'I'm not bothered by the fact that I've killed. Never was. It's that I can't remember how many.'

-Klein the Red-

It was slow going, getting from Lindarth's teleport hub to Lisbeth's shop, despite the distance not being all that far. Kirito was completely out of breath and was only able to take in sharp, shallow gasps that never brought in enough air, each intake catching in his chest. The fact that his right leg refused to work properly didn't help matters. The knee joint had locked up straight, his foot dragging along as he hobbled along, manacled hands left swinging in font of himself. More than once he had to stop and try and force some air into his lungs. A futile effort.

He swatted his hands about his head as he heard a soft, feminine voice whispering in his ear. The voice didn't sound like it came from inside his head, but just over his right shoulder. Despite this, her words were incomprehensible and distant. All he could gather was its concerned tone.

The sun had set hours ago while he'd been sitting in that cave, but he could see well enough by the ample starlight. Arriving at Lisbeth's, he started across the short wooden bridge over the canal that powered the workshop's water wheel. He blinked, and when his eyes opened he was under water. Panicking, he flailed his arms, finding that he was on his back. As he broke the surface, he could feel the water run off of him, like fingers grasping and sliding across his skin, earning a panicked waving of his arms. The whisper returned, more urgent, apologetic. Standing up, he realized that he must have blacked out and fallen into the canal. Pulling himself up on to the shore, he navigated around the store to the workshop.

Pushing the door open, he limped in. The workshop was much as he'd left it. Not bothering to close the door, he briskly strode over to the workbench and began to search for the right tools for the task at hand. He wasn't quite sure at first which would be appropriate; he'd never had to cut a pair of handcuffs from his own wrists. He rubbed his left hand against the back of his head while he thoughtfully drummed the fingers of his right against the benchtop.

"Hey," a familiar voice called from behind him, "you're back."

Before he could turn around, he could hear a few quick footsteps, and feel her hug onto him lovingly from behind, her cheek placed against his shoulder as she softly whispered. "Welcome home."

Kirito couldn't help but smile, enjoying the welcome warmth of her embrace. Her palms were pressed against his chest, and as he took hold of her hands her fingers intertwined with his. On her right she wore a ring that matched his own, but neither one was his.

Disentangling himself, Kirito turned around to an unexpected sight.

He was in complete disbelief. "Lisbe-?"

His question was cut off as she leaned in to plant a tender kiss on his lips before backing away, wearing a beaming smile. "About time you got here. I could really use your help today. Big order from the Broken Oath I could use a hand with."

"Wha-…Lisbeth?" He repeated, able to complete the question.

"Yes?" She waited a second. "What is it?"

Kirito raised his hands, realizing that they were free. "I'm dreaming."

Suddenly, there came a thunderous grating sound, long and drawn out. At the same time, Kirito could feel his chest spasm, and he doubled over into a coughing fit. The fingers he had felt in the canal briefly returned, pressing against his chest until they faded away.

"Not what you wanted to see?" Lisbeth asked. Her tone was somehow not right in a way that Kirito couldn't place.

"Why this?" The question was more directed at himself. "Why dream this? None of it was ever real."

The smile left Lisbeth's face, replaced by a mournful, wistful expression. She came close enough to place her palm over his heart. "Because you know it could have been."

The cacophonous grating returned, longer and louder. The room tilted to the left until he had to adjust his footing to keep upright. The pain in his chest sharpened until he felt as though he would vomit, but instead gave a series of racking coughs that ended in a dry heave as he staggered over to the workbench to brace himself.

Except the workbench was gone. Everything was. In place of Lisbeth and her workshop was an endless, empty void. A pressure could be felt building in the back of his skull. Twisting around to get his bearings in the featureless expanse, he found Her, Asuna, just a couple meters away, dressed in Her guild armour, polished to such a gleaming finish that She appeared to be glowing. His footsteps produced a splashing sound which echoed in his mind, and a quick glance downward revealed the ground to be under a couple centimeters of clear water.

"Because you couldn't let me go." Asuna smiled wide, Her expression a poor match for Her words.

