.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Agony consumes her.
Even when the «paralysis» in her wanes and fades, she stays frozen in that spot; hands where the shards of Kirito's life had been, as if grasping for them… as if she can't believe he's gone. Part of her doesn't.
They risked their lives every day, it's true, but she'd never truly considered it before… not for a very long time. Even when he spent his days solo and reckless; even when the reality seemed so close to coming true. It didn't… He just couldn't die. He wasn't supposed to—
He couldn't leave her.
That part of her can't believe it. It's the part that does – that knows what this all means – that has the tears spilling from her eyes, her heart an aching mess in her chest.
"Asuna…"
The players around her seem to still – talking in grave and harried voices that seem far away to Asuna. Distant.
"Hey, Asuna, are you…?"
There's a touch against her shoulder. It's a warm, firm one but Asuna only feels the way Kirito's arms wrapped around her, not an hour ago, and she flinches away. She chokes a sob.
"Let her be," Agil says, his low voice throaty. Pained.
She feels the touch again.
"Klein—"
The red-haired man steps away at the warning tone in the larger man's voice, face etched in grief. It's a reluctant step and so Agil grabs him, pulling Kirito's friend from the girl.
No one else disturbs her.
The sight of one of SAO's steady leaders collapsed against the cold stone of the floor, sobbing in high, keening sobs – like her heart is breaking – is burned into their minds. Even the guild members who have known her for years, seen her in grief and pain, have never seen the Lightning Flash so… broken.
No one has seen the young woman – so fierce, so enduring; like she would fight longer than any of them would think possible – so utterly defeated. Like she has finally just… given up.
The players move. There are pleads, some condolences, but eventually, the Knights leave her alone to grieve.
And Asuna lies there, as if the entire world has fallen from beneath her.
She stays there for a long time, even after the energy for tears runs dry. It could be hours; to her, it could be days. It's uncertain how long she's there, but it's for a time longer than she could have if her body were more than strings of numbers and data; that Klein is certain of… because she doesn't move.
For a time, Klein even thinks she might be dead. Her form lies deathly still for a long time; longer than he'd thought possible. He knows she's not, but eventually, it has the red-haired man shoving past Agil to take the girl and just shake her. To get her to move.
The young man talks to her, his voice rising in worry, then in frustration – but the words are far from Asuna, and don't reach her.
He shakes his shoulders roughly and pulls at her arms, trying to get her to stand – to respond – but even when he lets go she only falls, lifeless.
In the end, it's Agil who takes her away; lifting his friend's girl limp in his arms… and leaving her heart behind on the cold, stone floor.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The events effect Aincrad far more deeply than anyone has ever seen. It's far more than the loss of elite players; a reminder of the grim reality of SAO's dangers. It is the betrayal of their most trusted leader – a betrayal so deep and cutting that it takes a piece of them with it, never to return.
The Lightning Flash becomes silent as stone – unresponsive in her grief on the harsh terrain of floor 75. Some say she lies there for hours; others days, before she disappears. And after that... Some believe she's left this world and every other – though no one knows for certain and no one can ask, when the only one whose word they trust becomes suddenly out of reach.
When Argo leaves, it's quiet and abrupt. She's «paralyzed» on the 75th boss room floor, near the entrance – her whiskers glistening – and then she slips away in the chaos… gone.
No one sees the Rat for weeks. She leaves no notes, no reasons – only silence; an absence so unheard of it has the leader of the Divine Dragon Alliance resigning from his duties after only a day, at the gates of the Town of Beginnings.
Though Argo returns eventually, the man – renown for his outspokenness on the inevitability of victory – is never heard from again.
The news of it spreads fast even without the Rat's guidance, like wildfire; burning the hope of the game in its wake.
For the first time since the very first floor, no one is crawling through the dungeons. No one is on the grassy, moonlit slopes of the 76th floor's fields and rivers, hunting all day for items and quests. No one is meeting in large battle halls but to argue and scream into the night – full of guilds' ruined dishes and desertions, and the sounds of a community tearing itself to pieces.
