CHAPTER ONE: under a blood red sky
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—— "By knowing things that exist, you can know that which does not exist."
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—— 07 October 2022, Kawagoe, Saitama
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"…Tadaima."
Kirigaya Kazuto muttered softly as he closed and locked the front door behind him, and took off his shoes. The house was empty though; as he expected it to be.
From the front, the Kirigaya family residence, looked like a rather large, tiled-roofed kura-zukuri style house that was probably erected during the Taisho era; although the dark wooden boards of a Japanese maple tree, decorating the concrete outer walls of the four-story house, were probably replaced several times over the past decades by generations of sons of Kirigaya family, they were coloured and lacquered to make the house appear more stately and time-less. The house wasn't out of place in the seemingly frozen-in-time Kawagoe, but old buildings that were well preserved and restored to such an extent, were more common in the Warehouse District.
The house was re-build sometime back in the yearly 21st century — deeper foundation, earthquake-proof structure, thicker concrete walls, were among some of the numerous improvements — the floor-plan and the way the house was build itself, were rather western in both methods and style; but after it was finished, the centuries old, original outer shell of the kura-zukuri house was reinstalled. The transition seemed seamless, one could not tell from the outside that this house was ever touched by time since the early 1600s.
Traditionally, this house belonged to the second son of the Kirigaya family; the eldest inheriting their ancient Imaicho estate. However, this Kirigaya generation had only one son and two daughters, one of whom has been dead for over fourteen years; so the Kawagoe house fell to the youngest daughter, Midori.
Rifling his hair, Kazuto placed his school bag on a curved wooden chair in the living room and walked with nearly silent steps to the kitchen, in search of milk to drink.
Midori-oba would not be back in the country until three days from today, and Suguha split with him back at the Hon-Kawagoe Station to go with some of her friends to Crea Mall; she said she wanted to purchase extra materials for her float for the Kawagoe Matsuri festival, which will begin next Saturday. Kazuto smiled faintly, Suguha was so exited about it; she even managed to rope him into acting as one of her masked oni honour-guard.
Kazuto glanced at the digital clock next to the refrigerator — 04:45 pm.
Unlike many of his classmates, Kazuto didn't belong to any after-school clubs, thus he could leave the school grounds as soon as classes have ended. He was even exempt from joining a mandatory sports club; being a national Kendo champion gave him some leeway with the teachers, and that was one of the very few benefits his title brought. Really though, it's more troublesome than it's worth.
Kazuto frowned; he still had to train at home. Kendo might come naturally to him, but he still had to train. Usually, Suguha would accompany him; today though Kazuto had to work alone. Placing his empty of milk glass on the kitchen counter, Kazuto made his way to the back of the house, towards the family dojo.
The building was spacious, made of solid oak boards and traditional rice-paper panel doors; it felt like a piece of the bygone-world of samurai and the Empire of the Rising Sun in the constantly progressing modern society.
While changing out of his school clothes, in the closet adjacent to the training room, and into simple dougi and hakama, Kazuto noticed a small, pink post-it attached to the door. In cursive letters, written on it was:14 day left.
That's right, Kazuto thought; Suguha's upcoming local Kendo match, the victory in which would qualify her for the national tournament. Gambaru, Sugu.
Kazuto's own match was held on 30th of September, as he was competing out of his age group. He had won, but his opponent gave him a bit of pause when he stepped on the mat. A head taller and five years older than Kazuto, and wielding a 120 centimetre long shinai, much like Kazuto himself. His opponent had better reach and out-weight Kazuto by around twelve kilograms — a worthy match.
Kazuto stretched his shoulders. Despite a certain degree of indifference towards the preachings of 'The Purpose and Concept of Kendo' and his family's rigorous abidance to the old-way of Kendo discipline, Kazuto does posses a competitive spirit; and it was always more satisfying to win against opponents who pose a challenge.
Ten minutes later, finished with his warm-up, Kazuto began his training with the Hidari Waki Gamae kata.
Right foot forward. Cross the arms: shoto forward; daito horizontal on the left hip, tip pointing back. Waki gamae: right foot; left foot; right; left crosses over right. Third step — strike! Aim with daito on the underside of the wrist. Move forward strike! with shoto. Step back; slide to the left. Daito cuts upwards. Feet together; bend the knees. Left foot slide forward. Block. Twist the hips. Strike! head. Sweep with right foot; left foot to the centre and then forward. Use daito to block. Strike! shoulder with shoto. Turn. Move. Circle. Strike! Strike! Strike!——
His grandfather's biting grip on his shoulder. "Always mind your footwork, Kazuto."
——Sweep the right arm in an ark; keep the elbow up, wrist loose. Left foot forward. Shoto forward; daito at right hip, tip aimed at opponent's throat. Three step charge. Shoto — block. Daito — thrust to the throat. Strike!Retreat. Right foot next to the left. Circle slowly. Swords up — cut at the wrists. Right foot forward. Charge. Daito — Strike! head. Shoto — Strike! throat. Retreat. Block. Double cut. Left foot back. Shoto — circular downward block; up over and out again. Step forward. Shoto — Strike! head. Daito — Strike! hip. Edge sideways. Right. Left. Turn. Block. Strike! torso——
"Never forget, Kazuto, aim for the weak points."
——Left. Right. Sidestep. Strike! Block. Strike! Strike!
The coo-coo clock on the wall outside the dojo strikes 08:00 pm.
Kazuto blinked.
He stood with his right shoulder facing the dojo's entrance, and his left shoulder almost directly behind it; his feet paralleled his shoulders, knees slightly bent. Shoto horizontal and forward; daito, perpendicular to shoto, blocking an non-existent strike from above to Kazuto's head.
Kazuto relaxed his body gradually; easing the tension from his muscles, one muscle group at a time. He couldn't recall which katas he practiced. He had started with Nito Seiho techniques of Niten Ichi-ryū, but gradually moved on and started to adapt those meant for short-swords to his long-sword preference. Then—
And then Kazuto lost himself in the movements. As always.
