A/N:...I feel like writing kills our sorrow, and fills our hearts back up with sweet emotions. And in a way, it brings us all together. That came right out of my muse. And boy, does it fit the things I'm feeling right now. So, allow me to make up for them right now...with another chapter of this story.

Chapter Four the cruelty of the world

Once upon a time, there was a young girl who loved and treasured her brother (or was it the many brothers and sisters she had?) above everything else, even her own life. She would gladly do anything for him, even throw aside her own life and her way of living, just to show him that she cared.

But if there was one thing that made her different from the rest of the people of the noble court, (was she ever a noble? She doesn't know what's real and what's not, anymore, not since her brother fell unconscious and is now lying there, like a doll, unmoving) it was that the sufferings of the helpless and the unfortunate souls being crushed upon by the cruel stares of the stern who would leave them to their fates, she was uncorrupted and whole.

She could feel for them, she understood their suffering, and only wished that everyone else could understand the unending pain she felt. For she never understood the things called race-Britannian, Japanese-it never mattered to her, not one bit, for they were all this one little thing called human, why, oh why, couldn't they see this and stop hurting each other so much? Every time a Britannian would hurt, humiliate or kill a Japanese, her heart panged out with sorrow for them, because she felt the pain as much as if she were the one suffering.

Oh, she could never explain to them why she looked at them with no hate in her eyes, just pure and undying love for them, regard for their lives, treating them just as precious as she did her own sister, her half-siblings, her brothers, her mother, her servants, and her pets. They wouldn't understand. This great, wrenching sorrow filled her heart over and over.

When people told Suguha-or was it Euphemia-she could never hope to reason with a Japanese person, her response was to laugh in their faces and resist the urge, however strongly, to tell them that she felt pain every time they were hurt, cried whenever they cried, and wanted nothing more than to help them. So why could the world be so cold and cruel and be this way? It must be changed, it has to be-for Nunnally's sake, for Lelouch's-no, Kazuto's sake-the world had to be changed.

So why-why was she gunned down so helplessly, covered in the blood of those she wanted to save more than anything-? Suguha could do nothing but to sink down into the depths of her deepening despair as thoughts became contorted with reality and fantasy overtook it, laughing all the way at her despair.

She watches her brother over and over, wondering just when he will wake up, when will he smile at her in that endearing manner of his and tell her everything is all right-when will things be like the way they used to be? She asks these questions over and over, and yet they remain unanswered.

Her own brother was actually her cousin-but somehow, she's actually known-known that they were never full-blooded siblings. That once they shared the same blood of the same father, but the women who birthed them were different. But a difference in blood does not change the feelings she holds for him. They cannot. Rather, these unusual feelings grow stronger the more she tries to deny them.

It's like a never-ending web of despair, no matter how hard she tries to escape, she cannot, and is ensnared in her own feelings. She knows she cannot change how she feels, but she can change him. She can change him for the better-she can make him a normal human being again-

'Won't you stop being Zero and join us in the pursuit of peace?'

How well that had gone over, then! How well had her Special Administrated Zone gone over among the very people she longed to help? It ended with her dying. But this time around, she will not die, wasting away on a bed. She will not let Kazuto suffer. She will be there for him.

She will be his everything. No matter what.

Nothing will change that, nothing at all.

Kirito and Asuna do not ask each other questions about the mysterious man known as Suzaku who has left an impact on their lives that they will not forget. Ever. He cannot forget about him. And he doesn't know why. That's the worst part of all of this.

He cannot understand what is happening with himself lately, and Asuna can only guess vaguely. It doesn't help things. How can he be Kirito, the Beater, and yet suffer these bizarre outbreaks of deja vu and things that don't make any sense. It's so ironic he just wants to laugh.

He meets a girl named Lisbeth, who has hair the color of a rose in full bloom-and he does not know why-but every time he sees her hair color and looks at her face, he is stricken with a terrible feeling of sadness and he does not know why. Perhaps this is why he's so protective of her and distant at the same time. It's a funny thing.

Lisbeth does not know what to think of Kirito the Beater. He's got quite a reputation in SAO-one of infamy. He is not known to speak much, but his skills in battle speak for themselves. When she meets the man in person, she has to say, she was expecting someone much taller and more mysterious-like someone in a mask.

She does not understand why he looks away from her when he talks, why he seems to flinch at the sight of her gaze, why he always looks so sad when he sees her. It pains her heart. She has a crush on him and at the same time he is pushing her away.

"Why?" She breathes one night, as they lie under the stars, "...Why don't you like looking at me, Kirito."

For a moment, he does not speak. Then another. Then finally, he opens his mouth and speaks like it's one of the hardest things he's ever done in his life. "...It's...complicated, Liz. You see...in my dreams, there is a girl with pink hair...and she dies a terrible death. You remind me of her. Though she is a total stranger to me, I feel as though I know her...like I'm responsible for her demise. It's unbelievable, right? Yet I feel as though this isn't the first time I've been confronted with death on a daily basis."

If he closes his eyes, he can almost see the fallen Japanese, screaming as their ghettos are destroyed and their lives are ended, can see a mudslide raining down a mountain, ending innocent lives, can see a giant pink light flashing over a city, one that tears him apart, and can see countless wars and endless bloodshed in his inner mind. And somehow, it's happening...all over again.

She wonders why he seems so serious. "Kirito-san, do you really believe...these things? These...visions, I mean."

He turns toward her, his grey eyes dead serious, and nods. "...Yes. They've happened all my life. And it feels like something I must embrace as being part of me. But what does it all mean?"

She does not understand him at all. Though he is friendly with her, the dark clothes he wears just serve to hide the enigma of his true nature, just cloak him in a blackness that seems to incorporate his entire being.

When Kirito dreams that night, he is in nothing but black. He hears a voice speaking to him, one he does not know. Who is it?

'You must remember what happened before. Before it's too late. You can't let her die again. Kirito, you must remember all that happened, what you did.'

Kirito shakes his head. "I don't understand. Who are you, and what do you mean?" He cries.

The voice speaks again, 'You are not yet willing to open your eyes to reality. It is why you ran away to this game world. You do not take things seriously. You are still a naive child, Kirito. That disappoints me. What happened to your attitude of justice, of protecting the innocent? You let Sachi die.'

Kirito feels hot anger sweep over him. Who does this person think he is? "Shut up! You don't understand a thing at all about me!"

A chuckle comes from within his mind. 'I know more about you than you deem possible. You'll understand one day.'

And then he rouses, shaken awake by a worried Asuna, who questions him on why exactly he was moaning in his sleep. For once, he has no answers for her.