Disclaimer: Sword Art Online (Novel) is owned by Reki Kawahara, abec, ASCII Media Works and Yen Press.

EDIT: Updated 4/13/2015 - Added much more to the Chapter. :P

Arachi Household, Japan

November 6, 2022

Tez Arachi

I awoke from the visions of death and insanity, hoping they were just a dream and not one of the visions you see of the future and later get that feeling of Deja-vu.

No matter. Today was something of a big thing… I guess. With the release of the new VRMMO. I could finally use my mastery of kendo in a video game. Complete domination.

I rolled over in my bed and swung my legs over the side as I sighed, combing messily through my light brown hair.

"He never woke me up… That asshole…" I mumbled as I glanced at my alarm clock.

8:26 A.M.

'Damn it...'

I groaned into the palm of my hand. I was late for Kendo club practice. I know. Practice on a Sunday? It's a pain in the ass. I broke the promise of perfect attendance for my senior year. No. It was Father's fault, damn him.

I had to rely on him most of the time since our mother had passed. On top of that, my older sister moved away from Japan to pursue her career in acting. I never truly understood that, especially since there were plenty of acting jobs here in this city alone, not to talk of the country of as a whole.

I stood, alone in my lifeless household, peering around my colorless bedroom.

Groggily, I shuffled over to the bathroom counter, my hand blindly feeling for the light switch.

Click!

Agony.

Were my eyes on fire!? I don't think so. I would've groaned in pain over the catastrophic deathly rays of photon particles emanating from my room light and into my optical receptors, but my voice was past the point of return.

It was like that moment before you die where you "supposedly" see the light. Except this time it's 2000 times brighter and aimed to burn your eyes right out of their sockets.

Oh God my eyes…

Morning sickness. All the air escaped from my mouth in the form of a raspy hiss. Suits me, I guess.

I followed my usual morning schedule. Brush my teeth, take shower while brushing my teeth, put on clothes while brushing my teeth.. Brush my hair while combing my teeth- wait… What?

And who am I kidding? I don't comb my hair. It's way too long and messy. When I dry my hair with a towel, it usually stays like that the entire day.

My stomach growled, reminding me, a bit painfully if I may add, that I haven't eaten yet.

I glanced back over at my clock, wondering for a moment if I had time to eat.

8:52 A.M.

I shrugged, rolling my eyes. "Well, I'll be damned if I'm on time anyway. So screw it." I mumbled, moving from my room and into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, I was greeted with familiar sight and smell.

Takeout. Fast food. Moldy… whatever that is in the very back. It was a grim reminder of a lack of feminine cleanliness. A certain feminine cleanliness that I would never get the chance to know...

Anyway… I grabbed the freshest bowl of leftover noodles I could find and threw it in the microwave.

45…

20...

5...

2…

1…

BEEE-

I opened the microwave before the timer could go rampant and give me a raging headache.

As I took the bowl out of the microwave, I immediately regretted it and nearly dropped the bowl. I set it down on the counter and silently cursed at my burning hand. My mind was not function too brightly this morning…

"What else could go wrong this morning..?" I mumbled, none too gently snatching a pair of unused chopsticks out of the box on the counter.

Soon enough, I finished the steaming bowl of noodles and moved to the door, picking up my satchel as I went. Opening the door and stepping out, I looked at the time on my phone.

9:07 A.M.

9:21 A.M.

Ibaraki High School Dojo

Kendo. My favorite past time, of course. You would think after a few years a sport would get tiresome and repetitive.

You'd be correct. But that doesn't mean it stops being fun.

It was an ever changing art, however. No one person had identical style. It was my job, as the Team Captain and current All-Japan Kendo Champion to spot and correct my fellow club member's bad habits. I'm basically a teacher and role model to them all.

I'd say I was a capable teacher…

I left most of them in awe, which should be a compliment, right?

If it was, I didn't feel flattered. I only felt frustrated.

Sigh.

I arrived at the dojo, and glanced around. I caught sight of a group of second-years, who were currently locked in an intense sparring match.

They were seriously going at it, shouting at the top of their lungs with each strike.

I allowed a faint grin to touch my face when I noticed who they were.

Second-years Masahiko and Takashi. They were my most devoted followers, as they were my appointed first year disciples last year.