Kazuto sighed and pulled at the loose front of his white dougi, it was soaked with sweat. Taking a bottle of water from the countertop, Kazuto twisted the cap off, and while plopping down on the wooden step that led from the dojo to the spacious garden, drew a large gulp.
He felt a chill ran through him at the touch of autumn's breeze.Three hours, huh.
Kazuto was disgustingly good at Kendo. He never lacked talent, but he did lack the driving passion that would have made him 'a legend'. He was considered an unparalleled Kendo prodigy, coming from a family of Kendo practitioners; his achievements brought honour to his family name and prestige to his high school. And yet…he walked a fine-line between being apathetic towards Kendo due to it's rigid rules and the personal history it evokes, and enjoying swordplay on a more deep and primal level. A shinai in his hand can make Kazuto loose himself in fluid movements. The weight of the family bōgu will never let him forget the sting of grandfather's lessons.
Somewhere in the distance, a thunder roared. In a blink of an eye, a steady wall of rain fell towards the dusty ground. Picking up his discarded shinai and half-empty water bottle, Kazuto closed the dojo's garden entrance.
Back in the small closet, he changed out of his training gear and into house clothes; as if in a dream, Kazuto trudged through the empty house, his school bag in hand, the sound of click-clack of rain his only companion. Lightning flashed its tail outside the window, illuminating the straight run stairs — turning the wooden balustrades into skeletal bones and painting ghastly shadows on the wall.
As far as Kazuto knew, it was his great-grandfather who re-build the Kirigaya family residence and attached the additional second, modern-looking wing in the back of the main house, where Kazuto's room was located. Second floor, furthest down the corridor.
Inside, Kazuto found himself standing in grey darkness, looking outside his bedroom window onto a group of laughing and soaked elementary school children that ran pass the Kirigaya house, chasing after a big, hairy dog; the bright glowing sticks in their hands left ribbons of colour in their wake.
Kazuto wondering absentmindedly if his life would always feel this way: Like his just passing through the motions, waiting for something to start.
Shaking off his dissonant thoughts, he pulled out a new CPU hard-drive disc out of his school bag — he had to carry it extra carefully from the electronics store, safely locked in an airtight special container as to not damage the delicate platinum coating. He will be able to install it today, and then test run his computer for a few days on different simulations that required various degree of processing power. Kazuto figured the assimilation of the new equipment would go over smoothly, but he doesn't need the computer's memory frying because he's trying to overpower its central system.
Kazuto's interest in computer engineering was not reproached, per se, by the Kirigaya family elders, due to his aunt Midori holding a rater high-paying job in that particular field, but it was still regarded with lip-curling distaste. Back in late May, Kazuto had used a portion of his winnings from a tournament to purchase the «NerveGear»; the victory brought him closer to qualifying for the World Kendo Championship tournament this year, thus he was permitted to continue with his profligate hobby — gaming.
In online games, he wasn't the reserved sour-faced Kazuto; he can be Kirito, someone who doesn't need to adhere to his family's demands, or was required to meet the expectations placed on him. It was perhaps very odd, but Kazuto felt more alive in that short month of beta-testing «Sword Art Online», than he has for a long while, in his own life. That world felt more real somehow; vivid and vibrant, whereas his own life was a never ending routine.
Rifling though his bag in search of his phone — he needed to call Suguha and enquire about her whereabouts, he did not intend to let her walk home in this rain — Kazuto suddenly stopped as his hand brushed over a small, wrapped in plastic item.
The Kirigaya house was located not far from Honmaru Goten castle, and ideally it would take Kazuto and Suguha only twenty minutes to walk from their house to the Hon-Kawagoe Station. Except, today was Friday, which meant they had to leave with twenty additional minutes to spare so Suguha, a firm believer that sugar was a necessary part of a healthy diet, can visit Kashiya Yokocho in the back streets of the Warehouse District, to purchase sweets from the local amezaiku shop. She would always buy several pieces: a couple for just for her, a few to share with her schoolmates, and one she intended to sneak into Kazuto's school bag on the express-train back to Kawagoe.
Today, it was a roaring Chinese dragon.
Kazuto's face split into a smile. Oh, Sugu.
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—— 06 November 2022, West Field outside of «Starting City»
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"Ah!" Klein exclaimed, running his fingers through his longish maroon hair, "not good. The avatar that I painstakingly created is dirty. I need to find a bath-house…"
Klein did go all out with his avatar — tall and handsomely muscled, his face was good-looking: high nose, oval shape, sharp cheekbones and wide-set brown eyes.
"Err, Klein, your avatar will self-clean an hour later. Dirt and grime don't a lot of durability in SAO. And bathing your avatar is a bit of an extravagance…" Kirito looked up to the crystal blue sky, a flock of birds were flying far above him, a cry of one piercing the air. "I suppose some gamers might do it for aesthetic purposes, but currently at out Level and financial status, it is simply a waste."
Klein tapped his chin thoughtfully, "Alright then. Next time, I must win beautifully." For added effect, the air around Klein started to sparkle softly. That flamboyant, customisable option was available when creating an avatar, but Kirito always assumed either female players or otaku picked it.
Kirito wanted to face-palm, his eyebrow already began to twitch; this is not a manga, he thought, these sort of lines…what is Klein thinking?
"By the way, Kirito, why are you using a pre-build avatar?"
Compared to Klein's unique appearance, Kirito's avatar looked rather plain: though the same height as his real body, to prevent unfamiliarity of statue hindering his movements, the face was that of a generic black-haired model — rather average-looking, though his avatar's elongated eyes were not unappealing. Kirito had uploaded the data from his beta-testing account; granted back then, there were fewer customisable options, but Kirito had always assumed this ordinary appearance was a fresh reprieve from his real life face. "I wanted to start playing as soon as possible…"
Klein nodded in understanding; he was practicing the same «Sword Skill» over, and over again, yelling along with his exaggerated motions. "But really…" Klein let out a puff-sound each time he flung his sword in the air. "No matter how many times I look around me, I still can't quite believe it's all 'inside the game'."
Kirito sheathed his sword in the scabbard on his back. "Well, even if you say 'inside' it's not like our souls were sucked into the game, or anything morbid like that."
