Me: *grin* Hi everyone! The Tiny Foxtail and I made a pact a couple months ago that we'd eventually have a collab for every anime we've watched together. SO! A Sword Art Online collab was in order!

Yami: *hiding under a desk*

Me: So, the bold is Yami's thoughts. She has some..issues...so this will be as detailed as I can make it!

Yami: *glares at me from under the desk*

Me: ANYWAYS! Well, SAO is a flat-out A-MA-ZING anime, and I may not be able to do it justice, but we're going to try anyways! So, here it is: Risk vs. Reward, a collaboration between myself (shadowninja2000) and The Tiny Foxtail! Read and reviiiew!

Yami's POV

"C'mon, Yami! Mom says it's time for breakfast!" I pulled my covers up over my head to block out my friend's voice. There was no way I was getting up for just any reason that day. The end of the world, maybe. But for some breakfast then some forced therapy? No way in hell.

"You can't stay under there forever, Yami!" he whined. I rolled over. That's what you think. I am fully capable of staying under here for the rest of my life. Or at least for three more days. I smiled internally at my snark. Now, if only I could actually talk, all would be well. I sighed and pulled my covers tighter around myself, curling into a ball. It was the two year anniversary of my father's suicide; the three year anniversaries of the deaths of the rest of my family were all within the following week. I wasn't going to get up unless he dragged me out of bed. Unfortunately, that's just what he had in mind.

"Come...ON, Yami!" he shouted, yanking my covers off from over me. I closed my eyes against the harsh sunlight filtering in through my shut blinds and scrunched up further into a ball. I shook my head and buried my face in my pillowcase.

Hundreds of kids had died playing Sword Art Online in the past couple years; around 4,000 of them, in fact. Three were related to me:my mother, my little sister, and my older brother. After I heard about it, how the psychopath creator had not made a logout button, and when someone died in the game, they died in real life; I got violently sick. Migraines, vomiting, a super-sensitivity to light and sound, and lots of blood later, I was hospital-bound. I wasn't allowed out for weeks, classified as "a fragile case". I guess they were worried about me going off and killing myself because I was in a fragile state. Turns out, it wasn't me they should have been worried about. My idiot of a father decided he was going to kill both of us the very day I'd been released into his care from the hospital. He poured gasoline all over the floor of our house, filling the house with nauseating gasoline fumes, and then dropped a match on the floor. I'd been outside, walking along the edge of a stream about a mile from our house, when the house blew itself and my father sky-high. It took four hours to get me to stop sobbing hysterically and vomiting once the police told me.

I was sent back to the hospital for another long treatment. They kept me there for a couple months, under the basis that I was "in extremely unstable condition", as well as "slightly psychopathic", and "perhaps deranged enough to...attempt suicide as well". They neglected to mention that the nurses often left me with dozens of tubes sticking out of various parts of my body and if I'd removed even one or two of them, I'd be dead. Honestly, I knew none of it was really my fault, but that didn't stop me from sinking so deep into the depths of depression that I refused to eat or sleep. I slipped into a comatose state, stuck somewhere between reality and a horrible, bloody fantasy. It was actually a short stretch of coma, just a couple weeks, yet still, when I woke, the doctors were relieved. One even had to excuse himself because he had started to weep. I could've told them I wasn't going to try and kill myself like my brainless idiot of a father had, but when I tried to, I couldn't. I wanted to, but my brain couldn't seem to get my mouth and voice box to cooperate and make words.

That was nearly two years ago; I haven't been able to talk since. Everyone's told me it's temporary...What's so temporary about hardly being able to talk at all for TWO YEARS?! I've asked all my therapists that question, with the time frames varying, but none of them have had an answer for me. My latest, a young woman in her thirties, doesn't even look at me anymore. She's classified me as a hopeless case and refuses to work with me, so I just bring a book along and read. Her business partner likes me, though. His name is Mr. Kayabo, and he's really nice. He gives me candy and tells me about what's happening out there in the world. He talks to me like I'm a human, and alive, not just the traumatized shell of a what used to be a very happy, energetic, talkative girl. He reads me the newspaper sometimes, even after I wrote that I could read it myself. He laughed and said he felt like I paid more attention when I was being read to.

A hard yank on my arm brought me out of my thoughts, and I looked up from my pillowcase. Kettei glared at me from his new position on the floor and I buried my head again. No way, boy.

