11
Before
Mylo
4 years ago
Kōhoku General: November 13th 2022, 9:45
It's even busier today—way more faces in the waiting area—more families. Hospital staff looks overworked behind the counter too. There's a long line waiting to talk to anyone in triage. And voices keep rising in the lobby.
Nearly 10,000 patients across multiple hospitals.
How did it come to this?
Mylo
Kōhoku General: November 13th 2022, 10:45
Nurses rush a crash cart into a patient room—not Dad's—a family hurries out from the room and waits in the hall. A child clings to her mother's arm as the signal from the Pulse-Ox whines. He's killed another one.
What do I do if dad's a casualty too?
"Miles!"
That sounded like Mom—it's hard to hear over the shuffle of doctors and families. I see her wave from further down the hall. I maneuver through the crowded hall.
She's in a loose cardigan and leggings. Her frizzled hair's tied in a bun, and there's deep wrinkles under her eyes. How much sleep has she been getting?
Hug first, questions later. We wrap and embrace each other. It hasn't even been a full year yet, but I almost forgotten the feeling of her hugs, so warm.
"How are you?" We asked at the same time, followed with a brief chuckle. It's a contrast to the atmosphere. I hear panicked discussions among Hospital Staff right outside the room.
The room.
I peer inside. Dad's laid flat on the hospital bed, monitors, cables, and an IV attached. And on his crown, the culprit: The NerveGear.
I literally spoke with him a week ago.
"I want to close the door, just because there's a lot of noise out there. He seems more relaxed when he doesn't have to hear any of it." Mom ushers me inside and gently shuts the door behind. "His condition's as stable as it can be right now, so the staff says it's ok."
A steady pulse, steady breathing, and the IV's providing his essential nutrients. It's only been a week or so, but his jock build already looks a little thinner. How long could he be in here?
"Would you like to sit down?" Mom smiles and points out a plastic chair in the corner. Only one.
"No, I couldn't. Go ahead." And honestly, she looks like she needs it more. Mom shakes her head.
"It's fine, really." She paces around the foot of dad's bed. "I've been sitting all day and night anyway." She smiles back at me. "Besides, you must be tired after flying all this way. How long did they grant your leave?"
How can she have the strength to smile in a situation like this? "A week."
"Better than nothing." Mom shrugs. "How's training?"
All questions about me, none about him? "Uh, ya know—it's—I'm pretty sure my DI hates me."—Having me run 6 extra miles after sunset— "He thinks I'm the coddled type because of Dad."
"Me and you need to go stomp em out?" Mom asks. I think she's joking—right?
"That would prove him right." I laugh. I grab the cheap seat and straddle it at Dad's bedside. The NerveGear cuts through Dad's external stimuli, but I still hope he can hear us.
"So that's a no?" Mom prods.
"Why are you so eager to start a fight?"
"Because I don't let nobody mess with my baby."
Here it comes—she crosses over to me and pokes my cheek. You're my Mom, not my Grandma. "Moooooom."
She cheekily smiles again. The sun shines through the window, and in the light, the wrinkles around her eyes look deeper.
A door knock.
The door creaks open as a nurse pokes their head in. Her eyes dart between my Mom, me, and Dad. She sighs. "Ma'am, please try to keep the door open, just in case of emergencies. We've needed to wheel in crash-carts a lot this morning."
"Sorry." Mom trots to the door and opens it wide to overcompensate. "it's just—it's just busy outside, and we wanted him to get some rest."
"Huh?" The nurse looks at the NerveGear on Dad, then back to Mom. "Ma'am, he can't hea-" The confused nurse looks to me.
C'mon, we won't do it again. Just let it go.
"My apologies, but please leave the door open from now on." The nurse bows and exits.
Mom's shoulders deflate, and as she sighs, her body overhangs to the right. She reaches out to hold the wall beside her—like a sudden loss of bearings and balance. Her eyes track the floor. She needs rest—and the chair. I stand up and usher her there, but she doesn't relax once she's seated, and her eyes train on Dad.
"How much sleep have you gotten?" I pry.
"I'll be all right." She deflects.
"Mom."
"Don't you worry about me." She shakes her head. "Besides, he's still here with us."
"He'll come home." I reassure. The estimate for deceased victims is climbing daily. Dad could be one soon—the spontaneity—not knowing what's happening on the other side, but we've gamed together before—he knows how to play it smart—and then, he'll be back.