The «NerveGear» was a remarkably advanced piece of hardware — it possessed a streamline interface that covered a player's whole head; on the inside, it was constructed with numerous signal transceivers, which in turn, using electronic signals, could access the user's brain. "This world is a recreated reality…the «NerveGear» simply stimulates electronic signals of particular wavelengths for our brains, simulating an informational input your real body's senses would normally pick up, thus creating all of this…It is simply virtual reality."
Except, nothing about this is simple….
Finally seeming satisfied, Klein sheathed his curved sword and walked over to Kirito, taking in the vivid sight of Aincrad's first sunset. "Gosh, Kirito, way to put a dumper on my feelings. But—!" Klein put his hands on his hips and made an action-man type of pose — chested puffed up, shoulders squared, feet parallel to his hips. "—I will not be deterred by your apathy! You might be used to it by now, but it's the first time I am going in «FullDrive»! And even you, solemn-faced Kirito, have to agree, its pretty lucky of us to be born in this era!"
Kirito shrugged, like he was working out a kink between his shoulder blades. Regardless of how crudely Klein phrased his feelings, Kirito silently agreed. The massive floating castle Aincrad always felt to Kirito incredibly real; somehow the world of «Sword Art Online» blew life into Kirigaya Kazuto. Still…there's no need for such blatant fawning. "You are exaggerating."
Klein pouted. In the distance, a crow emitted a loud caw.
"Is «Sword Art Online» the first game for the «NerveGear» you ever played?"
Klein nodded, not even a bit muffed by Kirito's rather blunt behaviour. Evidently, he was used to interacting with socially awkward game-fanatics. "After I managed to get my hands on «Sword Art Online» I sorta bought the hardware in a rush. I have to admit, I was rather lucky, there were only ten thousand copies in the first batch…Well, if I think about it, you were ten times luckier! You were one of the lucky thousand beta-testers!"
On 28th of July 2022, Kirigaya Kazuto won an exclusively limited to Japanese servers online PvP tournament, selecting him to be one of the fortunate 1,000 beta-testers for much anticipated Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online game «Sword Art Online». Kirito did not think of it as 'luck'; it was a calculated and premeditated execution of a strategy that secured him his desired objective…But sure, let's call it luck; it's simpler that way. "Yeah…I suppose."
Around them, an evening breeze danced over rolling hills and plains as green as gems, moving the long strands grass along with it. Gold and orange clouds roamed the endlessly blue sky like wild horses; in the west, the horizon was just beginning to blush with a coral pink, as the burning sun began it decent towards it. Northwards a silhouette of a dense foreboding forest could be seen; southwards, a lake's smooth surface glittered from the crepuscular light; and in the eastern direction, Kirito could make out the white-washed walls of «Starting City».
"You know, Kirito," Klein stretched his back. "I'm glad I ran after you. Not only because you showed a newbie like me the ropes around here, but you are also a pretty nice guy. A bit glum, but that's a good thing — you are not as easily agitated as most gamers. I'll wager you can keep a cool head."
Klein gave Kirito thumbs up. "You are just my type."
A few seconds passed before Kirito bent at the waist and started sniggering. Klein had a bit of an objectionable attitude, but he has an easy-going side to him that quickly grows on you. For a socially inept Kirito, finding a person like this was a stroke of good luck. They might even become good friends.
After Kirito got a grip on himself and finally stopped wheezing, he asked, "…So, do you want to keep hunting the boars or…"
"I want to say 'Sure', but…" Klein's brown eyes focused on the bottom left-corner of his vision. "I need to log-off and eat. I ordered teriyaki pizza for 05:30 pm….I am meeting up with some of my IRL mates in the «Starting City» a bit later…I could introduce you to some of them and you could register them as friends. How about it?"
Kirito did not want to put a damper on Klein's enthusiasm, but even if he got along with Klein pretty well, the same could not be guaranteed for Klein's friends…and they are IRL friends. Kirito felt like the chance of him getting along with them all was slim to none, and if that happened, Kirito was more than likely to fall out with the only friend he has in «Sword Art Online». "…Err…I-I…?"
Klein, it would seem, was not as dense as he made himself out to be at times. Seriously, Kirito thought later, that guy really does know how to handle socially awkward shut-ins. "Don't worry, man. I didn't mean to force you. There will be plenty of chances for me to introduce you."
"…Thanks." Somehow Kirito's voice came out composed.
Klein shook his head violently. "I'm the one who should be thanking you. You helped me a lot. I'll find a way to repay you….Well, I'll log-off for a bit. Thanks a lot, Kirito-sempai. Be seein' ya!"
After Kirito shook Klein's hand in farewell, Klein stepped back a few paces, pulled his index finger and thumb together, then pulled downwards, opening the «Main Menu Window»; a few seconds later, he exclaimed, "Err?! No log-out button?!"
Kirito, who was perched on a nearby rock, his own «Main Menu Window» open at his «Items Storage» page, blinked a few times. "Look closer. It should be there." Yet Kirito already was pressing on his own «Settings» option of the menu.
"I'm telling you: there is no log-out button!" Klein nearly screamed. "I'm not a total moron."
Kirito had to agree — on both accounts. Klein wasn't nearly as unintelligent as he made himself out to be. And there was no log-out button in the «Settings» menu. Oh, fuck…
In the next five minutes it was acknowledged that a) Klein behaves shamefully incognisant when he panics, b) Game Master was being an asshole, and c) the mess-up «Argus» made might just result in VRMMORPG having a snow-ball's chance in hell at surviving genre-regulations.
Just as Kirito began to ponder on the possible repercussions of the 'no log-out button' bug for the future of «Sword Art Online», the bell on top of a tower in the middle of «Starting City» began its tolling; the sound was loud enough to reverberate all the way to the West Field. Both Kirito's and Klein's avatars were immediately engulfed in a blue light, teleporting them to the city's grand plaza.
