One for All: Sion's Buff Withdrawal Hits After a Week
One week had passed since we started Sion's rehab without buffs, and symptoms of buff addiction were finally emerging.
Without the buffs, her muscle strength had dropped dramatically, so the rehab menu had reverted almost to the very beginning. Sion was doing leg lifts, slowly raising her legs using just her knees and thighs while seated. This was the same exercise she'd overdone alone for three hours overnight, only to suffer muscle pain so bad she had to stop.
"Okay, slowly lift them up..."
Sion followed my instructions diligently, but her baseline strength was so low that there didn't seem to be any noticeable gains after a full week. That was exactly why we'd been using buffs all along.
Still, we'd come a long way from the state where training without buffs was impossible. After nearly two months, she could now handle it, so the key now was patience—no rushing.
"Let's take a short break before the next set."
"Hoo... Exercising without buffs is tough, huh."
"Getting used to that tough feeling is a good thing. Might even be a positive sign."
"Even so, it's so hard... Can I rest until it gets better?"
Sion complaining about it being hard? Sion, of all people?
"Sion, you okay?"
I crouched down in front of her chair, checking her legs and expression. She looked a bit drained, and even seated, her legs were trembling faintly.
"Is it really bad?"
"Won't it get better if I rest? It's a little chilly, too."
And now she was feeling cold, even in midsummer. The center had magical cooling, but it wasn't air-conditioner levels—nothing that should make anyone shiver. Was she actually cold? She crossed her arms and hunched forward, curling up.
"Uh, uh oh...?"
But as she leaned forward from the chair, she lost her balance. Her body pitched ahead, tumbling right out.
"Sion!"
Luckily, I was right in front of her, watching closely, so I caught her naturally. The sudden drop from such close range meant I ended up holding her against my chest.
"Huh? My body's gone weak..."
"You're fine. Like you said, a little rest and it'll pass."
It had been about a week since I stopped buffing her, and full-blown withdrawal symptoms were kicking in. Chills without reason, sudden cataplexy attacks draining her strength—these were classic signs.
Cataplexy was something you saw in narcolepsy patients back in the modern world, but for buff addicts, it often happened as the body screaming for more buffs.
"It really will get better, right? You said no more buffs, but what if I end up like this forever—unable to move, unable to train?"
Her body trembled in my arms, whether from fear or trying to muster strength. Intense depression, spiraling delusions of harm, an obsession screaming for buffs. Hearing her pained voice clinging to me made my chest ache—I wanted to fix her right then. But impatience had failed us before.
"It will get better. I promised I'd heal you, no matter what."
For now, all I could do was hold her like this, be the support keeping her from falling. At least I could do that much. And thankfully, I seemed like someone she could rely on.
"Dr. Hope..."
"Let's call it for today."
To get her back in the wheelchair, I stood while holding her, sliding my arm under her hips for support.
"Whoa, Doc, this is embarrassing!"
"What's embarrassing now?"
"I'm hanging on you like a koala!!"
"I'll put you down soon, so quiet down. People are staring because you're yelling."
"Oh."
She clamped her mouth shut at that. Better embarrassed than depressed, at least. Part of me wondered if carrying her around like this would amuse her, but I was embarrassed too, so I got her in the wheelchair and took her to her room with Nurse Maid Mirei.
"Training's over already?"
Serin, waiting inside, sounded surprised as we entered.
"Sion's not feeling well. We're stopping for today."
"That bad?"
"Rest should fix it. I'll head back to the clinic, so if anything's off or she needs me, come get me right away."
"Got it."
I wanted to monitor her more, stay by her side longer, but duties called. No helping it.
"Oh, right, Sion—no solo workouts to make up for today, okay? You know better now."
"I know!"
"Good. Rest easy. I'll come by after rounds."
"...Yeah."
I watched her stand from the wheelchair with Serin and Mirei's help, climb into bed, then turned for the door. Serin was there; she'd be fine.
"Dr. Hope!"
"?"
Just as I grabbed the handle to Room 104, Sion called out.
"I'm still here. Something wrong?"
"You... you will come, right?"
I turned to see her clutching the ladybug cushion I'd given her as a gift, barely lifting her head to look at me.
"After rounds end."
That was her worry? Not pain or discomfort—relief washed over me.
"Of course. Don't worry, just rest."
I waited for her nod, then left for the clinic. She wanted me to come for sure... was she anxious? Rounds would be over soon enough; evening visit time.
Treating addiction relied more on the patient's will than the doctor's help. All I could do was hope Sion pulled through...
"Serin."
"Yes, Sion."
Dr. Hope had left to see other patients. And here I was, suffering like this. Without him, I couldn't do anything...
"Could you step out for a bit?"
"Sion..."
No one but Dr. Hope mattered. Why couldn't they see that?
"But he asked me to watch you. Should I fetch him?"
"No, it's fine. I just want to be alone."
"...Understood."
Once Serin left, I hugged the bright red ladybug he'd given me even tighter. I knew it. Dr. Hope was the most vital person in this world right now. He'd healed countless broken people like me, working endless hours—three, four at a time—doing what the world needed. He shared data and materials with countries worldwide, creating curricula, manuals, programs single-handedly. An incredible man.
During the war, I thought I was the world's most needed hero. But I never accomplished anything on his level. I just fought and won with the power given to me, fulfilling my duty. I couldn't compare to him—pioneering a new medical field, helping countless lives directly and indirectly.
He was someone I could rely on, a comrade I could ask for help. But I couldn't monopolize him or get in his way. He served the world.
I knew that. Better than anyone.
And yet... still...
"Can't you look only at me?"
I rolled onto my side, clutching the ladybug tight, eyes fluttering shut as tears streamed down, soaking the pillow. It turned cold fast.
Was it selfish to want him all to myself, at least when I hurt this much?
If I curled up crying like this, it felt like his voice would come from somewhere: "I'm here, so don't cry."
I'd never wished for anything beyond world peace. But now, I wanted something fiercely. More intensely than ever.
What I'd felt before was aspiration, a grand wish for the world and justice. This was different. Pure greed. Desire.
A hero with selfish wants—was that still a hero? Was wanting something wrong?
Thoughts tangled, spiraling endlessly, aimlessly. No answers came from questioning myself about the unknown. Unanswered questions only terrified Sion more.
Thinking of the one she longed for, Sion glanced at the clock. He'd promised to visit when time allowed.
Since he'd left and she'd sent Serin away, only six minutes had passed. Time she'd spent crying, trembling, yearning, bargaining with herself, lost in her turmoil, surrounded by unknowable fears, squeezing out tears—but just six minutes.
Pain, hardship, unknowns tormented her. But Sion endured. She knew better than anyone pain wasn't eternal. She'd always been the one ending it for others. Now, she huddled under the covers, waiting for Hope.
Just three hours. Once those passed... after rounds, he'd return and end this pain. Believing that, Sion could bear it, grit her teeth through the ache.