Agil knows what this looks like.
If any of the alcohol or shimmery powders were real – if any had effects beyond impairing «coordination» points or inducing «fatigue» – than every tavern and shop would be crammed to its limit. Had Agil's bar been virtual, he'd be rich enough to buy Aincraid over. But such sins don't exist in their overlord's perfect fantasy world.
So instead, Agil's shop is like a graveyard. The street beyond the normally bustling district eerily quiet and overcast, even in midday. It's a graveyard like Agil's never seen – not in years.
And the mourners are even more difficult to reach.
"Asuna?" Agil calls, voice gently, knocking the wooden door with a broad fist. "Hey, Asuna. You hear me in there?"
He knows she does – one can always hear outside in. But there's nothing. No response; just like the last several times he's tried, these last two days.
"I got some soup here," he says, but even he knows it's weak. The NPC's standard gruel isn't exactly enticing, though it's really just a reason to be here – to check on her. Agil coughs into his hand. "I know it's not much, but I thought you might want some still. If you're hungry."
A spying skill isn't something Agil's ever wanted for himself – especially not to hear the goings-on of a lady behind a closed door – but for a moment, the large man wishes it. If only to know if the slip of a girl he laid on the cushion of his rented upstairs isn't getting foolish thoughts.
One could only have so many days of solitude before it really hits them. And Kirito's girl hasn't left since Agil brought her there himself – hadn't had visitors since the blacksmith, who knocked and demanded entrance until her voice went hoarse and she left, in tears.
Agil could only stand on the sidelines, helpless to even soothe Lisbeth – hurting perhaps more personally than he.
The man hasn't had to deal with crying women in a long time. Or women, period. But that's an ache so deep he can't think about. Not now.
Her grief seems to seep through the doors, infecting him. Agil steadies himself, heart aching. Sometimes he feels as if his wife is long gone, so far from him it's like he's lost her. But not even Nezumi is farther than Kirito is now.
"I know I don't know you very well, Asuna," he says. "I know that. But Kirito was a friend; a real one. And… I just want you to know that any friend of Kirito's is a friend of mine."
He almost sees her beyond the door; curled up on the stiff bed, or maybe the lumpy armchair. He wonders if the tears down her cheeks are any drier; if she's any better than how heartbroken she seemed, lying on the floor of the 75th boss room like she meant to die there.
"Man, I'm not cut out for this…" he murmurs, low enough for it not to pass through the wood as he leans against the doorframe.
He almost towers over the door and fills up most of the narrow, dusty hallway above his shop. He used to have to shove Kirito out of here, some days.
It almost doesn't seem real, that the boy is gone.
He was so young. Late teens at the oldest.
Sometimes it's easy to forget that a lot of them here are just kids. They'd never finished school, never worked or married or did any of the crazy things they all did, at some time or another. Agil's heart aches.
Kirito didn't deserve to die, let alone this young. And this girl – just barely old enough to fall in love; to realize what it means – doesn't deserve to grieve him.
Agil just sighs deeply. "I miss him, too."
The man wants to help – tries to think of the right words – but in the end, he knows there aren't any. Agil's not the most eloquent man, but when someone rips your heart out and shatters it, he knows there aren't words in the world that'll make it better.
Agil slumps to the side, burying his face in his hands. He misses his wife's gentle, steady presence; the way she always seemed to know how far to push.
"I've known Kirito since he got here. It's not my place, but… I just wanted you to know, in case it never got through…" he says, letting the words come; raw honesty taking over in his timbered voice. "He loved you, Asuna. What he did was damn brave, but I know it wasn't just that he couldn't have done it without you. He did it for you."
He doesn't say an apology, or that if she needs anything, he's there – even if Agil has vowed to take care of his friend's girl to the end. She doesn't want that. Her grief doesn't want that; not from a man she doesn't know.
And so he leaves her there, putting the soup down in an item-box; it's heat counters slowly depleting.
But if his listening skill had been even just a little higher, he would have heard the way she cried from behind the door… Asuna's apologies falling from her lips.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.