A/N: Eek! I feel terrible about neglecting my update schedule, so I decided to write another chapter ASAP. I apologize! I'll restart my schedule...perhaps next week?

I apologize if Subaru does not show up much in this story, or at all. Hopefully this won't offend you, but I'm not much of a Subaru fan, or a Subaru/Tsukasa one for that matter. Sorry!!!

Err...alright. The chapters of this story are admittedly...very short. Heh. Oh well; that's the current style for this and I'll stick to it. I think the shortness of each chapter is a kind of style for this piece. Sorry.

Enjoy! As in, the show.

Disclaimer: .hack belongs to Bandai, I think. I own the black-haired girl Kiyoki--Sora's real life friend. She will play no major role in the story, and is not a Mary Sue because any romance in this story leans towards a one-sided Sora/BT infatuation. Don't worry.

^*^

Chapter 6: On the First Day

We work so hard just to lose
That's why we're building up walls
To put up around us
We walk through life in a maze
With no direction, no sight
Only hope that you'll find your way
Unbreakable - The Suicide Machines

^*^

A pale Wavemaster with salmon-shaded markings on his face raised his staff and commands from it: "La Repth!" The Heavy Blade across him grinned as 150 of her hit points were restored, and with a final raise of her sword, the enemy lingering on the fleshy floors of the dungeon tumbled into the ground and faded away. A treasure chest appeared in its wake, and Mimiru sat down next to it triumphantly.

"You can open this one," she said, tapping it with her forefinger. "Man, I'm tired. How many floors does this thing have?" she whined as Tsukasa busily tapped at the Risky Treasure's lock with his Fortune Wire. Yet even as he collected the Restorative within, he did not say anything. "You okay?" she asked.

Tsukasa stood. "Sora..." he mumbled, leaning on his staff.

"Oh...how's he doing? Did you take him home?"

"...Sora insisted he be enrolled in school immediately...his first day is today." The Wavemaster tossed back a piece of white hair, lavender eyes shielded by his eyelids. "Papa and I are worried...but nothing was stopping him..." Tsukasa plopped down onto the ground next to Mimiru, prodding at the ground and wincing at the squishing noise it made upon contact.

"Ah, he'll be okay. Sora acts like a...uh...tough kid, I guess. He can deal with it..."

"He has amnesia."

"...you're kidding, right? He's going to school without...the faintest clue about it? About anything!?" A pause; silence; a nod. Tsukasa was tempted to shield his ears for the barrage of vehement disapproval that was coming. "Damn, what a stupid kid!!!" Mimiru rolled her eyes, leaning on her sword and rolling her slate blue eyes. "Why didn't Bear make him stay home? At least for a little while! Didn't even let himself recuperate!"

Tsukasa said nothing, sadly focusing on the dungeon's blood-shaded walls.

"Shit! What if he's one of those kids that gets beaten up? He won't have a clue about that--oh man, the pressure's killing me..." she whined, slumping over.

"He...seems to be able to handle himself," Tsukasa said helplessly, quite unsure of the fact himself. "...Well, he has a lot of confidence...for someone who refuses to be called by his real name in the real world...and for someone who was adopted the day he woke up."

"Maybe you could look for his parents," Mimiru said suddenly. "If they found out he wasn't going to die, then they might take him back into their custody..."

"Papa wouldn't trust them with Sora...with Hikaru. He'd probably call them horrible parents...for leaving their son...just to die, you know?"

Silence.

"I'm gonna talk to BT later. But 'till then...yeah, I gotta go. Later, Tsukasa..." Mimiru pulled a Sprite Ocarina from the sleekly-hidden pocket on the back of her skirt. Playing a low, melancholy tune, the gleaming gold of bangles wrapped around her character's figure, and with that, she vanished. Her silhouette--an aftereffect of suddenly "vanishing"--bid him a final adieu with a continuous wave.

Tsukasa remained there for a few moments before standing up and continuing towards the bowels of the dungeon. Sora acts like a tough kid...now... I wonder what he was like, before the coma.

^*^

"Well, if it ain't Mitsurugi, back to school." A rather rotund child perhaps twice Sora's height glowered down on an uninterested amnesiac. "I was missing a random loser to beat down nonetheless, so why not select someone who needs to...readjust?" The dark green haired boy said nothing, simply fixing his crimson gaze at a pillar some distance ahead. "Hope you liked your hospital room. You might end up visiting it again."

Lacking regard, Sora began: "One." Cold, flat, one syllable-- "The absolute worst you could do would be to sit on me with that walrus you call an ass."

The porky boy, Akira, turned an ugly shade of grapefruit-purple at that comment; gasps and hushed whispers of "Hikaru's back!" and "Hikaru's gonna get beaten up again..." resonated within a half-mile radius. A crowd began to form, to which Sora paid no attention.