Another door knock.
The new guest: A slender-build of a man dressed in a business suit, clear-framed glasses, sandy-brown hair dyed above the trimmed black fade below. His angular face grimaces as he assesses Mom, myself, and lastly, Dad.
"Hello, I apologize for intruding, but my name is Arimoto Kinryuu, and I'm with the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications." He bows with reverence—much more than the nurse earlier, like he's eager to throw his whole body into the motion. His eyes direct all their attention to Mom and I. "We're just continuing our census on patients and gathering histories as we continue setting up a task force for the situation. Do either of you have a moment to spare? I won't pull you away from your father and husband for too long, I promise."
Very polite. I look back at Mom, hobbling by pressing her arms against the chair arms to stand. She should sit.
"I've got time," I speak up.
"Great." Arimoto stands aside in the doorway. I wink back at Mom—get some rest. Mom sighs and nods back.
"Don't forget about his peanut allergy, or his family history of diabetes, or his asthma, or-"
"Mom, I've got it." I put on a smile.
Mylo
Kōhoku General: November 13th 2022, 10:55
"Sorry for pulling you away. This won't take but a moment." Arimoto clacks a pen in his freehand. White clouds pass over clear blue sky. A chilling wind sweeps up brown leaves by the road, scratching. I bundle under my coat from the winter weather. At least it's quieter out here.
"Sir?" Arimoto asks for my attention. He shifts a clipboard over his knee as he sits cross-legged on our concrete bench outside the hospital.
"Miles." I correct.
"Hmm?"
"Sorry, sir. I'm listening."
"No doubt you've got a lot on your mind already." Arimoto sympathizes. "How old are you?"
Does the taskforce need that information? "Is that part of the questioning, sir?"
"Just curious."
"18, sir."
"You're so formal."
"Drill Instructor kicks my ass if I'm not."
"Ah, Military recruit then?"
"Yes, sir. After my father."
"Right, lets get to him, then." Arimoto's pen scribbles on paper. "Sorry if I was being invasive."
He seems so—open—relaxed even. The lack of scrutiny under his brow, the lack of tension as his face shifts from thought to task—his open posture. Maybe he has experience with questioning patient families, but wait—he said the task force is still just in the gathering intel stage? "Actually, sir—" I want to know more. "About this Task Force you're putting together—what is it you actually plan on doing? Can you do anything in this situation?" Can they help my Dad?
Arimoto pauses a moment before putting his pen down. "Can I be honest with you, Miles?"
I'd prefer that, yes—I nod.
"It's not because it's classified—I just don't have a good answer for you." Arimoto sets his clipboard down. He gazes up at the blue sky. "We're in uncharted territory here. Your dad—the nearly 10,000 others—the reality is that we're pretty powerless. It just comforts families when it looks like everything that's being done is being done."
I get that feeling. I showed up today to see Mom and Dad, but seeing both of them—what can I really change? "So, you think the Taskforce is just for public optics?"
He suddenly smiles. "I don't believe it's that simple." He turns with the winter wind blowing again. The cold chips at my nose and fingertips as my body shivers. The air tastes cold and bitter, but Arimoto still smiles. "People need something to hope for, right?"
"Why are you telling me all this?" Is he allowed to?
"Because of your background. That means you're ready for a rough life ahead of ya if it comes," Arimoto says. "And maybe, because you can relate to it a little like I can."
There's something through the smile—a lot like Mom's, a slight bend before curving upwards again. It's not a façade, but it looks like suppression. He's carrying weight too.
"Miles," I reach out my hand to shake. "Miles Laboue. I appreciate your honesty."
"Arimoto," He shakes back. "Call me Ari."
I feel ridged paper in my palm—a card? Our hands retract with Arimoto's business card in mine.
"So, the questions." Arimoto clacks his pen.
Mylo
Kōhoku General: February 13th 2023, 8:55
Four months. Less people in the waiting room; less frantic hospital wait-staff. Everyone's 'adjusted'. Well, as adjusted as it can get.
There's really no way to get anyone out. 100 floors to clear. Who knows how far they've gotten in four months?
As long as Dad's still going. Who knew our hours of gaming together in MMOs would come through like this?
