Rain drizzled softly in the early morning, washing away the scent of roses blooming in the chapel's back garden. The wet leaves reflected the gray light of the gloomy sky, and in one of the hidden wooden gazebos, Maria sat hugging her knees. Her tears could no longer be held back; clear drops mixed with rain soaked her prayer robe, leaving dark spots on the white cloth.
Daiki's shouting before dawn still echoed in her mind—how he demanded an explanation, asking her to stay away from Ren for a while for the sake of "the safety of her heart." Daiki was not angry with Maria's purity, but rather afraid of losing the glimmer of light that he had always protected. But for Maria, those words stabbed. Not because of a reprimand, but because she could not deny it: her heart had changed.
Every time she pressed her fingers to the rosary to pray, Ren's face was there, warm like a candle that refused to go out. Every time Daiki said her name—in an anxious, protective tone—Maria was filled with guilt. This morning she finally screamed, begging Daiki to stop treating her like thin glass. Daiki was silent; his eyes showed hurt and disappointment. He turned, leaving Maria with the rain that had begun to fall thinly.
Now, sitting alone in the gazebo, Maria squeezed her skirt at her knees. Her cheeks were hot—either from crying, or from the memory of Ren's toes touching her robe, the gentle massage on her back, and the whisper that "purity is not a wall." All mixed into a small storm in her chest.
The sound of footsteps on gravel.
"Maria?"
She turned—Ren was standing at the threshold of the garden, his hair wet from the rain, his servant's robe sticking to his body. Maria's breath caught; for a moment she wanted to hide her face, but Ren had already stepped closer. The man didn't ask first; he reached out, brushing aside the strands of hair that stuck to Maria's cheek. Soft fingers brushed away the tears, firmly but carefully.
"Daiki... reprimanded me," Maria's voice faltered. "I... disappointed him."
Ren knelt in front of her, palms resting on the wet board, staring into her swollen brown eyes. "You are not wrong to have a heart," he said—a soft tone resembling a prayer. "Sometimes the light has to choose where it shines."
Maria shook her head, tears sprinkling again. "I am a priest. I should be a light for everyone, not just… for you."
Ren did not respond immediately. He took Maria's hand—cold, trembling—and led her to his own chest. Behind the cloth, her heartbeat was loud. "Listen," he whispered. "The world calls you light. But for me… you are the heart. Without you, this beat stops."
His words were crazy, Maria knew. But the sentence blew a warm air, lighting a fire in her chest cavity that was already wet from the rain. She sobbed loudly, covering her face, shoulders shaking. Ren rose slowly, sat beside her, then put his arm around Maria's shoulders. Not in a hurry. The arm was like an autumn blanket, warding off the shivering rain.
Maria buried her face in Ren's chest, crying silently. Ren stroked her hair slowly—movements down to her neck, then stopped at her back. He did not try to wipe away the tears; he let the tears fall, mixing with the rain.
"Daiki is afraid of losing you," Ren said after a long silence. "But I am afraid to see you cry alone."
Maria looked up, her wet eyes reflecting Ren's gentle face. "What should I do?" She looked like a lost child.
Ren sighed, touched Maria's chest—above her heart—for a moment, then pulled his hand back. "Follow your heart, not your guilt," he said. "If your heart says Stay, I'll be the wall. If your heart says Go, I'll open the door."
Maria froze, her breath trembling. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff: one side the light of duty, the other the darkness of desire. But in the midst of despair, Ren became a bridge: a warm hand, a silent embrace, an unheard promise.
The rain grew heavier, hitting the roof of the gazebo, making the air damp and cold. Ren took off his robe, placing it on Maria's shoulder. He still held her cheek—a finger tracing the faint line of her jaw, tracing her ear, then gently wiping away the last tear.
Maria closed her eyes, letting his touch calm the inner storm. When she opened them again, Ren pressed his lips to her forehead. The kiss was brief, respectful, but it ignited a rush of heat from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. Maria sighed—a sound mixed with sobs and gratitude.
"I'm here," Ren whispered, his lips still on her forehead. "Waiting for the rain to stop… or for your heart to stop."
Maria hugged Ren tighter. Ren's chest rose and fell restrained, as if holding back the urge to reach further. But he held back. Under the roar of the rain, only the pounding of their hearts united them.
A few meters behind the rose bushes, Daiki stood stiffly—taking shelter under a large tree. He looked for Maria, but stopped when he saw a faint scene in the shade of the gazebo. A warm hug, a kiss on the forehead—not abuse, but too deep a closeness. His giant hands clenched, but it was not anger that controlled him—but a bitter sense of defeat.
Am I… too late? he thought.
The rain stopped near noon. Ren took his robe off Maria's shoulders, patting the girl's arm gently. "We're back. The afternoon training will begin."
Maria nodded slowly. In her eyes, a new light—still fragile, but clearer. She got up, held Ren's hand to the edge of the gazebo, and then let go. "Thank you," she whispered. "Later… will you accompany me to explain to Daiki?"
Ren smiled, looking down. "If that's what you want, of course."
They stepped into the wet garden, the sunlight breaking through the clouds for the first time that day. Among the wet roses, Maria felt the burden on her chest lighten, even though the shadow of trouble had not disappeared. But there were hands ready to hold, there was a warm chest willing to hold tears.
And behind the tree trunk, a pair of brown eyes remained staring—Daiki took a deep breath, preparing his heart for the inevitable difficult conversation.
Later that evening, in the training hall, Daiki waits for Maria and Ren to arrive together. Hiro joins him, carrying patrol records that prove Ren's movements during the night. A four-way confrontation is inevitable—and down the hall, Akira approaches with his enigmatic eyes, Selene at his side.
The next battle will not be about swords or magic—it will be about hearts colliding.