Ah, Wrong Choice
"…An unfamiliar ceiling."
"Phew… It's your first time in the infirmary, so of course it'd feel strange."
…That wasn't the reaction I'd been hoping for.
And then.
"What are you staring at all of a sudden?"
"Well… for starters, I'm a patient right now, right?"
"Yes."
"And you're officially a doctor or whatever?"
"Something like that."
"…So, shouldn't you at least not smoke right next to a recovering patient?"
What kind of doctor smokes next to a patient who's healing up?
"This is the body I've already healed twice. Put up with it."
"…Sure."
"By the way, the price for this healing won't be as easy to brush off as last time."
…Petty.
But seriously, what the hell was Aeshy Emberline thinking?
Why slam her own student into the ground like that?
And not even gently—she crushed my spine to pieces. What was that about?
Does she have some grudge against giving her disciple trauma?
"Saintess."
"Yeah?"
"The reason I'm in this state is because of the Hero, right?"
"…And?"
For starters… the Hero is appointed by the Church, isn't she?
And the Saintess is basically at the top of that Church?
"Can't you, like… discipline her or something?"
"If you're gonna talk shit, get out."
Okay, sorry.
Forgive me since I apologized quick.
"From the start, there's no hierarchy between the Hero and the Saintess anyway."
"Yeah… fair enough."
"And even if I'm called the Saintess, the Church is basically run by the Pope eating everything up."
Whoa… that's a dangerously bold statement.
"Can you even say that as the Saintess?"
"What, I've always lived saying stuff like this."
…Yeah, definitely.
"That convinced look on your face is kinda pissing me off."
"…What do you want me to do?"
"Act in ways that match a girl's heart."
Sorry, but figuring out a girl's heart is harder than graduating top of the Academy.
Expecting me, the ultimate parachute kid, to nail that is just wrong.
And.
"You don't get guys' hearts either."
"Guys' hearts?"
"Yeah."
"With this face and these tits, I don't really need to."
Ah… fucking looks supremacy.
"If you're jealous, you should've been born hotter."
Ah, really fucking looks supremacy.
"Isn't it weird that no one says shit even when I'm out alone with a guy?"
Suddenly?
"That's how hot you are."
…Fuck.
Honestly, you're not that hot.
Wait, honestly, you're not that hot, okay?
"Can I just flick your forehead once?"
"Go ahead if you wanna get dragged to the Papal Court."
Life is so goddamn unfair.
If you dumped everything into looks stats, your other stats should suck.
Why is the performance top-tier too?
"You two get along well."
"What the—when did you get here?"
"Hero… long time no see."
"Yeah, it's been a while."
I was in the middle of bitterly despairing over the world's unfairness when a thick, gruff voice cut in.
No door sound or anything—when the hell did she sneak in?
"Around when you were muttering about the unfamiliar ceiling."
Oh… so she heard everything from the start.
"Then, did you maybe…"
"Yeah, I heard you asking the Saintess to discipline me too."
…Ah, the world is just too happy. What now?
"Kidding."
"If you have the leisure to joke, looks like you're all healed up?"
Ah, fucked up.
Running… probably not an option?
"Don't pressure my patient like that."
"Hm…?"
Yes, exactly!
I'm a proper patient! I need absolute rest!
And it doesn't make sense to have the perpetrator and victim in the same room.
"Weren't you just smoking next to the patient?"
"Well, it's a body I fixed, so it's fine if I break it. But others? No way."
…That's some twisted logic.
Isn't it just 'my sandbag is mine to punch'?
Everyone else dying to beat me up too?
The world has abandoned me.
"Childish."
"You're the childish one for going that far on your own student."
"It was part of my guidance."
"If it were anyone else, it'd be trauma. Guidance my ass…"
"That quiet Saintess is awfully chatty today."
"Yeah, well… she's my friend, after all."
The Saintess sticking up for me like this… tears of gratitude welling up.