Forced teleportation…? as Kirito thought this the bell ceased its sound, signifying the assembly of all players. A piece of the blue sky, shaped like an elongated hexagon, flickered to red, flashing an angry «WARNING» then like a falling domino chain, the rest followed, reading «System Announcement» and deluging Aincrad's clear sky. The players, illuminated by the dark red light, were silent as a viscous liquid, blood coloured and murky, oozed from within the cracks between individual hexagons; it formed an ominous-looking massive avatar: the Game Master was shrouded in a robe, an empty dark hole where his face should be.
"Attention, players," the Game Master's voice was booming across the plaza, "welcome to my world. My name is Kayaba Akihiko. As of this moment, I am the sole person who can control this world. I am sure you have already noticed, that the logout button is missing from the main menu. But this is not a defect in the game…I repeat…this is not a defect in the game. It is a feature of «Sword Art Online». You cannot log-out of SAO yourselves."
A terrible coldness settled in Kirito's stomach; he could not shake off the foreboding feeling Kayaba Akihiko's words gave him.
"And no one on the outside can shut down or remove the «NerveGear». Should this be attempted, the transmitter inside the «NerveGear» will emit a powerful microwave, destroying your brain and thus ending your life."
Kayaba's short statement pierced through Kirito's body with a ferocity that was both hard and dense, but surprisingly Kirito didn't feel panicked; instead a cool equanimity settled over him. This is real. These words Kayaba speaks are the truth.
Distantly, as if Kirito was deep underwater, Klein's words reached him, "What is that guy talking about?…That man, he's gotta be nuts. This is just a game…The «NerveGear» it can't just destroy our brain…Right, Kirito?" Klein's voice broke like a wizen stick at the end.
"He's right." Kirito spoke without a smidgen of doubt. They might call this the newest ultra-technology,but the basic theory is still the same…
"The «NerveGear» transmitter's signals work just like low frequency, tightly focused microwaves; «NerveGear» helmet is coated on the outside with a polarised material, so the waves of a particular wavelength cannot penetrate, it was said to be done in order to secure the signal but…oh, I see….when microwaves are absorbed by substances containing liquids, like our brains, they cause water molecules to vibrate — you know that, right? — and if a safety was disabled, its like you essentially stuck your head inside a microwave cooking appliance."
Klein visibly paled. "Then, if we were to cut the power supply…"
Kirito shook his head slightly. "No, it won't work. The NerveGear has an internal battery — it takes up about thirty percent of it's total weight…"
"But this is crazy!" Klein waved his arms desperately. "What's going on?"
Something terrible, a thought flashed through Kirito's mind. Something brilliantly executed and horrible.
As if complying to Klein's question, Kayaba spoke: "To be a little more specific, disconnection from an outside source of electricity for ten minutes, being cut off from the system for more than two hours, or any attempt to: unlock, dismantle, or destroy the «NerveGear». If any of these conditions are met, the brain destruction sequence will start. These conditions have been made known to the government and the public through mass-media in the outside world.
"On that note, unfortunately there have been several cases where the relatives or friends of players' have ignored the warnings and have attempted to forcefully remove the «NerveGear»." Kayaba's metallic voice took a short breath; his next words further shocked the captive audience. "As a result, two hundred and thirteen players are gone forever, from both Aincrad and the real world. This is the fundamental law of Aincrad: In every world, once you die, you're gone."
A long, thin scream was heard.
But most of the players couldn't or refused to believe what they had been told, and just stood there slackjawed or with a wry smile on their faces.
Kirito felt like his body was on fire and his head was stuck inside an industrial refrigerator; he felt exhausted all of the sudden, as that feeling of baleful foreboding rushed through him and dissipated. He had felt it from the start — hadn't he? — how real this world feels.
213 players—no, people. They haven't signed-up for this. This was supposed to be a game.
213 people. Out of that number there would have been at least a few beta-testers. Kirito might have known some of them; known their usernames and avatars…he must have talked to a few of them.
And now they were dead. Kirito felt like he was going to be sick. Kayaba, you killed them for not obeying the rules of your insane game. But…ignorance of the law does not excuse. Wasn't that what your words have meant…that day?
"…don't believe it…I don't believe it," Klein, who had collapsed on the ground some time before, started saying in a strained voice. "He's just trying to scare us. How would he do such a thing? Stop kidding around!"
Kayaba, incidentally, moved his hand and several glowing windows containing news articles, official reports, and short video clips floated above the players' heads. "As you can see, news organisations across the world, are reporting all of this, including the deaths. Thus, you can see that the consequences of the «NerveGear» being removed are not trifle ones. But the danger of having your «NerveGear» taken off has already all but disappeared. In a moment, using the two hours I have provided, all of you will be transported to hospitals or similar institutes, and be given the best treatment.
"I hope you will relax and concentrated on clearing the game."
"What are you saying!? Beat the game!? You want us to play around in a situation like this!?" Somebody shouted in an angry voice. Kirito agreed with that person's dismay wholeheartedly.
Kayaba, evidently, could not care less. "But I want you to remember this clearly: «Sword Art Online» is no longer a simple game. The system feature «Pain Absorber» was adjusted for all players to be uniformly at level 4.
"«Sword Art Online» is designed to recreate reality to it's fullest potential. Each player's individual real body's healing rate is recreated within «Sword Art Online» and increased by eighty-six percent. This means that during battles, the players are susceptible to acquire injuries and wounds such hard fighting would normally entail in real life.
"«System Management Mechanics» will only cover seventy percent of a player's abilities within «Sword Art Online». Regardless whether or not the player is utilising any «Sword Skills», the system assistance of game mechanics will only be able to aid the player so far. Your real life strength is required to actually succeed in this world; to swing a weapon in battle, to calibrate its movement…"
Kayaba's flat voice grew more grating, "Seventy percent is a lot, but it's not enough. Your natural abilities will be called upon in «Sword Art Online». These features were never introduced in the beta-testing, hence currently Aincrad holds not one person prepared deal with this. I suggest looking into «First Aid» skills and «Medical Supplies» items, as well as training your bodies. After all, in this world, a sword can take you as far as you want. But how far can you go if you are unable to wield it?"
A deathly silence fell over the plaza. Kayaba seemed to bask in it.
