Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

The rhythmic slap-slap of my sneakers echoed against the concrete, a steady beat beneath the quiet hum of the city. I hummed along with it, letting a playful tune bubble up as I strolled down the sidewalk. Plastic grocery bags swung at my sides, the contents inside—juice boxes, noodles, detergent—rustling with each step.

“Three yen per bag, bags cost three yen~!” I sang, skipping a little as I walked. The bags swayed wider with every bounce, my voice light and teasing.

Mom had asked me to stop by FamilyMart on the way home from school—just the usual stuff. I grabbed a few extra things, too. Sachi liked peach juice and those spicy chips that made her hiccup after every bite. I’d stocked up, just in case she came over.

Then I paused. Her name echoed in my head like a quiet bell.

Sachi...

She’d been distant lately. Not angry—just... not as there as she used to be. We hadn’t skipped through the park together in weeks. We hadn’t sung in months.

Her face formed clearly in my mind—soft, pale cheeks, sleek black hair brushing her shoulders, and those piercing gray eyes that somehow always made me feel seen.

Warmth flushed my cheeks.

She was just a friend... right? Just a really cute , brilliant , amazing friend who made my heart do weird, fluttery things. But that was normal. Totally normal. Just friendship things.

I was mid-internal crisis when a shrill voice cut through my daydream.

“B-b-bad doggy!”

I stopped cold, head snapping toward the sound. It came from a narrow alley wedged between two low apartment buildings. On one side, a rusty chain-link fence caught a scrap of brown fabric. A tiny hand tugged at it, trembling.

“G-go away, doggy! I-I’m not food!” the voice squeaked again, on the verge of tears.

I leaned in and saw her—a little girl, maybe around my age, but way shorter. She was cornered, her back to the fence, as a huge black dog snarled at her, its eyes wild and teeth bared. Foam dripped from its brown snout, its bark sharp and unrelenting, like it wanted nothing more than to tear her apart.

I dropped the bags without a second thought, their contents thudding dully against the sidewalk, and banged on the door of the nearest shop.

“Hey! Hey! Someone’s in trouble! Open up!”

No answer. I could hear someone inside—footsteps, maybe a TV—but they weren’t rushing to help. I guess an 8-year-old yelling outside doesn’t exactly scream “emergency” to most grown-ups.

But I didn’t have time to wait.

The dog’s bark cracked louder, more savage, like it wasn’t just barking anymore—it was challenging . My eyes darted around and locked onto a broom propped up near the door. I lunged for it.

“Sorry!” I yelled to no one in particular, then tore off down the alley.

The dog lunged . The girl clamped her eyes shut, arms up like it’d shield her from those snapping jaws.

And then—

“B-BAD doggy!” I screamed, jamming the broom sideways into the dog’s mouth mid-lunge. Its teeth clamped down on the wood, foam spraying as it thrashed violently. I gritted my teeth, muscles burning as I tried to push it back, its snarls rattling in my ears like thunder.

The girl blinked, shocked. Still frozen.

“H-huh?”

“Your jacket! Get it off the fence— now! ” I shouted, the broom handle creaking, the dog’s strength buckling my arms.

I shut my eyes. The broom wouldn’t last. I could already feel it giving. I braced myself, heart hammering in my throat.

Then— footsteps . Fast. Heavy.

“Holy shit!”

“Help her, mister!” the girl squeaked, her voice trembling.

“Y-yeah, I got her!” the man replied, and suddenly— the weight was gone . The pressure vanished as the dog was yanked back, barking and snarling, but no longer at me.

I opened my eyes, breath catching. Relief crashed over me like a wave.

“Animal control’s on the way,” the man grunted, struggling to keep the dog restrained. “You kids get outta here. Find a phone. Call your folks!”

I nodded and took off, scooping up the dropped bags on my way. The girl was still huddled by the fence, trembling, her eyes locked on her shredded jacket like it had been a part of her.

“Hey,” I said softly, crouching beside her, “come with me, okay? I’ll buy you some ice cream. How does that sound?”

She sniffled and looked up at me, eyes wide and glassy.

“O-Okie…” she whispered, her voice delicate, tinged with a faint accent I couldn’t quite place.

I slung the grocery bags over one arm and reached out with the other. For a second, she just stared—eyes red and uncertain—but then a tiny, trembling smile touched her lips, and she slipped her hand into mine.

It was cold. Small. But she held on tight.

We walked fast. Neither of us said a word—we just wanted to be away from there, as far from the dog’s snarls and the echo of fear as possible.

FamilyMart came into view, the bright lights suddenly feeling like a little patch of safety in the darkening evening.

“Oh! Yashi, back already?” the cashier called. Monika, cheerful as always. “Forget something?”

“I need your phone,” I said, nodding toward the girl. “She needs to call her mom.”

Monika’s expression softened instantly. “Of course.” She reached under the counter and handed me a scuffed-up flip phone. “Here.”

“Thanks, Monika!” I flashed a quick smile and turned back. The girl was standing in front of the freezer, wide-eyed, her gaze fixed on the rows of ice cream.

“Tell me what you want,” I said. “I’ll grab it while you call.”

“A-anythin’...?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

I nodded.

She pointed—timidly—to a mint ice cream bar.

“Good choice,” I said, giving her a reassuring grin. “Do you know your mom’s number?”

She nodded, her fingers moving slowly over the phone’s keypad, her brow knit in concentration.

I grabbed the mint bar from the freezer and brought it to the counter. “This one, please.”

Monika glanced at the girl, then at me, and smiled. “It’s on the house today.”

“Thanks, Monika!” I grinned, clutching the ice cream and hurrying back.

The girl was still on the phone, murmuring softly. “Okie… see ya soon, Mama…” she said, then snapped the flip phone shut and held it out to me.

I handed her the mint bar in exchange. “Here.”

Outside, we plopped down on the curb, the cool air brushing against our skin. She struggled with the wrapper for a moment, her tiny fingers fumbling. I offered to help, but she shook her head and tore it open with determination.

And then—she devoured it. Like, gone in seconds. Her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk mid-heist.

I couldn’t help but stare.

Her wide brown eyes met mine, still chewing. Then, with exaggerated slowness, she narrowed them suspiciously.

“Got somethin’ ta say, punk?” she growled through a mouthful of minty ice cream, her expression scrunching into the best fake tough-guy face I’d ever seen.

I burst out laughing. “No! No—just—you really ate that fast!”

She licked the last bit from the stick and shrugged. “Must’ve been hungry.”

I dug into one of the bags and pulled out a juice box. “Peach or grape?”

“Peach,” she said without hesitation.

I passed it to her and she took a long sip, making a tiny satisfied sigh.

Then, suddenly, she turned to me. “Why’d you save me?”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“From the dog,” she clarified. “That was real dumb. You coulda got bit.”

I tilted my head. “Why not ?”

She scowled, thumping my arm with her tiny fist. “’Cause it was stupid, that’s why!”

I laughed again. “Well… maybe I’m a little stupid then.”

She snorted into her juice.

I smiled at her. “Why were you so scared?” I asked gently.

Her smile faded. She looked down, twisting the juice box in her hands. Then she shook her head—quick, sharp.

“Never mind. Sorry,” I said quickly, raising my hands. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“‘Sokay…” she mumbled, her voice much quieter now.

There was something about her—something that tugged at me. The way she clung to her tough act but still reached for help. Her accent, soft and clipped, gave her words a gentle, lopsided rhythm. It was… kind of cute.

I was about to say something else when—

“ NEZUMI! ”

A car screeched to a halt behind us. Tires skidded. Two sets of footsteps hit the pavement fast and hard.

We both turned.

Two women rushed toward us. One was my mom—Nishikawa Kuni—tall and reed-thin, her eyes already scanning me for injuries. The other woman had honey-blonde hair tied up in a messy ponytail, and deep, warm brown eyes. She dropped to her knees and scooped the girl into her arms.

“Oh my sweet Nezumi, are you okay?!” she asked, voice cracking.

The girl giggled, arms wrapping around the woman’s neck. “Ye’. Dat girl helped meh,” she said, pointing right at me.

I stood awkwardly, still clutching the empty juice box. “She was being attacked by a dog,” I said softly. “I… I couldn’t just stand there.”

“You did good, Yashima,” Mom said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Really good.”

I blinked up at her. “Wait, why are you here? I thought she only called her mom?”

“Oh, we were together,” the blonde woman explained with a bright smile. “Working on a new feature for MMO Informer ! We just wrapped up and were on our way to pick up the kids.”

She looked down at the girl. “Tomo, sweetheart, introduce yourself properly.”

The girl wiggled in her mom’s arms and beamed. “Hosaka Corina Tomo, but I go by Tomo!”

I gave her a grin. “I’m Yashima Kuni. Nice to meet you, Tomo.”

And for the first time that day, I felt something bubble up inside me—warm, light, and totally unstoppable.

A real smile. Not the polite kind. The honest kind.

Chapter Text

I felt the wind tear past me as my eyes snapped open—sharp, biting cold, like shards of ice slicing across my skin. I was falling. Fast.
The sky above stretched wide and pale, almost too bright to look at, like it was trying to blind me. Then, without warning, it changed.
Grey stone replaced blue sky, towering and immense, like I was plummeting through the hollowed-out ribs of some dead colossus. The air roared past my ears, deafening, but not loud enough to drown out the noise inside my chest.

I twisted midair, looking for something—anything—to grab onto, to slow this descent. But the world offered nothing back. Just silence and speed.

Then I saw her.

A brown cloak fluttering in freefall. Leather armor beneath. A dented breastplate. Blonde hair catching glints of whatever light still existed.

“Argo! ” I called out, the name escaping me like instinct, ripped from somewhere deeper than breath.
No response.

She spun slightly as she fell, head lolled, eyes shut like she was just… sleeping.
But she wasn’t.

“Damn it…” I hissed, chest tightening, throat raw. I kicked against the air, limbs sluggish with resistance, every muscle burning as I reached for her.
My hand wrapped around her arm—I shook her once, twice. Still nothing.

“Come on…” I whispered, the sound of it smaller than I expected, frayed and trembling.

I pulled her close.
Held her like I was afraid of letting go.
I wasn’t going to lose her.

Below us, the world twisted again.

The stone cavern collapsed into shadow, folding into a darker horizon. The fall hadn’t stopped. If anything, it deepened—like the sky itself was swallowing us whole.

I didn’t know where we were going.
Only that we hadn’t reached the bottom yet.

I closed my eyes, letting myself drift away. To the moment I first met Argo.

—

One Year and 4 Days prior

—

“Hey!” I snapped, stumbling a step as one of the larger spear-wielders shouldered past me. My boots scraped against the stone floor, the impact jarring through my legs. I clenched my teeth, growling under my breath. The guy didn’t even look back—just rolled his eyes and slid into my spot like I didn’t exist.

“That was my position,” I said, louder this time, planting my feet like it would somehow make a difference. My voice caught slightly, cracking with frustration. He glanced over his shoulder with a smirk, then turned away—dismissed me without a word.

Behind him, a few of the other front-liners chuckled. The kind of laugh that said, you don’t belong here .

Of course they didn’t take me seriously. Why would they? I was the newest recruit in the Aincrad Frontline Assault Squadron—and easily the weakest. In a world where strength meant survival, I might as well have been wearing a target on my back. Every misstep, every hesitation, magnified under their scrutiny.

Only three people seemed to see me as more than a liability.

Heathcliff, the ever-composed, unreadable commander of the Knights of the Blood Oath, had this strange, almost unsettling way of looking at me. Around the others, he barely acknowledged me outside of issuing orders or repositioning me during a raid. But in private—whether it was just the two of us or when I was with Kirito or Asuna—he watched me like someone studying a puzzle. He’d say cryptic things sometimes. Once, he told me I might be stronger than Kirito herself. I never believed him. Still don’t.

Asuna, on the other hand, respected me—at least in front of others. But when it was just us, her words were sharp. Not cruel, just... cutting. Tactical. She’d critique how I fought, the way I moved, how I hesitated when it counted. I knew she wasn’t trying to put me down. She was trying to protect people. Trying to protect me . She didn’t want my recklessness costing anyone their life. And honestly? I didn’t blame her.

Kirito… Kirito admired me. It went deeper than respect—I could see it in her eyes. There was always something unspoken there, like she knew a truth I hadn’t uncovered yet. Maybe that’s why she stayed near the edge of every battlefield, never far from where I stood. Not guarding. Not judging. Just… waiting. As if she wanted to tell me something, but couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.

I didn’t party with others either—not out of pride, but practicality. It saved time. No need for coordination, no eyes watching my back. I healed when necessary, followed orders when it mattered, and kept to myself otherwise. It’s what kept me in the AFAS. I was the only other solo player in the group, and I kept surviving. That was enough.

But I wasn’t around much. I’d vanish for days on hunting runs, only showing up for meetings. People barely saw me outside those. I had a reputation—lock myself in an inn, disappear into the wild, rinse and repeat. It made me a stranger among allies. No one missed someone who was never really there.

Now I had friends—Lisbeth, Silica, Klein, Agil… Kirito. Asuna. They were my friends. I knew that. But still, it always felt like I had to prove myself, again and again. Like friendship was something I had to earn on repeat.

My thoughts scattered when someone from the AFAS suddenly shoved past me to join his friend. I hadn’t been paying attention. The push sent me stumbling, and I landed hard in the mud of the hunting grounds. I let out a quiet grunt, blinking in surprise as laughter broke out around me.

No one offered a hand. Just laughter. Snickers and throwaway jokes, like I was some background glitch they could laugh at and forget.

I stood up slowly, mud sticking to my gloves as I wiped them off, brushing at my armor with a sigh. My gaze passed over them—flat, unreadable, unimpressed.

“Go ahead,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Take my spot. I don’t need it anyway.”
And I walked away.

My routine was broken.

After every boss fight, I’d fall back into the same rhythm: check into an inn, vanish into the wilds, hunt alone for days. Most assumed I did it for drops, for quests, for efficiency.

They didn’t know the truth.

I opened my menu as I walked, half out of habit, half out of frustration. My stats were there—strength, agility, stamina—all higher than they were months ago. I had grown. I could feel it in the way I moved, the way I fought. But even now, one thing remained missing.

My level.

Still gone. Still nonexistent. Like I didn’t belong to the same system as the rest of them.

It wasn’t just a bug. Not anymore. My skills leveled. My weapons did too, thanks to drops. But the number—the thing every player clung to as proof of progress—was just… absent.

No GM to contact. No support team. No way to know if it was a glitch or something worse.

So I kept doing the only thing I knew how to do:

Push forward. Fight harder. Break the system, if I could.

I tried everything—boss raids, rare spawns, high-tier quests. I earned my kills, earned my scars. But that number never appeared.

Still, maybe there was one more thing I hadn’t tried.

My eyes rose to the distant marble spire—the labyrinth tower that held the floor boss.

Maybe if I soloed it—cleared the whole thing on my own—the system would finally acknowledge me. Maybe my level would appear. Maybe I’d understand what was broken.

Or maybe… people would finally stop looking at me like I didn’t belong.

That’s what I told myself, anyway.

The labyrinth wasn’t far—closer than I remembered, which somehow made the whole thing feel more real. More immediate. The marble tower rose like a monument to something ancient and unspoken, catching the fading light of the setting sun. Gold and crimson bled across its surface, its silhouette casting long, solemn shadows that stretched over the field.

For a moment, I just stood there. Silent. Awestruck.

It was beautiful in a way nothing in this world had the right to be. Elegant. Monolithic. Like it had always been here, waiting. Waiting for someone like me. Or maybe for someone who wasn't.

It was hard to believe a place like this could hold so much pain.

No one knew I was here.

That was the risk. That was the point.

I opened my messages, fingers hovering for a second longer than I wanted to admit. Then I typed it out, quickly:

Hey. I’m going to explore the first floor of the labyrinth. Don’t worry about me.

Kirito. She would read between the lines. I knew that.

I hit send and closed the menu before I could second-guess myself.

The reply came fast. A soft ping . I didn’t check it. I couldn’t.

Not yet.

Because this was my moment. Mine alone. If I failed, no one would have to see. If I succeeded…

Maybe I’d finally understand what I was becoming.

I let the notification sit in the corner of my vision and pushed forward, heart pounding—part adrenaline, part defiance. Whatever was waiting in that labyrinth, I was ready. This wasn’t just a raid run. It was a reckoning. A chance to prove something, not just to the Assault Team, not even to Kirito—

To myself.

The moment I crossed the threshold, everything changed.

This dungeon didn’t look—or feel—like any I’d seen before. Gone were the cold, echoing stone corridors of Aincrad’s earlier floors, the structured grandeur of systems and symmetry. Instead, I stepped into something older, stranger—like I’d wandered into a half-rotted cabin buried beneath forgotten lore. The walls groaned with age, stitched from warped wooden planks that whispered when I passed. Overhead, beams sagged under shadows, and the flickering torchlight sputtered like it was suffocating.

It felt alive. And not in a good way.

The enemies matched the tone perfectly: skeletal warriors with joints that cracked like dry branches, undead things that didn’t walk so much as drag themselves forward, and spiders the size of wolves, their legs ticking across the floors like a clock counting down to something awful. Their designs weren’t just grotesque—they were wrong , like data twisted too far out of shape.

Creepy? Absolutely.

But I could handle creepy. At least, at first.

I moved fast, my spear a blur of clean, practiced strikes. Bone shattered, shadows dispersed, and the glow of combat menus blurred like fireflies in my wake. I carved a path through them with ease, each kill reminding me that I was stronger than before. That I had grown. Even without a level to show for it.

But by the time I reached the third floor of the labyrinth, the game changed.

The rustic nightmare aesthetic gave way to something far more disorienting—a twisting maze of corridors that felt like they were watching me back. The walls pressed in tighter. The light dimmed. Every corner turned into two more. Every hallway curved into itself. I had to check my map constantly, convinced I’d just made a mistake.

But I hadn’t.

The layout was shifting. Or at least, it felt like it.
Corridors that should’ve been dead ends weren’t anymore. Turns I’d just taken now led to places I didn’t recognize. It was like the maze was breathing—watching. Waiting. Reacting to the fact that I was alone.

And it wasn’t going to let me leave easily.

What had started as eerie and mysterious was quickly turning infuriating. The charm wore off fast. I knew, logically, the maze wasn’t actually changing. Not really. If I could just map it out properly, the path would become clear. Predictable. Navigable. But for now, it was like stumbling blindfolded through a hall of mirrors—each reflection warped just enough to throw me off.

Then I heard it.

A voice, sharp and panicked, tore through the silence like a blade.
“G-Git away from me!”

My body tensed. That wasn’t an enemy. That was a player .

And I wasn’t alone.

Snarls followed—a chorus of vicious barking, fangs and fury echoing down the corridors. The sound of claws skittering against old wood. Whatever was attacking, it wasn’t holding back.

And that voice… it tugged at something. A memory.

“B-bad doggy!”

My heart skipped.

No. It couldn’t be.

“Tomo?” The name slipped from my lips before I even realized I was saying it.

The voice echoed again, closer this time.

“Git back! I ain’t food, ya furry jerks!”

Yup. That was Tomo. That one-of-a-kind back-alley poetry sealed it.

A wave of urgency surged through me.

“Hold on, Tomo!” I snapped, more to myself than anyone else, my grip tightening on my spear as I bolted forward toward the sound of her voice. The hallway blurred around me as I ran, heart pounding, instincts flaring.

She wasn’t dying down here.
Not on my watch.

I burst through the archway and into what had once been a grand banquet hall—now a crumbling ruin. The shattered remains of long-forgotten feasts littered the floor, and mold crept along rotting tapestries. In the middle of it all, suspended above the floor, was a chandelier swinging wildly—and clinging to it, like her life depended on it, was a girl in a ragged brown cloak. Her blonde hair glinted like sunlight in a place that had long since forgotten light.

She was surrounded by sound: the sharp creak of metal, her panicked gasps, and the snarling chorus of dogs below—five of them. Mangy, rotted things, foam dripping from their snapping jaws, their glowing eyes fixed hungrily on the girl dangling above.

I squinted, taking in the cloak.
Yup. That patchwork style in that brown and golden brown color? There was only one person it could be.

“Okay,” I muttered, hand on my hip. “You have to be Tomo.”

I turned back to the dogs, already sizing them up. Undead. Diseased. Fast. Great. Zombie mutts.

“Of course this is what’s on the menu…”

I reached for my spear, slipping it off my back in one smooth motion, then called up to her, “Tomo! If you can hear me, drop a health potion!”

She startled, her grip shifting as the chandelier swayed again. Her head snapped toward me, disbelief flooding her face.
Bright eyes. Soft face. Chipmunk-like cheeks?
Definitely her.

“Yash!?” she shouted, voice cracking with what sounded like fury—but there was relief in it too.

“We really need to stop meeting like this!” I called, flashing her a grin. The dogs were still laser-focused on her, which meant I had an opening. Her cheeks puffed up in an annoyed pout, ridiculously cute despite the situation.

“Yash…” she growled, voice low and dangerous.

“Yell at me later. Right now— potion! ”

She gave a shaky nod and let go with one hand, fumbling with the pouch at her side. A glass vial slipped free, tumbling down.

Perfect.

I whipped a throwing needle from my belt and flicked it with precision, shattering the potion in midair above the dogs. The spray of glowing liquid rained down on them, sizzling on contact. A chorus of howls and yelps followed as the undead hounds flinched and recoiled, their flesh steaming.

Their eyes locked onto me now. Red. Burning. Furious.