"Moooom! Yami's not getting up!" he hollered down the stairs. He didn't get a response, so he jumped onto the banister and rode it down to the living room, shouting for his mom the whole way. I pulled my covers back over myself quickly, letting out a sigh as the heat washed over me. I snuggled back down under my covers, a victorious smile playing on my lips. I yawned, mentally noting to ask for a lock next time Mrs. Evans asked if I wanted anything when she went out to the stores and such. My head sank down onto my pillow and my eyelids fluttered shut.

Almost as quickly as I had closed my eyes, it felt like someone was shaking me awake. It was gentler than Kettei's incessant shaking, but I rolled away from it anyways. A chuckle came from the person trying to get me awake and the pressure of the hand was removed from my shoulder, instead going to rubbing my arm.

"Come on, Yami. There's no use in starving yourself to death. Mom's made some of those American-style waffles you liiike," the boy's voice teased quietly. My eyes snapped open and my body went rigid. American waffles? I sniffed the air cautiously. American waffles! I threw off my covers and ran over to my dresser. I gathered some clothes and rushed to the upstairs bathroom, throwing my pajamas off and the clothes on as I went. I brushed through my tangled mess of dark hair, then braided it back in a normal style. I glanced at myself in the mirror, noting with a pain that my cheekbones were more prominent than a couple weeks ago, then ran downstairs. I tripped over one stair and went tumbling down, to my immense displeasure, but it wasn't a huge deal. It happened almost every morning, so the Evanses were used to me crashing down the stairs by that point. I heard a short bout of laughter from Kettei that was quickly hushed as I walked into the dining room. I grinned when I spotted the American waffles, and grabbed a plate and some syrup to drown them in.

"No fair! How come he can get her down quicker than a rocket on steroids but I can't even get her to look at me!" Kettei whined. I rolled my eyes and dug into my waffles. I heard a soft chuckle come from beside me.

"I keep telling you, Kettei. I'm just magic," the older boy, Akira, teased, his tone retaining its regular softness. Kettei blew his black bangs out of his face irritatedly and stuck his tongue out at his older brother. I watched their antics intently before I began an experiment in my mind. An insult from Kettei to Akira, then a punch thrown and dodged. A sigh from Mrs. Evans, then an eye roll, and Kettei jumps across the table. I watched in an amused silence as the events happened in perfect order almost the instant after I'd thought about them. Kettei leaped across the table with a war cry, landing on Akira and toppling them both backwards. Soon, both boys were fighting on the ground, rolling around and hitting each other all over the place. Mrs. Evans gave me an exasperated look then looked at her husband.

Mr. Evans was a giant man, at six foot six, and he towered over everybody in the family, especially me. He rose from his chair and walked over to the squabbling boys. I felt a smile tug at my mouth; I knew what was coming next. He stooped down and picked up both boys by the collars of their shirts, heaving them almost effortlessly into the air. He said nothing, just glared at the two boys, and soon they were silent. I returned to my waffles. The rest of the day would be uneventful; I would be forced to go meet with my speech therapist while the boys got to work on their schoolwork and kendo, I would return home after two or three unsuccessful hours of trying to get me to speak, and overall, no progress would be made. That happened every other day, every week, for the nearly two years since I'd been adopted into the Evans family. I didn't like the repetition, but no one cared what I wanted because they wanted me to talk again. I'd notified them that they were wasting their money, but they insisted on my therapy, so I kept quiet about it from then on.

"Hey Yami, you comin' to my kendo practice today?" I looked up at Akira, puzzled. Then, I remembered: it was Thursday. Akira had taken to bringing me to his kendo sparring matches on Thursdays about four weeks prior. A faint smile graced my face and I nodded. His face split into a boyish grin and a wave of sky blue hair floated into his eyes. He blew it back into place.

"So, I'll pick you up from your therapy and we'll go straight there, right?" I just stared at Akira. He knew the tradition, so why did he question it every time? It puzzled me to no end, before I remembered that not everyone had my photographic memory. I nodded slowly, clearly conveying that his statement was right but I considered him an idiot for even asking. He ruffled my hair with a grin and a light laugh.