"In «Sword Art Online» there are no methods to revive someone within the game. If your HP drops to zero, your avatar will be forever lost. And simultaneously the «NerveGear» will destroy your brain."
Kirito focused on a long, horizontal line that shone with a soft green glow in the top-left corner of his vision; the numbers 342/342 overlaid it.
These were hit points; and as of this moment, his life-force. If the number reaches zero, he will die — the electromagnetic waves will fry his brain, killing him instantaneously. «Sword Art Online» is, without a doubt, a game; one where your life is at stake. A cruel joke: a death game.
To add insult to injury, Kirito would now feel pain of his combat injuries within it. Not to mention without complete management of the game mechanics by the he would have to endure physical exertion that would affect his real life body, not just his consciousness…thirty percent, it doesn't seem all that much, but it was a lot if one takes into account what sort of trials «Sword Art Online» has in store. Thinks about it another time, Kazuto. Your madman is calling.
As if on cue, Kayaba continued, "There is only one means of escape. To complete the game. You are presently on the lowest floor of Aincrad, Floor 1. If you make your way through the dungeon and defeat the Floor Boss, you may advance to the next level."
Kirito closed his eyes. He must have died a hundred times during the two months of beta-testing; afterwards he would re-spawn in a «Safe Zone» in the palace north of the main plaza, the «Black Iron Palace», and moved on without a second thought, heading back into the hunting grounds.
That was the nature of RPG: you gather your bearings, fight, die, rinse and repeat, all the while learning from your mistakes and leveling up. But now, in «Sword Art Online» once a player was dead, he loses his actual life? And to escape this madness you have to continue to fight to reach the top?
Kirito suddenly felt like a measly ant and Kayaba was the cruel child shaking the insect-farm within its glass confines. He wondered idly who in their right mind would go out onto the training fields with those conditions?
Kirito breathed in, and out. Inhale. Exhale. "…no freaking way."
As if reading everyones mind, Kayaba droned on, "Players, there is only one way to be freed from this game. Defeat the Boss on Floor 100, and you will clear the game. All players still alive at that time will be immediately logged out of the game. I give you all my word."
Your word!? You can take your word and shove it up——
The crowd roared with rage. The sound grew so loud it drowned Kirito's thoughts, but not Kayaba's voice it would seem. "Finally, I have added a present from me to your item storage. Please see for yourselves. This is the evidence that this world is the only reality."
Apprehensively Kirito pulled up his inventory and checked the item — the name read «Hand Mirror». He pressed on the item's icon and a palm-sized mirror in a smooth black plastic frame appeared.
Kirito turned to his left to look at Klein. The samurai was on his feet again, looking into the mirror, turning it sideways in his hands, with a blank expression. Suddenly Klein and the surrounding avatars were engulfed in a white light; Kirito's own mirror shone with the same blinding light in Kirito's hands, and for a few heartbeats his senses picked up on nothing but the colour white.
When it stopped, Klein's familiar face had disappeared and Kirito was looking at an entirely different person. This person was the same height, but he was skinnier than Klein; the armour made of metal plates laced together, the red bandana, and the spiky hair were all the same, though the latter changed colour from a deep maroon to a brownish red. The previously handsome face had morphed into another shape altogether — more angular and less symmetrical. His wide set eyes had become sunken and shone brighter; his high nose had become hooked, and a slight beard now appeared on his cheeks and chin. If the avatar had been a young and carefree samurai, this face was one a bandit might have.
Uh oh, was the thought on the forefront of Kirito's mind. Later he would say that he realised immediately what Kayaba's present — «Hand Mirror» — had meant, but really at the moment, if Kirito did figure out, his thoughts were not coherent enough to phrase his understanding in any other way than: shit shit shit shitty shitty SHIT.
Kirito looked down at the «Hand Mirror».
In the dying light of Aincrad's twilight sky, Kirito was left staring back at Kirigaya Kazuto's face — the one Kirito was trying to escape. Gone was the ordinary profile of his avatar, in its place, Kazuto's somewhat bishōnen, pretty-boy face materialised: large and slanted upwards dark eyes, delicate features, a straight nose and a sharp chin. Kirito's eye twitched in indignation; even the avatar's short hair was replaced with Kazuto's: the longish black strands falling over his forehead and distinct eyebrows.
An overwhelming desire to punch Kayaba Akihiko overcame Kirito. He glanced up at where Kayaba's hooded avatar once was; it was hovering over the crowd like a malevolent God. In a way, he was. Really, Fuck Face, really?
First Kayaba tells the 10,000 players that «Sword Art Online» was now a death game, and now he pulls this sort of stunt on them. The players' real faces. Their anonymity, along with their freedom, all stripped away by one person.
A rather shrill "You are Kirito?!" pierced it's way through Kirito's immense desire to crush Kayaba Akihiko. Kirito tilted his head to his left; Klein's new, or rather real life, face was not the one Kirito was used to, even worse, Klein's voice changed too. Perhaps voice modulators were also deactivated. I don't have time to think about it right now.
Simultaneously, the mirrors fell from everyones' hands and hit the cobbled ground. Then, their durability hit zero, and they were disassembled into multi-coloured polygons, which shattered with a soft, definite sound of a broken glass.
"…yeah." Kirito's ears barely registered his own reply. Around him, several people had already caught onto the change in situation, and cries of distress and disbelief rang out like warning bells.
Kirito's sharp eyes scanned the square — the surrounding crowd was no longer filled with avatars who looked like proportional, symmetrical-faced individuals one would expect in a fantasy game; instead rather ordinary characters occupied their place. People of various shapes and sizes, normal-looking like the types Kazuto passed every day on a street — not all of them attractive, not all of them extraordinary, they were just people — dressed up in armour and clothes of earthy shades.
Kirito felt like he was in a midst of a crowd gathered for a game show venue in real life. As expected of such a situation, the sex ratio changed significantly. Kirito felt a distressingly out-of-place laugh bubbling inside his chest and tried his best to stifle it.
