Chapter 46 Lost on the Road
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Even after that faintly sweet exchange, Tatara still had work to do as the party’s dedicated crafter.
Maintaining Tatia’s gear was one thing, but building new equipment for Ethelena and Yohira mattered just as much. Yohira’s set would be simpler—standard armor adjusted to her measurements with a few personal touches.
Without knowing the armor design of her homeland, Hizuru, he couldn’t model it after that style anyway. Besides, using local designs would make her blend in better and avoid attention.
Ethelena’s armor, however, required extreme precision.
Her natural physical ability was low, so Tatara had crafted a custom suit with intricate enhancement spell formulas. It didn’t match the internal muscle-suit worn by Tatia, but it still boosted Ethelena’s strength far beyond normal.
He’d even woven in the feathers of an Archangel—an extravagant choice for beginner gear. It was, in truth, one of his finest works.
He might have gone overboard giving her fifty points of physical defense and eighty of magic defense, but he couldn’t stand the thought of her being hurt. Still, that was why he always fought at the front—to make sure she didn’t have to.
Now, it was time to create a new version.
He chose his base materials: mithril cloth woven with mithril silver thread. He’d treat it again with Archangel feathers, reinforcing both toughness and anti-sorcery properties.
This time he would size it slightly larger—allowing room for her growth—and design it to hide her figure a little better. The lower half would use a knee-length culotte skirt instead of hot pants, spreading impact more evenly so even a direct magic hit wouldn’t transfer shock to her body.
Even with all that protection from male gazes, he’d still change the design if Ethelena disliked it. Knowing her, she’d probably ask for a tighter short jacket anyway. Maybe I should warn her what kind of attention that would bring… He shook his head.
No. That’d backfire fast. She’d only take it as an excuse.
Once the base form was complete, another thought came to him—something from old ads in his previous life: a “cup-support inner.” Embarrassing or not, he realized he should develop one for added protection. He hated dealing with women’s undergarments, but if it improved safety, it was worth the discomfort.
The City Mayor won’t need it… maybe that shopkeeper could help. His instincts said she could.
Switching gears, he began selecting materials for Yohira. Her armor would mostly use mithril, but he considered adding a honeycomb structure for better strength-to-weight balance.
Compared to Ethelena or Tatia, Yohira’s frame was slender but graceful, with surprising curves and, despite appearances, the highest physical attack power in the party. Her slim waist gave her the look of a dancer—but her strikes could shatter stone.
He debated whether to make her everyday clothes from mithril cloth like Ethelena’s or wait until he learned proper kimono tailoring from her. He’d ask later.
Before that, though, he needed precise measurements—and that meant Ethelena’s help. They’d have to do it while Yohira was in light clothing, which risked making things awkward. He still remembered how embarrassing it had been when he’d measured Ethelena right after she’d…
taken his virginity. She’d stood there completely unashamed, insisting there was no problem showing him everything. He’d been so aroused he could barely stand. Honestly, I still don’t know how I didn’t lose control back then.
With those uneasy thoughts swirling, he headed for the bath—and froze.
Ethelena was lying face-down on the mat, waiting for him.
Not an illusion.
”Welcome, Master,” she said with a serene smile. “I, Ethelena, will be washing your body today. Please take good care of me.”
A towel was draped around her body—thin enough that it didn’t hide much.
His body reacted before his mind could catch up. She noticed, of course; her gaze dropped, and a sly glint entered her eyes.
This isn’t good… she’s in hunting mode.
She guided him onto the mat and began to wash him, coating his skin with body soap and moving against him with deliberate slowness. The warmth and softness of her skin made it hard to breathe.
The day she’d confessed to him, she’d used a sponge. This time, she was using herself.
Each time the hardened points of her chest brushed against him, a soft sigh escaped her lips, and the blood pounding in his ears made it impossible to think.
”Does it hurt anywhere, Master?” she asked sweetly.
He couldn’t answer. Yeah.
It hurts. Right there. His breathing came in ragged gasps, words locked behind clenched teeth.
She shifted, the weight on his back lifting slightly. Relief came—and vanished as her voice purred, “Then let’s begin the massage.”
Her thumbs pressed into his lower back with steady force. Pain, then heat, then release. She moved upward, kneading along his spine, loosening knots he hadn’t known he had.
His body relaxed—too much. Blood rushed where he didn’t want it to. The pressure against the mat grew unbearable. One wrong move and he’d embarrass himself completely.
By the time she reached his shoulders, he was trembling, saliva pooling at the corner of his mouth. He wanted to flip her over, to stop pretending this was a massage.
Instead, she whispered, “Now, I’ll wash the front.”
When he rolled onto his back, his body betrayed him completely. Ethelena’s eyes widened at the sight, then softened with open desire.
”My, you’re full of energy, Master,” she teased.
He had no words left—only ragged breaths—as she leaned down, smiling, the thin towel slipping loose between them.