Another grating draw, shuddering through his being. The shallow waters rippled in sympathy. Kirito clutched his chest, dropping down to one knee with his head down as he coughed as though his lungs were trying to escape through his throat. Something solid bumped against his spine from inside his body.

Her steps produced no sounds or splashes as She sauntered overtop the water until She was close enough to place Her hand on his shoulder. "But don't worry. You don't have to be alone anymore. I'm here for you."

Kirito tried to answer Her, but couldn't stop coughing, feeling something sliding through his chest. Spit dribbled out of his mouth as he fell to his hands and knees. He met Her eyes through Her reflection, and as the sensation of his innards being pulled intensified, Her image flickered in segments in an almost subliminal flash. Her face cycled and blinked through several configurations, with her hair changing from Asuna's chestnut brown, to black, to Lisbeth's pink, to red, lingered on lavender, then settled back on brown.

Her smile deepened. "And I'll be here for as long as you need me."

In that instant, the water beneath them caught fire, conflagrating as though it were oil, engulfing both of them. For the briefest of split seconds, it registered that She was as surprised by this as he was, and that there was someone looming closely behind Her. Someone he knew. Before he could dwell on any of this, there came a final tug at his insides, and Kirito opened his eyes.

Kirito awoke with a desperate gasp for air, filling his lungs before scrunching up and hacking it back out, then finally managing to keep the next breath in. He could feel a hand press against his chest, and another grasp onto one of his wrists. Someone next to him saying something he couldn't comprehend. Swatting away the hands, Kirito looked to their source, and saw a pink apron worn by a familiar figure.

In his dazed state, he asked the same question he had before he'd blacked out. "Lisbeth?"

"No," Hannah shook her head, "it's me."

The NPC delivered her next words as mournfully as one could expect from a drone. "Lisbeth's…gone."

Kirito tried to stand, but his right knee was still ruined, folding sideways due to the javelin presently impaled through it, leaving him to flop back onto the floor. The floor? That wasn't right. He'd blacked out near Lindarth's town center. He should be outside, but a cursory glance around showed that he was in Lisbeth's shop. The jangling of chains and his restricted range of motion confirmed his hands were still bound, but there was no javelin through his chest.

This couldn't be real. He couldn't be here. He was still lying in the center of town, no doubt. He had to be. Helplessly waiting to wake from this dream within a dream.

Hannah's concern was apparent. "Kirito? Are you oka-"

"How did I get here?" He shouted, both a question and an accusation. "How did I get here?! I-I…I should be next to the archway."

"You collapsed by the teleporter." Hannah confirmed with a nod. "You scared me."

Kirito's foggy mind began to clear up, but he was not entirely sure he was ready to believe. "And what, you-you dragged me here?"

She shook her head again. "No."

"But..." Kirito furrowed his brow. "But you just said you…How did you get me here?"

"I carried you." Came her answer, in that obtusely stilted way that only an NPC can give. She mistook his confused expression and gave her clarification. "I'm stronger than I look."

Now that he was fully awake, he could feel a throbbing pain returning to his knee, building back up and demanding his attention.

Accepting that he was, in fact, actually awake and here, Kirito noticed the javelin that had been speared through his chest sitting on the floor in two halves next to a handsaw. "You did that?"

She nodded again.

Another scan showed that they were alone. "Where's Yonaka?"

"I had to put her outside." Hannah answered plainly. "She kept getting in the way when I had to hold you down, and you kept thrashing."

Lastly, it occurred to Kirito that his clothes were soaked, dripping water onto the floor. "And why am I wet?"

"I, uh…dropped you in the river." She cast her eyes downward, sounding genuinely sheepish. The act was borderline humanlike. "I'm sorry, but you wouldn't stop struggling."

Kirito adjusted himself on the floor into a more comfortable sitting position. This caused his knee to shift, and he winced despite himself at the spike of pain this produced.

Hannah stooped down to pick up the hand saw. "Here, let me help."

He held up a hand and told her to stay where she was, and turned his attention to the weapon, studying it. On both ends were four thick metal fins about ten centimeters long that opened upwards and outwards like the veins of an umbrella, clearly to keep whoever was unfortunate enough to be impaled by it from being able to remove it.