Their form was outstanding, Takashi a little more so. He was average height, 5'10, and in fit shape. He was also level-headed and willing to learn.

Masahiko was as tall as I was, 6'1", and a little on the skinny side. He had a short temper, but worked hard and learned from his mistakes. He had fighting spirit and a great deal of determination.

Both shifted their arms as the bamboo swords, or Shinai, clashed in mid air, generating loud thumps.

Masahiko let out a grunt as he blocked Takashi's overhead strike, and allowed a sharp yell to escape his lips.

Momentarily, Masahiko's stance wavered from the force, an implication I thought I corrected with his stance at one point. He staggered backwards, but his arms lurched forward, allowing him to regain his balance.

I wondered if I should speak up.. Say some words of encouragement, y'know? But that might distract one of them, so I decided against it and leaned against the wall to watch.

It went on longer than most matches did and they attracted attention from almost all of the other sparring members.

Masahiko's arms went back to deliver another tired strike, but was too slow as Takashi hastily stepped forward and thrusted his shinai into Masahiko's throat guard.

Masahiko was thrown on his back from the force.

"R.. Re-match!" He yelled as he got back up.

I grinned once again. There were no flukes in Kendo. Only skill and determination. If your opponent was more experienced and skilled than you, there was no way to win.

The two returned to their starting positions and within seconds were back facing each other, shouting and grunting blow for blow.

I won't lie, as laid back as I seem, I was watching them with great interest.

Takashi, again, landed a point on Masahiko's head gear. But that didn't stop Masahiko. He kept raining down blows, faster now and fiercer. It was all Takashi could do to block each strike.

I narrowed my eyes and saw the look in Masahiko's eyes through his head gear. There was an angry glint in there that he couldn't hide. I stopped leaning against the wall and advanced a little closer to the boundaries of the sparring match.

Then it happened.

KLACK!

Masahiko hit Takashi's kote, or hand guards, and Takashi faltered- allowing his guard to drop. Masahiko should've stopped and returned to his corner, but he held up the shinai to land another hit on Takashi's head guard.

It took me exactly one second to dash forward and block his strike with my arm.

WHACK!

The crowd gasped as I glared at him. My arm hurt like a bitch, but I didn't flinch. I'd definitely have a bruise later though.

"What do you think you're doing, Masahiko..?" I asked with a leveled tone, eyeing him through the slitted helmet.

His eyes went wide with terror as he realized what he'd done.

"I.. I.. I'm so sorry, senpai! I got carried away!" Masahiko apologized, putting his shinai down and bowing slightly.

I promptly hit him on the head a bit forcefully- enough to make him flinch.

"You idiot. The purpose of kendo isn't to cut people down. It's to learn the spirit of the warrior through swordsmanship. Not to defeat our opponents, but to elevate ourselves that we may strike. If you can't get that through your thick skull then here, 'Kendo starts and ends with a bow.' It's a sport that prides itself in decorum and manners above all else." I said, as it was drilled into my head time and time again.

He nodded quickly, averting his eyes from my steady gaze.

"Take a break, you two. Your breath is getting ragged. Even in endurance training you need to take a break to keep hydrated." I said with a sigh as I held onto my injured left arm with my right hand. Luckily, the shinai struck me on the muscle-clad part of my arm instead of the bone. Otherwise, it would've fracture

"Yes, senpai." They both chorused, returning to the changing room to get out of the sweaty kendo gear.

With that, the dojo went back to normal, spectators returning to their own sparring and practices.

I groaned to myself. Any practice I do now would have to be with my only good arm. I guess today could get worse. I just had to be a hero, didn't I?

The day wore on like that, with me nursing my injured arm- in a many way, of course.

I even managed to get some practice in, despite my injury. I dared not to strain my left arm in case of tendon damage, torn muscles, etc. So I stuck to endurance training only.

3:11 P.M.

Ibaraki High School Dojo

Gruuuurghh…

My stomach was killing me from hunger. I decided not to go to lunch with everyone else three hours ago and continue my endurance training.

So much regret.

Practice was winding up and everyone was already leaving.

I usually receive a little extra practice in a different form of martial arts after regular practice as I have since I was a freshman. The dojo's sensei is actually from a long lineage of samurai.