If only she'd do it more often.
"Friend?"
"Yes, friends… Got a problem?"
"Heh… I see. Alright, I'll head out then."
A flicker of distortion crossed the Hero's face at the Saintess's retort.
A hollow chuckle of disbelief, laced with irritation somewhere.
The Hero, subtly showing her discomfort, left the infirmary as soon as she finished speaking.
…It was WWE just a second ago, and now it's suddenly UFC.
"…Is she okay?"
"Leave her."
Hey, she might just be a casual business partner to you.
But she's my professor.
If I piss her off, my Academy life is toast.
…It already is?
"If you're that worried, why don't you go after her?"
"…Me?"
"Yes."
Oh… hate that idea.
Who the hell wants a one-on-one private chat with their professor?
"Don't make others do what you can't. Listen to my words."
…Always thought this, but our Saintess is too bold.
I thought it was some saintly quote from a holy figure.
"Anyway, got anything in mind?"
"For what?"
"Payment for the treatment this time. You said it wouldn't be as easy as last time."
"Nah, nothing really."
…What the hell?
"Just messing with you to scare you."
"You really are… twisted as fuck."
"Thanks."
She just lets it flow in one ear and out the other.
"Anyway, you seem recovered enough. Time to go."
Yeah, thanks to her healing, nothing hurts anymore.
"Alright, I'll head out first."
"Huh? Not walking me out?"
Why would I?
"Where you headed?"
"It's… around one o'clock now?"
"Yeah, spar ended around noon, straight to treatment… probably about then."
"Then let's grab food."
Food, huh…
Come to think of it, I haven't eaten either.
"Sure, why not?"
"You remember that place from last time, right?"
"The one in that out-of-the-way spot?"
"Yeah, there."
"Alright, let's go."
But wait, if we eat now, I'll definitely be late for the next lecture.
Eh… injury excuse should cover it, right?
Honestly, people gotta eat to live.
"You're late."
As expected.
An…gry?
"…Sorry."
"Doesn't matter."
Oh.
"But I'll work you extra hard to make up for it."
…Ah.
"Before we get into proper training."
"What do you think your weakness is?"
My weaknesses…
Tons.
But the first that comes to mind.
"My shitty physical abilities?"
"Correct."
Ouch.
"A good body makes the impossible possible."
"Why I won the spar earlier—what do you think?"
The biggest reason is obviously the physical gap.
But it's not just that.
The final slam was her win in pure technique too.
Faking a big wind-up attack, baiting my big reaction, then countering.
Easy to say, hard as hell to pull off in real combat.
But anyway.
"Biggest reason is still the physical difference."
"Right. And that's why you threw all those gambles mid-fight?"
Veteran through and through.
She saw right through most of my thoughts in battle.
"In a fight, too much thinking is bad."
Agreed.
"Observe, judge, move."
"That's it. 'Think' just slows you down."
Agreed again.
"But in this spar, what were you doing?"
"Thinking too much."
"Yeah."
I get what she's driving at.
Cut the thinking in combat, move faster.
Build a body that lets you do that…
Something like that.
"But that's not always bad."
Not quite.
…Made me feel stupid for nothing.
"Why does too much thinking slow you?"
"You're easy to read."
"Then just don't be readable."
Easier said than done.
You know that.
In combat, overthinking shows.
Your actions slow even a bit, reactions too.
It stacks up, gives the opponent breathing room, makes them easier to read.
That's why I limited exchanges to three.
"I'd have done it if I could."
"You think you can't?"
"…Even ignoring my trash body, isn't this jumping too many steps?"
You're telling a level 1 noob to use endgame passives.
"Hm, don't worry about that."
"…Pardon?"
"Work hard, and it'll sort itself."
…Pardon?
It's not like hard work alone fixes that.
"Heard this when I was getting whipped into shape."
"…What?"
"If it doesn't work, make it work. Then it works."
…Ah, wrong choice.