Kirito has seen many terrible things.
He watched as low-leveled players cried their grief over their scammed weapons and armor. He watched as his first leader died before his eyes. He saw his first group of friends get slaughtered by a bunch of ones and zeroes in the form of killing machines, and had to live with the knowledge that he was the one responsible.
Kirito was no stranger to death by now-not by a long shot.
He's watched many players' faces as they witnessed death approaching-their wide-eyed, terrified, confused, disbelieving, angry, crazed and solemn faces. He's seen them all.
...
Except for one... Just one face.
That damn fucking face she looked at him with.
Love.
She looked at him with so much love in her eyes as she betrayed his trust and went and got herself killed when she wasn't even supposed to be fucking physically able to.
It's Kirito's fault. He knows it as he holds her as close and as tight as he can, never wanting to let her go, to let her leave him all alone in a fucking video game filled with idiots pointlessly swinging their swords.
Because that's what he was.
A complete, utter fucking idiot who thought he was invincible, and look where that got him-watching the love of his life stare up at him with those damn fucking eyes as her fate was decided by the number of pixels left in a Goddamn health bar.
...
She was going to die, and he wanted to do the same.
He was about to die, and she was going to be fine-but then she just had to go and defy the laws of full-body paralysis and jump in front of the fucking sword that was supposed to kill him.
Him. Not her.
Oh God, please not her.
But no, she just whispered something but he can't fucking hear her over the sound of his world breaking, and-
...
No. It's not possible.
She left.
She's gone.
No no no no, please come back, come back. She better not fucking dare leave him here, stuck in a fucking cave chasing after those Goddamn piece of shit pixels.
"THIS ISN'T A FUCKING GAME!"
It can't be when he hurts so much and wants to just fucking kill someone.
So he looked up, lost in his rage and grief, and saw a crimson chestplate, and a man with the most apathetic eyes he had ever seen. He stared at them, and watched as the corners crinkled up in a smirk. The man opened his mouth to speak, but Kirito won't fucking hear it.
With a scream coming from deep inside his fractured soul, Kirito lunged at the man, swinging a black sword he didn't even realize he picked up. But that didn't matter.
So this fucking son of a bitch thinks a girl dying is amusing?
Kirito swung his pathetic looking piece of steel against the even more pathetic shield, not even completing the motion when he suddenly swiped at the bastard's face, laughing the whole time because it would be so fucking funny to watch him die, to watch his expression as he faced death. What would it be, he wondered, eagerly awaiting the answer.
His laughter turned into angry growls and shouts of anger as the bastard kept fucking blocking and dodging.
Why won't he just fucking die?
Swinging and hitting and swinging, he remembered the look on her face as she just fucking disappeared from his arms.
She was killed, and he wanted to kill.
He wanted her back.
Bring her back.
Bring her back
Bring her back
Bring her back
Bring her back
Bring her back
BRING. HER. BACK.
And it's done. Finished. His sword was sticking right through the bastard's fucking eye.
But his face was wrong. The bastard wasn't scared or angry or even upset-he was pleasantly surprised. That fucking son of a bitch acted as though Kirito just gave him a fucking birthday present, and he did not like it one fucking bit.
So he wrenched through, and the top half of the face came clean off, spinning and flopping onto the rock floor.
There was no blood-just a smattering of little pretty pixels that left exactly in the same way she did.
Kirito suddenly didn't feel like laughing anymore.
He raised up his hand, pretending those pixels were hers, and that he could save them by holding them close to his chest. But they just fluttered away, up and towards the ceiling.
...
He could see her face. Could see her sitting next to him on their couch in front of the fireplace, sleeping on his shoulder. He reached out to touch her cheek, but all he felt was the cold steel of his pauldron.
His sword clanging to the ground, Kirito slumped to his knees, and stared brokenly at the gloved fists resting on the cave floor.
...
"Asuna."