After letting out what could be generously described as a cackling wheeze, Kirito found his voice. It too had changed; instead of his avatar's smooth orotund voice — the only feature Kirito bothered to personalise in his avatar — Kazuto's real life gravelly monotone was audible. At least that confirmed the whole 'voice modulators are deactivated' business. "There are high density signal sensors in the «NerveGear» covering our whole head. So it can tell not only how our brains look and work, but our faces too…"
Kirito guessed that the high density microwave transceivers of the «NerveGear» were also capable of simulating realistically the player's natural hair, eye and skin colour the same way; it most probably had something to do with how the colour of an object was actually the wavelengths of the light reflected while all other wavelengths are absorbed. Quit it, Kazuto!—there will be other times to speculate about the technological complexity of the «NerveGear».
"B-But, how can it discern our body shapes…Or like how tall we are?" Klein's voice had a tendency to grow shrill at the end of a sentence; Kirito guessed it was a nervous habit.
Then, Klein answered his own question: "Wait…I bought the «NerveGear» just yesterday, so I should be able to remember. There was a part of the set-up…what was it called again…calibration? During it, you had to touch your body all over…"
"Ah, right. That must have been it." Kirito nodded. "If I am remembering this correctly — calibration was designed to asses our real life bodies, and then use the information to reproduce the sense of kinetic accuracy within the game…To rephrase that, through the calibration feature the «NerveGear» collected the data about out exact body shapes…"
"Damn it! Through such a method…Kayaba turned the avatars into perfect polygon replicas of our real selves…"
Kirito felt something cold and unforgiving bloom within him; a hatred he did not know he was capable of. "Kayaba said he made this world our reality. That this polygon avatar and our HP levels, are now our real body and our real life-line. In order to prove it, he produced a perfect copy of us…"
Klein growled. "Why the hell would he do something like this!?"
"I imagine, he's about to clue us in."
Kayaba did not disappoint; his distorted, metallic voice adopted an almost sympathising tone. "All of you are probably wondering why I — Kayaba Akihiko, the creator of both the «NerveGear» and «Sword Art Online» — would do such a thing? Is this a terrorist attack? Is he going to ransom us?
"However. None of these are my reasons. Moreover, now for me, there is no longer a reason or a purpose in doing this….The situation itself was my purpose. To create and watch the world is the only reason I have created the «NerveGear» and «Sword Art Online». And now, everything has been realised."
Kayaba had said the last part, with almost a sigh. Then, "I have concluded my official tutorial for «Sword Art Online» — I wish you all luck in your journey.
"Remember, players: This, might be a game, but it isn't meant to be played."
Kayaba's parting sentence, echoed faintly across the plaza. The huge robed avatar rose and began to collapse onto itself, thinning out and then melting into the system message that covered the sky. Soon, it was nothing, but a red stain, and even that had flickered out of existence, along with the elongated hexagons of system messages, in a few moments.
For the length of seven heartbeats, there was no other sound heard aside from a wind blowing through the plaza. And then—
"It's a joke right…? The hell is this? It's a joke right!?"
"Stop kidding around! Let me out! Let me out of here!"
"I don't like this! I want to go home!"
—A great wave of panic engulfed «Starting City».
Inhale. Exhale. In——
Kirito felt like time became a vicious, visible thing around him, able to bend according to his will; the world slowed down, and the surrounding sounds turned dull and reverberated through the air with the same thick, hollow quality as they do underwater. Kirito remembered this feeling, so akin to ataraxy — it's the one that engulfs him when he's focusing on a fight: when the weight of his shinai in each hand and his opponent became the only things in existence.
——hale. Breathe, Kazuto. In. Out. And now — begin!
The players — no, the prisoners — began to act in disarray: they crouched clutching their heads, shaking to-and-fro; flailed their arms in despair; gasped one another; yelled; clamoured; shouted; cursed. Banshee like screams pierced the air.
In the midst of all the surrounding hysteria, Kirito felt equanimous.
This was his new reality; all right then, fact understood and accepted. Now, he can do something about it."Reality exists in the human mind, and no where else." If this is my reality, then I can change it.
"Klein," Kirito turned to his new—his only friend. "Come with me."
And without further preamble, Kirito latched onto Klein's wrist with a death-grip, turned on his heel, and ran. Kirito wasn't particularly sure where he was headed, but Klein was as limp as a puppet, sprinting behind him, and all Kirito consciously knew was that he needed to get away from the central plaza as quickly as he can. A few minutes later, Kirito slowed down and then stopped; he and Klein were standing in a tight back-alley; half a quarter of cobbled streets and rammed earth buildings between them and the budding chaos.
"Klein, if what Kayaba said is true…" Kirito began, then paused; a shiver ran through his body. "I mean, I believe what Kayaba said is true. It is terrible, but we have to accept it as truth. If we fight it, we will go mad; or worse, denial of the situation might mean death."
Klein looked pale and clammy — can avatars replicate cold sweat? — and like all the life had grained out of him. Empty. Hollow. Dead.
"Klein!" Kirito gripped Klein at the shoulders and shook him. "Klein, listen to me. We have to go."
"B-But what about everyone else…All those people…" Klein's voice was muffled and broken.
An odd look settled over Kirito's face. "Did you know that during the Siege of Constantinople, the defendants lit the walls of the city on fire and only ended up burning down half of it? Sometimes trying to save something doomed leads to greater consequences. We cannot contain the upcoming chaos. We can only stifle our own panic and ride out the storm."
An understanding past between them; sometimes, you have to choose the lesser evil in order to preserve yourself. It was said, a king exists for his people; for without the people, there was no king. But neither Kirito nor Klein are kings; they are just humans. And sometimes, humans are no better than beasts; leaving the wounded and the frail behind in their march.
Kirito took a sharp breath, and began talking again, "In order to survive in this world we have to strengthen ourselves. As you know, the MMORPGs are a battle for resourced between the players. Only the people who can acquire the most money and experience can get stronger. Soon, those who realise this will begin hunting all the monsters around «Starting City» and the monsters on this Floor don't have the quickest re-spawn rate. A better alternative is to go to the next village. I know the way and all the dangerous spots, so I can get there quickly, even if I am only Level 1."