His room isn't too much further down the hall—and Arimoto steps out from it—weird. He has his sandy hair tied in a ponytail, and his usual business dress is a bit casual without a tie. Maybe he's settling into his investigator position. We meet halfway.
"Military man Miles." Arimoto smirks and respectfully bows. I return the gesture. He still has that pleasant air around him, probably helps in his current line of work.
"How's the task force?"
"Oh, not too many changes. Lots of adjusting with our census—visiting families—" Arimoto holds his chin, grimacing. "Investigators are all settled in now though. Most of the work will be after this is all over to be honest." He sighs.
"You sound like you're looking forward to it."
"For everyone to get out?" Arimoto asks. "You betcha."
Same. Who knows how everyone's really holding up? Everything points to people adjusting, but how much really? Even Arimoto sounds tired behind that smile. Mom seems to be handling things the best, but-" By the way, did you have more questions for my mom in there, or?"
"Actually—my boss kind of wanted to meet her, wanted to meet both of you really." Arimoto waves his hands before stuffing them in his pockets. "Feel free to go in, they were just chit chatting mostly." He starts down the hall.
"Sure." But still, it's weird. Did something happen? "Arimoto?"
"Ari." He corrects while turning with a brief smile.
"Sorry, Ari," still feels too casual. "Did something happen while I was gone?" I hate to prod, but—
"Just long hours at work lately," Arimoto answers. "We can chat if you get a moment after having some time with your folks." He continues down the hall. "Now go say hi!"
Mylo
Kōhoku General: February 13th 2023, 9:00
She looks skinner too.
Mom's hand lays over Dad's bony one. The IV's drip-feeding his nutrients, but he'll probably need physical therapy when he gets out.
If he gets out.
No, can't think like that. If anyone can survive in a game world, Dad can. Mom cautiously watches the man in the suit standing in the corner, overlooking the hospital campus through the window. Arimoto's boss? I step in.
"Miles!" My Mom surges from her seat. We hug again for the first time in months.
"Hi Mom." I hold her closer, but I look over my shoulder. The suit just watches—awkwardly. "Hello."
"You must be Miles Laboue." The suit smiles and bows. "My name is Seijiro Kikuoka. I'm a lead investigator with the SAO incident task force."
"It's weird that you call all this an incident." Mom interjects. Good, so she's not falling for the nice guy act either. This man isn't like Arimoto—it's in the air, in the caution. He has a hidden agenda for being here.
"I agree for the most part." Kikuoka turns red from embarrassment. "But its just titles and semantics, really."
"So how can we help you, Mr. Kikuoka?" I prefer time with my family uninterrupted.
"Ari did say you were straight to the point, good." Kikuoka clears his throat. "We were wondering actually if you'd like to come onboard our little team."
Huh?
"Huh?" Mom asks.
I—I can't even do that. "You wanna half-kidnap me from the military then?" I half-joke.
"Do you want me to?" His tone shifts. The dead stare through his glasses, a straight-faced glare. Is he reading me? Is he actually serious?
"You're j—joking—right?" I stutter.
Kikuoka's posture suddenly reels back as he chuckles. "Of course, of course." He gestures with a nonchalant wave, fanning off the tension. "Your Mom's just told me all about you and your dad. You have an incredible anchor for your family here."
He was probing just now. "R—right, thank you." I look at Mom; she shrugs back at me.
"Anyways!" Just wanted to meet face to face for once. I'll take my leave now and offer you guys some privacy." Kikuoka already starts for the door. "It was very nice to meet you, Miles." He leaves.
I immediately turn back to Mom. "Why was he here?"
"The US wants to oversee your Dad's treatment," Mom says. "I don't think they like having an ambassador stuck overseas, and for this long."
That makes sense, but "He can't leave here. He can't be disconnected from the servers."
"Kikuoka and I told them that." Mom sighs. "We had been talking about how to keep them satisfied and busy."
"How can I help?"
"First of all, have a seat, rest up, tell me about your trip here." Mom reclines back. She shuts her eyes—for longer than a blink. I take up a seat beside her, across from Dad. She's deflecting again. Why?
Let me take care of you too. "Actually, is it ok if I ask how you're doing first?"
