What Only You and I Know (2)
"Iri… Iri…"
The scene of Iri's death was the most memorable moment for me, one I could recite with perfect accuracy—and the one that could most convincingly prove my words. It had come to me naturally while thinking in front of her grave, so I thought it flowed perfectly…
Is this the natural reaction from someone who witnessed Iri's death right before her eyes?
Was this scene a trauma so deep for her that she collapsed in tears, unable to rise? It might even account for a large part of why Sion ended up in this state…
This trauma will need fixing someday, too.
I was a rehabilitation specialist. Watching Sion's pain up close was exactly what I wanted, but it was also my duty to heal it. And as the foremost expert in rehabilitation medicine in this world, the method available to me in this situation was…
"……."
Nothing but to watch and wait.
War trauma, especially the memory of losing a comrade right in front of you, wasn't something a stranger like me could fix with a few words. I'd studied psychological therapy as part of my rehab training, but I wasn't a professional counselor.
"Hic… hic… Iri…"
Her ragged breathing and the hot vibrations in the air gradually subsided with time. Humans can't grieve for more than twenty minutes straight, no matter how unforgettable the pain. Emotions burn bright and fierce, then fade just as quickly.
"Hweeeeng…"
Once the flood of sorrow dried up, panic set in. The heart screams that it should still hurt, but the mind cools to an eerie calm. That was the moment I had to wait for.
Sion huddled her unsteady body as tightly as she could, soaking the carpet with tears as she sobbed. The thrill I felt from her broken form finally ebbed, and my mind sharpened back to cold clarity. Her emotions would burn out soon enough, too.
"Hic…"
Forced sobs now.
When extreme excitement gives way to dried-up grief, the mind scrambles for a replacement emotion. If that grief stemmed from guilt, what rose next was usually self-loathing for not grieving "properly." I had to stop that.
I couldn't read her emotions precisely, but I could time it roughly…
"Done crying? You can cry more if you need to."
I told her there was no more need to cry. On the surface, it sounded permissive, but no one hears that and thinks, Not yet—I need to cry more.
"……."
No response from where she lay face-down. At least she wasn't forcing more tears—that was a relief.
"Hope… Hope Harvey."
"Right here."
Her back rose and fell dramatically with each breath. Without prompting, she seemed to be taking deep ones to steady herself. Even broken, a hero was still a hero. Just a little nudge, and she was regulating her own mind.
"You saw it too, didn't you? Iri dying."
"You believe me?"
"How could I not? You recited the words I always hear in my dreams, word for word."
Sion moved the arms that had covered her face to wipe away her tears furiously, then propped herself up and buried her head again, hiding once more.
"Iri, thank you always. I'm sorry always. I'll never forget you. Not ever…"
A self-soothing mantra. In truth, forgetting would end the torment. But Sion wouldn't. Iri had been precious to her. The more precious, the more it hurt—and the less she could forget. How pitiful and contradictory humans were!
I waited quite a while, but Sion took even more time. Eventually, she lifted her head and looked my way again.
"You're a regressor, right? And not just once or twice, from the way you talked about 'next times' and such."
"Yeah."
Back to composure? Her voice still choked, but she spoke calmly again.
"Couldn't you save Iri?"
A question without an easy answer. My regressor claim was a lie, so every related question forced me to fabricate on the spot. One lie bred endless more. But having committed, I couldn't let it slip.
"Saving Iri meant we couldn't win that war."
"I see. Probably because I was so useless. Without her sacrifice, I…"
Reliving that moment again? I braced for more tears, but she steadied herself, lifted her arms to the floor, and tried to stand.
"Nngh…"
She strained to lift her waist, pushing against the ground with trembling arms that wouldn't straighten. Exhausted, she collapsed back down.
"Should I call that attendant from earlier?"
"Why? Too good to watch alone?"
It did feel that way, now that she mentioned it…
"You need to get up sometime."
"……."
Sion shot me a glare, her face twisted in annoyance, then squeezed her eyes shut in resignation and slowly extended her arm toward me.
"…Just help me yourself."
Sion asking for help. Earlier at the national cemetery, she'd snapped at me not to touch her. But after proving our "comradeship," she'd opened up a bit?
"Got it."
To get her back in the wheelchair, I bypassed her outstretched arm, slipped behind her, hooked my hands under both armpits, and hoisted her up effortlessly.
"Wh-what are you doing?!"
"You asked for help."
I set her down gently in the chair. Thanks to me, she landed stably, but she still glared daggers, clearly displeased.
"You're handling me too roughly!"
"Most efficient way."
"Factor my feelings into that efficiency next time."
"Feelings? What about them?"
"It's embarrassing! Lifting me like that!"
"Hm~ Yeah, definitely too good to watch alone."
"And it's annoying that I'm the only one using formal speech."
"Is it?"
"You said you were my comrade."
"Yeah."
"A comrade…"
Sion stared intently at me, her expression grave, as if she could figure out who I was just by looking.
"Hope. Hope Harvey…"
Not calling me, just murmuring my name. She hemmed and hawed for a while, then sighed and shook her head.
"I thought about dropping the formalities too, but nah, can't. You're still a stranger to me today."
"No need to force it."
"And stop with the 'Hope-sensei' thing."
"…Huh?"
"Do you treat patients that roughly? Treat me like any other patient."
Suddenly, my title was set as "Sensei." And asking to be treated like a patient meant…
"So… you've decided to do rehab."
"You don't seem to be lying, at least."
A relief in multiple ways. She'd commit to treatment, and I'd been barely pulling off the "comrade" act in this awkward setup.
"Good. Now that you've decided on rehab, I'll make sure you recover fully."
"Recover…"
Sion sighed deeply again, bowing her head.
"Harder to believe than you being a regressor and my comrade in your last life. Can I really get better?"
My self-imposed treatment limit was two years. I had to restore her to fighting form by then. The war reopening was a lie, so failure wouldn't doom the world—but if she thought the goal unrealistic, things could spiral. Worst case, given her earlier attitude, she might kill me for deceiving a hero.
"We'll know once I check your condition."
"You're a regressor, aren't you? Need to check?"
"The situation's different from when you were my comrade. That body's wrecked from war injuries. Without me, you fought harder battles, so the state could differ from last round."
Was I this quick on my feet? The excuses flowed smoothly, impressively so.
"Hm… So our party beat the Demon King and saved the world, even missing one member from the original lineup?"
Oh. Right, that followed logically. Not an excuse—just straight-up bullshit.
"Yep."
Would she catch the contradiction? Some inconsistency?
"Wow, you were a useless comrade, Hope-sensei."
False alarm, apparently.
"Let's get to the exam already."
Time to assess Hero Sion's condition. What state was she in now, and why was her whole body ruined? To find out, I'd need to touch her all over first.