Klein, now seemed to have shed his despondency, scrunched up his face, seemingly battling contradicting emotions. "My friends, y'know. I said before that I stood in line with them for ages to buy this game…They are probably in the plaza right now. I can't…I can't go without them."
Kirito took a step back, a shadow falling over his face.
Klein continued, "And…I can't keep relying on you. I was a guild master in the game I used to play. It will be fine! I will pass on the techniques that you taught me…So don't worry about us and go to the village." A bright, confident smile spread across Klein's face.
No matter what MMO, a newbie who receives too much help from a veteran cannot be praised. In a normal situation, as a gamer, there was a line that Kirito would not cross — he never asked a veteran for excessive aid, and he swore he would never be one of those Prince-types who gathered newbies like one collects action-figures. But…now his personal gamer pride has to be relinquished.
This is not just a mere game. This is the new reality. When players die, they die for real. What I do here, bears consequences.
This was «Sword Art Online» — a freshly minted death game.
Klein was his only friend in this world; he was bright and easy to get along with, and he most probably took care of other people pretty well. Kirito would have to put aside his weakness, just for a bit; responsibility over others…it was a heavy thing. But 'appear strong when weak, and weak when strong' was one of his mottos for a reason. Kirito would have to become Kazuto for this — yield something small to gain something big.
"When you—" Kirito's voice was hoarse; he licked his lips and tried again, "When you and your friends are ready to leave «Starting City», contact me. I will….I will try to help you guys the best I can."
Klein's face was frozen, when Kirito began suspecting that his avatar might be lagging, Klein let out a chortle guffaw. Once Klein straightened, he smiled, his cheek trembling only a little. "I-I..I…Thanks, Kirito…Really, thank you. I owe you all ready too much."
Kirito waved his hand flippantly; he was not equipped to deal with emotions. "I'm on your friend list, Klein. Message me when you are prepared to leave." He turned sharply on his heel, and headed northwest, in the direction of «Horunka», the village he'd use as his next base.
When Kirito had taken about five steps, a voice called out, "Hey, Kirito," Klein stood in the middle of the alley; hands on hips and a wide grin on his roguish face, "why did you bother with such a plain avatar? Your pretty face suits you much better. You are definitely my type."
Kirito couldn't help it; he laughed.
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—— 06 November 2022, 1st Floor Forest, northwest of «Horunka»
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Nearly four hours after he left Klein in «Starting City», Kirito was trudging through a thick lustrous vegetation of Floor 1 Forest Area, having walked off the dusty road that led away from «Horunka» some twenty minutes ago. He had completed his «Secret Medicine of the Forest» quest, and received «Anneal Blade» as a reward from the NPC mistress of the cottage; but then Agatha arrived and she looked…Agatha looked—
Kirito's left foot caught in an overgrown tree root and he plummeted face first towards the dense undergrowth. With an exhausted groan, Kirito rolled over, propped himself up on his elbows and assessed the damage. His knees hurt with a throbbing sensation, which he supposed was intended to recreate mild blunt force trauma to the joints; the skin of his palms was slightly scraped, and from the feel of simulated blood trickling down from his forehead, he probably just agitated the superficial cuts on his forearms and that stupid graze on his face from his earlier adventure with those disgusting «Little Nepents».
Kirito sighed, hauling himself up to his feet. Assessing the area around him, Kirito walked a few passes further into the foliage and stopped before a large tree with thick, sturdy branches.
"Home sweet home."
Climbing trees in Aincrad was no different than in real life, what was different was the pulsating, painful feeling of his amassed injuries; in virtual reality, injuries felt worse than they did in real life. Oh, the pain sensation was quite realistic all right, but while in real life the sting of the cuts would have dulled over a period of time due to his cerebral cortex — which, in real life, should have been sending out automatic signals to minimise damage and begin repair — releasing endorphins into his blood stream, to alleviate the pain.
In Aincrad, he had no such built-in defence mechanism. Kirito had learned that he would continue to be in pain, which he felt quite sharply due to the «Pain Absorber» being set at level 4, until his «Battle Healing» took care of his injuries. A quick glance to the upper-right corner of his vision confirmed that the «Battle Healing» skill was in full swing.
It took Kirito a bit of time to figure it out, but a while a normal RPG's «Battle Healing» skill can reimbursing a player's HP, the speed of that would depend on how high the skill was, «Battle Healing» skill in SAO, if at a high enough level, was capable of treating a player's injuries and healing them at even faster rate than the supposedly recreated individual healing rate of the player that was increased by eighty-six percent.
According to skill description, «Battle Healing» can heal rather specialised types of injuries — such as penetration and open wounds. It can heal cuts of various severity, stabbing wounds, deeper penetrating trauma, some of the trauma resulting from armed combat, and cut off limbs, as long as actual detachment occurred within SAO. However, «Battle Healing» was incapable of dealing with injuries sustained due to blunt force trauma.
The cherry on top of that ice-cream sundae, was that «Battle Healing» skill can only increase if the player was literary doing absolutely noting to treat his injuries. In order to use «Battle Healing» skill a player must sustain damage and then let the skill take care of it, and not use «Medical Supplies» items; sure once the skill has high enough stat numbers, the player will be healed incredibly fast, but the way the skill was set-up to work was pretty sadistic of Kayaba. That is, the player had to just leaving them the injuries be and persist through the pain.
Kirito swore he could feel the blood in his real body boiling with rage. Kayaba certainly had a fixation on details; he was nothing if not thorough. Kirito had to give the man his due, Kayaba was brilliant; insane, but he has an unparalleled mind.
"…damn it."
He had wanted his life to change, hadn't he? He wanted adventure, excitement, a worthy goal. As you wish it, so it shall be, Kayaba Akihiko said, and tapped the head of a wooden puppet Kazuto, turning him into a real boy. Adventure? Excitement? «Sword Art Online» was a death game. A worthy goal? «Sword Art Online» was a death game that has 100 Floors, and Kirito needs to clear all of them to log-out.