I leveled my spear.

“Nezumi…” I said through gritted teeth, gaze flicking up to her. “You better run fast when these things charge.”

Because they were already moving.

And I wasn’t backing down. 

One of the dogs was already too close.

I pivoted, planting a solid kick into its side. Bone cracked beneath my boot as it tumbled away, clearing a split-second opening. I didn’t waste it—my spear drove down, clean and fast. One down.

A flick of my wrist sent a throwing needle into the next mutt's snout. It shrieked, stumbling straight into another, tripping them both in a snarling heap.

That left two.

I shot a glance toward Tomo. She’d dropped from the chandelier and was already scrambling to her feet, scanning the room with wide eyes.

“ RUN! ” I barked.

She nodded—but instead of bolting for the exit, she made a beeline for the wall.

“What are you—Tomo, the door’s the other way!”

“ Trust me! ” she shouted, grabbing a lever set into the wall and yanking it downward. It stopped halfway, locking into a horizontal position—and she clung to it with both hands.

I barely had time to wonder why… before the ground beneath us began to groan . With a mechanical clunk , the banquet hall floor split open like a cracked egg.

“ Oh, come on— ” I hissed, ripping my spear from the downed dog and sprinting toward the nearest wall. A sconce jutted out just above head height—I leapt and caught it, gripping tight as the floor vanished beneath me.

The dogs weren’t so lucky.

Snarls turned to yelps as they tumbled into the darkness below.

Except one.

“ ARGH—! ” Pain lanced through my leg as teeth sank into my thigh. One of the damn things had leapt and clamped on mid-air. Its weight dragged at me, claws scrabbling, jaws locked tight.

But before I could strike—

Thunk.

A needle pierced its eye. It gave a final screech, then dropped.

I gasped, clutching the sconce tighter as the last echoes faded. Below, silence.

Above, Tomo grunted, bracing her feet against the wall and shoving the lever back up. The floor groaned again—and slammed shut, sealing the pit like it had never opened.

I dropped, landing in a crouch. My leg throbbed, but when I checked my health, it was barely touched.

Still, something was… off. A strange status meter I’d never seen before flickered into view beneath my HP bar. I frowned.

“Yashima Kuni, ya big dumbass! ”

Oh no. That was the angry voice.

I flinched and shut my eyes, bracing for the slap… or the kick… or at least a really aggressive lecture.

But none of that came.

Instead, two small arms wrapped around my waist in a tight, trembling hug.

“Thank god yer okay…” she mumbled softly, her face buried against my chest. I felt the damp warmth of her tears soaking into my shirt. I sighed, wrapping my arms around her in return—careful, gentle. Not that I minded a Tomo hug. Just… she caught me off guard.

“I’m glad you’re okay too, To—”

SMACK.

“OW!” I yelped, clutching my cheek where her hand had landed. “What was that for?!”

“Argo,” she pouted, puffing her cheeks out like a scolding squirrel. “Call meh Argo , ya numbskull.”

God, I wanted to squish those cheeks. But I held back.

“R-right… usernames. Forgot, for a second, when I heard you earlier…”

I mean, mine wasn’t exactly creative. Just chopped the last two letters off my real name. Not that I was going to say that out loud—

“What’s yers?” Argo asked, too casually. Uh-oh.

“Y-Ya… Yashi,” I mumbled, wincing as I said it.

I kept my eyes closed, bracing for another slap—or a verbal barrage. But after a few moments of silence, I risked a peek.

Argo stood there, eye twitching, smiling like she wanted to punt me across a floor trap.

“When we ge’ back ta town,” she said sweetly, “I’m givin’ ya an earful, ya hear?”

I just nodded. There was no point arguing. She was right, and I was an idiot.

“W-well, before that, can ya—” I froze.

I couldn’t move.

My voice caught in my throat like it was locked in place. My limbs went weak. I glanced down at the strange meter under my health bar—it had turned blood red.

Then everything tilted. I staggered forward and collapsed. Argo caught me before I hit the floor.

“Y-Yash?!” she gasped, panic rising in her voice. “No, no, no—yer nah’ dyin’ ‘ere today!”

I could barely register what was happening—just flashes. Her arms under mine. My boots scraping across cobblestone. Shapes forming: black, white… brown. Other figures joined. My consciousness swirled.

Then, clarity—harsh and unwelcome.

I opened my eyes to see an extremely displeased Asuna looming over me. Behind her, Kirito stood awkwardly, looking like she’d dragged her along. And at her side… Argo, face buried in her palm.

“What were you thinking , going into the Labyrinth alone ?” Asuna’s voice was sharp enough to cleave metal.

I blinked slowly and turned toward Argo.

“I wasn’t alone.”

That shut everyone up.

“I was with T— I mean, Argo. We got separated in the labyrinth. It was… changing. Confusing. I found her surrounded by zombie dogs. Saved her. Then I got hit with some kind of weird status effect and… well, she got me out.”

I caught Argo’s eye. She gave me a smirk like I’d passed her pop quiz.

“Yeh,” she added smoothly, “Yash an’ I were taggin’ along together. Was checkin’ out a rumor I heard from an NPC ‘bout somethin’ on the third floor. Ain’t nothin’ ta get all hot an’ bothered over, Aa-chan.”

Aa-chan.

Asuna’s face turned crimson in a heartbeat.

“I—wha—you— Ugh! ”

She threw her hands in the air and stormed out, stomping like her boots were trying to teach the floor a lesson. Kirito sighed, gave me an apologetic look, and hurried after her.

“Sorry,” she said as she passed. “She’s… had a day.”

Once they were gone, Argo plopped down beside the bed, finally relaxing.

“Good seein’ ya again,” she said, with a grin softened by relief. “Even if I was tha one needin’ savin’…”

—

“ YASH! ”

Argo’s shrill, fear-laced scream tore me out of the memory like a lightning strike.

I blinked, head snapping toward her. She’d slipped from my arms, tumbling.

I lunged, grabbing her and yanking her close again.

We were falling—no, crashing —through the sky toward the massive canopy of some impossibly tall forest.

I twisted midair, holding Argo tightly to my chest.

“I got you, Argo! Just hang on!”

Her armor wasn’t built to tank damage. Mine was. I wrapped my body around hers like a shield, tucking her head under my chin.

The leaves hit like waves, branches tearing past us in blurs of green and shadow.

Then something hard caught me across the skull—

Crack.

—and everything went black.

Chapter Text

Two Days Prior
—

I let out a slow breath as I sank deeper into the mattress beneath me. For a virtual world, Aincrad sure knew how to make beds. Soft, supportive—dangerously good. The kind of bed that made it far too easy to forget everything outside the room.

Until I remembered.

I wasn’t just in a game. I was trapped in a steel sky prison suspended above the void. Aincrad. A tower of death dressed in digital beauty. No respawns. No second chances. No escape.

I groaned, forcing myself upright as I scrolled through my inventory. It was supposed to be a little organizing session—move armor pieces into quick-access folders, stash the junk I’d never use, maybe flag some gear to sell to Agil. Honestly, I never understood how he managed to shuttle high-level gear down to the lower floors, but he did. The man was a merchant miracle worker.

Then, with one accidental flick of my fingers, the interface slid sideways.

My friends list opened.

I almost swiped back immediately—but then paused.

Something about seeing those names… it felt grounding. Like reminders that I wasn’t totally alone in here.

Kirito – Lv. 99
Asuna – Lv. 90
Lisbeth – Lv. 74
Silica – Lv. 68
Argo – Lv. 83
Yui – Lv. —
Agil – Lv. 88
Klein – Lv. 84
Sachi –

I froze.

My heart skipped a beat.

That name… greyed out, like a fading memory. Still there. Still listed. Still... gone.

Sachi.
The reason I’d joined the game in the first place.

I knew she wasn’t here anymore. Had known for a long time. But every time I scrolled past her name, it felt like someone pressed a cold knife against an old scar—and twisted.

My breath caught in my throat.

Without thinking, my hand rose and hovered above her name. Just hover. That’s all I meant to do.

But my finger slipped.

I tapped the screen.

Her message window opened.

Old logs. Dusty fragments of another life.

Y: Sachi, it’s been a while, wanna hang out?
S: Sorry Yashi, can’t. Training.
Y: Oh, okay! Maybe later then.

— 10:35, June 22nd, 2023 —

Y: Sachi, Sachi are you there?
Y: Sachi, is everything okay? Please answer!
Y: Kirito said you got caught in a trap. There’s no way. Come on—answer me!
Y:

The last message… just stopped. Mid-sentence.
I hadn’t been able to finish it. Couldn’t remember if I’d deleted it, or just stared at the screen in numb disbelief until the words stopped mattering. But there it was—still open, still blinking.

That cursor pulsed like a ghost’s heartbeat.
Waiting.
Mocking me.

I blinked, tearing my eyes away—only to find another entry sitting just below the log.

— 8:00 PM, December 25th, 2023 —
S: Item has been gifted.
S: This player is deceased.

I froze.

Sachi… had sent me something. A gift. Something I’d never opened. Never touched. Never even noticed until now.

Why didn’t I see it before? Why didn’t I open it?
Why didn’t I listen?

With trembling fingers, I tapped the message. The gifted item loaded into my inventory and hovered in my hand—a delicate, diamond-shaped crystal, glowing faintly blue. A single red button glimmered at its core.

A personal recording crystal.

I sucked in a sharp breath. These things were rare. Expensive. The kind of item only a rich player or a desperate one would ever think of buying.
Sachi was neither.

“She… she knew,” I whispered. The words felt like glass in my throat. “She knew this would be her last message.”

The realization hit like a hammer to the ribs.

Why?
Why didn’t she tell me?
Why didn’t she say goodbye?

My finger hovered over the red button. It felt heavier than it had any right to.
Then— click.

A faint shuffle. Static. And then… her voice.

That soft, familiar melody of Sachi’s tone wrapped around me like a ghost of warmth I hadn’t felt in far too long.

“Hey, Yashima! Merry Christmas—and since your birthday’s around the same time, happy birthday too...”
A short pause. The cheer in her voice cracked—gone in an instant.
“This message… it’s not a happy one, is it?” she said with a bitter chuckle. “If you’re hearing this… it means I’m gone. Not just off the front lines. Not just from the floor we met on.
I mean gone. Forever.”

My breath caught. It left me in a stuttering exhale I couldn’t control.
“S-Sachi...” Her name escaped like a prayer.

“I knew, from the first week we got trapped in SAO, I wasn’t cut out for this. I could pretend. I tried —but I was never going to be strong. Not like Kirito. Not like you.”
Another breath. Shaky. Like she was trying not to cry while recording.
“My school friends kept me going for a while. When we formed the Moonlit Black Cats, I thought maybe I could finally belong somewhere... But even that didn’t last.”

Silence.

Then her voice, softer, more fragile:
“I know we didn’t spend a lot of time together, Yashi. But the time we did have? I held onto that. Tighter than I probably should’ve.”

I swallowed hard. My throat was tight, raw.

“When we brought Kirito into the guild, everything felt brighter. She was brave and strong and... we needed that. I needed that. As the guild's second vanguard, we spent more time together, and, well... feelings started to happen.”

I paused the recording.
Tears streamed down my face. My body trembled.
I wasn’t ready to hear the rest. But I had to. I owed her that much.

I pressed play again.

“Kirito and I... we fell for each other. Or at least, I thought we did.” She gave a tiny laugh—quiet, pained. “But it wasn’t real. Just a fling, a fragile moment built from fear and loneliness. I told her that. She understood.”
Another rustle. I could picture her shifting, maybe fidgeting with the crystal in her hands.

“All we ever shared was a chaste kiss.”

Her voice changed again—this time, wistful. Tender.
“My heart... it always belonged to someone else. Even when I was with Kirito, I knew. There was someone who made my chest ache in a different way. Someone who sang like the world itself paused to listen. Someone whose kindness pulled me out of the shadows.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“You, Yashi. It was you.”

Her voice trembled with vulnerability.

“Your laugh… your eyes… the way you’d hum to yourself when you thought no one was listening.”
A pause. A sigh that sounded like the weight of a hundred unspoken things.
“I fell for all of it. All of you. But I was scared. Scared you wouldn’t feel the same.”

My thumb hovered over the pause button again, my vision blurred with tears.
Everything in me wanted to stop—just for a moment—to breathe, to not feel so much.
But I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.

Her voice continued, now softer, guilt woven through every syllable.
“It’s… why we drifted apart. Why I stopped reaching out.”
A shaky breath.
“And it’s why… I blame myself. For you being here. For you being trapped in this hell too.”

My chest ached.
“I should’ve spent more time with you. I should’ve listened to that song you wrote for me…”

I could hear her fighting back tears now. Her words were fraying at the edges.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…”

And somehow, even across time, we spoke together—me to the past, her to the future.
“I’m sorry…”

“But Yashi…”

I looked down at the crystal, at the faint red glow that pulsed in time with her voice.
It felt like holding her heart in my hands.

“I don’t know how this message will change you… but I’m scared. Scared that after this—after Sword Art Online… after me —that the girl I knew, the one who made the world brighter just by singing, will disappear.”

Her voice cracked. She was crying now—openly. And it broke me.
“I don’t want to imagine a world without your music, without your light.”

I was sobbing too, biting my lip to keep quiet, even though no one else was here.

“For me… please. For me, for our friends— live. Fight on. Keep singing. Keep writing your songs. Be that vibrant, radiant girl I…”
She choked back another sob.
“…that girl I fell in love with.”

Her final words were fragile, but they rang louder than anything before.

“I love you, Yashi.
Forever and always.”

There was a soft rustle—like someone wiping tears from their eyes, trying to pull themselves back together.

“I… I also left you a gift.” Her voice wavered, shy now. “Some cloaks I made… I tried designing them after those girls you introduced me to. I’m sorry… I’m too flustered to remember their names right now.”

She let out a quiet, embarrassed laugh, the kind that tries to lighten a moment but can’t quite make it.

“I had more I wanted to give you. There was something else too, but… it’s not finished yet. So I left it with the blacksmith who agreed to take my request.”

A short pause. Then a cough—light, but strained. She cleared her throat, trying to steady herself.
And then—

“Nen, nen korori yo…”

Her voice began to sing.

The old Edo lullaby, slow and hauntingly gentle.
Argo—Tomo—had taught it to me. I remembered humming it to Sachi once, long ago.
Now her voice echoed it back, quiet and warm, like a ghost cradling me in a moment I didn’t deserve.

But I couldn’t hold it in anymore. My chest tightened, breath hitching as tears spilled freely down my cheeks. The crystal trembled in my hands, clutched too tightly, as if letting go of it meant letting go of her.
“Sachi…” My voice cracked, barely more than a whisper between sobs. “God… Sachi, I’m so sorry…”

The moment didn’t last. A knock tapped gently at the door.

“Yash? Kii-bou an’ Aa-chan’re headin’ out huntin’... wanna come?” Argo’s voice floated through the air, casual and warm.

Panic surged in my chest. I wiped at my face hastily, smearing the tears across my cheeks as I stood. I couldn’t let Argo see me like this.

Another knock. “Yash… ya in there?”
The door creaked open. Right. I’d given her a spare key. Damn it.

“Wait—!” I rushed toward the door, but it was too late. It swung open wide, and Argo stood frozen in the doorway, eyebrows raised in clear surprise.

I blinked, confused—until I looked down.
Oh.
Right.
All I had on were a pair of simple brown undergarments—nothing fancy. Just a sports bra and panties.

Argo gave me a slow, amused smirk.
“Nice look, Yash.” Her tone was all mischief as she stepped inside and shut the door behind her with a cheeky little click .

A rush of heat shot to my face. Without thinking, I grabbed the edge of her hood and yanked it down over her eyes.
“Out. Nezumi. Now.” I tried to sound stern, but the teasing note in my voice gave me away. It was paper-thin—like everything holding me together right then.

Argo peeked out from under the hood, her smirk fading as her gaze landed on my face. The change in her expression was immediate—her eyes softened, catching on the faint, lingering streaks of tears I hadn’t managed to fully wipe away.

I turned away quickly, avoiding her look as I grabbed a nearby tunic and slipped it over my head.

“Yash… ya been cryin’?” Her voice was quiet now, careful. Like she was approaching something fragile.

“No… it’s nothing, Argo. Just… leave it,” I muttered, scrubbing my cheeks with the heel of my hand.

A soft sigh escaped her lips. “Fine… but if ya won’t tell me, yer still comin’ huntin’.”
There was something behind the forced lightness in her voice—concern, quietly threaded into her words.

When I finally glanced back at her, I saw it plainly. The worry in her eyes. It made my throat tighten, and before I could stop it, another tear slipped free.

Argo didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward and gently pulled me down to her level, hands steady, certain. One hand rose to cup my cheek, warm and reassuring.

“Yash…” Her voice was soft— real . The usual playful lilt of her accent was gone, dropped like a mask. She only ever did that when it mattered.

Her thumb traced gently along the faint scars etched into my cheeks—virtual, yes, but no less real to me. She touched them like they were something sacred.

They were optional, these marks. Most players turned them off. I’d left the feature on by accident at first, but over time, they’d become part of me. They reminded me of every battle I’d survived, every friend I’d protected by stepping into the fire. Without them, I felt... unfinished. Unanchored.

“I can hang 'ere, if ya wanna change,” Argo said softly, breaking the heavy silence.

I nodded slightly, then shot her a sideways smirk. “Sure. Or maybe you just wanna sneak a peek while I undress. Perv.”

I rose to my feet, letting the smirk grow. Teasing her was second nature by now.

But Argo… paused.

Then, she laughed. Too quickly. Too easily.

It wasn’t her usual reaction. Argo hated being called a perv—even if she acted like one half the time. Normally she’d scowl, roll her eyes, or—if it was anyone else—slam them to the floor before they even got the word out. But not with me. I was… an exception.

Still, that laugh? It was covering something. I could feel it.

I gave her a gentler look, voice dropping as I stepped past her. “Don’t worry. Please, Argo.” I hoped she’d hear what I couldn’t say out loud.

Her expression softened a bit, the edge of worry dulling—but not disappearing. It never disappeared with her. She noticed more than she let on.

With a quiet sigh, I slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind me.

The silence inside felt louder.

I walked to the small wash basin, gripping its edges as I stared into the mirror.
“Sachi…”

Her name left my lips like a breath I hadn’t meant to speak. Just a whisper. A memory.

I blinked at my reflection—crystal blue eyes, slightly bloodshot, rimmed with red. My cheeks were still damp from earlier, the echo of tears refusing to fully fade.

I dipped my hands into the cold water and leaned down, splashing it over my face. It stung. Maybe that was the point.

Another deep breath. Another look at myself.

This time, my eyes drifted to the wild tangle of red hair—fierce, messy, unrestrained. Just like the fire I used to feel.

But now…
Now it felt like someone else’s reflection.

“I need to change…”

My fingers hovered for a moment, then pressed the small, silver button set into the wall beside the mirror. A familiar chime echoed softly as the interface bloomed open, menus fanning across the screen like a digital lotus. Most options were locked—eye color, face structure, height—all untouchable now. This was who I was. Who I had chosen to be.

But two things remained editable: my scars, and my hair.

I let my hand drift toward the scars, pausing just above the icon that would remove them. One tap, and they’d vanish. No more reminders. No more echoes.

I pulled back.

No. They stayed. I needed them to stay.

I slid my thumb over to the hairstyle menu and tapped. A flood of styles poured in—over four hundred pages, each one more elaborate than the last. Braids, pixie cuts, bobs, curls, buns, everything imaginable. I flicked through them slowly, not really sure what I was looking for. I just knew I didn’t want to look like I was still her . The Yashi from before.

After nearly ten minutes of scrolling, I stopped.

A wolf cut.

Layered, wild, but manageable. It kept its length—long enough to pull into a ponytail, long enough to protect the back of my neck in battle—but it wasn’t the same blazing firestorm I used to wear. The new style still held that spark, but now it looked… honed. Like a wildfire that had learned how to burn with purpose.

The change felt small, but as the strands reshaped and settled into the new silhouette, I saw someone slightly different staring back at me. Someone who had survived .

I closed the menu, then opened my inventory.

The list of gear stretched endlessly, but I scrolled straight to the set I had commissioned: the Guardian's Set . Heavy armor, reinforced plating, and etched in silver and obsidian trim. Brand new. Agil had handled the logistics, Lisbeth the craftsmanship—each piece hammered and folded to my exact specifications.

Still… it felt incomplete.

I scrolled to the top of my inventory. Three items waited there, untouched, sealed away like memories I couldn’t bear to face until now.

Sachi’s Cloak – Golden Brown
Sachi’s Cloak – Sky Blue
Sachi’s Cloak – Light Sea Green

My hand hovered over the first. Golden brown. Earthy. Warm. The same hue as her favorite sweater back in the early days of Aincrad.

I tapped it.

The fabric shimmered into view, unfurling across my shoulders and cascading down my back in elegant, flowing layers. There was patchwork along the hem—intentional, uneven, beautiful. It reminded me of someone I knew far too well.

A certain rat, waiting for me just outside the door.

I reached up and tied my newly cut hair into a sharp, high ponytail. The layers framed my face like wind-carved stone—wild, but with intention. The golden-brown cloak settled across my shoulders like a gentle weight, a memory worn proudly. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and allowed the faintest smile to tug at the corner of my lips. Not perfect. But me.

Satisfied, I stepped out of the bathroom, brushing my hands down the sides of the cloak.

My eyes immediately landed on Argo.