Mom opens her eyes slowly and turns, iris' glistening like copper until the sky turns overcast. Shade cuts through sunlight, and she immediately looks down at the hand holding Dad's. Her hands—they're trembling. She's cut off the connection in our eye contact. Her freckles look less distinct. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes again, and then her lip trembles. She hasn't breathed out yet.
"Mom?"
She reaches her free hand for mine and guides me over Dad's. My hand's larger than his now. Mom leans her head on my shoulder and sighs a lifetime of wordless thoughts.
Mylo
Kōhoku General: April 13th 2023, 21:34
Six Months through. I didn't imagine it'd be this long.
Moonbeams glow through Dad's room. The night lights faintly reveal his serene face under the NerveGear visor.
I wonder what he's doing right now, or does time move concurrently with ours? What's life like on the other side, and should I find out?
Mom rumbles in the corner. She huddles deeper under a blanket and sinks into her chair. I'm glad she finally fell asleep. All the hours fighting to keep Dad in Japan, to check up on him daily, and to be so far away from me while training. No family, no other support. Glad the melatonin kicked in.
Maybe I should've said yes back then—Kikuoka's offer—could it have been legit?
A door knock.
This late? I creep to the door. Don't want a visitor to wake up Mom. I slowly creak it open, and speak of the devil, a suit in glasses. Kikuoka. He peers inside the room. His eyes fixate on Mom asleep in the corner.
"Bad time?" He asks me.
Mylo
Sweet Shop: April 13th 2023, 21:34
The shop looks entirely empty, nothing but red walls, warm bulbs, and the streetlights out the window. Waiting staff hasn't even come out for a while. Maybe Kikuoka's just a regular. He takes another forkful of chocolate mousse cake and smiles gushingly. Out of all the facades he wears, that one expression is genuine. Man loves his sweets. Arimoto on the other hand—
He keeps gazing out the window, and he was pretty quiet on the drive over here. What's this about if the honest one doesn't want to open up?
Kikuoka's cheeks finish churning cake. "So, Miles." He gulps. "How's your Mom and Dad doing?"
"Same old." Should I act standoffish? Something about Kikuoka's pleasantry sounds wanting—what's the goal of this meeting? Why won't Ari look at me?
"And your training?" Kikuoka prods.
"Pain in the ass."
Kikuoka sits back and adjusts his glasses. He's recalibrating. "You want me to cut to the chase, I see." He smiles.
Don't be impressed. That much was obvious to deduce.
"Then I will." Kikuoka frowns as he sets his hands in his lap and crosses fingers. "We know you have access to a NerveGear, and I don't mean the one currently on your father's head."
Of course. Every manufactured model should've been flagged the second the crisis started. Being abroad probably prevented these guys from apprehending mine.
I don't know why I'm holding onto it. "I'm assuming you want it turned in with the others that the Japanese government confiscated?"
Arimoto sighs.
"What?" I react.
"Actually, we had something else in mind," Kikuoka says. "We were wondering how you would feel about diving into SAO."
What? "You can't be serious." Is this what he meant about recruiting me?
"You'll have finished your military training soon, that saves the time it would take to train someone else. You have experience with MMO RPGS, and you could guarantee your father's safety throughout the duration of the game." Kikuoka goes on.
"There are no guarantees," Arimoto corrects Kikuoka there, and he's not wrong.
"Of course, of course," Kikuoka admits. "But lets just say that you could have peace of mind by actively doing something. I understand you've been good moral support for your mother, but wouldn't you like to contribute to freeing your father? Getting everyone out?"
"What's in it for you?" I have to ask. Offers like this don't just happen. There has to be a catch. "Why not just send in a squad of yours? I'm sure you have an abundance of NerveGears at your disposal by now."
"Admittedly, we're asking you as someone who isn't a Japanese citizen." Kikuoka answers.
And therefore, wouldn't be another Japanese casualty. So, less accountability. "And?" Lies of omission are always blended in with truth.
Kikuoka smiles again, gauging me. "We want you to document and record as much as you can, especially anything that relates to Akahiko Kayaba and his design."
The creator of the game. Makes sense. "And if I refuse?"
Arimoto peeks at me. This time he smiles.
"Nothing changes," Kikuoka says. "We have enough to take care of at the moment, and we may be able to gather information on Kayaba when this is all over anyway."
"Besides," Arimoto speaks up. "It's not like we'd be able to communicate actively with you if you dived in."