A javelin was not likely to ever kill anyone unless it was used to finish someone off. They were primarily used as a limiting weapon. If you could start a fight by embedding a few throwing knives or a javelin into someone, it could tip the scales tremendously. So long as the weapon remained inside them, it would deal lingering damage, bleeding away at their health until the weapon's durability ran out or their target expired. Taking the time to remove the offending items could be a fatal distraction, leaving one open to more immediately lethal attacks. A weapon shoved into a joint could severely limit its range of motion, if not lock it entirely until It broke, and in the case of something larger like a javelin, the weight could keep a man off balance, with the length of the shaft potentially hampering the range of his own weapon's arcs.

The weapon in question did not have the pressure button in the tip like the crossbow bolts, but instead jutted out from the shaft a little farther inward of the tines. No doubt the idea was that if someone had the to collapse the tines, the act of pulling it through themselves would trigger them again.

With a measure of effort, Kirito reset the tines on one end and began to pull the shaft through his leg, grimacing with every tug. Sure enough, as the button slipped into his flesh, it depressed, and the tines sprang back out. He tried to reset them again, but so long as the button was pressed they would not stay. He could saw it in half, but he'd rather preserve the item, if possible.

He raised himself up on one leg, and after a moment's thought, raised his ruined leg so that it was pointing straight out to his side. Landing on an idea, he kicked-flopped his dangling foot onto the nearest countertop. The weight of the javelin caused his leg to twist farther out of socket with a rending pain and a revoltingly wet tearing sound, ending with his foot pointing in a direction it never should.

Drawing his Elucidator, he lined it up as best he could above his knee. While weapon strikes from other people would not penetrate his flesh while within the town's safe zones, his own could, though it would still not harm his health. Raising the blade up, he adjusted his good foot and brought it down. The sword sliced cleanly through his leg, leaving a glowing red wound marker. The leg remained. He repeated the motion twice more to the same effect, then again using a sword skill. Kirito briefly considered using the handsaw. It would be guaranteed to remove the limb, but would be slow going. The prospect of how painful it would be was enough to dissuade him. Better to stick with the sword. Another couple swings and the limb was amputated. Off balance, Kirito let himself drop down into a sit while the severed leg shimmered and burst into shards, leaving the javelin and the contents of its pockets to clatter to the floor. From there, he opened his inventory, summoned a full restoration healing crystal and used it. With a shimmering light, his leg reformed, pants and all. Considering severed limbs would respawn on their own after half an hour, it was something of a waste, but he was feeling particularly impatient.

Scooping up his dropped belongings, he returned them to their pockets and his sword to its scabbard, grabbing the fallen projectile last. Paying the NPC no further mind, he started towards the back of the shop.

"Wait," Hannah called to him, causing him to pause a curious moment, "are you okay?"

He hadn't quite heard her. "What?"

The shopkeeper smoothed out her apron like she was weighing her words. "You don't look so good. Are you okay?"

"Peachy." Kirito replied dismissively. "I'll be in the workshop. Don't bother me."

He was about to take another step and stopping when she spoke up again.

"Are you getting enough sleep?" She asked, pensively. "I'm sorry, but you look tired. It's late. Whatever you need to work on can probably wait until tomorrow, right?"

"I sleep fine." He lied.

She clearly didn't believe him. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Yesterday." He lied again. She kept staring at him like she was waiting for another answer. After dealing with so many drones running on the bare minimum settings, it was a little disconcerting talking with Hannah from time to time. "A few days."

She pursed her lips.

"Fine. Four days." He answered truthfully.

Hannah wrinkled her brow in concern. "Four days isn't a few."

"Yes, it is." Kirito argued.

"No," she argued right back, "a few is three."

This was the most human conversation he had had in quite some time. The alien-ness of it was starting to bother him.

Kirito sighed. "In common use, a couple is two to three, and a few is a range, usually but not always somewhere from three to five. So, I slept a few days ago. I'm fine."

"Well," she placed a hand on her hip, "that's a few days too long. You shou-"

"Shezlore habbersnatch." He interrupted harshly.

Hannah blinked, cogitating his unexpected nonsense words, then flatly recited a reply. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand what you're saying."

