one: a dream or reality

The only light source came in the form of an iridescent glow of the computer screens, the monitors taking up much space in the pitch dark room.

Two figures were in front of the computer screens: one eighteen year old boy collapsed in his chair and one eleven year old girl laid waste at the foot of his chair.

"I did it," came a raspy voice. The eighteen year old threw aside his headphones, blinking the strain away from his eyes. "I did it..." His heavy breathing only stopped when his lips was touched with something cool. He opened his eyes.

"Keep...yourself...hydrated, nii." The eleven year old girl held an uncapped water bottle to his face, her uncombed hair dangling wildly everywhere and in the way of her face. Though the stench she carried with her was hardly bearable, he wasn't bothered. The sight that this girl cared for him brought a smile to his face.

This was all that mattered.

"Thanks, Shiro," he accepted the drink and ignored the blush that beg to arise on his face when his fingers accidentally touched hers. The little girl didn't notice and if she did, it most likely brushed off as one of his abnormalities. Sora took her reaction as his as well; after all, Shiro was always right.

Ping! Ping! Ping!

"Eh?" Sora peered on his screen where a private chat had opened up. Someone was requesting a game.

Something weighed by the side of his leg and he looked down to see his sister struggling, with what little strength she had left, to sit on his lap. A small smile formed on his face as he hoisted her up onto him.

"So are you ready?" He asked her, who just glared at him. He chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Well then, let's do it."

He clicked the 'accept' button, both siblings anticipating what was in store for them only—

—only to find that it was a chess game.

"Bye...bye..." His shocked eyes darted from the screen and widened more at the sight of life escaping from his sister, the leftover corpse plummeting to the ground.

"No! Shiro! You can't leave me like this!" He reached to seat her upright, the girl moving in a jelly-like motion in his lap. "This is your specialty!"

The girl opened her eyes a fraction, her lips trembling from fatigue as she spoke. "But nii...tired...you can do...this..."

"I love your faith in your onii-chan but that alone does not give me the skills—woah, woah!"

The next move the unknown player had a decisive power over him, that much Sora could decipher. He paled, biting his lips to figure out which move to play next.

Strategy games were not his forte.

A small hand hovered his—Shiro.

"Let me help...nii."

He grinned, lifting the girl back and letting her lean against his chest. Smothering his face into her hair, his breath tickled her skin as he spoke.

"Let's go."

Few minutes and excruciating moves later, the chess board materialized into flashing words: YOU WIN.

The two siblings sighed in relief.

"That...was hard nii..."

"I know," Sora wiped sweat off his forehead. "It's been awhile huh? But as always, no one can beat Blank."

Shiro, who had been heavily breathing, snuggled deeper into her brother's chest, letting his warmth lull her to sleep.

"Of...course..."

A message popped up.

"Eh?"

Shifting in his seat so to not disturb his sister, Sora readjusted himself for a better view of the message.

"Well done—" Shiro snorted, causing Sora to throw a glare at her. The two siblings knew what he meant. Let me finish reading. "If you're that good at games… The world must be a tough place for you to live, right? What do you think about your world?

"Is it fun? Is it easy to live in?"

"...a joke?" Shiro lifted herself, resting her chin against a propped arm. "...nii?"

"I don't know Shiro," he sounded tense, unlike the cool facade he carried all the time or the calm character he built for Shiro. The message nerved him, reminded him precisely what he disliked about the world. It sucked. There were over a billion players but no ways to analyze the parameters or the characters. Above all, it wasn't a guarantee you would top out as number one for there were many definitions of wins. And for ever win, there were much more ways to lose.

Life was just...

"...a crappy game," Shiro whispered.

Sora reached to squeeze her hand. She squeezed back.

Without a warning, a loud ringing noise sounded. The computer screen blanked out and became filled with a mess of grey static. White mist was pumped in from the vents. Shiro and Sora jumped off from their seat, sending stacks of empty ramen cups and juice packets spinning messily on the ground.

"N-nii?" She came closer to him, to an almost suffocating degree. Sora merely pulled her nearer.

"Shiro, just stay beside me," his voice was collected, calm. He squeezed her hand. "Everything will be alright."

"Nii..." Her voice grew fainter as the smoke enveloped her—as though it dissolved her in his grip; Sora frantically reached for her.

"Shiro—" He tried calling but the smoke filled his lungs, impeding him from getting any noises out of his mouth. His throat felt heavy, sore, as though it was being scratched from the inside; lungs felt unbelievably heavy, as though it was being weighed down. "S...hi...ro..."

Before he completely gave out, he felt around for—for anything. He didn't quite know. If this were a game, he could count on his special skill to get him an unaffected area. If this were a game, he could identify who the enemy was and take him out, thus ending this undesirable dilemma.

But life wasn't a game (not even a decent one, at the very least) so what he was searching for was neither a skill not the enemy. He was searching for—

"Shi...ro."

The world became black.

"Ugh…Shi…" the red head sat upright with a splitting headache, light spilling rapidly into his eyes as his vision slowly returned to normal. "…ro."

He blinked.