She was standing at the edge of my bed, leaning slightly over it. Her hand reached toward something glinting in the light.

The crystal.

Her fingers hovered just above it, as if unsure whether to touch.

“Why would Yash ‘ave dis…?” she murmured, her voice so soft she probably didn’t think I’d hear it.

But I did.

I moved faster than I meant to, crossing the room in a few strides. I snatched the crystal out of reach and tucked it protectively to my chest.

“That’s nothing, Argo. Don’t worry about it.” My words came too quickly, too clipped. I sent the crystal back into my inventory with a flick, sealing it away like a secret I wasn’t ready to let out. My tone was forced calm, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.

Argo straightened up, brows drawn ever so slightly. Her eyes didn’t miss anything. Not the tremble in my voice. Not the shift in my posture.

“Yash…if somethin’s botherin’ ya…” Her voice softened, the accent curling around the syllables again. “Ya can tell meh. Y’know that, right?”

I turned away.

“Drop it…okay?” I tried to sound firm. But the crack in my voice betrayed me, small but loud enough to make me flinch.

I didn’t need a mirror to see the look she gave me—concern shadowed in patience. But she didn’t push.

“Alright…” she said at last, stepping back and giving me that small, unreadable smile she wore when she didn’t want to make things worse. “Kii-bou an’ Aa-chan’re waitin’ fer us.”

She held out her hand.

I hesitated for only a second, then sighed—light, almost playful—and reached for her hand.
“You really enjoy holding my hand, huh?” I teased, my voice laced with sarcasm. It was a veil. A thin one.

Argo didn’t answer. She just smirked, the corner of her lips tugging upward with that usual mischief, and gently pulled me along.

She let go the moment we stepped into the hallway, slipping back into her usual cool, unreadable self like flipping a switch. I exhaled quietly, not quite a sigh. Even though it had only been a few seconds, I already missed the faint, grounding chill of her touch.

The stairs creaked beneath us as we descended, each step a soft wooden groan echoing in the quiet. But we paused when we reached the landing.

There, wrapped in the morning light that poured in through the window, were our partners.

Kirito and Asuna sat curled together on the old sofa in the lobby alcove. Kirito had one arm wrapped around Asuna’s waist, the other lazily playing with strands of her chestnut hair. Asuna rested against her chest, eyes closed, a small, blissful smile curving her lips. A gentle hum rumbled from her throat, like she was savoring a song only she could hear.

“Can we stay like this forever, Kirito?” she whispered, nuzzling deeper into her embrace.

Kirito let out a soft, breathy laugh. “If you want, we can just stay in SAO forever,” she replied, clearly joking.

But the mood shifted in an instant. Asuna’s eyes snapped open, sharp as blades, and she fixed him with a glare.

“Not funny.” Her voice was low, firm.

Kirito flinched slightly, smiling with nervous guilt. “I-I didn’t mean it like that, okay?” she stammered, raising her hand in mock surrender before gently returning it to Asuna’s head, fingers moving slowly and carefully through her hair.

Asuna huffed once, but didn’t resist. Her eyes fluttered closed again as she settled against Kirito’s chest with a soft exhale.

The peace between them was fragile but beautiful, like glass warmed by sunlight.

I stood there, quiet. Watching.

My heart was pounding—just a little—but I didn’t understand why. I didn’t have feelings for either of them. It wasn’t that.
So why did my chest feel tight? Why was there this ache I couldn’t name?

It wasn’t jealousy. Not really. I didn’t want to be them.
Asuna was now the Commander of the Knights of the Blood Oath—ever since Heathcliff was unmasked as Akihiko Kayaba himself. She had taken the reins in the aftermath, and all of Aincrad seemed to look to her for strength, for direction.
And Kirito? She was right beside her. The strongest player in the game. The only one with the Dual Swords skill. People praised her and tore her down in the same breath. “Cheater,” they called her behind her back. Sometimes to her face. Like her strength was something shameful instead of something earned.

She wasn’t the only one with a Unique Skill.
I had one, too.
But I pushed that thought aside before it could dig too deep.

Was I jealous of their bond? Was that it? I couldn’t say. The thought was a haze—there, but impossible to hold onto.

Before I could unravel it, a voice cut through my thoughts like sunlight breaking fog.

“PAPA!”

Something slammed into my back with surprising force. I stumbled, nearly missing the last few steps.

“Ack—!”

Small arms wrapped around my middle from behind, hugging me with the kind of energy only a child could muster. I twisted slightly to see who had tackled me and felt my breath catch as I looked down.

Yui. The girl of morning dew. Beaming up at me with pure joy.

“Yui…” I groaned lightly, though my smile broke through without effort. “Next time, warn me if you’re gonna sneak up on me like that.” My voice was mock-scolding at best.

She only giggled in response, clinging tighter.

Yui wasn’t just any child—she was an AI. Specifically, MHCP-001: a Mental Health Counseling Program designed to monitor the emotional well-being of players. When the death game protocols activated, Cardinal, the system that governed Sword Art Online, deemed her a threat and locked her away. She’d spent months isolated, watching countless players suffer until her code began to deteriorate.

I met her on Floor 22. Kirito and Asuna had invited me to their new cabin to teach Kirito how to fish—because let’s be real, that girl was hopeless with a rod in her hands unless someone guided her. On my way through the woods, I caught a glimpse of something pale—a white dress, small figure, ghostlike in the morning mist. I thought it was a ghost at first. But when the girl collapsed in the grass, I rushed to her side, carried her to the cabin, and that was the beginning.

Her name was Yui. She couldn’t remember who she was at the time. But she clung to me from the moment she woke up. And when she called me “Papa”... well, none of us had the heart to correct her.

“Papa, are you okay?” Her soft voice snapped me back to the present. I blinked down at her, then smiled, lifting her into a hug.

“Yeah, kiddo. I’m okay,” I said gently, squeezing her just a little tighter before setting her down on the landing.

When I turned toward Kirito and Asuna, the two were sitting upright now, trying not to look like they'd been caught mid-cuddle.

“Mama!” Yui squealed again, bolting toward Argo with her arms flung wide like she was flying.

Argo blinked, caught off guard as the little girl collided with her waist—but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she knelt down, scooped Yui into her arms, and gently ruffled her hair, murmuring something too soft for me to hear. I smiled at the sight. Yui clung to Argo like she belonged there—and the way Argo held her back, arms snug and sure, like she never wanted to let go… yeah. I understood.

We’d already lost Yui once. We’d felt what it was like to have her ripped from us by the system. That pain still sat in my bones. I didn’t want to remember it, but the memory never really faded.

Argo finally stood, still holding Yui as she turned to the couch where Kirito and Asuna sat side by side, now pretending to look innocent.

“Y’all need ta git a room!” she called out with a smirk, her tone teasing.

Kirito let out a groan while Asuna rolled her eyes—but Argo’s confident grin was betrayed by the faint blush rising on her cheeks.

“Mama, don’t be mean!” Yui chided, pouting up at her through a giggle.

The blush deepened. That’s when it hit me— why Argo was flustered.

Yui had called me “Papa” since the day she’d joined us. But now, calling Argo “Mama” so casually…

My heart gave an unsteady thump.

That label meant something. It implied something neither of us had dared speak aloud.

And the heat rising in my face said everything I was too scared to admit.

“Papa,” Yui said matter-of-factly, pulling away from Argo just slightly to peer up at me, her little brow furrowed in concern. “Your temperature just rose from 37.2°C to 38.0°C… and your face is a deep red.”

I choked on a laugh and tried to turn my head, hoping to cool down. But my gaze landed squarely on Argo again—and she was still blushing, her golden eyes locked onto mine like she was waiting for me to say something, anything .

Yui blinked between us with that curious little frown she wore whenever she encountered something she didn’t fully understand. Then she tilted her head and asked, with complete innocence,
“Why did looking at Mama make you react like that?”

Argo froze, then let out a sharp chuckle that cracked more like a deflection than genuine amusement. She turned away, one hand covering her face as if that could hide the deepening flush spreading across her cheeks.

Kirito, ever the instigator, grinned through the tension. “Maybe you two should get a room instead.”

Asuna playfully stuck her tongue out, and I instantly felt the panic rise up into my throat.

I coughed—loudly, purposefully, trying to redirect the conversation before it spiraled any further. “Mob hunting, right?” I blurted out, my voice higher than normal. “We’ve got grinding to do.”

But Kirito wasn’t done. She kept laughing, eyes darting between me and Argo like we were characters in some rom-com she was enjoying too much. Asuna giggled along with her until—

THUD.

A blur of motion. Argo’s knee buried itself in Kirito’s stomach. The so-called strongest player in SAO doubled over with a wheeze, collapsing to her knees like she’d been one-shot by a boss.

“Gah—what the hell, Rat?!”

Before she could even get her breath back, Argo kneed her again .

“I said , shut yer mouth, dork!” Argo snapped, glaring at Kirito. Then she turned toward Asuna, clearly daring her to add fuel to the fire.

But that turn gave me a clear look at her face.

The blush hadn’t faded. If anything, it had spread.

My breath caught in my throat.

Argo blushed a lot—when she drank too much, when someone teased her about one of her terrible puns, or when she got caught snooping where she didn’t belong. But this… this was different. This wasn’t just embarrassment.

This was because of me.

And that terrified me.

Because the thought—the hope —that Argo might actually see me the way I’d started to see her… it was dangerous. It was fragile. And it couldn’t possibly be real.

She’d never shown anything like that before. Sure, she hovered around me more than most. Teased me, helped me, comforted me on nights I couldn’t sleep. But she was like that with everyone. She was Argo—the infamous Rat, fast-talking, sharp-smiling, impossible to pin down. People flirted with her constantly, and she never took it seriously. Not once.

I was just different because we were close. Because we’d been through a lot. That was all. Right?

My heart twisted, trying to reason with itself, clinging to doubt like a shield.

Argo would never think of me that way. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

So why was she still blushing?

And why did a part of me desperately want it to mean something?

“Y-Yeah… hunting…” Asuna was quick to change the subject, clearly trying to dodge any more of Argo’s growing wrath. Even one of the most powerful players in the game knew better than to mess with a flustered Argo—embarrassed or not, she was a force of nature.

“C-Can we go now?” Kirito wheezed from her place on the floor, still clutching her stomach. Her voice was winded and pitiful, the price of poking the Rat one too many times.

Yui stomped over to her like a pint-sized commander, her tiny arms folded across her chest. She flicked Kirito gently on the forehead with a stern little hum.

“Auntie Kii-to,” she said in a scolding tone, “you have a gift for Papa, remember?”

The pout she gave afterward could’ve leveled armies. Second only to Argo’s when she was pulling her puppy-dog act.

I heard Argo let out this tiny, unguarded sound—the kind of noise you make when your heart just folds in on itself from how cute something is. It was a soft “mrrhh” that practically whispered, I love this child. I caught it, even if she tried to hide it.

“Yeah, Kirito, the spear,” Asuna added, slipping an arm under Kirito to help her up. “Didn’t Liz give it to you with a note or something?”

Kirito blinked, her hand still resting on her abdomen. “Oh—right, yeah. That weird spear thing. Liz just handed it to me and said, ‘Make sure Yashi gets this.’ No explanation, just a note and a serious look like it was some kind of secret mission.”

She opened her inventory, a flick of her hand bringing up the glowing blue menu. I stepped closer, curiosity sparked. A weapon from Liz? One she didn’t give me directly? That was… rare.

My eyes narrowed slightly, drawn to the light forming between Kirito’s hands as she prepared to materialize the item. Whatever it was, it felt significant.

And for some reason… my heart started beating faster again.

A trade request popped up in front of me—a spear, and a note attached. I accepted it without thinking, curious, and summoned the item into my hand.

It materialized in a burst of cold, silvery light.

I opened the item window, expecting something—anything—that would explain the weight I suddenly felt pressing against my palm.

Malformed Star
Type: Spear (Incomplete Form)
Rarity: ???
Status: Bound — Unawakened
Description:

"Not bound by shape, but by silence. Until its voice is heard, it remains still."

That was it. No stats. No durability gauge. No wielding requirements. Just a name that didn’t mean what I thought it did—and a line that somehow made the silence around me heavier.

The weapon looked like a spear. But it didn’t feel like one.

Its shaft was a sleek, obsidian black, almost glasslike, but warm—unnervingly so, like it was responding to me. Crimson markings snaked across it like veins, pulsing now and then in faint, rhythmic flashes. The spearhead was forged from a blue-tinged metal that shimmered in unnatural ways. When the light touched it just right, colors split and danced along its edge like trapped starlight—prismatic, eerie, beautiful.

I’d seen the name Malformed Star before. Once carved into the haft of a rusted axe in a ruined chapel. Another time, on the blade of a shattered longsword recovered from an old event dungeon. The name echoed in item drops, dead-end quests, bits of lore that felt disconnected—until now.

Different weapons. Same name.
Always incomplete.
Always forgotten.

There was never any mention of a shifting weapon in the records. No rumors of some legendary relic that could change form. But this… this wasn’t like those other weapons. This one felt like it had something hidden inside it—like it wanted to be something else. Or maybe it remembered being something else, and just couldn’t reach it.

It didn’t feel like a weapon.
It felt like a secret.

And right now… it was stuck. Silent. Waiting.

I slung the weapon across my back, adjusting the strap until the spear sat snugly against me. It didn’t feel like a burden. It felt like a weight I was meant to carry.

Then I opened the note that came with it.

“Yashi,
This is a gift for you… from someone you knew.
She found the recipe in a random drop and gave it to me, said she knew it wouldn’t be finished before something happened to her.
That chilled me more than I want to admit.
That’s why I asked Kirito to deliver it—
Take care of it, okay?
—Lisbeth”

I stared at the words for a long moment, my fingers tightening around the message. Then, quietly, I slipped the note back into my inventory without a word.

A breath filled my lungs, steadying me. I turned to face the others.

“…Let’s go hunting,” I said, my voice softer than usual—calm, distant. I didn’t want to explain. Not yet.

Kirito furrowed her brows, clearly on the verge of asking something. But before she could get a word out, both Argo and Asuna lightly smacked her back at the same time, effectively silencing her. I didn’t miss the brief glance of understanding they exchanged.

“Will you be back soon, Papa?” Yui’s voice pulled my attention like a gentle tug at the heart. She looked up at me with wide, hopeful eyes.

I gave her a small nod, kneeling to meet her gaze.

“I promise I’ll be back,” I said, running a hand gently through her hair. “And when I am… the rest of the day’s ours, okay?”

She smiled and hugged me again. And for just a moment, the heaviness in my chest eased. I smiled a bit and stood up. 

“Okay, let’s go then,” I said softly, letting the quiet energy settle in my chest.

The walk to the hunting grounds wasn’t long, and the path itself was uneventful—just a handful of low-level mobs we cleared with ease. The tougher ones we were tracking hadn’t respawned yet, likely wiped out by a group ahead of us. So instead, we veered deeper into the forest.

This place was new—recently uncovered and still mostly unmapped. The trees here were taller, older, their twisted limbs veined with moss and fog. The deeper we walked, the quieter the world became, as if the forest was listening.

Argo moved to my side, her steps light, barely audible. Then I felt a tug on my sleeve.

“What was in dat note?” she asked gently, keeping her voice low enough that only I could hear.

I glanced toward Kirito and Asuna, who—unsurprisingly—were absorbed in each other again, hands clasped, heads close, the occasional laugh passing between them like a secret. They weren’t paying attention.

I sighed.

“…It was from Lisbeth. But the spear—” I glanced toward the weapon strapped to my back, the strange shimmer of its blade barely visible over my shoulder. “—it came from Sachi. She gave Liz the recipe before…”

I didn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t need to.

Argo's eyes widened slightly before her expression softened. She gave me a solemn nod.

“...Nen, nen korori yo…”

The words drifted through the air, soft and haunting, like a lullaby on the edge of memory.

I froze.

That voice. I knew that voice.

My spine straightened instinctively, head turning as I scanned the treeline. The sound was faint—so faint I almost convinced myself I imagined it. But I didn’t. I knew that voice like I knew my own heartbeat.

Argo caught the shift in me immediately. Concern flickered in her eyes, but she said nothing. Not yet.

Then Asuna’s voice cut through the silence.

“Hey! Let’s split up—cover more ground. Argo, go with Yashi!” she called out a little too quickly, already pulling Kirito by the hand before either of us could respond.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes avoiding mine.

I blinked. “Did she just—?”

“Yup,” Argo snorted. “Total setup.”

“You think they’re gonna make out?”

Argo smirked. “I’ll bet forty thousand Col.”

I laughed, a short, surprised sound. “That much confidence, huh?”

She just grinned and bumped my shoulder lightly with hers. But even through the warmth of the moment, I still felt the echo of that voice lingering in my mind… and the chill it left behind.

We kept moving, slower now, cautious. This region was recently discovered, barely mapped, and none of us knew what kind of monsters might be lurking in its shadows. The trees stood tall and old, their trunks twisted, their canopies dense enough to dim the sunlight into a greenish haze. Every step felt like a quiet gamble.

Then we saw her.

Standing alone in a sun-drenched glade was a girl—tall, poised, her long blonde hair tied back in a neat ponytail. Her clothing shimmered with a faint, fairy-like design: flowing, layered, and unlike any gear I’d seen in this game. And behind her, two short, faintly glowing green wings hovered, fluttering as if suspended on threads of light.

“Is… is she an elf?” Argo asked, narrowing her eyes toward the girl's head, scanning for telltale features.

But I was already checking something else. “Nope… player cursor,” I muttered back. “She’s a player. That’s just… a really interesting avatar.”

Argo quickly began tapping a message out to Asuna and Kirito, probably urging them to get here fast. But before she could finish, the sound of rushing footsteps approached.

“What’s going on?!” Kirito shouted as she burst through the trees, clothes ruffled and face flushed. Asuna followed close behind, looking equally disheveled—and equally flushed.

They both froze when they spotted the mysterious girl, who slowly turned at the sound of their arrival.

“Big sister!” the girl suddenly cried out and sprinted toward Kirito, throwing her arms around her hand.

“WHAT?!” Argo, Asuna, and I shouted in perfect unison.

Kirito went stiff. “What the hell, Sugu!?” she hissed in a stage whisper, tugging on the girl’s cheek. “How are you even here?”

“I-I wanted to find you!” the girl—Sugu—whined, rubbing her cheek where Kirito had pinched it.

“So you logged into this game? Do you even realize how dangerous that is?!”

I stepped forward, my voice firm. “Kirito, calm down. She made a mistake, sure—but this isn’t the time or place for a lecture.”

Kirito grumbled under her breath, clearly still fuming, but relented.

“Fine… Let’s head back to town. Hunting can wait.”

With a frustrated sigh, she turned and started dragging her supposed sister along behind her. I looked at Asuna and Argo, offering a helpless shrug. “Guess we’re done here.”

They nodded, and we all started making our way back toward Arc Sophia.

The forest slowly opened up around us as we walked, and I let my gaze wander skyward. I couldn't shake the questions running through my head—about that voice earlier… and now this girl, Sugu. Who else was about to drop into our world?

“Yash… ya wanna hang later?” Argo asked, a little too casually. I turned to look at her. She had a faint blush rising in her cheeks, barely hidden by her whiskered smirk.

I let out a soft laugh and gently ruffled her hair. “Yeah. Sure.”

But just as I looked back up, something caught my eye.

The sky—clear a moment ago—had begun to warp. A strange orange glow shimmered high above us, the same hue that had glinted off my spear when I first received it. The clouds above began to twist, forming a spiral of purple and black, scattered with stars that didn’t belong in our sky.

I froze. So did everyone else.

“What is…” Kirito started, her voice trailing off.

Then, without warning, something black tore through the swirling sky like a meteor. It plummeted fast—too fast—and as it got closer, the shape became clear.

“That’s a girl!” Kirito shouted.

Without thinking, I broke into a sprint. The world blurred around me as I raced across the clearing, my boots barely touching the ground. I threw myself forward, arms outstretched—and caught her just before she crashed to the earth.

The impact knocked the wind out of me, but I held on tight.

Panting, I looked down at the girl in my arms. Her breathing was shallow, but steady. She was alive—and somehow unharmed.

Her head lolled against my chest before her eyes fluttered open. Pale, uncertain. Her gaze found mine.

“Who… are you?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

I exhaled slowly. “My name is Yashi. Welcome to Arc Sophia.”

Confusion flickered across her face. Her armor was plain—scout gear, nothing rare—but it looked worn, real. Like she’d been somewhere… different.

“Can I… be put down?” she asked, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“Of course.” I gently lowered her onto her feet. She stumbled slightly, and I reached out to steady her.

“Thank you,” she muttered, gripping my wrists. Her eyes scanned the forest, her breathing still uneven. I could tell she was trying to piece it all together.

“You’re on the 76th Floor,” I said carefully, “in a city called Arc Sophia. This is… well, it’s a game world.”

Her brows furrowed.

“Aincrad,” I added. “The world of… Sword Art Online.”

She flinched. Her entire body tensed.

“Sword Art Online?” she repeated, horrified. “The death game? The one that trapped people inside?”

Her voice shook. Then panic took hold. She buried her face in her hands, trembling as her breath grew erratic.

“Hey—hey, it’s okay,” I said quickly, stepping closer and placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “Focus on me. Just breathe.”

She wouldn’t look at me. Her body trembled harder.

I cupped her chin, guiding her eyes to mine. “You’re okay now. You’re safe. Just look at me.”

She stared, wide-eyed and terrified.

So I began to hum.