The drone had been behaving human enough that it had started to get under his skin. Furthermore, his last few days were already going badly enough that he had no desire to tolerate any guff from his shopkeeper. To say his ordeals had left him irritable would be something of an understatement.

Kirito jabbed a thumb at his chest. "Player,"

He then pointed a finger at her "NPC."

Her perception filter kept her from comprehending the words used to describe her, or anything to do with breaking the game's fourth wall. She repeated mechanically. "I'm sorry, but I don't un-"

Kirito interrupted again. "Command: end conversation."

She said nothing further, made no expression. The veil had been torn aside, revealing the nothing that was beneath.

He made to leave, but a thought occurred to him. Kirito half turned back to her. "What were you doing at the town center?"

Hannah's face twitched as her personality re-established itself. "I was reading. I'd already closed the shop for the night, and I wanted to get some fresh air, so I went to the-"

"Command: end conversation." Without another word, he left her there to go to the workshop.

Closing the door behind him, he placed the javelin on the worktable in the center of the room and waved a hand to appraise it. He didn't expect his investigation skills to reveal too much; everyone else's skills in hiding any pertinent information would be high enough to countermand it at this point, anymore. Still, he could at least get a few basic things. The weapon's name, for starters.

'Next Time'. He rolled his eyes, the custom-made projectile's name clearly meant as a statement to whomever managed to escape with it. Real funny.

Knowing its metallurgical composition did nothing for him, as he had no intention of recycling it and no expectation that he could craft one like it himself. Still, it could prove useful. With that in mind it was deposited into his inventory.

Next, he summoned the other items he had recovered during his ordeal in Shyotulus. Claire's wrist cannon and bandolier were called from the ether and placed on the table. He was aware that he'd gotten them in Shyotulus, but the exact memory of their collection eluded him. Trying to focus on it made his head throb. Tired. Worry about that later. He plucked one of the stakes from the bandolier.

"She's right, you know." She stated, causing him to startle and drop the stake. The apparition was leaning against the wall by the door. "Hannah, I mean. You should get some sleep."

Ignoring Her, Kirito bent down and picked up the fallen item. As he righted himself, She was now standing on the other side of the table opposite him, leaned forward with Her elbows on the edge of the table and Her chin resting in Her palms. "And we both know you're not okay."

No reply was given. There was nobody speaking to him, therefore there was nobody to reply to, and no need to reply. His focus was instead given to the stake. It had no pressure button and no fins. Just a simple cylindrical stake about eleven or twelve centimeters long, with a sharp conical tip on one end. About two thirds of the way back was a forward-facing hook that no doubt connected to the cabling, indented into the side. A slightly raised ridge ran along the entire stake, lined up with the hook. A menu-based appraisal of it gave him the name 'Arrestor Bolt'. Near the door he'd come in through was an alchemist's kit. A series of chemicals and concoctions used to determine the makeup of an item. After a minute of testing, he concluded that the stake was made from a particularly hardy material called ketracite. A dense, heavy metal, albeit too malleable to be of use for most weapons or armour. Not that any of that information mattered, just something to distract himself from his visitor.

What interested him more was the cannon it went into. It was a complicated object, most of which sat on the outer forearm. It had an adjustable clasp that fit around the wrist, as well as a full glove made from some manner of black leather with a softer cloth inside grip. The cannon itself was rather intimidating, with a fifteen millimeter wide bore to accommodate the stake. With a few waves of his hand he knew its name.

'Arrestor Cannon, Mark VII'.

The entire gun was made from solid pieces of burnished metal, with a nonreflective coating on the outer faces. Not a single component was native to Aincrad. By the feel of the weapon, and its bulky, blocky aesthetic, whoever had made this had manually machined each piece, likely by hand. Constructing something like this took real world skill and expertise, adapted to the game. Kirito could only guess how one would get experience crafting such items in a real-world setting. He had once thought that the siege cannons were a leap forward in weapons tech, but this was so far beyond them that it trivialized them.

He slipped his hand into the glove, feeling a measure of resistance as he moved. There were tension wires embedded into the backs of the middle and index fingers, though their purpose was not immediately apparent. It took several seconds of investigation to figure out how to even open the action, he'd only seen Claire load it once, and hadn't really had the presence of mind to observe it closely.