Instead of the computers surrounded in the room and a putrid smell of rotting food polluting the air, the room looked ordinary: bookcase on one side, closet on the other, a desk in another end, and the bed he was in was right across the door.

Sora shoved aside the blankets away from him, his lips forming a frown.

Where am I?

"Sora!" A chill ran through his body, his ears not used to hearing a female voice, that belonged to an actually person, besides…who? "Eat your breakfast! You'll be late to school!"

"Ah…" Breakfast? His eyes scanned the room he was in, eventually landing on a window which curtains were parted. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the neatness and freshness of the room. "…coming?"

He was uncertain; it showed in his slow actions of getting out of bed and putting on his slippers to walk. But once he did, his body strangely moved on its own. Through a door he once never knew existed. Through hallways he had never seen before. And into a bathroom he didn't know he had used before.

Worst part of it all?

Why do I feel like these things shouldn't exist?

The question stuck with him as he uncapped the toothpaste by the sink, his hand instinctively reaching for a blue colored toothbrush which was alone in a pink colored cup. While brushing, he glanced at his reflection through the bathroom mirror.

Unruly red hair with black highlights. Slim but healthy masculine face. Shining ruby awake eyes.

"How come…" he set down his toothbrush, one hand touching beneath his eyes and the other reaching his mirrored reflection. "…I feel I should have bags under my eyes?"

"Sora!"

Shaken from his stupor, Sora quickly rinsed himself and threw on some clothing. Racing down the stairs, he found the kitchen to be bustling with activity, a woman cooking by the stove and a man scribbling something in the middle of a paper mess.

When the woman saw Sora, she smiled. "Finally awake sleepyhead!"

"Huh? Uh...yeah..." He awkwardly scratched his head, debating his course of action. "...I..."

"Come here," he was taken by the arm and led to the table covered with papers. To his surprise, the woman shoved most of it away, not caring that some spilled on the floor. "Sit right here while I fix you some breakfast."

"Oh...okay..." He fidgeted in his seat, eyes scattering everywhere but the man sitting at the same table and the woman cooking in the same room. He should know them, he sensed. But for some reason...he couldn't.

"Is there something wrong, son?"

He nearly jumped off, eyes nervously landing on the man who had set aside his paper and looked straight into his eyes.

His eyes were red as well.

"I...uh..." Seemed like he was incapable of speech.

It didn't deter the man from socializing though. "How's that gaming tournament you're training for though? Aiming for gold this time?"

And then it was though the uncertainty broke, like a player finally finishing the tutorial part of a game and remembering which key was to attack and which to jump.

He talked energetically to his dad about the upcoming tournaments, champions he planned to use and the training regime he came up with. He stopped at times; afraid the man would be lost with his terminology but was pleasantly surprised when he responded.

"You need to improve your speed otherwise you'll never become number one." His father took a sip from his coffee with a smile.

"Speed? Having average speed is fine," Sora leaned in, "as long as the damage you make increases."

Bam!

The dish clattered in front of him, ceasing the conversation he had. He looked up to the half smiling, half annoyed expression of his brown eyed mother.

"Game talk at the table again?" She placed her hands on her hips, "you're already late to school. Don't waste it talking about gaming."

"Oh let him be." The man winked at Sora, who smiled.

"Boy needs his nutrients!"

Sora glanced uncertainly at the plate set in front of him; the scrambled egg was a yellow mess and the toast was a charcoal brick. An intimidating aura was detectable, however, causing the boy to pick up his fork and dig into the eggs. He braced himself to throw up—except he never did. The food was remarkably consumable.

In fact, it tasted delicious. The eggs were soft and chewable, the yolk adding flavor to perfect the taste. The bread was crispy and not at all burnt.

Finishing, he downed the food with a glass of milk, setting down his empty dishes by the sink. His parents were already settled down in the living room, getting ready for their own agendas that day. Sora pulled the strap of his book bag on his shoulders higher up.

"Thanks mom, dad. Enjoyed it a lot."

Why did I ever think something was wrong?

"Shoot I'm late." He ran through the busy streets, maneuvering his way through businessmen and old people carrying groceries behind them. He offered to help one elder but was rejected. He shrugged.

It was a beautiful day.

Birds were chirping merrily in the lush greenery and not a speck of white was in sight. There was a gentle breeze in the air, tickling his skin as he ran. He rather liked the adrenaline running inside of him and everything around him becoming a colorful blur, as though he was on fast-forward.

Few minutes later, however, his breath grew heavier and face sweatier. He paused at a red light. "Damn, was I always this out of shape?"

The red light switched to green and pedestrians started to walk. The sun, coming to view, became abnormally then; its languid rays clawing at him and submerging him in heat and leaving him in a hot, sticky mess. His footsteps were shaky, affected by the sun. He took only a few steps before bumping into someone.

"Ouch," a monotonous, soft voice spoke. "That hurts."

He felt something, or rather someone, warm pressed against his leg, hindering him from walking further.

He looked down.

A pair of eyes, as red as the color of the walk sign switched to, met his—wide, as though he was a spectacle but then small, as though the magic of first encounters shattered.

"Hey watch it!"

He was shoved a bit; the light suddenly changed to green once more and people started to walk. Instead of leaving, Sora clutched the shoulders of the girl in front of him, shielding her away from the rough movements of pedestrians.

