaze wavered. Still steadying her trembling body, she continued.
“Now… I can bear it a little.”
Instead of answering he held her hand more firmly.
“I’ll go slow.”
She closed her eyes, then opened them again. It still hurt. Her body was still startled by the unfamiliar sensation. Yet she wanted to go through this night with him to the end.
She gripped his hand tighter.
“Please… all the way.”
The Hero’s breath stopped. Shame reddened the corners of her eyes, but she did not take the words back. The body that wanted to flee and the heart that wanted to go all the way clung to the same fingertips.
Only after looking at that hand did he slowly nod.
Then he moved with the utmost care.
The bed creaked softly. The depth that had been pressed inside her withdrew slowly, then carefully pressed in again. Her back shifted a little against the sheets.
Another small sound slipped past her lips—pain and surprise together this time. When her body tried to stiffen again, he stopped where he was. He drew back the slightest bit, then carefully entered her once more.
She held his hand and exhaled.
“A little… more slowly, please.”
“Okay.”
He held his breath down.
The first few times were barely more than touching and withdrawing in place. The pressure deep inside slowly changed shape. Another kind of heat mixed with the pain, and the place between her legs grew wetter by degrees. Unable to keep pace with the change, she only clenched their joined hands harder.
It no longer felt as if she could not breathe the way it had at first. The pressure deep inside was still strange and sharp, yet within that strangeness were the Hero’s warmth and their interlaced fingers.
At the beginning the movements were almost still. Each time he withdrew a little, her breath loosened; each time he pressed in again, a dull pull tightened low in her belly. After several such repetitions the pauses between grew shorter. Before she could fully steady her breathing, the deep pressure reached low in her belly once more.
The Hero clenched the sheets and held his breath. The body that had been deep inside withdrew the slightest bit, then carefully pressed into her again. Each time, her back shifted faintly against the sheets and strength entered their joined hands.
Force returned to her thighs.
“Hero…”
It was a voice startled into calling him.
Strength locked in his shoulders. He swallowed a breath and stopped before going deeper, yet his body was already trembling faintly inside her.
Once more.
And a little deeper.
When her body stiffened again, the Hero’s breath broke.
“Ria, I’m sorry…”
The voice was nearly shattered.
She clenched their hands harder against the pressure low in her belly. It still hurt. Trying to follow that pressure, her breath broke short. His hand was trembling too. The strength with which he tried to hold on until the end passed through their interlaced fingers.
“It’s all right.”
The words were small and shaking, and the pain was still there. Yet her breathing was beginning to change. It was no longer only the sound that escaped from pain; it was a breath that followed as something low in her belly grew strangely warm.
Feeling that tremor, she laced their fingers deeper.
Before the words had fully left her, the Hero’s breath broke short. The strength he had been trying to hold until the last moment shook together between their joined hands.
“Sorry…”
Before the word finished, his body trembled deeply. The weight that had remained deep inside pressed deeper still. Warm wetness slowly gathered within her. As that heat spread late, her fingers locked tighter once more.
She held her breath.
It still hurt. Her body had not yet caught up; a dull pressure remained low in her belly. Yet the fact that the ending had been left inside her became clear only afterward. The unfamiliar heat from moments before had not yet cooled within her.
She did not unlace their fingers. His hand was still trembling. The man who until a moment ago had been holding himself back so as not to hurt her now leaned against her, unable even to steady his own breathing.
The Hero’s forehead came to rest near the nape of her neck. Strength drained little by little from his shoulders. Deep inside, his weight and the dull pressure still pooled heavily. When she belatedly realized that warm wetness had gathered there, she opened her eyes wide, then closed them again.
The words she had learned in the Order of the Goddess of Love receded far away. What remained first now was the pain inside her body, the warm afterglow, and the hand that had never let go.
More than any of that, what remained first was simple.
The Hero is here.
And I am not alone.
Tears fell.
The pain and the pressure deep inside still remained within her body. Yet from a place deeper still, the prayer that had gone unanswered for three years was finally receiving its reply.