The barrel ran the entire length, from the stubby front to the very back. It was not a closed cylindrical tube, having a slim gap that ran along the side of the barrel that would be facing himself if he held his arm parallel to the ground, running from the front to about three quarters of the way back where it ended in a small round hole. No doubt to accommodate the cable that would be attached to the projectile. There were no sights anywhere on it, though for its intended purpose there would not be any need for them.

Kirito had no experience with firearms of any kind, and living in Japan, did not know of anyone that did. Still, he was familiar enough with some of the concepts from media to piece together that the cannon was breech loaded, but there was also a tab jutting out of the top that looked to connect to a bolt assembly. He fiddled with it, but other than jiggling, it would not move, and he saw no way to open the breech.

"Need help?" She was still there.

No response was given. Inspecting the rear of it, he found what looked like a small push button. It was stubborn, but with a stiff press there came a dull click, and the breech popped out, swinging open and outwards on a hinge so that the inside face was towards him.

Okay, now what? He held his arm outstretched to try and look through the inside of the weapon.

About half a centimeter inside the back of the inside of the breech was an open ring of metal that was too narrow to fit the stake through. Placing his hand on top of the weapon, he pulled it rearward, bringing the bolt back. He could hear an internal spring compress. The ring moved with the bolt, come out of the back of the barrel, revealing it to be part of a shallow tray connected by a pair of guiding rods. It had pulled back far enough to allow him to fit the stake in front of the ring. The inside of the barrel was shaped with a slim indent which fit the ridge on the projectile, ensuring you loaded it lined up correctly. With the ring and bolt pulled open, he placed the stake into the tray. A button near the bolt released the spring and it snapped forward, loading the stake with a harsh clack.

It occurred to him that the stake itself was not a complete round. It contained no propellant of its own. Going back to the bandolier, it had a collection of disks about half a centimeter thick. He didn't know what they were composed of, but they were coloured and textured like red sandstone, and felt like they were ceramic. If they were the round's propellant, they were obviously some form of contact explosive.

One of the disks fit perfectly inside the breech behind the ring. The breech itself was then swung closed, clicking into place and causing the button that had sprung it open to pop back out. The very back of the breech block had a small rod jutting out that was not there before. The firing pin, no doubt. The cannon was now loaded and live. Having never touched a firearm before, Kirito wasn't sure how unsafe that should make him feel. It wasn't like he'd ever expected to be handling a handcrafted line gun in a medieval fantasy game.

He looked over the device again, finding himself appreciating its construction. Despite its bulky look, it was surprisingly lightweight. Light enough that he expected he could fight with his sword unhindered while wearing it. The biggest flaw he could see becoming a problem was that, with the cannon on your forearm, it would be fairly easy to accidentally shoot the back of your own hand.

With this in mind, it was at this point he concluded he also had absolutely no idea how to fire it. There was no obvious trigger mechanism. However it was fired, it didn't require the use of his other hand. He'd recalled Clair's use of it enough to know that much. He found another small button, pressed it, and was rewarded with a trio of rapid mechanical clicks. Nothing else happened. Looking inside the round hole showed that it lined up with the hook, and that the button had caused some mechanism to crimp it down into a loop. It he had loaded a cable, it would have now been securely connected.

The tension wires in the glove came to mind. Pointing his arm at down at the floor, he clenched his hand into a fist. Nothing happened. He repeated the motion a couple times to no effect.

"What gives?" He brought his arm back up to give it another once over. Another clench of his fist. More nothing.

"Want me to take a look?" She offered. When he said nothing in answer, She pursed Her lips in a frown. "Why are you ignoring me?"

Because you're not real. Kirito thought, not looking at Her.

She crossed Her arms as though She'd been insulted. "Yes I am."

"The fact that you heard that confirms that you aren't." Kirito finally replied.

"But isn't this what you want?" Her tone was that of frustration.

"More than anything." Kirito admitted. "That doesn't make it so."

She pondered this for a long moment, and when She next spoke She sounded let down. "I thought you'd be happier to see me."