Softly at first. Just a tune. A quiet melody I’d written before all this—before this world. Something simple, steady, grounding. I began to sway gently, side to side. Slowly, she mirrored my movement.

Her breathing began to slow. Her shoulders relaxed. And then, she hummed too—tentatively at first, then with more confidence. I smiled, just a little.

“You feel better?” I asked.

She gave a small, hesitant nod.

Whatever had happened—wherever she had come from—one thing was clear: she didn’t belong here. Not yet. Not fully.

I studied the girl's face more closely. There was something hauntingly familiar about her—like a name I should’ve remembered, a voice I should’ve recognized. My eyes lingered on the delicate slope of her nose, the faint stress lines beneath her eyes… and then I saw them. Two small indents on the bridge of her nose. As if she used to wear glasses.

Only one girl I knew had marks like that.

“Today just keeps getting weirder,” I muttered with a half-laugh that barely hid the unease curling in my stomach. The world had flipped on its head—again—and I was barely catching up.

I turned to the girl beside me, still visibly shaken and unfamiliar with her surroundings. “Come on,” I said gently. “Let’s get you somewhere safe. Back to the inn. We’ll find you a room, alright?” I softened my voice. “Can you tell me your name?”

She seemed distracted—her brow furrowed, fingers fumbling clumsily with her menu. She tapped her temple in frustration, clearly unfamiliar with the system. Her hand dropped in defeat… and with almost comedic timing, the menu finally popped open.

I smiled gently, stepping in to help. “Here,” I said, moving slowly, showing her each tab and option like I was guiding someone through a memory they hadn’t accessed in years. “Like this. See? Tap there. Confirm.”

“Sinon,” she murmured at last, voice soft and unsure, like it didn’t quite belong to her yet.

I nodded, helping her close the menu with a reassuring smile. But my hand stilled, eyes caught on her face. That name… that voice… those eyes.

“Shino?” I whispered before I could stop myself, my heart skipping a beat as a memory roared back to life.

She froze. The sound of her real name sliced through the moment like a bell. Her eyes locked onto mine with sudden clarity—like she was seeing through the digital façade, through the layers of armor and code.

“Yeah…” she said breathlessly. “That’s my real name. How do you…?”

“It’s me,” I said, stepping closer, my voice suddenly hoarse. “Yashima.”

She staggered back half a step, like the name had hit her physically. Her lips parted, but no words came.

From the edge of the group, Argo’s head snapped around.

“Hol’ up—Shino? Shino Asada ?” Her voice cracked, a rare break from her usual composure. Her sharp grin faded into something stunned and raw. “I-I’m Tomo. Hosaka Carina Tomo. Remember?”

Sinon—no, Shino —stared at us like she was seeing ghosts, her face breaking open with a rush of recognition and disbelief.

“Yashi? Tomo?!” Her voice trembled as she looked between us. “O-oh my god… you two are really here… you’re alive…”

Her knees buckled slightly, but she caught herself—just barely. The tears were there, gathering at the corners of her eyes, her expression crumbling into something helpless and overwhelmed. I didn’t hesitate. I stepped forward and caught her in my arms, wrapping her in a hug she melted into like she’d been holding her breath for years.

“I thought you were gone,” she whispered, voice muffled in my shoulder, her hands clinging to the back of my coat. “After the accident… after everything… I didn’t hear anything. I thought I lost you both.”

“I’m here,” I whispered, stroking her hair, grounding myself in the reality of her warmth, her presence. “We’re here. We made it.”

Behind us, silence settled like snowfall. Kirito, Asuna, and Leafa stood frozen, eyes wide, trying to piece together what they were witnessing.

“Wait—what is happening right now?” Kirito asked, looking between the three of us. “You guys know each other in real life?!”

“Since we were kids,” I said quietly, still holding onto Shino. “She was one of the only people who ever really… saw me. Even back then.”

“Shino was also friends wit’ meh ,” Argo added quickly, her usual smirk replaced with something quieter, more vulnerable. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, and her eyes lingered on how close Shino was pressed to me.

Shino finally pulled back, just enough to look over at Argo. Her voice was soft, hesitant. “Tomo… you look so different now.”

“Ditto, glasses girlie,” Argo said with a half-laugh. But the edge in her voice wasn’t just teasing—it was cautious. Careful. She stepped a little closer to me, her shoulder brushing mine like a reminder.

Kirito raised an eyebrow. “Okay, wait. How many people from the real world are in here with you, Yashi?”

“Apparently more than I thought,” I muttered, still stunned. “This is… insane.”

Asuna stepped forward, her brow furrowed. “Hold on. You two knew each other before SAO? And you never said anything?” She pointed to Argo and I.

“It wasn’t like I was hiding it,” I said, flustered. “I just didn’t think it mattered.”

Argo scoffed under her breath. “Seriously…”

Kirito exchanged a glance with Asuna, clearly not following. Leafa just sighed, shaking her head.

“Yashi, I’ve known you for maybe…10 to 20 minutes, you’re kind of impossible sometimes,” she muttered.

“I don’t get it,” I said defensively. “What’s the big deal?”

No one answered that—not with words.

Shino stayed close to my side, her hand still wrapped around my sleeve. Her eyes flicked over my face, like she was trying to make sure I was real. I smiled at her, still too dense to notice the deeper emotion in her gaze. She blushed and turned away.

Argo saw it, though. She always saw.

She slipped in beside me, brushing her arm against mine and giving Shino a brief, sharp look. “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood today,” she murmured, her voice low and pointed.

Shino’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a contest.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Argo replied, her tone deceptively light. Her fingers curled casually around my elbow now—territorial.

“I just wanted to see her again,” Shino muttered, voice small. “After everything… I thought she was gone.”

“And you did,” Argo said softly. “So did I.”

I looked between them, confused by the tension that seemed to crackle between the two people I trusted most. I reached out, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

“You’re both here,” I said gently. “That’s what matters.”

Shino looked up at me, her eyes shining. Argo gave me a nod, her expression unreadable.

The air between us settled into something quieter—unspoken words left hanging in the space between sighs and glances. I didn’t know what all of it meant yet. I just knew something had changed.

I smiled again, warm and genuine. “Stay close to me. I’ll make sure you have a place to sleep tonight.”

Shino hesitated, then reached for my hand. Her fingers trembled slightly as they wrapped around mine, and I felt my own cheeks flush at the contact.

We walked together through the cobbled streets of Arc Sophia, the last of the swirling sky above finally fading into a calm, star-strewn dusk. The chaos of the night was beginning to settle—but something deeper had begun to stir in its place.

At the inn, I stepped up to the counter where Agil stood, polishing a mug with his usual gruff efficiency. He looked up at me, then at the group trailing behind me—eyes narrowing slightly at the newest face in our ranks.

“Looks like your party just got bigger,” he said, setting the mug down.

I nodded. “Yeah. You could say that.” I paused. “Hey, Agil. Got a free room?” I asked.

He looked up, one brow raised, and pulled up his menu. He scrolled, grunted, and gave me a familiar, irritated frown.

“Yashi, you know I can’t just hand out rooms to every stray you bring in.”

“No offense, but I just literally caught Sinon falling from the sky,” I replied dryly. Sinon stood close behind me, half-shielded by my cloak, her expression guarded.

Argo and Leafa quickly backed me up.

“It’s true!” Leafa said, pointing at the sky. “Some kind of rift opened and—boom—she dropped out like a meteor!”

Agil paused, eyes flicking between us and Sinon.

“You're messing with me,” he muttered. “She fell from the sky ?”

I crossed my arms, unimpressed. “I'm as serious as a heart attack. Do I look like I’m in the mood for jokes?”

Agil huffed and scrolled a bit more. “Fine. It'll take a couple days to get a fresh room cleaned, but I can swing it.”

I glanced back at Sinon, who still looked uneasy.

“If you want, you can share Argo’s room for the night…”

“I feel safer with you,” she whispered suddenly, voice barely audible but laced with sincerity. It caught me off guard.

I blinked, then nodded. “Alright. Is that okay, Agil?”

Before he could answer, Argo suddenly latched onto my other arm. “I’m stayin’ wit’ Yash too!” she blurted out.

I looked at her, bewildered. “Argo—what are you—”

She met my gaze, eyes sincere but shy. “I-I’ve been meanin’ ta talk t’ ya… figgered now’s better than never.”

I let out a quiet sigh. Those whiskers and those puppy-dog eyes were impossible to resist.

“And…” she added more softly, “I wanna make sure she’s safe too.”

I gave in, nodding. “Alright. We’ll figure it out.”

Agil pinched the bridge of his nose. “What about the blonde one?” he asked, pointing to Leafa.

“I’ll cover it,” Kirito said quietly from behind, her tone unusually soft.

Agil gave a gruff nod and tapped his menu. A notification pinged across all our HUDs a moment later, confirming the room assignments.

“Mama, you’re back!” Yui called excitedly as we walked through the inn’s front hall. She ran up to me, then paused, blinking as she spotted the newcomers. “And… new friends!”

She tilted her head, pointing to Leafa. “Auntie… Leafa? That’s your name, right?” she beamed.

Leafa chuckled and knelt down beside her. “It’s nice to meet you, little one,” she said warmly, gently patting Yui’s head.

Yui then turned her attention to Sinon, examining her silently. Her eyes lit up with sudden glee.

“Mama Sino!” she declared cheerfully.

“H-Huh?!” Sinon, Argo, and I all exclaimed at once.

Chapter Text

“Nen, nen korori yo…”
The lullaby echoed through the trees like a ghost's breath, thin and distant. I sprinted through the underbrush, every branch clawing at my arms, every root reaching to trip me. My lungs burned. My feet hammered the dirt like war drums.

I had to make it.
I would make it.

“Okorori yo…”
The voice grew clearer with every step. Familiar. Fragile.
Haunting.

Then pain—sharp and immediate. An arrow buried itself deep in my shoulder. Warm blood poured down my arm, soaking into my tunic. I stumbled but didn’t fall. Couldn’t fall. I clenched my teeth and pushed forward.

“Bōya wa yoi koda, nenneshina~”
A cloaked figure lunged from the shadows, blade slicing the air. I ducked under the first swing, but the second found my back—white-hot agony exploding across my spine. I roared through it, drawing my spear in one fluid motion and slashing upward.

Steel met flesh. Blood fountained.

I didn’t stop to watch them fall.

“Nen, nen no omori wa, doko e itta?”
My hands were shaking now, slippery with blood—mine, theirs, it didn’t matter. More figures emerged from the dark. I met them head-on, each swing of my spear carving through their numbers. My vision blurred, tinted crimson. My heartbeat drowned out everything—everything except the voice.

I had to reach it.
No one—no thing—would stop me.

“Ano yama koete, sato e itta.”
The bodies lay scattered in my wake like broken puppets. Red stained the earth, the trees, my clothes. Still I ran. The voice drew me like a lighthouse through storm and madness.
I could hear her.
She was just ahead.

“Sato no miyage ni, nani morōta?”
I saw the door. Stone, cracked, ancient. Behind it—her.
I slammed my shoulder against it, again and again. Pain flared through me like lightning. I didn’t care. I couldn’t care.

“Denden taiko ni, shō no fue.”
With a final scream, the door broke open. I charged inside, spear raised.

Another figure. Cloaked. Waiting.

My muscles moved before thought. I drove the spear forward, right through the chest.

The hood fell.

Her face—
Her eyes—
Sachi.

“Y-Yashi…”
Her voice was wet with blood, barely more than a whisper. Her lips trembled as she reached for me.

“No… No. No, I’m sorry. Sachi—Sachi, please!”
I caught her before she collapsed, pressing her close, burying my face in her chest.
Her warmth was already fading.

I rocked back and forth, sobbing, her blood smearing across my armor. The air reeked of iron and death.
I had killed her.
Again.

Like I did every night.

I looked up—
The room was changing. Shifting.
Blood spread across the stone floor like ink spilled across a page. More figures emerged—familiar shapes cloaked in shadow. Their hoods fell.

Takemiya. Argo. Sinon.
All of them.
All dead.
All by my hand.

My breath caught. My body trembled. I looked up—through a narrow hole in the ceiling.
Moonlight poured in like judgment from the gods.

“AHHHGHHHHHGRRRR!”
The scream tore out of me, raw and primal.

I raised my spear.
No hesitation.

And drove it into my own heart.

—

“Yashi!”

The voice cracked like a whip across my senses, followed by a sharp thud . I jerked upright, heart pounding, the image of Sachi’s bloodied face still burning behind my eyes.

Asuna stood over me, her palm flat on the table where she’d just slammed it. Her brow was furrowed, eyes sharp.

That dream again.
Why was Takemiya there?

But I didn’t have time to unravel that—not now.

“We were talking about the raid,” Asuna said, arms crossing tightly over her chest. “First floor of the new labyrinth. Or were you too busy napping to care?”

I blinked a few times and gave a slow nod.
“Okay.”

That’s all I managed.

Asuna’s frown deepened. Kirito stepped back into view, setting a glass of water gently in front of me like it might help soothe the tension crackling between us.

“Okay?” Asuna snapped. “The hell does that mean?”

I took a sip, letting the water calm my throat even if it couldn’t reach the chaos still spinning in my chest.
“It means I’ll do whatever you need,” I said simply, keeping my voice flat. “I always do. I’m fine with being told what to do.”

“Except when it comes to getting actual sleep, apparently,” another voice chimed in, light and airy—almost too cheerful for the moment.

I glanced over.
Strea.

She’d followed Kirito back to camp a while ago and somehow ended up sticking close to me . Not like Argo, or even Sinon. Strea clung in the way a child might, like Yui. Affectionate. Curious. A little unnerving.

“Sleep doesn’t matter when there’s intel to gather from the hunting grounds,” I muttered, dropping my gaze to the table. My knuckles were white from how tightly I’d clenched my hands.

Lisbeth let out a groan, loud and dramatic.
“Well, since Argo’s off with Sinon and Leafa right now,” she said, planting her hands on the table, “ I’m gonna be the one to knock some sense into you—so you better listen, and listen good —”

“I know, I know .” I cut her off, rubbing my temples. “If I’m tired, I’m a liability to the raid. I’ve heard this speech from Asuna about three hundred times now.”

I dragged my hands down my face, exhaling.
“But I haven’t failed. Not once. I’ve pulled through every time I—”

“It doesn’t matter!”

Asuna slammed her hand on the table again, harder this time. The whole room seemed to fall still for a second.

“What happens when you do slip up?” she asked, her voice trembling now—not with rage, but fear. “What happens when you get someone killed because you stayed out too long chasing whatever you’ve been chasing?!”

The words hit harder than they should have.

Because they weren’t just hypothetical.
Because they already had.

The dream still clung to me like smoke—Sachi’s voice echoing in my ears, her blood still warm on my hands. I could feel it even now. The weight of her body, the trembling in her voice, the way she said my name.

It was all too real.
Too familiar.

“No answer?” Asuna snapped, dragging me back into the room. “What, maybe it’s because I’m right ?”

“Honey, please—calm down,” Kirito tried, always the peacemaker.

But Asuna’s anger had already taken hold. She wasn’t letting it go.

“No, I’m tired of this, Kirito!” she said, voice rising. “We lost fourteen people— fourteen —on Floor 75. And three of them died because Yashi didn’t heal them in time.”

Her words hit like a slap.
Like a spear to the gut.

“They died because she slipped up,” Asuna said, colder now. Sharper.

“I was fending off the reaper’s damn scythe!” I shot back, rising slightly from my chair, fists clenched. “If I hadn’t blocked it, we’d have lost a lot more than three!”

Agil gave a tired sigh and nodded.
“She’s right, Asuna. That swing wasn’t something anyone could’ve ignored. Yashi saved your life with that move.”

Asuna’s posture faltered. Her shoulders sagged as her fire dimmed into frustration.

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. But… you were distracted the whole fight. We all saw it.”

“And during the Kayaba fight too,” Kirito added, her tone gentle but firm. “You weren’t all there.”

“Now that I think about it,” Silica chimed in, voice uncertain, “you’ve kind of been out of it since yesterday. Did something happen?”

I looked down, avoiding every gaze at the table.

“I... don’t want to talk about it,” I muttered. My voice barely reached them. I leaned back in the chair, trying to put space between me and the conversation.

As long as I didn’t talk about it, it couldn’t hurt me.
Not while I was awake.
Just... when I closed my eyes.

“Yashi,” Lisbeth said softly, choosing her words with care. “We’re your friends. You can talk to us. If something’s bothering you—”

But she didn’t see the landmine.
She stepped right on it.

“I SAID I DON’T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT!”

I shot up, slamming both hands on the table. The crack of wood splitting echoed through the room like a gunshot. A jagged fracture split down the surface beneath my palms.

Silence. Even Strea looked stunned.

“Just leave it , please.”
My voice cracked.

That’s when I noticed it—tears.
I hadn’t even realized they were falling.

Everyone sat in stunned silence.

I stood there, breathing hard, my hands trembling slightly from the force I’d slammed into the table. Their eyes were on me—confused, concerned—but I couldn’t stand to see their faces right now.

It was happening again.

Without another word, I turned and bolted for the door, shoving it open and stepping into the cool night air. I gasped, trying to pull air back into my lungs, but each breath felt too thin—too fast. My chest tightened like a vice.

No one followed.

“Calm down…” I wheezed to myself, stumbling toward the teleport plaza in Arc Sophia. I had a spot there—my spot. A quiet bench beside one of the crystal-blue pools surrounding the gate. It was where I always went when the world got too loud.

This was the second time in a week.

Panic attack. Or something like it.
Whatever it was, it was drowning me from the inside.

I reached the bench and dropped down, elbows on my knees, eyes fixed on the water below. The shimmering reflection stared back—shaky, uncertain, barely holding it together.

“Yash!”

Argo’s voice broke through the noise like sunlight through a stormcloud. I tensed, trying to force my breathing into something more normal. But it was no use.

She was already there.

“Yash, hey—look at meh.” Her voice wasn’t teasing or sharp. It was soft. Steady. Serious. She crouched in front of me, hands gently cupping my face.

Her touch anchored me.

“Focus on meh, just meh.” Her forehead rested lightly against mine.

I stared into her eyes, the gold of them steady as the chaos inside me slowly began to fade. My breathing softened. My lungs finally let me take in air that didn’t burn. The storm was still there, but her presence dulled it, like wrapping a wound.

“You’re okay… I’m ‘ere,” she whispered.

I let out a soft, almost embarrassed laugh. Just a tiny one.

“Thank you…” I managed, voice hoarse and raw, but honest.

I heard soft footsteps approaching. Sinon and Yui came into view, their faces etched with quiet concern. Leafa had gone to find the others—probably trying to piece together what had happened.

“Is everything okay, Papa?” Yui asked softly.

I nodded, but it felt hollow. Forced. “Just… need a minute, okay, Yui-chan?” I tried to give her a smile—wide, reassuring. It faltered halfway there.

Yui didn’t argue. She just climbed into my lap and wrapped her arms around me. I felt her warmth, small and steady, anchoring me in place. I let out a quiet breath and gently ran a hand through her hair.

Sinon sat down on the other side of the bench, silent but close. I glanced over at her, and the corner of my mouth twitched into a faint, grateful smile.

“Sorry if me running off ruined your day…night...thing...” I murmured, eyes lowered to the ground.

A sharp poke jabbed into my arm, pulling my attention up. I winced. That hurt.

“Shuddup…” Argo scowled playfully, leaning her head against my shoulder. “Ya could never ruin our day night thing.”

Despite everything, I chuckled faintly, rubbing the sore spot. “Still. You’ve got a vicious poke.”

Argo smirked. “Built different, baby.”

Nen, nen korori yo~

My breath caught.

I blinked, immediately looking up, scanning the plaza. Argo sat up, tension straightening her spine. She’d heard it too. Even Yui froze in my lap.

Sinon’s voice was barely above a whisper. “What the hell was that…”

“You guys heard that too?” I asked, trying to steady my voice.

“Yeah…” Argo said quietly, her eyes narrowing toward the far end of the square.

“We did too,” Kirito added as she approached, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade.

I gently lifted Yui off my lap and placed her in Argo’s, rising to my feet with purpose.

“I heard it yesterday…” I murmured, eyes drifting shut for just a moment.

Okorori yo~

The lullaby drifted again—haunting, disembodied, woven into the very air around us.

My eyes snapped open.

“We… we need to find that voice,” I began—but Kirito was already nodding.

“I know,” Kirito said softly, her voice barely more than a breath.

We both knew that voice too well. But I could tell—Argo and Sinon recognized it too.

Sachi.

“Alright then…” I took a breath, steadying myself. “Follow me.”

Everyone stared, clearly confused.

“How do you even know where it is?” Silica asked, tilting her head.

I didn’t respond right away. I closed my eyes, letting the eerie lullaby seep back into my awareness. The melody coiled through the air like smoke. Familiar. Unshakable.

Sword Art Online had hundreds of skills. One particular tree—Searching—was infamous for its complexity. Only a handful of players had ever maxed it out.

I was one of them.

But I also had something the game couldn’t code: a musician’s ear. I wasn’t just hearing the song—I was following it.

“Yashi?” Sinon’s voice broke through gently.

I opened my eyes.

And there it was.

A subtle glimmer, like a thread of starlight, forming a path only I could see. It shimmered faintly in my vision, bending through the plaza like a trail of moonlight.

“We don’t know what we’re walking into,” I said, turning to face the others, my voice firm and commanding—enough to catch even Asuna off guard. “Make sure your gear is ready.”

Asuna raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The weight in my tone spoke for itself.