"We just wanted to present the option." Kikuoka nods. "What I'm looking for, is someone with drive and means. You have both in spades at the moment."
"And, if you spear-headed an operation that freed the US ambassador to Japan from SAO, that'd probably garner a couple of favors for you, right?" The long game. That's what his type focuses on.
"You don't miss." Kikuoka smiles.
I could dive-in, help Dad. We could be stronger together—Mom.
Her hands felt so frail. She looked so tired. What would happen if I left too? And there's still no guarantee of survival. They're 6 months in. What if I'd be too under leveled and a hinderance to Dad's progress? "I don't know."
"Hmm?" Arimoto and Kikuoka up their posture.
Why not? When this all started I would've jumped at the chance—why hold back now? "Could—could you give me some time to think about it?"
Mylo
Kōhoku General: November 6th 2023, 20:00
Nurses rack trays in the hospital cafeteria. Other staff recline back in their seats or swipe through their phones. Unsuspecting place to talk secret military operations in the open.
"You know, I was curious, why you ended up saying no." Ari chews through his sandwich lunch.
I lean back and consider Ari's lead. True, a year ago, when this all happened, I would've jumped at the chance but—
"Mind if a garner a guess?" Ari gulps down his food.
"Sure." Something tells me he was gonna ask anyway—what, with how casual we've gotten.
"You know your Mom would be lonely." Ari looks up to the ceiling as if he can x-ray and pinpoint where she is.
"You a shrink?" I half-joke.
"I got what you would consider a master's in behavioral psychology."
Oh shit, he's a mind-reader. "No wonder you were so non-chalant when we first met. You probably had me read from the start."
"We're not mind-readers." Ari disputes.
Definitely a mind-reader.
"And besides, that's the only reason I can really think of, knowing you." Ari smirks. "We're just that type, to run headlong into danger if need be, or if it helps someone." He looks down and sighs.
What, is he having second thoughts about something? "Why'd you join the task force? Leave the JSDF?"
"Well," Ari ponders, scratching the stubble growing under his chin. "It was a collaborative effort with the wife. We'd been talking about the work, and well, there's other ways to help people, ya know?"
My hands slam the table on instinct—and maybe a little too loud. "You're having a baby?"
"What?! No!" Ari reels back. "Why would you jump to that conclusion?!"
"Sorry! Sorry!" I was way off. "I just—figured—you'd retire because there was something worth protecting or—"
"I don't need to have kids to think about that!" Ari puffs his chest and purses his lips.
"Sorry!" I try bowing at the table. My head smacks the granite instead.
"Are you ok?!" Ari scoots back from the table. "Do you need me to get a nurse? There's tons to pick from! You couldn't pick a better place to have a concussion!"
I know the hospital staff are staring. "I'm ok!" I shout loud enough so everyone can hear, no need for concern. My forehead's pounding though.
"See? What would you do without your Mom?" Ari laughs.
"Mom's been sleeping less and less," I admit. Melatonin used to help, but—
"Like I said, it's probably good to have you around more for her right now," Ari says. "She's a strong and smart woman. Navigating how to live here in the meantime while negotiating with your Dad's bosses. I can't imagine how much extra stress that adds. Good thing you got stationed in Sasebo."
"After a whole year—you'd think we'd be used to it."
"No." Ari frowns. "I don't know that you should."
Mylo
Kōhoku General: November 6th 2023, 20:00
There she is, resting in the corner, huddled under a blanket. Her shoulders gently rise and fall with each faint breath. It's so calming to see her rest. In the background, the monitor beeps.
Suddenly her blanket falls as she slouches, but I catch it off the floor, whip it for dust, and lay it back over her.
And her breath smells like wine.
Mylo
Kōhoku General: January 15th 2024, 11:00
"I'm sorry Mom couldn't make it today." I grip Dad's thin hands in mine. "I know you probably can't hear me, but she really did want to be here. I mean, she's been here just about every day already."
The monitors beep in the background. Just mechanical noise. Even the hospital hallways outside sound quiet. It's deafening.
What would it be like if he answered me, right now?
What if I could just go in, find him and let him know?
No, I already made my choice.
Mylo
Kōhoku General: January 15th 2024, 12:00
She didn't call or text. But she wouldn't keep me waiting. That's not like her.
