Gon's Harem System
Chapter 173: Holding Lena

Chapter 173: Holding Lena

The training yards lay quiet under the rising sun, a faint light spreading over the dusty fields.

Dummies stood battered, split from three days of swings, straw piled loose on the ground.

Wooden walls rose marked and worn, ropes hung still over pits, and spiked barriers waited in the dirt.

The air stayed cool, no boots hitting, no voices loud, just a pause after the work.

A few mages stretched near the sides, moving slow, while others sat resting, heads back, drinking in the stillness.

Gon woke late in the quarters, eyes tired, body sore but glad it was over.

He got out of his cot, joints stiff, and pulled on his boots, taking his time.

His legs ached, shoulders too, the obstacle course hanging on, walls, ropes, pits.

A dull throb sat in his muscles, a reminder of the strain, but he welcomed it.

Pain meant progress, proof he’d pushed himself past where he started.

He stepped outside, sun just up, and wandered into the empty yards, stretching his legs.

The master stood near the center, scarred face calm, voice steady and low.

"Rest day," he said. "Three days done. You’ve got this. Take it."

Mages nodded, some faint smiles, others too beat to react, and spread out, leaving it quiet.

Gon stopped by a dummy, hand on its torn chest, running through the days in his head.

First day,steel and swings, Zara’s spar, Mira’s words, the boy’s look.

Second day, more cuts, more dirt, then the third, that run, hurdles, bridges, mud.

Lena’s touch stuck with him.

That quick moment at the bridge, her steady voice, her firm grip.

She’d reached for him without hesitation, guiding him through the sway.

Later, her hand against his sleeve, light but sure.

He moved on, boots scuffing the dirt, no rush, just walking it off.

The yards felt different, still, no steel ringing, no orders, just him and the space.

He passed a pit, mud dried at the edges, and remembered the rope bridge, her call.

She’d kept him steady, out of the muck, and then later, that quiet moment, close and real.

He kept walking, heading toward the quarters, sun starting to warm the air.

A shaded tree stood by the stone wall, branches low, leaves moving soft in the breeze.

The spot called to him, a break from the open field, a place to sit and breathe.

He sat against the trunk, legs stretched out, bark rough against his back.

His sword rested at his hip, familiar weight, and he let his head tip back, closing his eyes.

The yards faded, just the tree, the quiet, and him, settling after the grind.

Footsteps came close, light, steady.

He opened his eyes, catching the sight of Lena walking up.

Her dark hair hung loose, catching the mid-morning light, a water skin in her hand.

She stopped, smiling warm, and tossed it over.

"Figured you’d be here," she said.

He caught it, fingers tightening around the worn leather, and took a drink.

The water was cool, sharp against the heat in his throat.

He handed it back. "Good call."

She sat beside him, knees up, her arm near his, and sipped, eyes soft on the yards.

"Long three days," she said, her tone easy, warm. "That bridge almost took you."

He turned to her, smirking. "Yeah. You got me across."

She laughed, light, sweet. A small sound, but it stayed with him.

"Couldn’t let you drop," she said, voice softer now. "Not after that."

Her fingers brushed his, warm, careful.

She didn’t move away, just left her hand there.

The touch settled between them, quiet, certain.

He felt it, felt her.

He nodded, and after a second, placed his hand over hers, holding it still.

She looked at him, eyes steady.

His heartbeat slowed, awareness sharpening, not just to her touch, but to the space between them.

A space that had been closing, little by little.

She shifted slightly, her shoulder touching his.

The air stayed quiet, the sun climbing slow.

He caught her scent, earth and warmth, something familiar now.

"You’re solid out there," he said. "Calm. It works."

She tilted her head, thoughtful. "You’re not bad either. You kept going."

Her hand stayed under his, firm, fingers relaxed.

He met her look, holding it, letting the moment settle.

They stayed there, still.

The tree shaded them, the yards empty beyond the branches.

His mind went back to the course, her tip on the bridge.

Keep it even, and it holds.

It got him through, no fall.

And then last night, the way she steadied him.

He shifted, elbow resting on his knee.

She moved with him, her arm brushing his, small but noticeable.

"Think it’d be that tough?" she asked, nodding toward the pits.

He shrugged. "Maybe. Mud’s rough."

She smiled again, warm, easy. "You didn’t fall in. That’s something."

"Had a good teacher, didn’t I?" he said, looking at her.

Her smile held, soft.

She leaned in, hair brushing his shoulder.

He felt the shift, steady, closer now.

It wasn’t just a passing moment anymore, it was something real, present.

Something unspoken but understood.

He let it sit.

Her fingers curled slightly beneath his, and he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

They were calloused from training, but warm, steady.

The yards stayed silent, just them, the tree, the sun hitting mid-morning.

A breeze stirred, rustling the leaves.

She shifted, her knee bumping his lightly.

It was natural, comfortable in a way he hadn’t expected.

The past three days had been nothing but push, exhaustion, survival.

Now, here, in this quiet moment, he felt something settle inside him.

He liked her calm. The way it fit.

Voices sounded faint, far off, but he let them go.

Focused on her.

She stretched out beside him, her fingers still under his.

He leaned back, staying put.

Three days done, and this, her there, was fine.

More than fine.

The sun rose higher, light breaking through the branches.

He felt her press her shoulder to his, warm.

He stayed still, the quiet stretching between them, holding.