I turned to Sinon and Leafa. “Have you two settled on weapons?”

Leafa gave a quick nod, her hand resting confidently on the katana at her hip.

Sinon hesitated. She glanced down at the dagger strapped to her side. Her grip on it was uncertain—off-balance. I studied her stance, her movements. It wasn’t the right fit.

Without a word, I opened my inventory.

A gleaming spear materialized in my hands—a rare one. One of my best.

“Try this,” I said gently, offering it to her.

Everyone stepped back, giving her room.

Sinon took it cautiously, then gave it a few experimental swings. Her movements became fluid—natural. The hesitation in her eyes faded.

She nodded once, firm. “Thank you.”

We exchanged items with a quiet flash. She slung the spear across her back with confidence.

“Now… is everyone ready?” I asked.

A chorus of nods confirmed it. But one small voice remained.

“Yui.”

“I’m coming,” she said quickly.

“No,” I said, more sternly. “We don’t know what could happen in there.”

“Papa, I’m coming!” she insisted, puffing her cheeks out in that way that made it impossible to argue.

I groaned inwardly, already regretting what I was about to do.

“…Fine,” I muttered.

Argo smirked beside me. “Softie.”

Yeah.

I was.

But I wasn’t going to lose anyone again.

Not this time. 

I knelt down in front of Yui and handed her the dagger that had just belonged to Sinon. It wasn’t much but it would give her a chance if things went sideways.

“If anything happens, use this to defend yourself, alright?” I said softly, locking eyes with her.

Yui nodded with that little smirk she’d perfected, trying to look brave for my sake. It almost worked.

Almost.

I turned to Argo next. Her clawed gauntlets were already equipped—fang-like blades glinting faintly under the ambient light of the Arc Sophia sky. She met my eyes, and we exchanged a tense smile. Neither of us said it aloud, but we both felt the same thing. Yui coming with us was dangerous.

Still, we didn’t stop her.

We walked.

Through the darkened woods of the floor’s outer rim, the world grew unnervingly quiet. Even the ambient sounds of mobs and wind felt muted, like the world was holding its breath.

I followed the path only I could see—thin as a spider’s thread and glowing faintly in my mind’s eye. It wove between gnarled trees and stone ruins, winding deeper and deeper into the wild. It didn’t flicker. It didn’t change.

It led us like gospel.

Argo kept to my right, silent but vigilant. Sinon flanked my left, her new spear strapped tight across her back. Kirito and Asuna trailed just behind, scanning the shadows. Leafa’s katana hummed faintly with each step, while Silica and Yui kept to the middle. Agil took up the rear, a protective wall between us and the unknown.

As we passed beneath an overgrown archway, a cold wind rippled through the underbrush, and the hair on my arms stood on end.

“Anyone else feel that?” Sinon murmured.

“Like walking through a graveyard…” Silica whispered.

No one replied.

The path finally brought us to a clearing—an unnatural one. No trees, no stones, just a ring of undisturbed grass beneath a pale beam of light pouring down from the open sky above.

And in the center of that clearing—frozen, motionless—stood a figure in white.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Sachi!?” Kirito cried out, her voice cracking with disbelief, with hope. It trembled like a held-back sob.

The figure didn’t move.

“Sachi…” Argo whispered, her voice low and shaken. Pain laced every syllable.

Sinon said the name, too—softer, almost uncertain. Her grip on her weapon tightened.

Still, the figure didn’t react.

I stepped forward. My heart pounded in my chest.

“Sachi…” I called gently, praying she could hear me. “Can you hear me?”

The figure flinched—ever so slightly—and slowly turned toward us.

It was her.

I saw her face. That same gentle expression, eyes full of sorrow and warmth. And then—

“Yashi…” she said.

That single word shattered something inside me.

But before I could move, a sharp ping of data echoed through the clearing. A flash of pale blue enveloped her.

No.

She was being teleported away.

“No—wait!” I shouted, sprinting forward, my feet tearing up the grass as I pushed against the system’s lock. I reached out, trying to interrupt the event, to grab her before she vanished again.

But I was too late.

The light swallowed her whole, and she disappeared in a flicker of blue particles, gone like a dream before you can hold onto it.

The others caught up, stepping into the clearing behind me as I stood there, fists clenched, breath shallow.

I stared at the space where she had been. My heart was screaming—but I couldn’t let myself fall apart. Not yet.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. Tried to focus. Because this wasn’t over.

Not even close. 

“This isn’t over…” I muttered under my breath, eyes darting around the clearing. “There has to be something here… something that can get me to her…”

I dropped to my knees, digging through the grass and dirt where she had just stood. My hands clawed at the soil, flipping rocks, tearing away weeds. Each movement was desperate, frantic—like if I just dug deep enough, I could find a secret the system had buried.

Behind me, I could hear muffled voices. Kirito’s shoulders were trembling as she was quietly pulled into the arms of Asuna and Lisbeth. Her pain was raw, quiet—but it was the kind that never really healed. Argo’s breath was uneven as she explained something to Sinon in hushed tones, words broken and soft. Silica sat with her arms wrapped around Pina, gently stroking her dragon’s feathers, her gaze distant and haunted.

And then, Yui and Strea approached.

“Papa…” Yui’s voice was delicate, tinged with concern. “Your mental state is showing elevated distress levels.” She placed a small, gentle hand on my back.

I paused.

My chest rose and fell rapidly as I tried to breathe—just breathe . The soil clung to my hands. My heart was thudding too hard, too loud. I stared down at the earth like it had betrayed me.

“Yashi,” Strea said gently, stepping closer. “You need to calm down. There’s… there’s nothing you can do right now.”

Yui flinched slightly. Even she knew that was the wrong thing to say.

But I didn’t lash out. I didn’t scream.

I simply stood.

And started scanning the area again, slower this time. Searching every tree, every stone, every flicker of light. My eyes burned with determination.

“There’s always something I can do,” I whispered, my voice like ice in the warm air.

The atmosphere shifted. The others fell silent, their conversations forgotten. Even the breeze seemed to still, as if the world itself was listening.

“If there’s a way—I’ll find it. No matter what. If it costs me everything, I’ll pay it. If it means saving even one person, even for a moment—I’ll do it.”

I turned, eyes wide and fierce, voice rising with quiet intensity.

“And if I can see Sachi again… even just one more time … I swear, on my own life— I will find the goddamn way! ”

The words rang out through the clearing like a thunderclap.

I slammed my fist into the nearest tree, the bark splitting under the force. A shock rippled through the trunk as a handful of brittle leaves fluttered free, spinning downward like feathers. One struck the ground—and vanished. Warped away in a shimmer of blue pixels.

I froze.

That tree… it wasn’t marked as an Immortal Object.

My heart kicked up again. I scrambled through my inventory, sifting through the clutter until I found what I needed—an axe. Not just any axe. A heavy, double-bit war axe. Something Agil would grin at proudly.

“What are you doing, Yashi?” Lisbeth called, her brows knit in confusion as she stepped toward me.

“The tree,” I said quickly, eyes locked on it. “It didn’t trigger the Immortal Object warning.”

To prove it, I turned to a nearby tree and gave it a light tap with the butt of my spear. Instantly, the familiar purple hexagon appeared in the air: Immortal Object.

But the other tree… nothing.

I swapped the spear for the axe, its weight grounding me, fueling my conviction. I lined the blade up at the base of the mysterious tree, measuring my stance. A few practice swings to feel it out, my muscles remembering the motion, syncing with the system’s feedback.

Then I raised the axe high.

Took a deep breath.

And swung with everything I had.

All of it—my rage, my pain, my guilt, my desperation—it went into that single blow. The axe slammed into the trunk with a deafening crack, cleaving through it like butter. The tree groaned, splintered, and collapsed in an instant, crashing to the ground with a thunderous echo that rolled through the forest like distant drums of war.

And there, sitting atop the freshly exposed stump, was a single glowing object: a small, smooth stone. Next to it, etched directly into the wood, was a line of text—faint, ancient, written in a code that shimmered faintly under the light. 

I stepped forward, breath caught in my throat.

The others gathered behind me in stunned silence.

I reached down toward the carved text, and as my fingers brushed the bark, a faint shimmer pulsed through the air. A translucent window blinked to life before me, ancient runes unraveling into clear script. What once seemed like four simple lines now unfolded into a hauntingly beautiful poem—longer, deeper, and far more cryptic than I had expected.

A hollow heart, carved by flame,

Bears silence none would dare to name.

Yet in that void, a spark remains—

A song unheard, bound in chains.

Crowned not by blood, but by pain,

The throne awaits the lost refrain.

A weaver walks the shadow's seam,

Where notes become the edge of dream.

One walks with whiskers, tail and wit,

Dancing 'tween blades, where daggers flit.

Another looms with winter’s eye,

Her arrows kissed by frost and sky.

The third in gold and wonder dressed,

Seeks the sun in caverns' chest.

But only one may shift the tone,

Where silence begs to stand alone.

A vow was made, a path was paved—

A soul was given, a world was saved.

The cost unknown, the stars now fade,

For the last sonata will soon be played.

I stared at the words, reading them over and over, committing each line to memory before carefully typing them into a message addressed to myself. I couldn’t risk losing this—this poem meant something, even if I didn’t yet understand what. With a final check, I hit send. The message vanished into the system, preserved.

“For the last sonata will soon be played…” I whispered under my breath, the words lingering in the air like a fading note.

Quickly, I dismissed the interface and reached for the stone resting atop the stump. The moment my fingers closed around it, warmth bloomed in my palm. The stone pulsed, its glow intensifying—first soft and amber, then brilliant and blinding. A low hum filled the air.

A sudden flash of blue light erupted around us, spiraling upward.

“W-what’s happening?!” Silica cried out, panic in her voice.

Argo clutched my arm tightly, her grip firm and trembling. Sinon reached for me, her hand just inches away—before her body dissolved in the light and vanished.

One by one, the others followed, pulled into the teleportation stream by unseen force.

Only Argo and I remained, suspended in the growing storm of light. I looked at her. She didn’t speak, but her eyes told me everything. She was scared too—but neither of us let go.

The light consumed us both in a final flash—and we were gone.

—

Wind screamed past me, slicing into my skin like knives of ice. My eyes snapped open. I was falling—fast.

The sky above stretched wide and pale, almost sterile in its brightness, like it was trying to blind me. Then, in a blink, it shifted.
Grey stone replaced blue, vast and oppressive—like I was plummeting through the ribs of a dead god. The roar in my ears was deafening, but it couldn’t drown out the thunder in my chest.

I twisted in the air, limbs heavy, scanning wildly for anything—ledges, anchors, a miracle—but the world gave nothing back. Only speed. Only silence.

Then I saw her.

A shape falling just ahead of me.
Brown cloak fluttering. Leather armor. A dented breastplate.
Strands of blonde hair catching the dim light.
Argo .

The name ripped itself from my throat. “Argo!”

No answer.

She spun weightlessly, eyes closed, face still—too still.

Panic burned. I kicked through the air, muscles screaming, lungs raw from cold and effort.
She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t waking.

I caught her.

My hand latched around her arm, and I pulled her close, heart pounding like a war drum.

“Come on…” I whispered, my voice fraying against the wind. “Come on, Argo…”

Still nothing.

I held her tight, wrapping around her like I could somehow shield her from the impossible.

Below us, the world shifted again.
The stone walls faded, replaced by a yawning abyss of green shadow. We weren’t just falling anymore. We were being dragged—swallowed—into something deeper. Colder.

I shut my eyes, just for a second. Letting my mind wander

“YASH!”

Her voice—sharp, terrified—ripped through the dark like lightning through storm clouds. My eyes flew open.
She’d slipped. My arms were empty.

“No—!”
I surged after her, caught her again, yanked her against me like gravity had no say in the matter.

Branches loomed.
We were crashing.

“I got you, Argo!” I shouted. “Just hang on!”

Her armor wouldn’t hold. Mine might.
I coiled my body around hers, shielding her as best I could.
Tucked her head beneath my chin, locked my arms across her back.

Then—

Leaves exploded around us.
Branches cracked.
Everything blurred into green and pain.

Something slammed into the side of my skull—
CRACK .

—and the world vanished into black.

—

Rain, rain poured like tears from gods crying. 

But the drops didn’t fall—they floated. Hung midair like tiny glass daggers, trembling, suspended in time.

I stood ankle-deep in still water, the sky above me starless, an endless void swirling with gray and black. No reflection beneath me. No horizon ahead. Just fog. Cold, wet fog that clung to my skin like a shroud.

Then came the sound.

Tap.

Like a footstep.

Tap.

Another.

I turned. Nothing.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Closer now.

I spun, hand flying to my spear—but there was no weapon. My hands were empty. Just skin and scars and blood already staining my fingers.

The fog parted.

A child stood before me.

Hair like ink, skin pale as moonlight. Eyes hollow. Familiar.

She stared at me.

“Why didn’t you come sooner?” she asked.

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

She stepped back. Then another figure stepped into view behind her—Argo. Her cloak soaked in red. A massive, gaping wound split across her chest. Her eyes didn’t blink.

“You left me,” she whispered. “You promised you'd protect me.”

“No… I didn’t. I tried. I tried to—”

But my voice cracked, fragmented, like shattered glass scraping over steel. The child and Argo vanished like smoke.

The rain resumed.

Only now it fell upward.

From the water, not the sky.

I looked down. Faces bloomed beneath the surface—Sachi’s, Sinon’s, Takemiya’s. One by one, they opened their mouths and screamed without sound, clawing toward me, reaching.

I stepped back.

Their hands broke the surface.

I ran.

The water turned to ash beneath my feet. The world twisted. Forests made of bones. Sky stitched together with black thread. I saw the door again—stone, cracked.

I knew she was behind it.

I charged.

The moment I touched it, the world split open like a wound.

I fell.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Until I landed in a throne room made of mirrors.

My reflection stared back at me from every wall—each version warped. My eyes hollow. My armor drenched in blood. My smile... wrong.

“You don’t save people,” the reflection said. “You survive them.”

“No…”

“You let them die. Again. And again.”

I stumbled back, shaking.

“You are a monster…”

Then the mirrors cracked.

“ADMIT IT!”

I covered my ears and shook my head.

“No!”

A louder crack reverberated.

A new figure walked in—her boots clicking on the glass floor. A woman in white.

Her face was veiled, but I knew her. Somehow, I knew her.

She stopped a few feet away. A spear rested in her hands.

Mine.

She held it out to me.

I took it.

Blood instantly bloomed from my chest—not hers. Mine. I staggered, staring down at the weapon now impaled through my own body.

She whispered:

“For the last sonata is nearly played.”

I fell to my knees.

The throne behind her began to burn.

And the mirrors shattered all at once.

—

A sharp slap snapped me out of the blood-soaked nightmare. I jolted upright with a gasp, like I’d just surfaced from drowning. My lungs burned. My chest heaved. For a heartbeat, I didn’t know where I was—just that I wasn’t there anymore.

Blinking away the blur of sleep, I glanced around. Trees. Green canopy. Filtered sunlight. A forest.

Then I felt it—a weight on my chest, pinning me down. Pain flared in my ribs as I shifted. I looked at my health bar.

100/94,000.

My stomach twisted. I’d come within a breath of death.

A shadow fell across my face. My eyes adjusted just in time to catch the worried glare above me—wide, wild, and tear-glossed.

“Yashima Kuni, ya better naht fuckin’ die on meh! ” Argo's voice cracked through the air, thick with panic. It was the first time I’d heard her drop anything stronger than hell —and that made it real. That made it hurt.

Another slap. Harder. Sharper. It dragged me fully back into my body.

“Argo!” I choked out.

I surged forward and pulled her into a hug—tight, desperate. Her breath caught in surprise as I wrapped my arms around her like a lifeline. I couldn’t stop shaking.

She was here. She was okay .

That was all I cared about at that moment. The nightmare already retreating to the edges of my mind like a shadow fleeing the sun.

Argo didn’t say anything at first.

She just held me.

“Y-Yer… okie…” Argo whispered, her voice small and trembling. She buried her face against my chest, and I felt the soft warmth of her tears soaking into the fabric. “I-I thought ya died…”

Her voice cracked. The usually sharp, unshakable information broker—the Rat who always had a plan, who always wore a smirk—was now curled in my arms, scared and sobbing.

It reminded me of that night back in the real world—the first night we ever shared a room. A thunderstorm had rolled in like the end of the world. She climbed into my bed without a word, poked me awake, and said nothing else. I just held her until she drifted off in my arms. Back then, it had felt simple. Innocent.

But now…

The quiet desperation in her voice. The way her fingers clutched at my shirt. Her sobs, muffled but raw. There was something else behind it all. Something deeper. Something unspoken.

I exhaled slowly, heart pounding, then slipped one arm away from the hug. Carefully, I reached into her crystal pouch and pulled out a healing shard, setting it gently in her lap.

“Argo…” I said quietly, voice barely more than a breath. “Can you heal me? I’m at… one hundred.”

She blinked up at me, eyes shining, cheeks streaked with tears. For once, she didn’t try to hide it. She nodded, fast and urgent, her hands fumbling the crystal into place.

“Heal!” she called out.

The shard shattered in a burst of blue-green light, pixels spinning away like sparks from a dying fire. My health bar surged, filling in an instant.

I let out a slow, steadying breath.

When I looked at her again, I saw the streaks where her whiskers had smudged, traced by tears. Her eyes—those rich, earthy brown eyes—seemed to catch the light like gold, filled with everything she hadn’t said. Fear. Anger. Relief. Worry.

And something else.

Care. Maybe… love.

The silence stretched, thick and fragile.

My mind didn’t catch up with my body. I wasn’t thinking. Just feeling. Acting on instinct.

I leaned forward.

My lips brushed hers—soft, hesitant. A question, not an answer. My arms drew her back against me again, holding her as if to anchor both of us in this moment.

She let out a small, surprised squeak, her hands flailing for balance, for understanding.

But I didn’t pull away.

And slowly… she joined in this sudden kiss.

Her breath, shaky and shallow, began to steady. Her body softened against mine. Her lips moved with mine—tentative, uncertain, but not pulling away. Willing. Vulnerable.

I eased back, drawing in a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Our foreheads almost touched as we panted softly, the quiet sounds of our breathing filling the space between us like the last notes of a fading song.

Argo turned her face away, just slightly. Her pale cheeks were flushed bright red, the tips of her ears glowing. I caught a glimpse of her eyes—just enough to see how they shimmered with relief… and something else. Something deeper. They looked like they were on the verge of saying everything her voice wouldn’t.

That’s when my brain caught up.

A sharp heat bloomed in my cheeks. I blinked once, then abruptly let go of her and turned my gaze to the forest floor.

“O-oh my god… I am so sorry, Argo… That was so—so stupid. I shouldn’t have—I mean, I didn’t mean—I mean, I did but not like—gah!” I stumbled over my words, then threw my hands together in a desperate bow. “Please forgive me!”

Silence.

Just a heartbeat.

Then Argo started laughing.

Not a soft chuckle—a full-bodied , gasping laugh. She bent forward, one hand over her stomach, wheezing between fits.

Was she… laughing at me?

My chest twisted. Did she think I was a joke? That I’d just—

“Yash!” she managed through her laughter, waving at me to stop panicking. “Don’t apologize!”

I stared, frozen halfway through another apology.

“I-it was a heat of da moment thin’, right?” she added, trying to keep her voice light, reassuring.

But it was there.

A falter. A hitch in her tone.

Most people would’ve missed it—a crack no wider than a breath. But I knew her too well. The way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. The way her words brushed past her heart like a blade dulled to avoid drawing blood.

Calling it a "heat of the moment thing" hurt her.

And she was pretending it didn’t.

That realization settled in my chest like a stone dropped into still water—quiet, but rippling through everything.

She wanted me to kiss her.

The thought crashed over me, stealing the breath I'd just recovered. My heart kicked back into a sprint as my mind scrambled to keep up. There were no words. No neat questions. Just a storm of feelings that refused to be untangled.

Argo… felt something for me. And it wasn’t just friendship.

She stood with a stretch, her arms arching over her head as she let out a soft giggle. “Yer able to move, right?” she asked, her usual smirk returning with a wink that tried a little too hard to be casual.

I nodded wordlessly, rising to my feet with a quiet exhale. There was no real pain in SAO—not in the way the real world worked—but that fall had left me feeling like my bones had been rattled loose. Even with my health restored, my body moved like it remembered the impact.

I rolled my shoulders, stretching, but I wasn’t really focused on the soreness. Argo’s voice still echoed in my mind—too light, too careful. Like she was trying to put something back in a box that had already been broken open.

I glanced her way.

She wasn’t looking at me.

And I still couldn’t find the words.

How was I supposed to ask? Should I even ask? If I brought it up, it might embarrass her—or worse, back her into a corner she hadn’t chosen. After what I’d done... after that kiss...

“Yash! ‘Ello? Earth ta Yash!” Argo waved a hand in front of my face, her tone teasing but gentle.

I blinked a few times, tearing my thoughts away from her eyes, her voice, her everything, and looked aside.

“I—I’m okay. Just… thinking,” I muttered, hoping the half-truth would be enough.

She gave a small nod, not pushing further.

Whether she believed me or not, she let it go.

I turned away, scanning the new area around us—a forest unlike any I’d seen before. Towering trees with pale blue bark and sickly green leaves stretched into the sky like skeletal fingers. The canopy above was dense, woven from heavy branches and thick growth, like a net of nature meant to trap the sky itself.