I knock on the door of her hotel room. Nothing.
Again.
The sound of something heavy muffled in the carpet as it falls.
"C—coming!"
The sound of a struggle with the lock. It twists and whirs again and again as the knob turns. Nothing.
"H—hold on."
Again. The door opens as Mom squints at me under the low lights of the hotel hallway. It's noon, but she looks like she just woke up and—wait, her eyelid's drooping—
"I'm sorry hun, I meant to text you, I—I think I just woke up, and I was having this extreme headache, and—"
I don't know why, maybe it's all the time in the hospital, but the paranoia spikes in my pulse. It's just a feeling. "Mom, I think we should get you looked at."
Mylo
Kōhoku General: January 15th 2024, 18:00
Me: An aneurysm, ruptured. They're giving her Nymalize. Keeping her under observation.
Arimoto: Let us know if there's anything we can do for you guys. Hope she feels better.
I slouch in the hospital waiting area and lock my cell. Too much, it's all too much. Was it the stress? Should I have taken on more of the load from her? How?
I lurch over the couch cushion. None of this feels real. The sound fades out from behind into a whining pitch. My balance feels dizzy, and everything spins.
Deep breath. Breathe. Both of them need you now.
Dad, please hurry back.
Mylo
Kōhoku General: November 6th 2024, 9:00
Mom's wheelchair squeaks as we stroll into Dad's room. Her expression is mixed, with half her face solemn, and the other half drooping. Drool.
I lean down and wipe the saliva from her mouth.
"Cosure pwease." She murmurs.
I push her closer to Dad's bedside, so she can take his hand. She pats mine over her shoulder first, still the same warmth.
The three of us huddle and place our hands on each other's.
His hand jerks.
Mom gasps.
"D—Dad?" Is he?
No, something's wrong. His eyes aren't opening. It's involuntary. He's—
I run out into the hallway while pressing the emergency call button. "Help!" My voice cracks. "I need help in here!"
I already hear someone's footsteps storming down the hall with wheels from a cart squealing.
I turn back in the room. Mom still holds his hand. Dad throws his head back as his neck jerks upward with his back arching, until he suddenly falls flat back in the bed, and sits there, motionless. His monitor whines.
All that time—
The hospital staff storm in. One checks the monitor, another his pulse, and a third already charging paddles. Can he still be saved? No, we've seen this before. I remember how this looks from the outside—the first week I came.
I look down at Dad. There he is: face covered under the headset. The room is gray. His arms are bones. The pulse monitor is a steady metronome beating to a time-bomb in my chest. No, that's my pulse. I look back at Mom again, praying by his bedside for him to come home.
So much noise.
A doctor checks the monitor and removes the NerveGear that's fuming. It's done.
I move over to Mom to wheel her back and away from the doctors, but as I look down, I see her. Her face unevenly cries. The first tear I've seen since everything started.
I squeeze her shoulder.
Mylo
Present Day
Kōhoku General: August 3rd 2026, 10:21
"Mylo?" Dr. Kurahashi watches me from behind. In the reflection of the glass pane, Umbra and Arimoto-sensei are looking at me the same way. Mom's on the other side, and I know she doesn't have long.
"Sorry." I muster. Should I have taken Kikuoka's offer back then, instead of later? If we hadn't failed to catch Kayaba earlier, would Mom and Yuna both be ok right now?
Or was it inevitable?
"I have the augma connected next door if you'd like to say your goodbyes." Dr. Kurahashi respectfully offers.
"Thank you." I cross past the others and into the small room next door. A secluded augma sits in a recliner there. Mom's on the other side.
"Link-Start." The wave of white light flashes over me as I become weightless, and the multicolored lights stream by.
Suddenly, a bright sun fills the sky. There's a scent of fresh cut grass and lavender. The usual patio table is gone, so's the patio. Mom gazes at the sun in an open field, back turned to me.
Is she aware I'm here?
"Miles?" She turns, eyes glowing brighter than my last memory of her.
Or is she actually ok? "H—hey, Mom." I crunch grass as I walk toward her and find a place beside her. I look her up and down, her wavy white gown blowing with the breeze and blades of grass. Her fro curves with it too. Up close, the sun casts stronger golden glows on her brown skin.
"Don't stare." Mom tsks. "Miracles can still happen ya know."