"Alright, doll. I'll pick you up in a couple hours," Akira said. He stood, cleared his spot at the table, and walked out to his car so he could drive to his school. Kettei quickly followed and I stared down at my plate. Sometimes, I wish I could just be normal. The therapists tell me there's nothing wrong with me, but if that's true, why can't I talk? I knew that answer already. The doctors called it "post-traumatic stress disorder", and they said it was common for soldiers in bloody wars to have the condition when they got off the battlefield. I'd looked it up when I got back to the Evans' house and found a lot of American names with some American letters beside them, claiming they could help with PTSD, the acronym for my condition. I tried contacting one, but he didn't speak Japanese and I didn't speak at all, so we had a bit of difficulty communicating.

I finished my breakfast and cleared my spot, then trudged out to the living room to wait for Mrs. Evans. I was sixteen, but I didn't have a license, so I had to wait until the Missus was ready to take me. Normally it took about an hour, so I had time to watch some news before she was ready. I was looking around for the remote when a special gleam caught my eye. I curiously walked towards it. My eyes widened in surprise. Is that...No! It couldn't be! I clasped my cheek in my hand as I slowly walked towards the near-foreign object. A...A NerveGear! I haven't seen one for ages! I dropped down to a crouch, balanced on my toes, and ran my hands over the cold, metallic surface of the helmet. This thing was the source of all my pain, and yet I was oddly fascinated by it. Endless possibilities in a virtual world that was completely computer-animated. It would be like a dream come true, especially for a hacker like Akira. It's no wonder he would have one, but why haven't I noticed it before? I shook my head; he'd probably not played while I was around. I bet his mother told him not to. It's fine. I'm sure that world is so much better than this one. I sighed and removed my hands from the NerveGear, setting them on my lap.

"Yami-chan, it's time to go! We're running a little late as is, and your therapi-oh." I looked up into the green eyes of Mrs. Evans and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. "Oh. Oh, Yami, I'm so sorry. I told them to put their toys away when they were done! I'll just take that..." she murmured, reaching for me, for the NerveGear. My eyes widened. She's going to take it away! I'll never see it again! I swiped the NerveGear off the table and hugged it against my chest, tucking it between my knees and resting my chin on it possessively. I glared up at the woman trying to take this wonderful piece of my history away from me, and it felt like she was trying to take the souls of my siblings and mother. I wouldn't have it; I hugged the NerveGear even closer to my chest. Mrs. Evans pulled back her hand, looking at me with confusion.

"It's fine Yami-chan, I'm not going to get rid of it," she said softly. I shook my head. Mama...Gabriel...Addy...dead, dead, dead, because of this. I looked down at the NerveGear. You should want it to be destroyed, you should want it to burn and die, just like your father. It's the reason they're dead! Throw it! Let her have it! Let her destroy it like it destroyed your life! My grip tightened on the helmet and I glowered at it with a ferocity I'd never felt before. Images rushed through my mind: Mama, a sword stuck through her abdomen; Gabriel, being executed for not paying his taxes to the Army; Addy, her head rolling on the ground as the monster swung its horrible battle axe. Dead, dead, dead, all dead!

It's not the helmet's fault. It's not the game's fault. The game had a wretched creator, a man so far removed from humanity he created the game solely to watch little ones die. It wasn't a personal thing. It was genocide, a massacre, mass murder, the wildest dreams of a lunatic. I felt the helmet roll out of my grasp as I toppled over. I grabbed the table absently, saving myself from the worst of the fall. I suddenly felt a pressure on my chest and sucked in air in a gasp. It felt like all the air was being squeezed out of my lungs, like I was underwater.

All it's fault! I clasped my hands over my ears.

No. Not the helmet's fault, the creator.

All his fault! My eyes widened, but I couldn't see anything besides murky black. I squeezed them shut instead.

You can't get to the creator. Not revenge, Yami, compassion. You know what insanity is. You know what it feels like.

Not that kind! The kinds that murders senselessly? Get him! The voices were arguing again. I pressed my palms harder against my ears but that only made it louder, along with the ever-present beating of my heart that was noticeable now.

Thump, thump

Your insanity was caused by his. His must have been caused by someone, or something.

Doesn't matter! You're not the same! Have to make him pay! My heartbeat was getting louder. Louder, louder, louder...

Thump, thump

Can't.

Have to! I was numb all over. I couldn't feel anything at all, but I knew I was still alive. I could hear the voices, and my heart. As long as I can hear my heart...