I touched the side of my head instinctively, wincing as my fingers brushed the sore spot where I’d slammed into the branch. It still throbbed—less from pain, more from the lingering shock of everything.

“Ya took a pretty nasty hit, Yash…” Argo murmured beside me, her voice softer now. “Glad yer okie, though…”

There was a trace of warmth in her tone—a flicker of light that hadn’t been there earlier. Was it because I kissed her? My mind started drifting again, looping back to that moment, that look in her eyes—

Thump. Thump-thump.

Footsteps. Fast. Erratic.

Someone was running—hard.

I tensed, turning toward the source of the sound, stepping cautiously to the edge of the small clearing where Argo and I had landed. The underbrush rustled violently, branches snapping underfoot. Someone was coming. Running scared.

Argo was more guarded—already slipping her claws onto her hands with practiced speed, shoulders squared, eyes scanning. Always prepared.

Then a flash of motion—blue and white, pale skin streaked with dirt and sweat. I caught a glimpse of wide, frantic eyes. Whoever it was kept looking down, then back, stumbling blindly. Panic. Desperation.

Crack.

They tripped—hard—over a gnarled root jutting out of the ground and crashed right into me.

“Ack—!” I grunted as the air was knocked from my lungs. We both went sprawling, tumbling to the dirt in a tangle of limbs and cloth. I recovered first, rolling to my feet. The girl—because now I could hear her voice, high and sharp with alarm—scrambled up just as quickly, already drawing a weapon from her hip.

A dagger—no, longer than that. Serrated. Heavy.

Sword Breaker.

I knew that blade. Too well. Designed not just to stab or slash, but to ruin a sword caught in its jagged back.

“Sword Breaker?” I muttered, just before lunging back to avoid a fast swipe from her.

Argo didn’t hesitate—she surged forward, claws gleaming. But I threw a quick glance her way and raised my voice.

“No—stay back!”

She froze for a beat, her eyes narrowing. “Nah! She’s gonna hurt ya!”

She took another step, tense and ready to pounce.

“Argo, do not move!” I shouted, ducking another slash. The girl was fast—wild, unthinking—but skilled. I rolled into my menu mid-motion, switching my weapon loadout. My axe vanished, replaced by the shimmer of something else forming across my back.

My spear—Malformed Star—materialized in a crackle of red and purple sparks. As I dodged, it flared against her Sword Breaker, metal shrieking against metal as they met for the first time.

I gritted my teeth, leaping back and drawing my spear in full—but my focus wasn’t just on her. It flicked to Argo, who was now crouched low, ready to leap.

“Nezumi, no!” I shouted, more forceful this time.

She moved—too fast.

I had no choice.

I surged forward and stepped between them, raising my spear not to strike, but to block. Argo’s claws slammed against the shaft, her momentum halted as I pushed her back with a gentle shove. Her eyes blazed, confused, frustrated—but she didn’t resist.

The girl froze, blinking as if the chaos had finally caught up to her.

And then she looked at me. Really looked at me.

Her dagger wavered in her grip. I could see it in her eyes—the moment I said Nezumi, something shifted. Confusion overtook the fear.

Because now, I wasn’t attacking her.

I was defending her. 

Argo glared at the girl—then at me. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, her tone sharp with anger.

“Yash, wha’ the hell are ya thinkin’?!” she barked, claws still drawn.

I didn’t flinch, maintaining my defensive stance between her and the girl behind me. The stranger had lowered her weapon slightly, but her grip on the Sword Breaker remained firm—ready to strike if pushed.

“ Quiet! ” I snapped, voice low and urgent.

Something wasn’t right.

I heard them— footsteps —fast approaching, trampling foliage with heavy intent. Without thinking, I slung my spear onto my back and grabbed both Argo and the mystery girl by the collars.

“Move!” I hissed, diving into the thick brush nearby, dragging them with me into the dense foliage.

They didn’t resist, but confusion was painted across both their faces. I held a finger to my lips. Silence.

The footsteps grew louder.

Boots—black and heavy—stepped into view. Cloaks of mottled brown and green. Gloved hands twitching at their sides.

“Where did our little fox go?” one of them drawled, his voice slick and sickening. Like something that slithered.

I dared a glance upward from the bush. One of them scanned the area, glowing red goggles gleaming ominously from beneath his hood. A chill raced down my spine.

“Xaxa…” I mouthed silently. Recognition tightened my gut into a knot.

Then came the third set of steps— heavier . Slower. Deliberate.

A massive cleaver swayed at the figure’s side. I didn’t need to see the rest to know who it was.

PoH.

The leader of Laughing Coffin.

He stepped closer to the bush, each footfall like a hammer to my heart. Then—he stopped . Crouched low.

His eyes met mine.

I froze.

And he smiled —smooth, slow, like poison melting into silk.

“Something tells me,” he murmured, voice deep and oily, “that the hunt just got even more interesting.”

“Hah! Good one, boss!” came the snide voice of the goggled man—Xaxa, definitely Xaxa.

I felt Argo shift beside me, her breath catching—about to say something.

I moved fast. Too fast.

With the smallest motion I could manage, I clamped my hands over both girls’ mouths.

Don’t.

They obeyed.

The three killers lingered a moment longer… and then turned, boots crunching against the earth as they vanished back into the trees.

I waited. Every heartbeat a drumbeat in my ears.

Seconds stretched into minutes.

Only once the forest returned to stillness did I rise from the bush, brushing off leaves and dirt as I emerged. Argo and the girl followed, both shaken. Argo’s concern deepened when she saw the look on my face—horror, raw and unmistakable.

My voice was barely above a whisper.

“We need to find the others.”

I swallowed hard.

“We need to find them, n—”

“Find who ?”

That smooth, venomous voice slid through the air like a knife. PoH.

My breath caught. My body went rigid. That voice had haunted too many nightmares.

“Who must you find, Yashi?” he purred mockingly behind me.

My hands trembled.

Argo reached instinctively for her claws—but then gasped, her body stiffening. She collapsed to the ground with a thud, limbs twitching slightly. Thin yellow lines of paralysis shimmered across her skin like cracks in glass.

“ Stop… ” I breathed, barely audible.

PoH chuckled, low and dangerous. I could feel him behind me, too close, his presence suffocating. His gloved hand slid down my arm—cold, deliberate. I flinched.

A sudden crash— Johnny Black tackled the strange girl, forcing her face-down into the dirt, pinning her with cruel precision. She grunted, struggling beneath his weight.

“You’re quite the special prize,” PoH whispered, now in front of me. He gripped my chin roughly, tilting my face up so I had no choice but to meet his gaze.

Those eyes.

They weren’t just evil—they enjoyed it.

Behind him, I caught a glimpse of Xaxa looming over Argo, his rapier poised just above her neck. Not piercing—yet. Just hovering. A silent threat.

The girl had a dagger pressed against her throat too—Johnny Black’s doing—angled just enough to nick skin, to promise worse.

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t have to.

They were hounds waiting on their master’s word.

PoH smiled. “Come now, Yashi,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement. “Why don’t you face me properly? Let me see the little mutt who’s slipped away so many times .”

He yanked me by the shoulder, forcing me to turn toward him.

And I stared into the eyes of a monster who was no longer hunting prey—he was playing with it.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look deeper into his gaze.

Then, something changed.

PoH’s smile faltered.

His eyes narrowed, the sadistic glint fading into something… calculating.

“You…” he muttered, voice dropping an octave. “You're a special prize.”

His tone had shifted—no more smugness, no more mockery. Just a quiet awe that made my skin crawl.

“Beyond special…” he added, almost to himself, as if realizing something he hadn’t seen until now.

I kept staring, trying to understand what had unsettled him. And then I noticed it— the light. The faint gleam that marked a player’s avatar as human. It wasn’t there. Not in his eyes.

Something wasn’t right.

PoH stepped back a pace, his expression hardening. He knew something. About me.

“Johnny. Xaxa,” he snapped, his voice cutting through the tension like a whip. “Off the rat and the fox.”

The two Laughing Coffin members hesitated.

“I’m doing you a favor, Yashi,” he muttered, almost bitter. “Letting you go.”

He raised a hand and gestured lazily. “Xaxa. Heal the rat.”

His cloak shifted, revealing that hulking slab of metal strapped to his hip— Mate Chopper. My breath hitched at the sight.

Xaxa groaned dramatically but complied, using a crystal to heal Argo. She didn’t move, still flat on the ground, either unconscious or playing dead.

“Boss, c’mon,” Johnny Black whined, eyes wild with bloodlust. “We had that little fox! Can’t I just slit her throat? Make the other two watch?” He practically begged, licking his lips.

Before PoH could answer, my body moved on instinct.

Suddenly, my spear was at the back of Johnny’s neck, right at the base of his skull.

I didn’t even realize I’d drawn it.

PoH laughed darkly, clearly delighted. “You see, Johnny?” he said. “ That’s the woman I’ve told you about. Now get off the fox. Now. ”

My weapon never wavered. I shifted slightly, keeping the tip hovering just under Johnny’s chin. Ready. Willing. Johnny maneuvered faster than I could reposition my spear. Now it was at his shoulder.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look afraid.

“So this is the one, huh?” he giggled, too close to my face. “The girl who kept slipping through our fingers like smoke. Boss wasn’t kidding—she’s pretty. ” His eyes glittered with madness as my spear dug into his shoulder. Red pixels bloomed, but he didn’t care. He liked it.

I heard the words, but they barely registered.

I was still reeling. Still terrified.

PoH leaned in again, voice now a whisper laced with hunger. “I’m letting you live, Yashi. This time. Because I want to savor the hunt. And you… you’ll be the crown jewel. The grand finale.”

He turned toward the others.

“Boys,” he called calmly. “We leave. We’ll hunt another day.”

Johnny sighed theatrically but pulled back. Xaxa gave a smug glance but followed orders.

PoH strolled past me slowly, savoring every step like he was walking through a dream.

But just as he passed, he stopped.

He leaned close—too close—and patted my back like an old friend.

“Oh,” he added, voice silk-smooth and dripping with malice, “Say hi to Kirito for me.”

And then he was gone.

The other two vanished behind him, swallowed up by the trees like phantoms.

I didn’t move.

My grip on the spear tightened until my knuckles went white. My heart thudded, blood roared in my ears. Flash after flash— not just nightmares, but memories. Faces. Screams. That awful, choking fear.

I didn’t even realize I was shaking.

“ Yash! ”

Argo’s voice yanked me back. A whisper-shout, ragged but urgent.

I blinked, forcing my vision to steady. Argo was upright now, though she swayed on shaky legs, and the unfamiliar girl—dust‑streaked and panting—had pushed herself to her feet as well. Worry was etched into both their faces.

I, meanwhile, stared at my spear, the shaft still vibrating with the memory of PoH’s casual tap on my shoulder. A shiver crawled up my spine. After several breaths, I eased the weapon down, the tip brushing the forest floor before I finally slid it across my back.

The silence felt brittle.

“W‑well… glad to know you’re not secretly on their side,” the girl blurted, her voice taut with leftover adrenaline. Argo scoffed—a sharp, indignant sound—but kept her claws lowered.

I rolled my shoulders, drawing in long, steadying breaths. “What’s your name?” I asked once the pounding in my ears receded.

The girl blinked. “What?”

“Wha’s yer name—ya heard ’er,” Argo echoed, still bristling but supportive.

“My name…” She hesitated, as if tasting the word on her tongue. “I’m Philia.” She sheathed her notched dagger, eyes darting away.

My gaze followed the faint orange cursor hovering above her head—an outlaw mark, but I’d seen what true killers looked like today. She’d had every opportunity to abandon us and run. Instead, she’d stayed and fought her own terror.

That counted for something.

“It’s nice to meet you, Philia.”

Chapter Text

Silence settled over us like a thick fog in the clearing. Argo was already flicking through her friend list with swift, practiced movements, scanning for any sign of the others. Her brows furrowed deeper with each passing second. Philia stood off to the side, quietly dusting off her blue cape trimmed in gold, her hands trembling ever so slightly. The events from earlier still clung to her like smoke.

As for me… I was doing everything I could to keep myself from falling apart. From letting the panic show on my face. From letting them see that I was still reeling inside.

“Any luck, Argo?” I finally asked, my voice barely steady. She didn’t look up—just shook her head and let out a breath.

“For some reason… it says they ain’t in a recognized location,” she muttered, her frustration leaking through every word. “Like the system doesn’t even know where they are.”

I sighed, dragging my hands down my face, feeling the weight of it all press against my chest.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Argo,” I said quietly. I meant it. Every word.

She gave me a flat look and jabbed her elbow into my arm—not too hard, but enough to snap me out of it.

“Shut it,” she huffed with a half-grin. “Ya know I’d follow ya to Hell an’ back.”

That smile of hers hit harder than it should’ve. I blushed before I could stop myself, looking away. But Philia cut the moment short.

“We need to get moving,” Philia said sharply, her voice taut with urgency. “I know a place. It’s safe. We can regroup and figure out what comes next, alright?”

She looked like she was barely holding herself together—like her instinct was still to run. But I wasn’t letting her go alone this time.

“Then lead the way,” I said, giving her a small nod. Without waiting, Philia turned and started walking, her pace brisk, almost impatient.

I glanced at Argo. “You coming, Nezumi?” I asked, softer this time. Gently.

She let out a small sigh and gave a reluctant nod, though the tension in her shoulders hadn’t gone unnoticed. Her gaze lingered on Philia, wary and uncertain.

“I don’t like this…but okie,” she muttered under her breath, falling in step behind us.

Before we got far, Philia suddenly slowed, her head turning slightly.

“Before we go… why do you call her Nezumi?” she asked, one hand resting on her hip.

I stopped for a beat, then sighed. “Why do you have an orange cursor?” I countered, not expecting an answer. Not a real one.

“I killed someone.”
The words came fast—too fast. Quiet. Her eyes dropped to the ground like the weight of the admission was too much to meet our gaze.

Argo gasped beside me, taking a sharp step back. But I didn’t look away. I watched Philia closely. Her posture. Her face. The way her voice had wavered—not in pride, not in indifference, but in fear. Regret. Shame.

She wasn’t lying. And she wasn’t like them.

“I call her Nezumi because it means Rat,” I said after a beat. “It’s Argo’s nickname.”

Before I could brace for it, Argo pinched my arm—hard. I winced but didn’t pull away.

“Yash, shut it!” she snapped, her voice sharper than before. Defensive—not just from the nickname, but from the weight that now hung in the air after Philia’s confession.

Still, as we began walking again, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Philia wasn’t a killer in the way this world had come to define one.

“So what? She’s killed someone. Big whoop,” I said, my voice low but steady. I wasn’t shocked. Not anymore. After everything I’d seen, one kill didn’t make someone a monster. Especially not here.

We didn’t know the full story. Maybe it was self-defense. Maybe it was mercy. Or maybe something far more complicated than either. But the truth was—none of us had clean hands. Not anymore. Not in this world.

And I wasn’t about to play judge and jury when I’d spent too many nights haunted by my own decisions.

Argo glanced at me from the corner of her eye, her expression flickering—surprise, maybe even a hint of unease—but she said nothing. I just shrugged, pushing past it.

“Let’s keep moving,” I said, voice low. “My curiosity is satisfied. We’ve got people to find.”

I motioned forward, and the three of us moved through the undergrowth. The forest loomed tall and hushed around us—unnaturally quiet. The kind of silence that only existed in places where something terrible had happened… or was about to.

I knew why.

In this world, outside the twisted glee of guilds like Laughing Coffin, the thought of killing another player was a line most refused to cross. To even consider it made you an outcast. To admit it made you something else entirely.

But they didn’t understand.

No— they couldn’t understand.

Not until they stood where I had.

“If only you knew…” I murmured to no one in particular, fingers brushing the edge of my cloak as I pulled it tighter around me.

Not to keep out the cold—but to keep everything else in.

We walked in silence, our footsteps soft against the moss-covered ground as the terrain slowly shifted around us. Up ahead, nestled within the gnarled roots of a massive, ancient tree, was a structure—half-ruined temple, half-natural formation. It looked like time itself had forgotten it, swallowed by the forest and its secrets.

Argo walked a few paces behind, nose buried in her open map window, her brows furrowed as she tried to align our surroundings with any known floor data. Philia trailed just ahead of me, her eyes scanning the shadows and tree line like a soldier on the verge of battle. She didn’t speak, didn’t relax, didn’t blink much either.

As for me, I spun a throwing needle slowly between my fingers—muscle memory keeping my hands occupied while my mind drifted through darker questions.

The area felt wrong. Not quiet— dead .

It wasn’t Laughing Coffin. They weren’t the type to clear mobs without reason, and they sure as hell wouldn’t bother to scrub an entire area. But there was nothing here. No ambient wildlife. No passive mobs. No sign of scripted events. Just stillness.

Then I saw them.

Faint bootprints. Impressed into the soft earth, already fading beneath a thin dusting of leaf litter. Two sets. Broad stride. Light step. One in heavier gear. The other, more agile.

I crouched beside them, brushing dirt away with the back of my hand.

“Argo,” I called softly, not turning around. “How good’s your Searching skill?”

“Perty gud. Why?” she answered, distracted. I heard the gentle chime of windows closing as she glanced up. She had four tabs open—tracking, mapping, log checking, and gear maintenance—typical Argo. Never idle, never off-duty.

“These prints,” I murmured. “They match Kirito and Asuna.”

Her boots crunched quietly on the ground as she joined me. Philia came up behind, peering over my shoulder with narrowed eyes. I kept my focus on the trail.

“My search skill’s high,” I continued, “but I spec’d for detection—doors, chests, puzzles. Not tracking players.”

It was the truth. I could find what others overlooked. But following a trail… that was someone else’s expertise.

Argo knelt beside me, her eyes scanning the prints.

“Looks fresh,” she muttered, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “They didn’t come through here long ago. Not more than a couple hours, maybe less.”

“Then they’re close,” Philia said, tension still clinging to every word.

“Close,” I echoed, rising to my feet, heart ticking up a beat.

“In there!” Argo called, her voice breaking into a rare note of hope as she pointed toward the temple half-buried in roots and moss. The footprints we’d found—yes, they led straight to the structure. But why? It didn’t look any different from the wilderness around us. At first.

Then I saw her stop.

Argo froze mid-step, her entire frame going rigid. Her smile vanished. The hairs on the back of her neck rose like a warning flare. I saw her swallow hard.

“We need to go,” she whispered, almost too low to hear.

I blinked, confused. “What—?”

But she didn’t wait for me to finish. She turned and started walking fast toward the temple entrance. No questions. No hesitation.

Philia followed without argument, stumbling slightly in her rush to keep up.

Still stunned, I trailed after them, spinning in place as I tried to spot what set her off. Nothing. Just quiet woods, half-dead trees, and silence.

“Argo, what’s wrong?” I asked, trying to match her pace, my voice louder than it should’ve been. “There’s nothing he—”

Crash.

The sound hit like a hammer. Wood splintering. Trees falling. Something massive moving through the forest behind us.

Argo spun and slapped a hand over my mouth, her eyes wide with fury. “Ya just had ta jinx it?” she hissed, voice low and trembling. Before I could respond, she broke into a sprint—faster than I’d seen her move in days.

Philia bolted after her, breathing hard, cape flaring as she ran. I cursed under my breath and took off too.

Then I heard it.

A skittering sound—like claws on glass, mixed with metal grinding bone. It echoed behind us, sharp and unnatural.

I glanced back—and immediately regretted it.

Something tore out of the treeline. Towering. Monstrous.

The Boss of Floor 75.

But... not as we remembered it.

The scythes on its arms were no longer steel but jagged, blackened bone. Its eyes weren’t red—they glowed with a sickly purple light, flickering like dying stars. It moved faster than it should, tearing through the trees with feral hunger.

“What the hell is it doing here?!” I shouted, legs burning as I pushed harder, my boots pounding the forest floor like a war drum.

Behind me, Argo gasped as I shot past her— past her —and snatched her by the back of her cloak. She barely had time to yelp before I hoisted her clean off the ground and kept running.

“Wha—Y-Yash?!”

“Shut up and hold on!”

Philia barely had time to flinch before I hooked her arm too, pulling her with me like she weighed nothing. She protested, of course—but I didn’t care.

I wasn’t about to let either of them get torn to shreds.

Not while I was still breathing.

The massive temple door was just ahead, its stone face cracked and half-swallowed by roots—but salvation nonetheless.

The thing behind us— the Skull Reaper , or at least what we thought it was—was closing fast. Its claws tore up entire trees in its wake, purple eyes glowing like voidstars. That screeching, skittering sound was now thunderous—closer with every second.

“Argo! Philia! I need you to trust me !” I yelled.

And without waiting, I hurled them forward—literally threw them toward the entrance like they were my last hope.

“Yashi!” Argo screamed, panic raw in her voice as she scrambled to her feet and turned back toward me.

“ Trust me! ” I shouted again, locking eyes with her for the briefest of moments before spinning back to face the beast.

It was about fifty meters out. Close enough.

I raised the thin throwing needle I’d been fiddling with earlier and hurled it like a dart straight into the monster’s glowing eye.

SHRIEEEEK.

The creature let out a screech so loud it cracked the air, stumbling as it crashed down—an earthquake in bone and fury. I didn’t wait to admire my handiwork.

I was moving again in an instant.

Argo and Philia had already gotten up, sprinting toward the temple’s gaping entrance. I caught up fast.

“It’s stunned!” I shouted. “We’ve got twenty seconds— maybe —that’s all the time we’ve got to make it to the door!”