”Then, I’ll begin the service,” Tatara said with a hint of anticipation.
The moment the words left his mouth, his manhood was enveloped by Ethelena’s warmth. Overwhelmed by the sensation, he couldn’t hold back, but his desire showed no signs of waning.
Gazing into Ethelena’s eyes, he leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender kiss. What started as a simple touch quickly deepened as their tongues entwined, exploring each other with urgency.
Breathless, they parted, yet remained close enough to see the flecks of color in each other’s irises. Tatara reached out, gently stroking her hair, and Ethelena purred contentedly, her eyes narrowing in pleasure.
I really do love this girl, he thought, her smile reaffirming his feelings.
Yet, his body remained insistent, hardening at her touch. Not the time, damn it.
”Fufu, this time, I’ll truly serve you,” Ethelena said playfully, straddling him. She began to move, her hips grinding against him in a rhythm that felt both instinctual and deliberate.
Her control over pace and angle was masterful, a result of her devotion to him. Tatara reached up, their fingers lacing together in a lover’s hold, and her movements grew wilder.
He thrust upward, seeking greater intimacy, but their passion culminated quickly once more. As Ethelena sank deeply onto him, her walls tightening, it was clear she, too, had reached her peak.
Drawn to her again, Tatara pulled Ethelena close, their lips brushing lightly.
He cradled her head against his chest, unraveling her hair and running his fingers through its softness. Her wings enveloped him, and she wrapped her arms tightly around him.
”Ah… I’m happy,” he murmured.
”Me too,” she replied softly.
Their eyes met, and they couldn’t help but smile.
After cleaning up, they soaked in the bathtub, their usual vigor replaced by contentment. Kisses were tender, and Ethelena clung to him happily.
Tatara gently tapped her back in rhythm with his heartbeat, her tail swaying lazily. Her childlike affection—nuzzling his chest, pressing her forehead against his—was endearing. When her hair threatened to dip into the water, he tucked it behind her ear, earning a soft, bewildered smile.
This is enough, he thought, feeling a sense of peace. This is all I need.
After drying her hair, Tatara led Ethelena to his workshop to review his latest armor design.
Using a mental-input magic word processor, he explained the adjustments, emphasizing the reduced exposure. “I don’t want other men seeing your body,” he admitted, and she beamed.
The culotte skirt was approved, but the jacket drew criticism. Reluctantly, he shortened it, though he wished she’d take more caution.
”Ethelena, your body is alluring,” he said seriously. “Other men will ogle you.”
”Hehe, Tatara’s always staring at my chest too,” she teased.
”If anyone touches you when I’m around, I’ll kill them,” he growled.
”I couldn’t tell you if you say it like that,” she replied, exasperated.
He took a deep breath, imagining the threat to her sending a spike of anger through him.
”Honestly, I don’t want you wearing designs that show off your figure. I know you like to dress up, but the thought of someone else touching you…”
”I’m loved by Tatara, aren’t I?” she said softly.
”What a ridiculous thing to say,” he muttered, though he couldn’t hide his smile.
”I’ll wear a cape over it when you’re not around,” she promised.
”Just a little… that’s enough,” he conceded.
Protect her, he vowed silently.
”Ethelena, I need to take your measurements,” he said, and she nodded, shedding her clothes without hesitation.
Her figure, a testament to masculine desire, no longer stirred him after their earlier exertions.
He worked efficiently, adjusting the armor to accommodate her growth and ensure her safety. The jacket and culotte skirt, woven from Mithril Silver Thread, remained undyed but pleased her nonetheless.
With the armor complete, Ethelena tested its mobility, her movements graceful. Satisfied, Tatara turned his attention to Yohira’s armor, though Ethelena’s suggestion that he measure Yohira alone made him pause.
”Why? You used to be cautious,” he pointed out.
”Why would I be?” she asked, genuinely confused.
Tatara frowned, unsure how to respond.
Tatara’s words seemed to confuse Ethelena. She was so protective before—jealous even.
Why is she so relaxed now? he wondered. Is she testing Yohira, or does she trust her that much?
”But if it’s Torakuma, it’s fine, right? You wouldn’t suddenly push her, would you?” Ethelena said, her tone light.
”Well, no, but…” Tatara trailed off, uneasy.
Something feels off. Is Yohira… hoping for something more?
”Alright, I’ll go get Torakuma,” Ethelena said, leaving the workshop.
Tatara sighed, leaning against the table.
What’s changed? Friendship doesn’t explain this.
”Long time no see, Tatara,” Yohira greeted, her voice calm as she entered.
”Yeah, Yohira,” he replied, noting her subdued demeanor.
”Did Ethelena explain?” Yohira asked.
”Yeah, she said you’d… let me see your skin,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
Yohira chuckled, her eyes glinting with mischief.
”A joke, Tatara. I know it’s for my armor.”
