Right Here, Right Now
"What I want right now... is not that."
Sion's completely unexpected response. I was so startled inside that my eyes widened involuntarily. Since we were facing each other, she must have noticed my surprise—Sion bowed her head and subtly turned away, avoiding my gaze.
"I don't want to return to everyday life. Honestly, I... I don't care what happens to someone like me."
"Sion..."
"Why? Surprised?"
"......"
"Even if I break, crumble, shatter... even if it means dying, I want this world to have peaceful days—not me. That's the reason I live, what I truly desire."
Faced with Sion's resolve, even mentioning her own death, I couldn't say a word. Her true wish was the world's peace, not her own. Heroic, sure... but
'Heroic? Is thinking like that... what makes someone a hero?'
Normal people don't think that way. And it's her sincere belief, without a shred of falsehood? Then maybe heroes are born broken from the start...
I am the hero. Born into this world in sync with the Demon King's descent, a chosen one with special powers. Guided by the Holy Sword and divine oracle, I drive out the darkness. There's no everyday life for me in this world. Everything I do is to save and protect.
Mr. Hope always says I'm the most important, but that's only because I'm the hero. I've lived until now accepting these facts without a doubt.
My life was dark but fearless, arduous but never collapsing from exhaustion, lost but without hesitation, challenged endlessly but never broken. I thought I was born with a spirit strong enough for the destiny of hero.
But why, why now am I trembling and so afraid? Why does pushing away Mr. Hope, who promises me everyday life, hurt this much?
I'm scared of rejecting his feelings. Terrified of seeing that shocked look on his face because of me. He's all I have left now—what if he comes to hate me? Everything terrifies me to the point of madness: the coming threats, being hated by Mr. Hope, and... becoming someone who's not me anymore.
Losing even the last piece of heart I held as a hero... that scares me more than anything...
"You've worked hard these past three days, Senior."
With that, our short yet long three-day trip to the Praine Holy Nation came to an end. As Sion and I boarded the carriage to the Magic Tower, Hanamana came out to see us off with her farewells.
"You too, Hanamana. Wait, wasn't it only two days for you?"
"Ugh... I'm sorryyy... Hanamana's no good, making Senior handle Hanamana's work too..."
"You didn't make me—it was my choice, so it's fine. And you've been working hard so far, with plenty more ahead."
"Eek."
In this world, being the director of a rehabilitation medicine center is the most honorable—and busiest—job. Maybe I should've taught her better sleep routines instead of anything else?
"Hang in there, Hanamana. I'll always be cheering for you."
"Sion..."
Hanamana slowly approached and hugged Sion in her wheelchair. When it was time for the carriage to depart, I called her over, pried her away, lifted Sion, and settled her inside.
And inside the carriage, we said nothing. Gazing at the Praine Holy Nation landscapes passing by the window, sorting our thoughts amid the blowing wind.
My words about restoring her everyday life had slipped out with the conversation's flow, but ending it rejected like this felt somehow unresolved. Maybe I'd burdened her with too much. If the fabricated Demon King's existence kept her from desiring normalcy...
"Sion."
"Yes?"
"Once we're back, ask Serin and pick a nice restaurant for this weekend."
If her rehab goal wasn't everyday life, at least make the path there feel ordinary. I couldn't lighten her load or share it. All I could do was give her moments to forget it—even if it was pathetically inadequate atonement.
"......"
Thankfully, Sion turned to look at me. Her black hair, tousled from days apart from Serin, fluttered in the wind from the open carriage window. Her locks, shimmering faintly purple like the hue of the cosmos, so close to endless black.
Sion brushed her hair from her forehead behind her ear, tidying it away from her face, then met my eyes with a faint smile.
"Got it. I'm looking forward to the weekend."
Silence filled the carriage again. We said nothing more. I don't like heavy air like this. But with no more words for her, I just waited quietly for time to pass, for our parting words.
Two weeks after the Praine Holy Nation trip. We were entering week seven of Sion's rehab.
Things continued unchanged since meeting and parting with Hanamana: my rehab duties and Sion's sessions, weekends out together—like any normal days.
"Nngh..."
Sion gripped the parallel bars, straining to hold on. Should I add more buff? No, she already had more than she should. Something was off for her to struggle this much...
"Sion. Can't hold?"
"I... somehow...!"
"Great enthusiasm, but don't push too hard. Mirei, catch her and seat her."
"Yes, sir."
Mirei supported Sion from behind, easing her into the wheelchair. Meanwhile, I reviewed Sion's chart, checking the past two weeks' progress and buff sensitivity.
"This is..."
By week five, she'd been nearly walking—recovery seemed smooth. But the two weeks post-trip showed almost no muscle gain.
"Haah... Mirei, log sensitivity at 3.1."
"Got it. But sir, that number..."
"Yeah. Barely changed."
Sion's disability was extreme muscle atrophy. Rehab for pure muscle loss usually accelerates as strength builds, so stagnation like this? Rare.
We'd pulled her impossible state forward with buffs and skills, but cases like hers were unprecedented, making the cause hard to pinpoint.
"By program, we'd switch menus now, but not today. Same as last time... no, hmm..."
"Mr. Hope. Is my body in big trouble?"
While pondering program tweaks, Sion looked up worriedly.
"Not big trouble. Bodies are unpredictable. It's not worsening—just needs checking, then it'll improve. Rehab's slow, like I always say."
Unexpected, sure, but no major issue. Stay calm, composed, analytical—patients feed off a doctor's haste.
"I know. I trust you'll fix it, so it's okay."
Sion nodded. I nodded back, signaling leave it to me, and resolved to reassess her rehab.
Her strength had built up nicely—nearly walking with buffs. Widening training options once standing was the goal, rushing strength first. Maybe too hasty?
Even if she couldn't walk, steady strength training. Revert to old menus, lower buffs or none—
'First, remove the buff.'
Sion was seated safely, no standing/walking today, so I dispelled it. Though scheduled, end here.
"Sion. Need to redo the program, so rest today—resume tomorrow. Cycle stays intact."
"Got it. Rest day today."
Her rehab zeal was strong, but she followed obediently. She knew the feel now—I'd urged steady pace.
"Then, remove the buff? Can't go home like this."
"...What?"
"This strength buff. You said minimize outside training."
I'd already removed it. No buff on her now—confirmed dispelled.
"Sion. You feel a buff now? Like enhanced strength?"
"Huh? Yeah? I mean..."
She wheeled back to the bars, gripped them, and with shaking limbs—stood on her own.
"Like... this...!"
"I can stand. Same as before."
Th-this...! Bad sign. Extremely bad.
"Sion. Down, sit."
I rushed over, supported her; she leaned into me, back to the chair.
"Sir? Your face is serious."
Sion tilted her head, puzzled. Damn—it was that.
Her body was deluded into thinking a buff was active. The stagnation's cause.
Better than unknown symptoms, but the worst-case I'd dreaded.
Body enters false high from buffs, muscles hallucinate regardless of will. Among rehab failures here, one of the gravest.
Sion's body now showed... early symptoms of buff addiction.