"In my dreams, as she was, I will be. But not like this. I know you're not her, and I know you're not here." Kirito jiggled the bolt again to no effect. "I'll go to her eventually, but…not today."

His left hand was rubbed against the back of his skull, but She was still there, staring at him with a disconcertingly intense, thoughtful expression. When did that stop working?

Returning his sole focus to the cannon, he muttered to himself. "Not today."

It took a few moments, but he eventually found a small thumb slide. Once toggled, a small spot of red paint could be seen under where the slide had previously been. Without thinking, Kirito clenched his fist again. His forearm jerked as the cannon fired with a loud, dull bark of a bang. Asuna's apparition yelped and jumped in surprise as the bolt shot through where She was appearing to stand, burying itself into the wall near the door.

It had a safety. Whoever had built the wristgun had the foresight and skill to include a safety. It would certainly negate the flaw he had noticed before.

The report had been loud, compounded by being fired inside the workshop. Kirito's ears were ringing, and his arm was tingling. The recoil had been heavy, though judging that the cannon had to fire a solid metal stake with such force he probably should have expected as much. Holding the weapon properly should mitigate that to some extent. He briefly pressed a finger against his right ear before he realized this meant he was pointing the cannon at his own temple. Even knowing the gun was emptied, such an action made him feel more than a little stupid.

Heading over to the door, he could see the stake had buried the majority of its length into the wood. A curious tug confirmed that it was not going anywhere.

This could prove quite useful. The bandolier had about fifteen stakes and charges left. Even if he couldn't reverse engineer the charges, he still had a few shots. The cabling was at least something he could make. With this in mind, the cannon and the bandolier were all deposited into his inventory.

Whoever this 'man on the hill' was, he certainly knew how to make his weapons.

Opening the door, Kirito gave the hallucination a last glance as he scratched at the back of his skull. "I'm done talking to myself. Go away."

Without waiting for any reply, he left Her there, closing the door behind him. She didn't follow. Entering the main building, his nose twitched as he detected the scent of fresh food. His stomach growled in sympathy, reminding him of how long it had been since he'd had a full meal. Following the alluring aroma upstairs and into the kitchen, he found a large pot lid on the dining table. Beside it was a note written in feminine script.

I figured you might be hungry. Goodnight. ~Hannah~. By the closed bedroom door, Kirito discerned that the NPC had retired for the night. He lifted the pot lid to reveal a steaming bowl of thick beef stew that she must have reheated while he'd been in the workshop. How…thoughtful.

While it was a far cry from anything Asuna used to make, Hannah had a decent set of cooking skills. System skills, not human learned skills. She could make several meals following specified, stored recipes, but she lacked any creativity or ability to improvise. It wasn't as good as a human made meal, but it was about as good as one could expect from an NPC that didn't have it as its specialization.

By now it was well past midnight, nearing two in the morning. A cloudy, starless night. If he stayed up long enough he could coast through into the next day. All he needed was something to keep his attention.

In Aincrad, the need for sleep was less pressing than in reality. There was no need for his real body to rest, as he hadn't used it for the last four years. The nervegear severed all control and sensation from his natural body. As far as it was concerned, Kirito might as well have been in a medically induced coma. While the game induced the feelings of physical tiring after exertions or time without rest, it was not actually necessary for his ingame avatar to sleep. Unlike the real world, where too much sleep deprivation could lead to or compound several physical ailments and, hypothetically, if one did not sleep at all for a long enough stretch, death, his avatar would not suffer so dearly. It would tire and slow with exhaustion, but these effects could be overcome and ignored with enough force of will.

Therein lie the problem. While his physical body was perpetually at rest, his mind was not. As far as his brain was concerned, Kirito was awake and operational, coma or no. Sleep was not just rest for the body, but the mind as well. It was time for the computer that was the brain and the consciousness within to boot down and defrag. The human mind was simply not built to remain conscious in perpetuity. It would weaken, and mental exhaustion would erode his will, to say nothing of other quirks that would eventually emerge. Quirks like the one he'd just ended a conversation with.