Argo nodded, falling into step beside me without hesitation. But Philia stumbled, thrown off by the rhythm—until something seemed to click. She synced with my stride, almost as if… she recognized it.

There was no time to ask how or why.

Behind us, a guttural snarl broke through the chaos.

The Reaper was already back on its feet.

“I thought you said twenty seconds !” Philia screamed.

“I thought it was twenty seconds—don’t yell at me!” I barked, eyes snapping forward.

Another crash behind us—followed by the whistling sound of something slicing through the air.

A boulder— huge —sailed past my ear, slamming into the ground just ahead with a quake that nearly knocked me off my feet.

Too close.

But the door—just meters away now—stood open.

The massive stone doorway loomed ahead—our salvation carved in weathered gray and tangled roots. And just beyond it, someone was pulling it open further from the inside. Pink hair. A blacksmith’s apron.

“ Liz! ” I shouted, hope sparking in my chest like a flare.

The blacksmith spun toward my voice, eyes wide.

“ Catch! ” I yelled again—and with zero hesitation, hurled Argo straight at her.

Liz gasped, barely managing to catch the stunned information broker as they both tumbled back in a heap.

Then I shifted gears.

Without slowing, I swept Philia into a bridal carry —ignoring her yelp of protest—and poured every ounce of speed I had into a final desperate sprint.

The door was inches away—centimeters— right there.

I dived .

Twisting mid-air, I turned to land on my back, cradling Philia to protect her from the impact. My body hit the stone hard, but I didn’t stop. I slid across the floor, kicking up dust, eyes already scanning the room.

There. By the other door hinge— Asuna. Kirito.

“ CLOSE IT! ” I barked, letting Philia go and kipping up in one fluid motion. I didn’t wait for confirmation—I yanked another throwing needle from my belt and launched it straight at the monster’s other eye just as it lunged.

The needle struck true.

SCREEEEEEEECH!

The creature stumbled, roaring in pain, its massive frame colliding with the temple’s entrance. The stone doors groaned on ancient hinges as Asuna and Kirito shoved them shut.

A final slam —and the door sealed, cutting off the reaper’s shrieks from the other side.

The silence was suffocating, so complete it rang in my ears. My grip was still white-knuckled on my spear, every muscle in my body braced for the doors to splinter open and the monster to come crashing through.

But it didn’t.

“No,” Asuna said finally, her voice calm—too calm for someone who had just stared death in the face. “It can’t enter here.”

She gently pushed my hands down from my weapon, her gaze meeting mine with quiet assurance. I gave a small nod, the tension draining from my shoulders like water wrung from soaked cloth. My knees gave out, and I dropped to the floor, legs folding underneath me in a messy cross-legged sprawl.

“What… the hell… is that thing doing here?” I panted, still trying to catch my breath. My voice cracked with disbelief, panic, and fatigue.

I barely had time to think before I felt a hand settle on my shoulder.

I looked up.

Sinon.

She knelt beside me, her lips pressed into a thin line, her usual composure cracked just enough to show the fear in her eyes. She didn’t say anything—she didn’t have to. I reached up and placed my hand on top of hers, gently squeezing.

That’s when I felt a soft thump against my chest.

“Huh…?”

I looked down—and my heart lurched.

Yui was curled up in my lap, her small body trembling as she buried her face into my chest. No words. Just raw emotion, bleeding into me through every shaking breath.

My hand moved on instinct, cradling the back of her head, my fingers weaving slowly through her hair.

“Yui… I’m so glad you’re okay…” I whispered, resting my cheek against the top of her head.

Around us, the others were regrouping, whispering among themselves. Wounded pride, shaken nerves, relieved sobs. It all hung in the air, thick and unspoken. Everyone was alive… but we all knew we’d just come within inches of something far worse than death.

Three voices remained silent. Philia. Argo. Sinon.

Sinon sat at my right now, her hand still gripping mine, like she was anchoring herself in the moment. Argo had settled at my left, leaning against me as if trying to absorb the steadiness I didn’t even feel I had. She was breathing slowly, deliberately—like each inhale kept her from unraveling.

Philia stood apart from us, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the closed temple doors. Her jaw was tight. Her shoulders tense.

She was thinking.

Planning.

Plotting a way out.

Finally, Philia spoke—quiet, but firm.

“There’s a safe place… not far from here,” she said, her eyes never leaving the sealed stone door. “But we’ll have to get past that thing to reach it.”

She ran a hand down her face, visibly trying to steady herself.

The silence that followed was thick with tension.

“Who are you?” Silica’s voice broke through, more wary than confrontational.

I didn’t have to look around to know what had changed in the room. The air had shifted—cold, uncertain. Everyone’s gaze had drifted to the same invisible point above Philia’s head.

Her orange cursor.

Everyone except Argo and Yui.

Philia shrank back slightly under the collective weight of suspicion. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, her mouth opening—but no words came out.

Before she could stumble over an explanation, I gently lifted the now-drowsy bundle of code and comfort from my lap. Yui let out a tiny sigh and curled instinctively into Argo, who accepted her with a soft, wordless noise. Then I stood, stepping forward and placing myself between Philia and the group.

“Her name is Philia,” I said, firm but calm. “She’s clear. I already asked the necessary questions.”

I didn’t elaborate. They didn’t need to know the details.

The room stilled again, though the unease still lingered.

Then I walked toward the temple doors, placing my ear to the cold stone.

A deep, rhythmic rasping met me on the other side.

Breathing.

Impossible, I thought. The creature had no lungs. But something was drawing in air—slow and rattling, like wind through a ruined pipe. Then came the skittering, the unmistakable sound of bone on stone as the creature shifted its massive weight, scraping closer to the sealed entrance.

It was waiting.

I stepped away, my brow furrowed. Kirito was watching me now, his expression unreadable.

“What do you mean she’s clear?” he asked.

I looked over my shoulder. “I mean she’s not going to attack us,” I said plainly. “As for whether she keeps her word... we’ll play that part by ear.”

I turned back to the door, pulling my spear from my back. I held it steady for a moment, tuning in again to the breathing beyond the stone. Then, slowly, I pressed the blade to the surface and carved a deep, clear line into it.

Then I stepped back.

Five paces.

Pressed my spear to the floor.

Carved again.

Then again. And again.

Mark by mark, I traced a faint path across the temple floor, stopping only when I reached a point about fifty meters from the entrance.

Everyone watched in silence as I lowered my weapon and turned back to face them.

“If we stay behind this line,” I said softly, “the boss should lose aggro.”

I tapped my chest once—right over my hammering heart.

“At least… that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

The room was silent, everyone holding their breath along with me. I took a slow inhale through my nose, listening closely—waiting for the sound of that horrific breathing and bone-scraping movement beyond the stone door to begin fading. Seconds dragged like minutes.

Eventually, the noise dulled.

The boss was still there. But it wasn’t trying to break through anymore.

I exhaled slowly and turned, moving to the farthest wall in the chamber—the point safest from the door. I slumped against it with a long breath, letting the weight of everything start to settle.

Argo followed after a beat, her usual bounce dulled. She gently picked Yui up from where she'd curled into herself, then laid down beside me, resting the little girl—no, the little miracle —across my lap.

I didn’t say anything.

Just started running my fingers through Argo’s hair. Light, rhythmic motions. Soothing, for both of us. Every few strokes, I did the same to Yui’s. She murmured softly in her sleep but didn’t stir.

I could feel the stares. The others weren’t sure what to make of my decisions yet—how I’d handled the boss, how I’d handled Philia, how I was even still standing.

I ignored them.

Eventually, Sinon walked over in silence and sat down on my other side. Without a word, she leaned her head gently against my shoulder, her eyes half-lidded but alert. I could feel the tension in her muscles—not fear, but readiness. She was always prepared to act.

Across the room, I spotted Lizbeth and Silica settling down together. That small moment—Lizbeth’s bright pink blush as Silica curled up beside her, nuzzling into her side and resting her head lightly on Liz’s chest—told me everything I needed to know about them. Unspoken closeness. Maybe something was blooming.

And of course, in their usual corner, Kirito and Asuna sat side-by-side. Whispering. Holding hands. Their affection was familiar, comforting in a way. But even from this distance, I could feel it—the edge in their posture. The way they were holding each other just a little tighter than normal.

They were scared.

We all were.

But now wasn’t the time to worry. Not yet.

Argo’s breathing had already slowed beside me, deep and steady. Sinon, ever the quiet sentinel, had slipped into sleep with her head still resting on my shoulder. Yui curled against my lap like a kitten, her tiny fingers clutching the edge of my cloak. I looked down at the three of them—worn out, peaceful in their exhaustion—and sighed softly.

They deserved this rest.

Carefully, I shifted my body, sliding Argo and Sinon closer together, adjusting Yui so she rested more comfortably across their legs. I moved like I was handling glass, not wanting to stir even a breath from them.

But I couldn’t sleep. Not with that thing waiting just outside.

“I can take first watch,” I said, just above a whisper. My voice barely carried through the stone chamber. “You all should get some rest.”

No one protested. Everyone was too drained to argue, too hollowed out by the encounter to do anything but nod or give a quiet word of thanks.

Except for one.

“I’ll join you.”

Philia’s voice came from across the room, quiet but sure. She stood and made her way to the door, stopping beside me without waiting for approval.

I glanced over at her.

There was steel in her eyes now—a quiet, burning resolve that hadn’t been there before. But the fear was still there too, just beneath the surface. Her emotions were written on her face like words on a page. Always had been.

I stared at the stone floor in front of us, my throat tightening.

The silence stretched.

Then I spoke.

“When were you going to tell me you got a NerveGear?” I asked quietly. “Take-chan…”

She froze.

Her breath caught, her eyes snapping to mine, wide with disbelief.

“H-How do you—”

“You’re the only person I know with a face that expressive,” I interrupted softly. “Not even Sachi wore her heart that openly… Not unless she was smiling.”

My voice cracked. Just a little. But it was enough.

Philia lowered her gaze, something flickering in her expression.

“So then… you must be…”

“Yashima.”

There was a pause.

A long one.

Then finally, she spoke.

“…It’s good to see you again, Yashima.”

But her tone didn’t match her words. It was distant. Cold. Tinted with something else—hurt, maybe. Resentment?

I didn’t know.

Maybe it was because I called her by her real name.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t recognized her sooner.

Or maybe… it was something else entirely.

“So… the two leaning on you—were they…?”

“Tomo and Shino?” I asked softly.

“Yeah.” Philia nodded, still staring at the stone floor. Neither of us seemed willing to meet the other’s gaze. A silent agreement, or maybe a defense mechanism.

“You must’ve been here a while,” I said, trying to bridge the stillness.

“So?” she replied, guarded.

“You just… seem to know the area well,” I explained, quieter now, cautious.

Philia gave a slight nod, her lips tight. Then she looked at me—really looked at me—for the first time since joining me on the watch.

“Why did you run off that day?”

The question hit me like a cold blade between the ribs. My eyes widened, the words catching in my throat.

“What?”

“When I told you how I felt,” she said. “Why did you run?”

I stared at her, stunned. The timing. The weight. Why bring this up now?

“Take… I don’t want to talk about that. Not here. Not now.”

“You never want to talk,” she snapped, her voice rising, sharp and wounded. “You always push people away. It's easier than facing them, isn’t it?”

Argo shifted in her sleep, and I felt Sinon stir beside her. Yui gave a soft whimper in her rest. I held my hand up gently, a quiet plea.

“Takemiya… please. Keep your voice down.”

She didn’t. Her words kept coming, like water breaking through a dam.

“Back then… we were young, yeah. But you weren’t just scared, Yashi. You were hiding.”

I exhaled shakily. “Everything back then was… overwhelming. I didn’t know how to handle it. I still don’t.”

Philia’s voice dropped, but it didn’t soften. “It was because of her, wasn’t it?”

My chest clenched. I lowered my gaze. Didn’t answer.

“That girl,” she continued bitterly. “God, she had you wrapped around her little finger. You did whatever she wanted—didn’t matter what it cost anyone else.”

“Take—”

“We were there too, Yashima. But you never looked at us the same way. We were second string. Background noise. Not important.”

Her voice cracked, even through the venom. I swallowed hard. My hands trembled.

“You don’t understand…”

“No, I do.” Her eyes blazed now. “You only cared when it made you look good. When she was watching. Sachi. That was her name, right? Your little prize.”

That’s when I moved.

I didn’t think. I didn’t plan. One second I was frozen, and the next—my hands had grabbed her by the collar and slammed her back into the wall with a thud that echoed too loudly in the still air.

She gasped, a small, frightened sound barely above a whisper.

“Don’t…” My voice shook. My teeth clenched. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

And just as quickly, I let her go.

She crumpled slightly against the wall, clutching the front of her shirt where I’d grabbed her. Her eyes were wide—more shocked than angry now. I backed away, ashamed of the heat still burning in my chest.

The silence that followed wasn’t just awkward—it was suffocating.

But I knew I had to break it.

“Sachi… she was there for me during the times I forced myself to be alone,” I began, voice low and uneven. “That day… I ran because I was scared. Everything in my life was changing so fast, and I didn’t know how to face any of it. I didn’t want to hurt you… or Tomo, or Shino… not even Sachi.”

Philia slowly straightened, her breathing quiet but shaky. I didn’t meet her gaze, but I could feel it—heavy on me, waiting.

“She changed, too,” I continued. “Suddenly. Sharply. And I was terrified I’d lose her.”

Her shadow moved—her hand lifting toward me, hesitating.

“Yashi…” she whispered, voice trembling—not in fear of me, but in fear of what was coming. Like she already knew.

“She’s gone,” I said, barely more than a breath. “Sachi… died.”

A fragile gasp caught in her throat, too soft to echo, but loud enough to split the silence. I glanced up, and her eyes met mine—those deep, blue oceans filling fast with tears they couldn’t hold back.

“I failed her,” I murmured. “I failed at the one thing I swore I’d always do. I couldn’t protect her.”

My mind crashed through the memory. Kirito stumbling back to the inn that night, hollow-eyed and broken. My messages to Sachi going unanswered. The deafening silence. The moment I lost control, tearing that room apart, my rage and grief boiling into ruin. Then the week that followed—no sleep, no food, no sense of anything but vengeance. Just me and the monsters, one after another after another.

Silence wrapped around us again.

Then, a soft sound—a single tear hitting the stone floor beneath me.

Philia said nothing. She just stepped forward and pulled me into a quiet, trembling embrace. It was hesitant at first… but it held more comfort than words ever could.

I didn’t return the hug immediately. But I didn’t pull away.

And then—another tug. I looked down.

Yui, still bleary-eyed from sleep, stood by my leg and looked up at me. She didn’t say a word—just wrapped her small arms around me and held on, her touch light but full of meaning. I felt her give a soft squeeze.

It said more than any words ever could.

More tears slipped past the dam I was trying to hold. I sniffed hard, wiping them away quickly as I hugged her and Philia back, trying to ground myself.

Then—boom.

The heavy doors thundered as something massive crashed into them from outside. I stumbled back, snapping into alertness.

“Crap!”

The sudden impact jolted everyone awake. Scrambling hands reached for weapons. Gasps and groans of surprise echoed as tension surged through the room.

“Enemies here are really aggressive… I forgot how persistent that one was.” Philia stepped back, her tone more frustrated than scared. I pushed Yui gently behind her, stepping protectively in front of them both, spear already in hand.

But after a few moments, the sound faded. The boss scuttled away—its jagged, bone-like limbs dragging across stone until silence returned.

“Jeez…” Lisbeth exhaled, finally lowering her mace. Only then did I notice her arm around Silica, holding her close without even realizing it. Silica’s face was bright red, her hands clutching her dagger tightly, and Pina hovered beside her, wings twitching with tension.

“We can’t stay holed up in here forever,” Leafa muttered, arms crossed. “We’ll starve if we do.”

Kirito and Asuna nodded grimly.

“That thing took out fourteen assault team members on the 75th floor,” Asuna added, her voice heavy with frustration. “We can’t take that kind of risk.”

“But if we don’t make a move, it’s only a matter of time before it finds a way in,” Strea said. “It’s adapting. I can feel it.”

And so the arguments began—again. Sneak past it? Lure it away? Try to fight it? Could we even run fast enough?

Everyone had a different idea. Everyone was tense. Desperate.

But I wasn’t listening.

I closed my eyes, tuning them all out. I wasn’t moving, not physically—but it felt like something inside me had begun to drift, quietly separating from the noise. Like my soul was moving, stretching into something deeper. A place just beyond the surface.

My hand moved almost instinctively, drawing my spear from my back. But this time… it didn’t feel like me holding it. The stance I shifted into wasn’t my usual one. The grip was different. Balanced. Precise. My feet found a rhythm I hadn’t learned—like water flowing into form. My spirit moved with grace I didn’t recognize. Not like a warrior.

But like a dancer.

Like a song in motion.

“…an Aria,” I whispered under my breath.

Nobody heard it. The arguing continued, voices rising, plans unraveling.

I turned to face them, suddenly calm. Certain.

“We need to fight it.”

That shut them up.

Kirito blinked. Then laughed. “What? Are you insane ? You want to go toe-to-toe with that thing?”

“No, he—” Asuna started, but Kirito cut her off.

“No. That’s suicide and you know it, Yashi.”

“It’s not the same boss,” I said, my voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Most of us have fought the Skull Reaper. But this… this one was different. Its blades weren’t steel. They were bone. And its eyes—purple, not red.”

The room fell silent again. Not with agreement. Not with confidence.

But hesitation.

Because I was right.

And that scared them more than the Reaper itself.

I remembered something my dad used to say: “When the person everyone thinks has a death wish starts making sense—that’s when you know you’re really in trouble.”

I took a step forward, glancing around the dim chamber, looking into the eyes of people I trusted with my life.

“We need to fight it,” I said firmly. “We can’t sneak past something that’s adapting to us. And we sure as hell can’t wait it out. So, for once—and I mean this with complete certainty—can you trust me?”

My eyes locked with the leaders of the assault team.

Silence. Tension. A decision hanging on a blade’s edge.

“Fine,” Kirito said at last, voice low but steady. “But the moment either of us drops, the rest of them run. No questions. No heroics.”

I nodded. No protest. Just understanding. Mutual, unspoken.

“Wait, I don’t—” Argo started, but Asuna gently placed a hand on her arm, silencing her with a look. She knew better than to argue when Kirito and I were already past the point of debate.

Sinon fidgeted, clutching her sleeve, visibly conflicted. Argo gave a low growl, but said nothing. Philia stared at the floor, her mouth slightly open, wanting to speak but unable to find the words. And Yui, my brave little girl, just pouted and tucked herself back behind Philia, her presence like a shadow begging not to be left behind.

I exhaled slowly.

“No… I can’t agree to that,” I said, my voice softer now, but resolute. “Kirito…”

She turned to me, jaw clenched, eyes sharp as ever.

“What?”

“We have to be smarter than that. We have people who care about us. If we throw ourselves into this headfirst like madwomen… no one’s making it out. Not alive. Not whole.”

The weight of my words hung between us.

Kirito’s expression shifted—defiance giving way to guilt, then finally softening into reluctant acceptance. Her shoulders eased. The tension in her jaw loosened. She reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“For once…” she muttered, “…you’re right.” She managed a small chuckle. “You’re actually making sense. And that’s kind of terrifying.”

I cracked a faint smile. “Get used to it.”

She rolled her eyes, but the edge of her lips tugged upward. “Alright then. We’ll do this your way.”

I stepped forward, rallying everyone with a calm clarity I hadn’t felt in days.

“Okay. Kirito, Asuna—you’re with me. We’re going to draw its attention and keep it focused on us.”

They both nodded without hesitation.

“Sinon, Lisbeth—you two flank its right side. Sinon, pin down its legs with that spear. Lis, I need you to focus your strikes—take out the joints if you can.”

Sinon adjusted her grip on her spear with a quiet nod. Lisbeth gripped her mace with renewed determination.

“Strea, Philia—you two take the opposite flank. Same strategy. Keep moving, coordinate your hits, and don’t get caught alone.”

Strea threw Philia a glance and gave a confident thumbs-up. Philia, still tense, simply nodded.

That left Argo and Silica. I could see it on Argo’s face—she was bracing herself for a command she didn’t want to hear.

“Silica, Argo—you two find us a route. Look for an open space. No walls, no narrow corners. Somewhere we can lure this thing where it can’t pin us down. Take Yui with you and—”

“No,” Argo snapped, stepping forward. “I’m helpin’.”

“Argo—”

“Why does everyone else get ta fight, but not me?!”

“Because we need support,” I said calmly but firmly. “Kirito, Asuna, and I will take the hits. But we’ll need you to guide us. Find a battlefield that gives us the advantage. That’s not just important—it’s essential.”

My tone left no room for argument, and she knew it. After a moment, she exhaled sharply through her nose and crossed her arms.

“I hate it when yer right…” Argo muttered under her breath.

I gave her a small, understanding smile.

When I was right—really right—everyone knew it. This was one of those moments where even the most stubborn couldn’t deny it. It had kind of become our group’s pattern: I’d make a call, get ignored, everything would go sideways… and then I’d be the one to pull us out of the fire. Argo and Yui usually listened. Sinon too, most of the time. But still, the same cycle played out more often than not.

“Doesn’t matter if I’m right,” I said, gently resting a hand on Argo’s head. “What matters is we take this thing down.”

She pouted at the gesture, but didn’t pull away. Her ears twitched slightly, like they always did when she was trying not to smile.