"Two. Who the hell are you?"

...this world is full of fools...

Suddenly, a raven-haired girl pushed through the crowd, dusting off her skirt as she did so. "Akira Nakamura, leave him alone! I'm warning you!" yelled the girl, pointing an accusing finger at the "Walrus Ass," as Sora had dubbed him.

"Go to hell, Kiyoki." Walrus Ass stated, finally finding his voice. And as if on cue, tall, lanky boys with faces like rats shifted forward, perhaps on Akira's whim merely to allow the "Kiyoki" girl to be once again swallowed by the crowd. Her shrieks of angered protest were muffled by hushed jeers. "...Well, seeing as how she already told you my name, let's get down to business, Hikaru Mitsurugi."

He smirked and folded his fingers with his opposing fist, attempting to crack his knuckles. However, no sound emitted from the blubber-coated hands, and Akira dropped them quickly to his sides.

...you can start with this one...

Slowly, Sora slid two pairs of scissors out of his knapsack; he had snatched them from Ryo's cabinet. Hopefully, "dadoo" wouldn't mind... "Three," he mumbled dazedly, not quite concentrating on the fat boy who had insulted him. "...Would you mind saying my name again?"

"Yes, I would."

...shed his blood...

"Say it again."

He spoke in a synchronized voice, much unlike the 10-year-old pre-adolescent one many had adapted by then... It was more oily, smooth; smarmy, if you will, like a man in an alley about ready to sell a child candy.

A noble attempt to hide a stutter forced out of fear: "H...Hikaru Mitsurugi. What's the big deal?"

"Why does everybody call me that...?"

...for he does not know who you are...

The school bully did not dare reply. Sora idly twirled the scissors around his lanky fingers, raising up his hands to allow a decent view. They executed loop-de-loops, artfully maneuvering around his fingers and over them as if they knew their boundaries...and the boy hadn't even so much as moved anything except the occasional flick of his wrist. Bored, Sora's feet slowly shifted perhaps shoulder-length apart--a battle stance seen in martial arts...

More murmurs ripped through the crowd like wildfire on dry grass. "Hikaru's got skills!" "I didn't think Hikaru was capable of such a thing..." "Is this really Hikaru?" "The Hikaru, from fourth grade, the computer nerd!?" "But...Akira has always picked on Hikaru, ever since he was little..."

...and though they may know...

"I know nothing of any of you," Sora said suddenly--loudly, grasping and holding everyone's attention rather capably for a short little boy. "Still..." A pause. "...a reintroduction is not necessary, as I no longer care." The same silky tone bounced out on the last word. "I am Sora."

Unwise and panicked, Akira chose that time to charge with a short battle cry. His body lumbered in slow motion and suddenly lifted itself off the ground. A body slam.

Which Sora sidestepped.

The hulking boy crashed to the ground, his blubber prompting sliding a good three or four feet away from the scissors-wielding boy whose back was to him. Persistent, however, Akira clambered clumsily to his feet and placed his fists under his chin in an amateur's fisticuffs stance.

"You don't stand a chance in hell against me."

...who you were...

Akira snarled viciously--if not for the fact this was a civilized century, he may as well have been foaming at the mouth. And he stepped forward, fist flying out from its position beneath his twin chins directly at what would be Sora's neck.

"Absolutely no skill." Lightheartedly, the fat boy opened his squinty eyes to see that he had hit nothing but perhaps air. The crowd gasped--the green-haired boy appeared suspended in the air until he landed rather catlike on his feet, behind the school bully. "No offense..." Sora whispered--a murmur, although it seemed to carry itself in the air. "...but I think..."

...they cannot handle...

His hand planted itself on the ground, and his right foot jutted out, smashing into the back of Akira Nakamura's right ankle. A sickening crack lashed at the air loudly, like a whip.

Akira fell.

The fifth grade amnesiac rose to his feet and tucked his hands in the pockets of his pants. "...that you're a buffoon."

Sora spit disgustedly onto the back of Akira's head and slouched away, a lethargic panther willing and ready to strike. As he disappeared behind a hallway, cheers and great whoops exploded in the halls; Kiyoki, perhaps Hikaru Mitsurugi's only friend from kindergarten and beyond, wrenched herself free of captors and scrambled after him. But she, too, was suspicious.

She was Hikaru Mitsurugi's friend. She was not...Sora's...whoever Sora was...

...who you will be.

^*^

A/N: For clarification: when Sora speaks in bold text...well...it's Sora, in a sense. His regular voice seems to have been..."overwritten" by his voice data from The World. Odd, ne?...

When Sora is not speaking--as in there are no quotation marks, heh--the regular bold text is Morganna's.