Save for his recent spats of trauma induced unconsciousness, Kirito had been awake for the past four days. Something that had started to become a habit. He was well aware that he needed to sleep more, but the prospect had become less appealing as his dreams seldom stayed pleasant. While he was awake he could do his best to move forward. In sleep, his mind tended to look back. There was much behind him he'd prefer remained there. Echoes he didn't want to hear.

Finishing his meal, Kirito stared down into the now empty bowl. With a long sigh, he let his shoulders sag. There was no point denying that he was weary, not to himself. A weariness that no sleep could fix. Still, he had to admit that Hannah had a point. He needed to get some proper rest soon. As the world crumbled, he'd seen enough examples of what a total loss of sleep could result in. More recently, the Consumed, who's already creeping madness was only exacerbated by their ailments.

Kirito wasn't sure how long he was sitting, staring down into the tabletop, but he came to realize that he was no longer alone. Looking up, he saw Lisbeth standing barefoot by the hallway. She was dressed in a simple, washed out teal short sleeved nightshirt that was long enough to reach her knees and function like a gown. The light from her bedroom cast her in silhouette, and the shirt's fabric was thin enough he could just make out her slender frame within it. With a blink of his eyes, her face changed to reflect reality.

"I heard a bang." Hannah stated. "Everything alright?"

"It's nothing." Kirito replied simply. He felt the need to thank her for the meal, and did so.

"You're welcome." A slim smile. Hannah covered her mouth as she yawned. She asked her next question through tired, half-lidded eyes. "Will you be staying the night?"

From any human girl, wearing such a garment in such a situation, one might read something into it, but from the NPC it was an innocent question and nothing more.

Kirito briefly weighed his choices. There was always more work to be done. Something to occupy himself. Some way to be productive, but if even Hannah could sneak up on him, unintentionally at that, then it was time to throw in the towel. There was a foldout bed kept in a closet somewhere around here in the event that he ever stayed the night. He'd hadn't used it since he'd finished rebuilding the place after the town had been razed. Sleeping here just felt…wrong. Out of place. This wasn't his home, it wasn't his shop. It was Lisbeth's. He was only keeping it running, ready for her.

Pushing his chair away from the table, Kirito wearily, slowly stood up. "No."

"Okay." She came over to pick up the bowl and place it in the sink.

With no reason to give any farewells to the drone, he headed for the stairs, stopping when she spoke up again. A developing trend, apparently.

"Hey. Can I ask a favour?" The drone hesitated a second. "I mean, if it's not too much trouble."

"What?" Kirito flatly asked over his shoulder, both at the question and the unexpected nature of it.

"Can you bring me a songbook?" Hannah wiped her hands over each other, then scooted Kirito's chair back up against the table. "I mean a music book. For the lute. I mean, if you find one, or find the time to find one."

Now thoroughly curious, Kirito fully turned to face her. "You play the lute?"

"Yes." She broke into a wide smile, then frowned and looked down and to the side. "Well, no. Not really, no."

One of Kirito's eyebrows gradually rose. He remembered that Lisbeth had owned a renaissance style lute, but had never learned to play it beyond a few chords. It had started mostly as a joke, with her stating that the game was in dire need of more bards. Some punchline about buffing stats that he'd forgotten. Joke or not, she hadn't been entirely wrong. Aincrad used to have plenty of people that were musically inclined, but like most everyone else they were all dead now. Living in a miniature apocalypse did little to inspire whoever was left to song. Not about anything upbeat, anyways.

"I was wanting to learn," Hannah continued, "there's a lute and book in Lisbeth's room, but it only covers the basics. It doesn't have any sheet music or songs."

He couldn't help but ask. "Why do you even want to?"

Hannah shrugged. "I get bored. And it's fun."

It truthfully never occurred to Kirito that the NPC, or any NPC was even capable of simulating boredom anymore, let alone to the point of independently seeking out diversions. Like reading in the town center, come to think of it. He'd always assumed the drone just stood at the desk all day, did her chores and slept until she repeated everything the next day. It wasn't like it could actually be bored, just present the façade of it.

"Will you?" She prompted after he was silent for a few seconds. "If it's not too much trouble?"

"I'll think about it." He wouldn't think about it. His curiosity satisfied, he was already putting it out of his mind.