"What's going on, exactly?" I don't understand. Was Kurahashi wrong?
"Well, you didn't get to say goodbye to your father before, so I wanted to make sure I gave you a proper send-off."
Send-off? "I'm not going anywhere." I nervously laugh.
"No, but—" Mom turns to me, still a gentle smile. She pokes my cheek, then looks me up and down. I feel exposed in her eyes like she's a real mind-reader. I wish I could've been as perceptive.
She takes a deep breath, airing out the moment. Her voice cracks a bit. "We just might not see each other for a while."
"What do you mean?"
Her bronze eyes meet mine.
"Sorry." The tears start.
Her hand reaches my shoulder and squeezes, just like that day. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Not then, and not now. You're our pride and joy, and you've stayed so strong through all these years. You know, your Dad would like to take credit for most of that, but I like to think I had a hand in it too."
I look down. I don't want her to see me like this before—she gestures my chin and turns my eyes forward, back into hers.
"You. Did. Good." She smiles. "Understand?"
I nod.
"Now," She starts again. "You have my pride and your father's childish boldness, so if you meet someone special, temper yourself, and listen before you pounce with something smug, but don't rush being vulnerable either, got it?"
"Ok."
"If you're feeling pushed against a wall in anything, be sure to lean on good support, friends. You don't need a lot, just a few good ones that keep you grounded and know you well."
Eiji, Yuna, Umbra?
"It looks like you already have a few in mind, that's good." Mom smiles. "That lifts some weight. Good. Oh! Money! Listen, it's important. Not everything, but still very very important. There's still benefits from your Dad's service. Have Arimoto help you out there. Try saving at least 20% of a paycheck."
"I will."
"Make sure you eat healthy as often as you can. Practice maintenance everyday: cleaning, keeping up with friends, future jobs." Her lips tremble. This time tears flow. "A family."
I hold her hand.
"And above all." Mom squeezes my hand. "Find a way to properly love yourself. If you could see yourself in the light your father and I do—" She pauses to wipe away tears. She wraps her arms around me so tight. I squeeze right back, as if I could hold this moment in time forever, as if letting go could mean everything ends.
But she lets go.
"You know." Mom looks up toward the artificial sun now. "I wonder if that's the same sun your dad used to look at every day, for those two years."
I peer up with her. The same sun that connects all the VR worlds. The one Dad would've seen in his last years. "That keeps us connected then."
"Mhm." Mom warmly smiles and closes her eyes. "He's still here with us. And so am I." She pokes my cheek again, but the touch is lighter, so's the warmth, fading closer to the touch of the breeze. Her features begin peeling piece by piece into lavender petals, drifting over the grassy plane until there's nothing left. She's gone.
My knees give out first as I slump to the ground. I look out over the simulated sun, trying to copy my Mother's smile, her warmth. And it hurts.
Ari
Arimoto residence: August 3rd 2026, 12:00
Jules is coming up behind me. I hear her footsteps and feel her aura already calming things down.
"How are they?" She asks.
I slouch over the kitchen countertop, rubbing my forehead because its pounding. So much just happened.
Mylo's upstairs. He did say thank you for accompanying him to the hospital, but since then he's stayed quiet. Of course, he has everything on his mind.
Umbra's in her room, monitoring chat boards and communicating with her guild. She'll let us know if she hears any chatter about Kayaba or Failsafe.
Eiji's sitting on the couch in the living room, beside Yuna's resting A.I. avatar. Only, she shouldn't need to rest, and no one's been able to wake her up. Eiji says Kayaba killed him first, so what else happened after, and why won't she come to?
And what do we do now?
"I—I think everyone just needs a moment to regroup."
*Authors note: I wanted this chapter to focus on some of Mylo and Ari's backstory during the SAO crisis. It didn't have as much action as prior chapters, but it's important for the story and characters moving forward, so I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think or if you have any suggestions! We're moving into the climax of the later half now, so the story is about to ramp back up again. I'm also currently outlining Specter Part 2.
Lastly, I apologize to any regular readers for missing the week/week and a half deadline. Given reinvigorated interest in finishing this ff strong, I'm changing the chapter publishing schedule to every 2 weeks from here on out. If a chapter gets finished before that time frame though, it will be published earlier.
In the meantime, be easy, stay safe. Peace.
-EF