Am I... a Good Person?
4 hours and 30 minutes of sleep—sticking to my routine and getting ready for work in the morning. Thanks to all my hard work lately, I've been able to delegate a bit to the interns and residents, which let me squeeze in one more sleep cycle. Going from three hours to four and a half is a good thing, right?
When will Sion come out...
Since I'd taken in Sion, who was still unwell, I was technically supposed to be looking after her. But the thrill of wondering what might happen if I left her alone had me deliberately staying out of her room, just waiting.
I washed up quickly, straightened my clothes, took delivery of the usual freshly baked bread, set it out for breakfast, and perked up my ears toward Sion's room to see if anything was happening.
- Crash! Bang!
As expected, something collided and fell with a thud...
"Hope Doooctorrr!!"
Sion's voice calling for me started echoing out. She couldn't see me, so it was safe to smile, right? But since she was asking for help, I kept the grin brief, took a deep breath to hide how much I was enjoying this and that I'd been waiting right outside the door, then slipped inside casually.
"Sion. What happened?"
Just as I'd imagined, Sion had tumbled off the bed onto the floor, arms stretched out in front of her. Her wheelchair had rolled back against the wall in the direction she'd reached for. From the looks of it, she'd tried shifting from the bed to the chair on her own, only for the wheelchair to roll away, sending her sprawling.
"H-Help me up... please..."
Feeling me enter, she pressed against the floor, lifted her head with a tremble, and looked my way pleadingly.
"Sion. From now on, I'm going to slide my hand under your side and lift you up."
"Why are you explaining it like that?!"
"You told me not to handle you roughly last time. If you want a different method, just say so. I'll do it exactly like that."
I could have helped right away, but seeing her sprawled on the floor, exerting every ounce of strength just to lift her head—it made me want to savor it a little longer, so I ended up saying something weird.
Her response? "Being lifted up is less embarrassing than lying here like this, so please just help me already. Pick me up however you want, just... please..."
Her strength gave out, and she dropped her head, begging.
Having enjoyed it plenty, I did as promised: slid my hand under her side, lifted her, and settled her into the wheelchair.
Safely seated, Sion quickly maneuvered the chair to the mirror, kneaded her smooshed cheek to smooth it out, hastily fixed her hair to tuck away any flyaways or mess, straightened her posture, and turned back to me.
"Phew... What now?"
"We head to the center. Breakfast?"
"Yeah. I always ate with Serin. Nao kept insisting I had to."
"Perfect. I'm busy, so it's just bread. That okay?"
"Fine by me."
We left the room and headed to the table; Sion wheeled along behind me. I'd noticed it the first time I saw her, but no matter how I looked at it, that wheelchair moved without her turning the wheels by hand.
I pulled out a chair to make space, and she slid into the spot. I brought the bread, set it on the table, and sat across from her.
"Hope Doctor. This..."
"What? Something wrong?"
Sion's eyes went wide at the steaming basket of freshly baked bread.
"Didn't you say you were too busy for anything but bread?"
"Yeah, I did."
"But this... it's straight out of the oven! You baked it yourself?"
"Nah, no way."
Bake it myself? I don't have time for that, and besides, I don't have the skill.
"One of the retired soldiers who finished rehab at our center had a family bakery. His mom kept thanking me over and over, so she bakes and delivers fresh bread every morning."
I'm probably the only one in the entire kingdom who gets to enjoy daily deliveries of the kingdom capital's famous Baker Wife family's fresh bread.
"That patient had it rough. PTSD from the war, hallucinations and auditory ones too... schizophrenia or whatever you call it. Plus, his left arm joint was wrecked from a magic hit. We combined psych therapy, buffs, meds, corrections, and training—got him nearly fully cured. He can't swing a sword with that arm anymore, but he'll manage fine in life. His parents at the bakery were over the moon..."
The pain of war doesn't just vanish when the fighting stops. It's not just the wounded who suffer—the families watching helplessly feel it too, in ways hard to imagine.
"Anyway, dig in. I didn't know at first, but they say this place is one of the top bakeries around. I eat it every day, so I guarantee the taste."
Freshly baked bread has a softness and warmth no one's tasted can't even dream of, and not just delicious—it melts in your mouth, so you can eat fast. As the rehab center director, I'm always swamped anyway.
"Hope Doctor..."
Unlike me wolfing it down as usual, Sion cradled a warm loaf in both hands, savoring the heat and aroma with a distant gaze.
"What? Problem with the bread?"
"No. I was just thinking... you're a good person, Hope Doctor."
A good person... Rehab specialists do good work, sure. But I'd never thought of myself that way. I do this job just to see the things I like. And right now, that's Sion. Never expected to hear her call me a good person.
But still...
"So, what did you think of me before?"
This needed clearing up.
"Someone who likes touching me, picking me up, seeing me embarrassed... that kind?"
Wh-what? Hero's intuition? Her answer hit way too close to home—I flinched without thinking.
"Th-that time you fell off the bed and called for me while sprawled out... that wasn't what I wanted."
"That's because you didn't come help! Serin always did, right on time!"
"Serin's paid to do that. Anyway, why not call before you fall?"
"But showing you my just-woke-up face is embarrassing enough! Once I'm in the chair, I can check the mirror..."
So that's why she tried shifting alone. In the wheelchair, she could move. But how? It was something I'd wondered, so I figured I'd ask.
"Speaking of, how does that wheelchair even move?"
"Oh, this?"
At the question, Sion wheeled out from the table like she was giving a demo—forward, back, U-turns, zipping around the living room—then returned, took a bite of bread.
"Eight pressure sensors on the wheels control rotation and direction. It's custom for me—moves with my ability."
As I thought. Tailor-made for Sion, who can use her ability even if her body won't cooperate.
"Nao made it special. Took tons of trial and error at first—super small controls, had to juggle multiple at once for free movement. Practiced a ton? Took a whole month to get this good."
A month just for wheelchair practice... Her Zero Resistance was always for broad pressure nullification, so fine control must've been tough. One thing's for sure—gotta respect a hero's grit.
"If you put that effort into rehab training, you'll improve fast."
"Yeah... I have to keep pushing."
Her rehab started today. Real training after admission, but first: assessments, exams, tests to gauge her condition. Then tailor a routine, repeat. Adjust as she improves, repeat again. Rinse and repeat till she hits goals. Days of pure rehabilitation medicine ahead.
"That effort? You'll get there quick. I think so too. But Hope Doctor."
"Yeah?"
"Do you really know what 'that effort' means?"
"......"
Sion's hands trembled around the bread.
"Sion?"
"Making something from scratch like this... tons of trial and error. A wheelchair powered by ability? Had to tweak sensitivity, size, all that. Too much pressure and it'd spin out, sudden acceleration, hard stops, sharp turns..."
The bread in her hands was squished flat. Was she gripping with all her strength?
"Every time, I'd get flung off, hit the floor, dragged, rolled, slammed into walls... Even hurt Serin once, watching. Every time, every time..."
Her face paled, eyes losing focus.
"It hurts, it hurts... it hurts so much...!!"
Another trauma-induced episode? I snapped alert, set down my bread, checked her state. Unlike last time, this was dangerous—needed immediate action.