"Sorry," he smiled charismatically to those who stared disgustingly at him. "Please pass by."

He didn't know what made him behave this way but he stayed in his position until finally the streets were cleared and it was just him and this girl alone.

"Please let me go."

Blinking, Sora was taken aback by how his hands still lingered on the girl's shoulders. "I'm sorry!"

She stood up, brushing dirt off the hem of her white plain dress. Her pale, cyan blue hair which trickled down to her knees curled this way and that, animatedly moving as though it was alive. It was funny: everything about her was pale and lifeless, from her porcelain white skin to her platinum blue hair— except her eyes which blazed alive like sparks of fire flickering wildly.

She was a perfect, flawless beauty.

"Eh?" He thought. "Did I say that about someone before? Sounds familiar."

"Move," she looked at him now, eyes burning with displeasure.

He was about to step aside; the only gentleman thing to do when he hesitated. It amused him.

It amused him how despite appearing stoic and talking with such monotone, she was so transparent. Her eyes revealed them all: how interested she was when she stared into him, how quick she became bored of him, and, now, how annoyed she was towards him.

It excited him, for some reason.

Excited him more than the adrenaline rush from running.

That was all the reason he needed.

Unconsciously, he pulled her into an embrace. His larger frame enveloped hers. He closed his eyes.

I wonder what her eyes will reveal this time.

She felt warm underneath him, making him wonder how a pale skinned beauty could be filled with such warmth. She felt comfortable, as he rested his head in the crook of her neck, far more comfortable than his pillow. And her hair—oh her hair—appeared unruly and untamed but felt silky and soft and…familiar. She felt heavenly.

Then, he was shoved aside.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" She sputtered. "Per-pervert!"

"Ah," he rubbed his head, eyes widening. "N-no! I'm not a pervert!"

"You attacked me."

"Hugged," Sora corrected but elicited no agreement. He started to sweat. If he thought about his rash actions now, it was his fault for hugging out of nowhere. But how could he apologize when he didn't even know why he hugged her in the first place? Was it out of impulse or a hidden desire for beautiful things?

Goddammit, I am a pervert.

"Well uhm…" his eyes desperately darted around in search for a change in topic. "…nice day isn't it?" The girl wasn't the least bit amused. "W-well, what's the dress you're wearing? It doesn't look like anything I've seen. It actually looks like—"

"Ripped piece of cloth?" The girl finished, her eyes narrowing. "You really are empty, huh."

The words gripped him by the throat, seizing whatever breath he was holding. It was as though an alarm went off inside of him, an alarm ringing déjà-vu, déjà-vu, déjà-vu.

She turned her back from him and started to walk but was stopped when her wrist was caught by his hand.

"You…" He struggled for words, wondering how to phrase it without sounding crazy. "…have…we met before?"

For the first time, she flinched—her body shivered and small hands balled into a shaky fist.

"I…" she started to answer but was cut off by the sound of incoming footsteps, growing louder and louder.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

The noise finally stopped but two figure clothed in black grabbed the girl, who immediately became limp, by the arm. Her head hung low, hair trickling to the ground.

"Hey…" He was confused. "…what are you doing to her?"

They didn't answer and turned around instead, walking back from the direction they came from. Eyes hidden under the shadow of her hair, Shiro didn't face him even once. He bit his lower lip.

Something was definitely wrong.

"Hey! Get back here!" He started after them, but then another figure stood in his way.

"Thanks for looking after Shiro," the figure spoke in a sweet, melodic pitch. Feminine. "We really appreciate it!"

"What?" Sora cocked his head, looking over the figure's shoulder. The girl and the two figure were nowhere in sight. He looked back at the figure that stood in his way but to his shock and dismay, the female figure was no longer there.

"What? What the hell is going on?" He scratched his head, digesting what had just happened. He was hugging her. They were talking. She was being kidnapped. Some person told her they appreciated it.

Then did he play a role in some conspiracy plan?

But who was she to have not one person but three people fetch her?

"Who is she?"

Who is Shiro?


Word count: 2,930


A/N: You guys have no clue how long I've been planning this story by now. Part of the reason I have finally released this is because the beginning should follow the original story but I'm too lazy to rewatch the first episode or read the novel so I decided to wing it in the end (I'm sorry if it bothers anyone). Another reason is because of my laziness. 8P And I'm also not a gamer so apologize for my terrible attempt at construing a discussion (it's because of watching the first eppy of SAOII, that anime is poison).

Characters may seem a bit out of character, especially towards the beginning. I had hoped to humanize the siblings a bit more; especially Sora since his attitude was grating and flaws didn't really make him any less invincible (which makes sense, given the general nature of NGNL but considering how he should struggle without purposely fooling the audience by explaining it was all a ruse is stupid—and I'll stop ranting about what I had problems with the anime. 8D)

But anyways, I've finally passed this horrid first chapter! This fanfiction will have more than 10 chapters (I didn't finish planning it out because lazy) but I'm up to chapter 10 and it is most likely less than 15/20 chapters long.

Thanks so much for reading and hope to hear what you guys think of it so far!