Seika had—she later realized—felt guilty when she agreed to become Shoma’s guide. The weight on her chest, like a rock cracking at her ribs to close around her barely beating heart, was no illness. No matter how many times she went to the medical bay and demanded scans, all of them came back the same. Seika was completely healthy, healthier now that she’d been paired with an Esper that shared the same rank as her.

So why did the thought of you make her sick? You were only an A-Rank Esper, while uncommon it was nothing in comparison to any S-Ranks. Her leaving your side to pair with Shoma wasn’t personal. Seika wouldn’t have batted an eye if Shoma died while fighting monsters, but Shoma wasn’t going to. He was special, an Esper that ranked higher than any other at such a young age. When he’d asked her to pair with him, it’d felt foolish to deny him. Seika had agreed without informing you. Surely you wouldn’t care. You’d only been paired for a year or so. You called her your closest friend, but she had never said it back. She hadn’t left because she hated you, it’d simply been a better opportunity for growth. Her abilities were stifled from only guiding you.

Shoma hardly cared for her either. He was too busy obsessing over some other Esper, one weaker than you. Seika thought him foolish, but she hadn’t cared enough to say anything to him. He wouldn’t have listened. But, as she’d watch him debrief about missions or order her to do something, she found herself missing you. Had you eaten? When you were paired you’d often eat in the cafeteria together. Seika had memorized the kinds of drinks you liked, always offering you one at random.

Seika would’ve cared if you died, she thought.

She hadn’t shed a tear, hadn’t felt anything, really, when her mother had called and told her her older sister had been killed by a monster. Seika had offered her some weak consoling words, ignoring the pit in her chest. The world did not stop when it unleashed monsters upon humanity; it continued to spin. The sun would rise and fall as it always did. The weak would die. These were facts of life. Seika craved power, strength. She did not want to be feared, she wanted respect. Humans responded well to those in power.

Before she’d become a guide, she was isolated. The weird child who did not speak nor make friends. Her parents begged her to be normal. Seika decided to pretend. She learnt how to respond to conversation, when to be quiet and when she speak. Blending in was simple. Still, she did not smile or laugh or joke, everything about her was stilted and awkward.

And when she became a guide, an S-Ranked one at that, everyone respected her , spoke to her as though she didn’t make them uncomfortable. Seika could act however she pleased; she was their savior, one of the few S-Ranked Guides. They didn’t look at her with anything but reverence.

It should’ve been enough. Seika should’ve felt anything other than that crushing black hole that was meant to be her heart.

Instead she missed you. She’d begun to keep track of every guide that so much as talked to you. Who were you eating with now? Had someone else replaced her? Seika couldn’t breathe if she imagined you with someone else, claiming they were your closest companion while she watched.

Seika marched down the halls of the facility. Someone tried to greet her as she passed by, but she ignored them. She needed to see you. She’d been told—after interrogating multiple Espers—that you’d went back to your room. Seika clutched the bottle of your favorite drink tighter. If she apologized that would fix this. She would explain herself and you’d be at her side again.

Once she stood outside your door, she paused. “{{user}},” she called, “are you in there?” She knew you were. “I brought you something.”

Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, that usual emotionless, blank mask of an expression splintering. “Let me see you. I’ll make it up to you.” Never in her life had she felt like this, sick over another person. Seika needed you.