Like how Yonaka was not a panther, Hannah was not a person. Both were tools. Shallow simulacrums of real companions. There was little to be gained, little point in indulging the desires of a hollow, pretend shell of a person.

Hannah's face lit up with a smile that was jarring in its genuineness. She was acting too human for comfort, climbing up high enough to plummet into the uncanny valley. "Thanks. I don't have any preference in genre. Anything you find would be gre-"

"Command: end conversation."

She stopped talking, her expression returning to that of a blank slate. With how much deadfaced drones could creep him out, seeing them act like the people they weren't could be so much stranger, and all the more unsettling when you removed the mask. But this was what she was. Much as Kirito would love to have someone to talk to, there was no point in acting like Hannah could be that person.

Yonaka was dozing on the front porch, waking up as he exited the door. The cat grumbled, stretching while she gave a large, toothy yawn. With a tilt of his head and a click of his tongue, the panther dutifully took a place by his side and followed as he headed to the teleporter and left Lindarth behind.

From there, he returned to his home town on the twenty second floor. While he was here, Kirito took the time to gather some flowers and deposit them on Asuna's grave. Thankfully, no hallucinations bothered him during this. After this, he meandered his way back to his house. Entering his room, he stared down at the bed.

His stilted conversation with Hannah reminded him of how starved he was for human interaction that didn't involve people that were either trying to capture him, kill him, or were naked and crazy. Kirito had a long and well-deserved reputation as a loner, but being lonesome didn't mean he liked being lonely. A few waves of his hand opened his menu and the messager within. Even he used to have a long list of accumulated contacts, but not anymore. His inbox was empty, save for two read messages he'd already long ago viewed, one of which drove him onwards, and one he'd forgotten the contents of.

Opening a new message to compose, he prodded a finger to select the 'To' field and manually typed in a recipient.

Klein.

His hands hovered over the ethereal keyboard, trying to think of what to type. What to say. So much time had gone by, so much had happened. So much was his fault.

After a full minute of staring blankly at the empty message, he waved his menu away. No, the wounds there ran deep, and from them had flowed far too much bad blood. Maybe someday, but not now. Not today. Best if he left the man be and kept focusing on catching up to him. When that happened, if that happened, they could talk in person. Until then, he was thoroughly and completely on his own. The two of them hadn't spoken since Klein had left him behind to take up the mantle of the clearing groups. Not since they'd crossed blades. This was not even taking into consideration the other concerns he had had about Klein leading up to that event. Much like Kirito, the man he had called his best friend had been severely…damaged.

Not wanting to dwell on such an unpleasant collection of memories, Kirito put it out of his mind. Better he directed his mind towards other matters. With his horse having been lost, he'd have to get a new one, but the town had no stable, and any that did would be closed for the night. It was only a little before three in the morning, if Kirito waited a few hours he could get a new one once they opened. He could use that time to replace the impact flares he'd used recently.

His main home had a fully stocked workshop and the supplies needed for the task. Perhaps he could sharpen his swords, or practice with his throwing knives, or go on a long jog. He was still caked in ash and sweat. A shower wouldn't a bad idea right about now. There was any number of productive things he could be doing right now.

Stop stalling. He chided himself.

Now that he was actually here, by the bed, he felt all the more tired. The shower would have to wait. Giving in, he resignedly removed his swords and their scabbards from his back, followed by the rest of his extensive collection of gear, odds and ends. Once there was a pile of kit on the bedside table, he stripped down to his pants. Too lethargic to bother changing them out for his nightwear, he flopped down onto the bed, mentally preparing himself for any dreams that may come to him. He was out before he could even begin to consider getting under the blankets.


Author's Notes: A look at the weapons tech that was used during the chase. Also, sleep is important.

For Kirito's behavior towards Hannah, one could argue that you cannot be mean to an NPC. Asuna was once on board with a battle plan that involved getting a boss to follow them to town to slaughter them as a distraction, after all. What the hell, Asuna.

Specific capitalizations that look out of place are entirely intentional.

With Aincrad's collapse, there are none within left undamaged.

Been trying to get some extra development of the world and meanings through the chapter headers and title names. Mileage may vary.

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Klein