Kirito closed his eyes; in the real world, where the universally acknowledged truth of 'when you die, you really do die, and stay dead' was never questioned, he had never felt the presence of death close by. Theoretically, he could stumble on the train platform, on his way to school, and fall directly into Red Arrow's path and that would be it. The human named Kirigaya Kazuto was dead.
In Aincrad, Kirito could feel death's breath on the back of his neck. And it was not because «Sword Art Online» was declared a death game. It's because the real truth of this world, was that Aincrad was a prison. An iron castle with a 100 Floors floating in the air with its 10,000 unwilling prisoners. The only way to escape was to either die or to fight for his freedom.
Kirito banged the back of head against a tree trunk a few times. Is it really worth it?
He could just give up. Not commit suicide by jumping off the edge of Aincrad into oblivion, but he could settle somewhere quiet and wait. Wait for someone else to clear the game; wait for the authorities to take action; wait to die of old age. Wait for something.
"…this, might be a game, but it isn't meant to be played." Kazuto muttered.
Kirigaya Kazuto doesn't know much about his father. His aunt doesn't speak of his parents that often, and Kazuto prefers not to ask her all together about them if he can help it, and since he and Kazuto's mother were never married, the Kirigaya family records hold nothing on the man. All that Kazuto knows about him was that he was five years older than his mother, he was a Professor at Osaka University specialising in Partial Differential Equations, and that this person was born and raised in Tomonoura, a city to which Kazuto never traveled. It's not much to go on, but maybe its better that way. Kazuto can't be disappointed of that person if he has no expectations of him. His father was dead.
Dead and gone, and Kazuto will never meet him in this life; maybe not even in the next one either.
Dead and gone, and in no way suited to show Kazuto how to pave his own pathway in life. That man must have made mistakes, Kazuto was sure; dying was an obvious one, not marrying his mother another, but whatever his faults, that person lived before he was dead.
Dead and gone, much like I will be if I will not escape Aincrad.
Kirigaya Kazuto does not have anyone to show him how to live; he does not have anyone to rely on. His parents are dead. His grandfather was dead. His uncle was a demon in disguise. His aunt was negligence wrapped in kindness. Sugu was the only person to truly love him, and Kazuto turned her away because he's a monster living in human skin; he was undeserving of her love.
Kirito ran his thumb over the edge of his blade. The skin gave way to the sharp metal and dark red blood flowed free, it dripped steadily onto the white flesh of his palm. In this world, a single sword can take you as far as you can go. That always appealed to Kirito, the idea that he needs only the strength to wield a blade to be strong.
In every world, once you die, you're gone. These words echoed with vengeful force in Kirito's mind.
Kirigaya Suguha was nothing like her cousin. She was strong, and kind, and her spirit was good. Kazuto doesn't deserve her, but whatever else he was not dead yet.
Life stops when you are dead. But doesn't mean you do not continue to exist in other people's hearts.
Kazuto's father was dead, but his tweed jacked and leather bound journals are hidden in the back of Kazuto's closet. Kazuto's mother was dead, but Kirigaya Akiko's name was engraved onto a black stone, next to her father's, in the Kirigaya family shrine in their Imaicho estate. Kazuto's grandfather was dead, but the Kendo dojo he build with his own hands was the one where Kazuto and Suguha train every afternoon.
People die, but they are not gone. And the empty spaces they leave behind are never quite filled.
Kirigaya Suguha was two years younger than Kazuto, she has the same pitch-black hair and her eyes are the same dark-grey colour as his, but if Kazuto's look like twin black holes, trapping all light inside of them, then Suguha's shine brightly with her spirit. Sugu's mother Midori was a busy woman, but the love she borne for her daughter was undeniable; Sugu's father Minetaka lived in Hong Kong, but called his daughter every night. Sugu's important people were not dead.
Kazuto cannot be the first empty space in her heart.
Suguha was not his sister, but Kazuto loved her. So Kirito must do what he can to survive and beat this death game. To return to her. Only when you are dead can you give up on life.
The yellow moon was waxing on the dark sky above the tree tops, the maple bark's rough surface can be felt through the material of Kirito's pants, and in the distance he could hear the programmed scuffling noises of boar mobs; Kirito wonders if Kayaba Akihiko made Aincrad's starry sky a copy of the one above Japan.
It would be nice if Kazuto and Suguha were still somehow under the same sky.
If Kirito has to live for anything in this world, it would be for Suguha. He does not deserve her, but she deserves the pain of heartache death leaves even less.
Kirito's longsword will take him to the end; to the end of Aincrad and into Kirigaya Kazuto's life. It was a promise he makes to Suguha. And whatever else was wrong about him, neither as Kazuto nor as Kirito, had he ever broken a promise.
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—— 07 November 2022, «Monument of Life»
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235 people are dead on Aincrad.
The numbers continued to grow.
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Author's Note:
1. Chapter One is endless exposition. Pretty boring, but a necessary evil.
Band Geek: "Aha! I blast you with my Ball of Infinite Exposition!"
Mikey: "Aw man, you bored my character to death."
2. Canon is a malleable thing, one that I bend to my will. SAO storyline is more a guideline than actual plotline.
3. In order to clear up some changes. First of all, I totally hijacked Kirigaya Kazuto's past and doing what I want with it. I myself come from an Asian family — one where one side were fervent Communist party members and the other is a blue-blooded clan that once owned land the size of Wisconsin state — so I thought it would be interesting to see how someone like Kazuto would fare in an old-fashionedly absolutistic family. Cultural differences and family expectations are touched upon in some of the Asuna-related storylines, but her situation is a bit different. Yuuki Asuna is from a rich high-class family, not necessarily old-blood.
4. Anyway, I also changed somewhat the SAO system itself. Ugh, that one was a bitch to research (I never played RPG and oh dear God, it is hard to understand how stats work) and the liberties I took with SAO's system were a pain write. More about that will be explained in Chapter Two.
…err, guess this is it for now.
5. Proper punctuation be damned, I am using '?!' to convey an excitedly asked question, and '!?' signifies an exclaimed/shouted question. Though, please excuse other grammatical mishaps. I feel like I kept jumping tenses.
6. Stupid editing manager is doing a number on my formatting. Ugh