Then I caught it—a shift in Philia. Subtle, but there. Her shoulders loosened, the rigid tension she always carried starting to ease. And on her cheeks, a soft blush bloomed. She was still scared, still holding herself together—but not alone anymore.

I looked around at the group—faces etched with fear, tension, and the weight of what was coming. Each one waited, silently, for my next move.

“Let me take the lead,” I said, my voice soft but unwavering. “Please… just trust me this once.”

One by one, they nodded.

I turned back to the ancient stone door, jamming the butt of my spear into the seam. The grinding of stone against stone filled the air as I pried it open with every ounce of strength I had. Across from me, the others began to push the opposite side, and together we forced it wide enough for all of us to pass.

The chill of night air rushed in.

Above us, a dark sky stretched endless and vast, glittering with stars. For a moment, it almost felt peaceful.

Then we saw it.

Off in the distance, half-shrouded in shadow, the creature waited. Those glowing, unnatural purple eyes locked on us—unblinking. Watching. Its breath steamed from between jagged, flat teeth in slow, deliberate clouds.

“It’s… waiting for us?” Silica’s voice trembled, barely more than a whisper.

Ahead, the monster moved. Slowly. Deliberately. One of its long, skeletal arms raised, the bone blade dragging through the dirt. A line. A challenge.

“It’s taunting us?” Lisbeth breathed, stunned.

From behind me, Kirito let out a dry scoff. “Kayaba actually programmed enemy taunts into the game... color me surprised.”

But they weren’t just stunned by the creature’s intelligence—they were unnerved by my silence.

“Yash?” Argo called softly, hesitant.

But I didn’t answer. I exhaled, low and slow, narrowing my eyes.

Then I ran.

I shot forward like a bullet, legs pumping, cloak snapping behind me. The dirt line wasn’t a threat—it was an invitation. And I crushed it underfoot like it meant nothing.

The monster shrieked, a piercing sound of fury and anticipation. It moved—fast—scuttling toward me with its grotesque limbs, focused entirely on me.

“NOW!” I roared, my spear flashing to life with a violet glow as I launched forward—no hesitation, no fear. Just fire and instinct.

I didn’t look back, but I felt the rumble of footsteps—Kirito, always right behind me. The Hollow Reaper lunged, one bladed claw cleaving down with bone-crushing force. I met it head-on, twisting my grip and slashing upward in a sharp arc.

CLANG.

Sparks exploded as steel met sharpened bone. The monster staggered back with a screech—it hadn’t expected a parry. That gave Kirito the opening she needed.

“DEPTH IMPACT!”

She blurred forward, swords flashing. One—two—three slashes, each blow landing clean and fast. Then she spun, planting her feet as she drove both blades forward, the right sword striking high, the left low. The creature reeled.

“ASUNA, SWITCH!” Kirito called.

Without missing a beat, Asuna darted past her, rapier already glowing. A burst of speed—ten dazzling jabs slammed into the creature’s exposed skull plate with surgical precision.

“Over Radiation!” she shouted.

The final strike sent a burst of light through the bone, cracking part of the plate. Smart—target the front skull to disorient. Asuna pivoted back as I leapt in, charging straight through the gap between them.

“Dancing Spear!” I activated the skill, my weapon gleaming with an eerie shine.

I became a blur—five rapid slashes in a spiraling arc, flowing into a sharp knee strike, then a sweeping horizontal slash that bit deep into its ribs. I dipped low, sweeping its legs from under it with a wide kick, and followed up with another vicious slash across its torso. As the monster flinched and screeched, I vaulted forward with a spear-thrust that roared with momentum and power.

The Hollow Reaper stumbled—actually stumbled.

It was stunned.

I glanced at its HP: four bars total. We’d already dropped the first halfway. A good start—but I knew better than to celebrate too early.

Behind me, the team was in motion.

From the flanks, I heard the clang of steel and the hiss of skills activating. Argo’s claws sliced in at the creature’s knees while Silica struck lower, fast and fierce, forcing it to shift weight. Yui flitted between them, casting buffs and heals, her tiny frame glowing with supportive auras.

“Hang in there! Boosting STR and DEF!” Yui called, her voice calm under pressure.

From the opposite side, Strea charged in with a roar, her broadsword glowing crimson. It struck the creature’s ribs with a bone-snapping CRACK. She kept it pinned as Sinon drove her spear into its flank, targeting weak spots with sniper-like precision.

Then came Philia, raising her dagger high. “WAR CRY!” she called, the shout echoing like a bell through the air. A red aura burst from her, bathing us all in a strength buff.

The Hollow Reaper shrieked and twisted, lashing out.

“Behind you!” I shouted.

But Lisbeth was already moving. Her mace glowed with a pulsing light—Silent Blow. She ducked under a wild swing and slammed her weapon into the creature’s side with a crunch that rattled the air. The impact disrupted its balance just as planned.

The monster teetered, its purple eyes flaring with rage.

“First bar’s almost down!” Asuna called.

“Push it! Don’t let it recover!” Kirito snapped, already charging for another assault.

And for just one second, I let myself breathe.

We were moving like a real unit—fluid, coordinated, relentless. Every member of the team was pulling their weight, syncing like a well-oiled machine. For a brief moment, I dared to hope.

But then it hit me—that heavy, coiled knot in my gut. A gnawing sensation. Like the calm before a storm. Like the way the world holds its breath before something breaks.

We pressed harder, faster, eager to finish the fight.

I should’ve listened to my instincts.

The creature let out a shriek, not of pain—but of rage. A high, grating sound that rattled my teeth. Its entire body convulsed—and then, in a sudden burst, bone shards exploded from its back like a living fragmentation grenade.

“SCATTER!” I tried to yell, but it was too late.

White-hot pain lanced through my shoulder as a jagged shard of bone slammed into me, knocking me off my feet. I tumbled hard, dust billowing up around me as my back slammed against the ground.

My spear skidded out of reach.

I groaned, teeth clenched as I clutched my shoulder. Blood like pixels soaked through the fabric. The others were scrambling, the sharp clatter of retreating footsteps ringing through the haze. I lifted my head just enough to see Kirito and Asuna yelling for everyone to fall back, herding them toward the temple door like seasoned leaders.

Most of them made it.

But then—the sound. That terrible, rhythmic thudding.

It was coming for me.

I stared up through the dust, unable to move fast enough. I could see the silhouette—those long, scythe-like arms dragging deep gashes in the ground as it stomped forward with terrifying intent.

I froze.

This was it.

I closed my eyes.

And then—

“UGLY!”
A high-pitched voice, filled with furious courage.

I snapped my eyes open.

Yui.

She was just a blur of motion, her dagger glowing faintly in the dark. She stabbed the creature’s leg—no damage, but enough to get its attention. My heart nearly stopped.

“Yui-chan!!” Argo’s scream tore through the chaos.

She broke from the group without hesitation, her boots scraping hard against the stone as she dove toward the girl. The monster roared, its massive leg rising to crush Yui underfoot. But Argo was faster. She caught Yui in her arms and rolled, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow as the ground shook with the impact.

But the creature wasn’t done.

It whipped one of its arms around, slamming it down like a wall in front of them. Argo skidded to a stop, cradling Yui tight to her chest. She glanced back—no way out. She pivoted, going the other way, sprinting toward the temple.

The second arm crashed down in front of her.

Trapping them.

Her breath caught. I could see the way she clutched Yui tighter, turning in frantic circles, looking for any way to escape. But the Hollow Reaper was toying with them. Blocking. Cornering.

Like a cat with a mouse.

I pushed myself up, groaning from the pain. I couldn’t let this happen. I reached for my spear—but it was still too far. The creature shifted, curling its arms in closer, boxing Argo in entirely. Its head rose slowly, almost gleefully, tilting at an unnatural angle as it studied them. Its grotesque mouth twisted slightly, exposing jagged teeth.

And then—

It looked at me.

Those purple eyes locked onto mine. And in that moment, I saw it—something human in that expression. Not instinct. Not programming.

Intention.

And then—it grinned.

Not with its mouth, but with the cold amusement in its gaze.

Mocking. Calculated. Cruel.

Like him.

Like PoH.

The laughter, the smirk, the sadism. That same knowing glint.

This wasn't just a boss.

This was something else.

Something worse.

And now…it was playing with us.

I stood, slowly, swaying as my legs threatened to give out beneath me. Everything burned. My ribs ached, my shoulder throbbed from the embedded shard, and my vision blurred with every breath. But I had to stand. I had to do something.

Then it turned.

The Hollow Reaper’s gaze snapped back to me, its skeletal legs skittering with horrifying speed. In one sudden, sweeping motion, it slammed a bladed limb into my chest and launched me like a broken doll.

I hit the cliffside with a sickening crack. Pain exploded through my body like a shockwave. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The jagged rock bit into my back as I slid down, crumpling at the base like discarded debris.

“Papa!!”
Yui’s voice tore through the air, shrill and terrified.

The Reaper didn’t strike again—yet. It coiled, circling Argo and Yui like a predator, its segmented limbs skittering in deliberate arcs as it crept toward me.

Closer.
Closer still.

It loomed, towering over my broken frame. I felt the heat of its rancid breath wash over me, seeping into my skin like poison. Its face was inches from mine, eyeless sockets glowing with that unnatural purple flame.

My eyelids fluttered. My body screamed at me to stop. I could feel consciousness slipping. Everything was burning.

It raised its claw.

And I smiled.

A weak, broken thing. But it was all I had.

“…I’m sorry…” I whispered, eyes drifting to Argo—frozen in terror, shielding Yui as the little girl sobbed into her chest. My girls. My family.

And then the claw came down.

Everything erupted in white-hot agony, like a firestorm had torn through my nerves. My vision went black. Sound disappeared. The world became distant, muffled.

I heard screaming. Faint. Far away.
“Yashi!!”
“No!!”
“PAPA!!”
“NO!!”

The HUD flickered into view behind my closed eyes, the only thing left to witness my final moments.

1000 / 94,000.
500 / 94,000.
10 / 94,000.
...1 / 94,000.

A death sentence.

But it stopped.

One.

One hit point.

I was still breathing. Barely. Hanging on by a single thread.

Why?
Why was I still alive?

Then—
A voice.

Soft. Familiar. Timeless.

“Yashi…”

A single word, carried on a breeze that didn’t exist. It rang like a melody—gentle, sorrowful, but resolute.

My eyes snapped open.

And the world was different.

The battlefield was gone.

I stood knee-deep in silver water, the surface rippling in impossible, dreamlike patterns. Stone statues—twisted, silent, and sorrowful—circled the reflective pool, their faces frozen in grief.

The pain was gone. The heat, the dust, the monster—all of it replaced by stillness.

But the voice remained.

Calling me.

“Yashi… follow my voice…”

It drifted from behind me, soft and melodic, carried on the still air like a lullaby whispered through fog.

I turned.

The silver water rippled as I moved, each step sluggish and heavy—as if time itself had thickened. The world was cast in twilight, shimmering with a surreal luminescence that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

Statues stood around me—silent sentinels carved from gray stone, half-sunken in the water. As I passed them, I began to see their faces. Not strangers.

My friends.

Argo’s face was twisted in anguish, her mouth frozen in a silent scream, crystalline tears frozen on her cheeks. Yui was clutched tightly in her arms, her tiny stone form curled up, as if trying to bury herself into Argo’s chest.

Further on, I saw Philia—caught mid-sprint, arm outstretched, her face cracked with panic as she tried to push past Kirito and Asuna. Asuna’s expression was one of horror, while Kirito’s was unreadable—tense, jaw clenched, shielding. Then, near the edge of the circle, was Sinon. She had collapsed to her knees, head bowed, her fists clenched at her sides as she wept into the water, the ripples swallowing her reflection.

I kept moving. One step. Then another.

“You’re so close…”
The voice rang again, just ahead. Closer now.

And then—there she was.

A girl, outlined in a soft bluish-silver glow, standing knee-deep in the still water. Her black hair fell gently to her shoulders, catching the pale light like strands of midnight silk. A faint mole marked the corner of her right eye—just as I remembered. Her light blue tunic fluttered despite the lack of wind, her chestguard dulled with use. She wore a short, knee-length skirt, grayish boots darkened from wear and time. Slung across her back was the weapon I hadn’t seen in so long: a two-handed long spear, weathered but familiar.

Sachi.

She looked just as she had the last day we were all together—brave and terrified all at once.

But her eyes…

They weren’t afraid.

Not now.

They shimmered with warmth. And sorrow. And something more: forgiveness.

I stopped, only a few paces away, the water stilling around me.

She smiled faintly—that same soft, honest smile that used to calm me even in my worst hours. It didn’t demand anything of me. It simply was . A beacon in the void.

Her voice floated toward me again, like a melody carried on wind I couldn’t feel.

“Don’t give up, Yashi…”

Her smile deepened—not just in comfort, but in something else. Hope. I felt myself tremble. My body, my breath, my heart—they all stilled as tears quietly slipped down my cheeks.

“You still need to find me.”

She stepped closer, her gloved hand rising with impossible gentleness to brush my cheek. It was warm. Real.

“We still have to finish our duet.”

She giggled—soft and musical—and the sound shattered me in the most delicate way. Like a wind chime caught in the breath of spring.

“S-Sachi…what are you talking about?” I asked, my voice trembling, the words barely escaping my lips. I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer. Not if it meant losing her again.

She only giggled again—quiet and mischievous.

“Come find me.”
She leaned in, her lips now just a breath away from mine.
“But first…” she whispered, her words brushing my skin, “Finish this performance. Sing them a beautiful aria…”

Her voice was velvet in my ear.

And then—the world twisted.

The sky fractured above us as stars spun into constellations, whirling like music notes flung from the strings of a harp. Light spiraled around us, pulling inward, becoming smaller and smaller until—

Darkness.

Again.

The sound came back first.

The cries. The fear. The skittering.

“YA FUCKIN’ STUPID SKELETON BUG!”
Argo’s voice rang out, choked with desperation and fury.

The boss made a horrid, bone-rattling noise—like mock laughter, dry and cruel.

My eyes fluttered open.
Pain flared from my shoulder, but I welcomed it. I needed to feel it. To remember that I was still here.

I saw the creature—its grotesque, bone-covered form towering above the dust cloud. I saw Argo shielding Yui, the little one trembling in her arms. The beast loomed, ready to strike again.

No.

I would not let it end like this.

Slowly, I pushed myself to my knees. Every movement lit nerves on fire, but I bit down on the pain— hard . My hand reached for the long, jagged shard in my shoulder.

“Hrrgh—!”
I tore it free in one brutal pull, blood pixels slicking my hand. My vision blurred. I nearly blacked out.

But I didn’t scream. I refused to.

The dust still hung in the air—thick, choking, almost like smoke from a stage.

My hand reached blindly, until it found the familiar weight of my spear. I gripped it tight.

“Hey… FUCKER!!” I roared into the dark.
The echo bounced across the stone cliffs.

“I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU!”

The creature froze mid-motion. Its head twisted sharply toward me. Something in the way it moved suggested recognition. Contempt.

I felt something stir in me.
A flicker. A spark .

My health bar—nearly drained to nothing—suddenly began to rise. Fast. A second wind, a system safeguard, a miracle—who cared. I was back.

And the battlefield fell silent.

The others gasped as they turned to see me rise from the cliff wall like a ghost come to life. But I wasn’t dead. I was burning.

My body wavered, but I stood tall. My spear hummed faintly in my hands, almost singing with me.

“You think you can silence my song?” I said, low and clear.
I took a slow step forward, placing myself between the monster and the others.

“No.”

Its head tilted—curious, or maybe cautious.

“This is my aria.”

I slid my foot back, lowering my center of gravity. My spear followed, raised not like a weapon, but like a conductor’s baton.

My stance had changed.

It was no longer the style I had trained in.

It was fluid, unpredictable—alive.

The first note of something new, rising from sorrow and forged in defiance.

The Skull Reaper roared—an ear-splitting, hateful cry that shook the ground beneath us. It charged again, bone legs scuttling like a nightmare born from death itself.

But I didn’t move.
I didn’t flinch.
I didn’t break.

Its massive arm came down like a guillotine, that jagged, bone-scythe aimed straight for my skull.

And then—

CLANG!

My spear met the blow with an upward slash, the impact blooming sparks in every direction. But something was changing—something inside me.

I felt the rhythm rising.
A pulse. A tempo. A song.

Music echoed in my ears—no, in my soul—a rising aria composed of every scream, every cry, every ounce of grief and love I’d carried with me.

And as I moved, my weapon moved with me.

The long haft in my hands began to shift mid-swing, collapsing like a folding fan. Metal shimmered. Obsidian glass warped. The spear's shaft condensed into the tight, wrapped hilt of a katana.

A rain of sparks. A curved blade. A new form.

“What—?!”
“Yashi…is…!”
“Aria Shift…” I whispered, my voice quiet but sure.

The Reaper swung again, but I was already gone—vanishing in a shimmer of afterimage. My katana carved clean through the air as I reappeared behind it, slashing a crimson arc across its hide.

Another step. Another shift.

I quickstepped backward, and my weapon morphed again, elongating into the weighty head of a massive battle axe. I drove it down into the boss’s limb joint with brutal force. The impact sent a sickening crunch into the night air, and the creature howled.

Using the axe’s embedded head as leverage, I vaulted upward, flipping into the air as the weapon changed again—rapier form now, gleaming like starlight. I descended like a comet, stabbing downward in a storm of precise thrusts that turned the Reaper’s carapace into swiss cheese.

Its health bars began to drain—fast.

It lashed out, screeching wildly, but I never let up. I shifted again—this time to twin daggers, slicing along its legs like a whirlwind of steel and vengeance. Each strike a note in the aria. Each cut a harmony of pain and justice.

Its third health bar collapsed.

I launched myself upward once more, switching to a curved sword, the momentum carrying me in a rising slash that carved through its face. Then, with a roar, I slammed down with a mace, the impact cratering the earth and driving the Skull Reaper’s head deep into the dirt.

“YEAH!!”
Lisbeth’s voice rang out like a bell.
Then came another—Sinon cheering fiercely.
Philia, rallying with a cry filled with pride and fury.
And finally—
“GO PAPA!!!”
Yui’s voice soared above them all.

Argo screamed curses and encouragement at once, because of course she did. The sound of my friends—their faith—wrapped around me like armor.

I smirked.

“Let’s finish this,” I growled, my eyes narrowing.

I shifted again—now wielding a one-handed sword—and launched into Vertical Square, a classic technique. Four slashes: up, down, left, right. Each one blazing with bright light, forming a cross-shaped glyph on the monster’s core.

Then—I drew my trump card.

Another blade shimmered into existence in my left hand.

Gasps echoed across the battlefield.

“The Eclipse…”
The final Sword Skill unlocked with Dual Blades. A relentless, unending storm of strikes.

But this was more than Eclipse.

This was my Aria.

And with it, I didn’t just swing two swords—I played them.

Each slash was with a different weapon: a scimitar, a spear, a greatsword, a dagger, a staff, a saber. They spun in and out of my hands like a conductor's baton in a symphony of death. Metal blurred. Light arced. The monster couldn’t even scream—it was too overwhelmed.

And then, above it all—I rose again.

The wind whipped around me as my weapon snapped back into spear form, my original. My true instrument.

“Encore.”

I dove like lightning, spear-first, and drove the blade straight into the Reaper’s remaining eye.

Time froze.
Light erupted from the impact, a blinding crescendo that shattered the silence like a glass heart dropped from the heavens.

The Skull Reaper's shriek twisted into something hollow—not rage, not defiance—just the sound of inevitable defeat. Its jagged form splintered, bone flaking into black pixels as the monstrosity began to collapse inward, piece by crumbling piece.

I locked eyes with it—those unnatural, violet orbs that had once radiated malice—and saw, for just a breath, recognition.

And then, nothing.
The last trace of its presence burst into a million shards of light, scattered to the wind like ash on a forgotten battlefield.

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips as something warm trailed down my cheek.
I reached up, half-expecting it to be sweat.
It wasn’t.
It was a tear.

Around me, cheers erupted—shouts of victory, relief, disbelief, joy.
But they were distant, like echoes across water. My vision wavered, the edges blurring with exhaustion. The spear slipped from my grasp, falling with a dull clatter.

I followed a moment later, collapsing backward into the dust.

“YASHI!”
Voices broke through the ringing in my ears—urgent, panicked. Footsteps rushed toward me.

But all I could see through the haze…
Were three faces.

Argo.
Philia.
Sinon.

Tears, laughter, relief, fury—all in their eyes.

And in that moment, I understood.

They weren’t just the ones I had protected.

They were the song I fought to finish—
the melody I lived to carry forward.

They were my Aria.

Chapter Text

Normally I dont create update chapters. I try to give everyone the best story I can, and I try my best to keep my personal life out of things. 

My life is changing against my own accord. I wish it wasn't. I wish there was something I could do about it but I can't. 

I feel like I've failed. Even though what is happening is beyond my control. 

I'm being forced to leave Japan. 

My company, NOVA, is forcing my hand and causing me to leave Japan, because they do not want me as an employee. To the point where they are violating labor laws in order to get me to leave. 

I'm going to be going back to the US. 

Am I glad? Partially, I hate this fucking company with a burning passion. But am I sad? Also yes. I wish things could be different. 

I have a job that will make me much happier. And I will be in an environment that will help me thrive rather than suffer. 

And I do not plan on putting a long hold on this story. The next chapter is still in the works, and I intend to deliver it soon. But please be patient as I battle with demons I had no intention of meeting...

Thank you for reading Sonata of the Hollows. Chapter 5 will be here soon.