Who isn't in Japan, am I right?

But his ancestor, Kondo Isami, was from a special unit- The Shinsengumi, a special police force in the 18th century with a great amount of success.

Kondo was the fourth master of the Tennen Rishin-ryu, and my sensei was practically one himself.

The style entailed all aspects of Kenjutsu, Bojutsu and Jujutsu- sword art, staff art and unarmed grappling art.

The training regimen was much more rigorous than Kendo… Considering my opponent most of the time when learning these styles were sensei himself…

He said I was showing a lot of prowess, as I could last against him in all three martial arts on nearly equal footing. Though, he was fairly older than most Kendo instructors.

Gruuuurghh…

Ugh. I was practically dying.

'I guess I'll stop by a fast food restaurant before I go home… Yeah. I'll do that.' I thought to myself as I made my way into town.

5:47 P.M.

Arachi Household, Japan

I literally glided into the suite, tossing my satchel near the door.

Fwwwump!

The absolute last thing on my mind was my homework I haven't done since Friday; that could definitely wait.

I had a bag in my other hand with a copy of the newest VRMMO, Sword Art Online.

I picked it up in the mail, since I pre-ordered it as soon as it available. I had early privileges to that afterall. I was a Beta Tester.

I looked around once, unsurprised to find that my father hasn't come home yet.

"Out getting drunk, I hope." I muttered darkly, grimacing as the image of my father flashed in my head.

I shook it off and headed to my room. My NerveGear had a bit of dust on it, considering I had it for educational purposes way before I used it for the Sword Art Online Beta. I had always hoped they would take advantage of the technology they had at their disposal, and man, did Argus deliver.

I plugged the NerveGear in, booted it up, launched Sword Art Online and put the helmet on.

Calibration tests..? That's.. weird? I never had to do that in the Beta. Oh well. New concept, new game, new mechanic.

As soon as I was.. Ahem. 'Calibrated', I laid down on my mediocre bed. I'm not gonna be limber when I get back up..

"Link start."

I'm Tez Arachi, an eighteen year old high school student in Ibaraki prefecture, Japan. It neighbors the Chiba and Tokyo prefectures.

I live specifically in Mito. We reside in the biggest suite provided by the hotel there. By "we", I mean me and my "businessman of a father".

He's the owner of a long chain of hotels like this one… which is why we live here. It's the nicest one of course.

My father, Kichirou Arachi, was born into wealth, not experiencing any form of misfortune money-wise.

'Pompous' is only one word of many I would use to describe him.

Here, I'll list a few:

Arrogant.

Guileful..

Silver-tongued…!

Malignant!

WRETCHED!

SATANI—ahem! I'm getting ahead of myself.

You may think I'm over exaggerating.. But that is merely the beginning. To trace the root of my contempt for him, it would be a long and arduous story. But you're not here reading this for some deep, convoluted history about my father and I are you?

So then! Before I continue ranting about my ongoing 'Daddy-issues' behind the scenes, I'll just say one last thing.

This is my experience in the death game, Sword Art Online. My past. My struggles. Be wary and trust no one.

Not even me.

Well then! I hope you enjoyed my little prologue before we get into the reason you probably clicked on my story. Sword Art Online. Wooo…!

Couple of things.

I'd like to thank Densha (Dennys), Hibiko, Stormbreaker99 and Metal041 for helping me with this chapter. It's literally only its humble beginnings and I'm grateful for their support.

Speaking of Densha, check out his story (Striking Blades). He's been working on it for a long time. It's really great. I'm a fan. And.. You might see a familiar face in a few of the chapters. And heck, you may see a few references to his story in mine. s/9635245/1/Striking-Blades

Not to leave Hibiko out either- His story (The White Swordgirl) is also really great and you should check it out! :D s/9757549/1/Sword-Art-Online-The-White-Swordgirl

Finally, check out Stormbreaker's incredible story (Band of Brothers) as well. Phew. I'm getting tired of advertising… s/9728637/1/Band-of-Brothers

Review! I'm not perfect and I know it. Just.. drop me a hint on how I can make your fanfiction senses tingle. -w-

Until Next Time,

-Xephyrr