”Figured as much,” he muttered, handing her a thin apron. “Change into this.”
He turned, waiting for the rustle of fabric. Instead, he felt a soft impact against his back.
”Yohira!? What are you—?”
”Don’t turn around, Tatara. I’m… not dressed,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Her warmth pressed against him, and Tatara’s heart raced.
This is Ethelena’s doing, isn’t it? Pushing us together…
”Ethelena’s being cruel, Tatara. She’s practically pushing me into your arms,” Yohira whispered.
”Don’t let her manipulate you! You’re not like that,” he said firmly.
”If Ethelena doesn’t mind, why should I?” Yohira countered, her voice breaking.
”Because you’re smarter than this! Don’t throw away your pride!”
Her tears soaked through his shirt, her voice weak.
”Why, Tatara? Why can’t I stop loving you?”
”I’m sorry, Yohira. I can’t give you what you want. My heart belongs to Ethelena,” he said, his chest aching.
”I know… but I still love you,” she whispered, her tone childlike, vulnerable.
Should I hold her? Comfort her, even if it betrays Ethelena? Tatara clenched his fists. No.
Choosing one means hurting the other. This isn’t a game. It’s real life.
”I’m sorry, Yohira. I care about you, but not like that,” he said, his voice steady.
”Stop… please,” she begged, tears streaming down her face.
”I can’t love anyone but Ethelena. I’m not built for this,” he admitted, pain lacing his words.
Each refusal felt like a knife, but he had to be clear. If I don’t, it’ll only hurt her more later.
”You’ll find someone better than me. Forget about me,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.
”Don’t say that… an oni’s devotion isn’t so easily shaken,” she replied, her tone regaining some strength.
”Your name means ‘devoted love,’ doesn’t it?” he asked, recalling the flower’s meaning.
”It’s just how we are. It’s not special,” she said, stepping back.
She’s recovering. Good.
”You pushed this far, yet you still only think of Ethelena,” Yohira said, a hint of bitterness in her voice.
”Because I care about you. I won’t let momentary impulse ruin your life,” he replied.
”Your sincerity is why I fell for you, Tatara. Just… be careful. There’ll be others,” she warned.
”Not likely. I’m too awkward for that,” he said, managing a small smile.
”If you were smoother, I wouldn’t have cried,” she said, turning away.
”Alright, let’s get these measurements done. You’re chilled,” he said, turning to face her.
”Why aren’t you wearing the apron?” he asked, exasperated.
”I thought you might lose control,” she said, smirking.
Women… he thought, shaking his head.
”You… seriously—” Tatara began, but Yohira cut him off with a laugh.
”Remember, I’m devoted and stubborn,” she said, her eyes glinting with a hint of unshed tears.
She insisted he measure her without looking away, threatening to complain to Ethelena if he did. Reluctantly, he complied, his gaze steady as he noted her flushed dusky skin, her ears and neck tinged red with embarrassment.
Despite her towering physical strength, Yohira’s frame was slender, her waist delicate. As she raised her arms for chest measurements, her modest yet shapely breasts shifted slightly—a curse for any “boob saint” to ignore.
He measured her waist, inseam, and height, envisioning a hakama-inspired culotte skirt to conceal her legs, which she preferred covered. Projecting the design, Yohira approved, especially the skirt’s resemblance to her homeland’s style.
”Nice legs, though,” he blurted, earning a light slap.
”Fool,” she muttered, the sound echoing sharply yet harmlessly.
”I can finish this by tomorrow. Want to train in the morning?” he asked.
”My routine never stops,” she replied.
”Final adjustments then. Won’t take as long as Tatia’s aura,” he assured her.
After she dressed, Yohira unexpectedly hugged him for a brief ten seconds before leaving. Tatara resisted returning the embrace; it would only prolong her pain.
Ethelena’s different. Yohira isn’t my lover.
To clear his mind, he turned to the forge, channeling his turmoil into each strike of the hammer.
Purge these thoughts. Stay true to Ethelena.
Using ‘Alchemist’s Egg’ to sustain his mana, he forged Mithril silver—a metal not meant for hammering—into Yohira’s armor.
Layering it 1.31 million times, he crafted a breastplate that would protect her better than he ever could. Armguards, shin guards, and a cape with Mana Barrier Spell Formula followed, each piece infused with his conflicting emotions.
The culotte skirt, pleated for mobility and defense, featured an adjuster for her waist.
Like Ethelena’s gear, it remained undyed, pure white. Our party’s trademark, I guess.
”Creating something this good with such a messy mind…” he muttered, appraising the armor. Magic Defense was around 60, but the rest would require Yohira’s test.
He then crafted an iron fan for her, each strike of the hammer recalling their shared moments—laughter, banter, the reasons he cared for her. Why does this feel more personal than the armor?
”Pathetic, Tatara Julon. Stop dwelling,” he chided himself, setting the fan aside.
Notes:
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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