Thump, thump

Can't!

Thump, thump

Must!

Thump, thump

"Yami!" I opened my eyes to lots of light and the rich smell of blood. I heard a long exhale and felt my body being crushed in a hug. "Oh, Yami! Are you okay?" I looked up at Mrs. Evans, who was looking down at me with pain. I realized I was trembling, and looked down to see various gashes spurting new blood from my left arm. I managed a strangled whimper and cradled my left arm. I stared back at Mrs. Evans. My eyes flicked around the room for a clock. I found one. 8:40? Ten minutes. My arm hurts. My arm hurts BADLY. I looked down at my arm, then up at Mrs. Evans. She jumped up and ran somewhere else in the house to get some bandages.

"Deep breaths, Yami. It'll help calm you down. Breathe in...then out. In...then out." My nurse's words echoed in my head. I licked my lips and took several deep breaths. Wait. Where's my heartbeat? Am I still alive? I can't hear my heart! I CAN'T HEAR IT! My breathing intensified and I moved a little. A pang of pain shot up my arm, and I choked. I shifted slowly into an upright position and tried the calming exercise again, my lips parted slightly as I did.

In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. You are okay. You are alive. Shouldn't be alive. Need to be alive. Not alive. Alive in the sense that you are breathing, but not actually living. I sucked in breath, the let it out slowly, trying to shut my mind down. Mrs. Evans came back soon with some bandages. She took my arm and cleaned the wounds with an iodine compound to make sure it didn't get infected. I watched silently with horrified elation as the wounds went from red, to pink, then back to red again. Mrs. Evans applied the bandages gently, carefully, so as not to hurt me. After I was cleaned up, Mrs. Evans helped me to my feet. She looked at me pityingly, stroked my cheek sadly, then strode out the door. I followed, hugging my injured arm to my chest tightly.

My therapist wasn't in that day, but Mrs. Evans didn't know that. I couldn't exactly tell her, though, so I figured if she wanted to know, she'd find out by calling. She didn't call, so she didn't know when she dropped me off that I'd be alone for the next three hours. I didn't suppose it really mattered. I did what I normally did; snuggled down on the woman's couch with my book, and read. I successfully completed my book during my three hours of silence; I was unsatisfied with the ending. I had just a couple more minutes before Akira would be there to get me, so I just laid down on the couch. I crossed one arm over my chest and let the other one dangle off the edge of the couch listlessly. I stayed like that for the rest of my time: no people, no thoughts, just an odd sort of peace.

A car horn honked from the parking lot and I jumped a couple feet, my limbs flailing out to all sides. I gave the door a glare and gathered up my book and bookmark. I walked quickly to the parking lot, and spotted Akira's luxury vehicle a couple spots away from where I'd been standing. A smile played on my lips as I walked to his car, book clutched tightly to my chest. I climbed in on the passenger's side and he put the car into reverse.

"So, how'd it go?" Akira asked, looking out the back window. I shrugged noncommittally. Better than normal. I finished my book today.

"Oh, you finished Eden. Did you like it?" he asked once we were out of the parking lot. I made a face. "I told you you were going to hate the ending. A new one's coming out next month," Akira said. I looked over at him curiously. He glanced at my face and chuckled.

"I'll get it for your birthday present. Would you like that?" he asked. I smiled and nodded. An easy smile graced Akira's face and he laughed quietly. "Thought you would. Oh, yeah. I meant to apologize." I looked over at Akira, an eyebrow raised. For what?

Almost as if he read my mind: "For this morning. Mom told me you found my NerveGear and it set off a spasm. You're not really hurt, are you?" he asked. I shook my head. Akira let out a sigh of relief. "That's good. If that'd caused a relapse, I'd've had to burn that stupid thing," Akira said seriously. It was then I realized we weren't going the way to Akira's dojo; we were headed home. I looked at him, confused. I pointed out the windshield. Why are we going this way, Akira?

"Ah, I see you've noticed," Akira said. His eyes were twinkling with mischief. "I've got something I wanna show you at home. It's a new game that came out almost six months ago. It's called ALfhiem; heard of it?" he asked. I shook my head. Akira grinned and increased the speed.

"Good. This'll be fun then!"

Me: WHOO! First chapter! Super dark, but who cares! Review, please!