A/N: Weekend update! Sora is good. We love Sora. Let's all worship Sora and his mad skills. Yes. Enjoy. (That's an order.) Sorry for update lack. I am a slow, sad little person. Please don't hurt me.

Short review response--yay! Hello people! Thank you for gracing the story with your presence. Sniff. Since Taltos had a very snazzy idea, and since outlooks on Sora's magical voice and attitude need a little depth, there's a small paragraph at the start; it's vague, it's out of place, but I love it anyway. Eheheh.

I am so proud of this chapter...

Disclaimer: Konyo of Dusk has no power over .hack...otherwise, stuff would happen. It would be cool stuff. Curse you, Bandai!

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Chapter 7: Thirst for Reality

Nothing changes, nothing will
Always skeptic, primed for the kill
Seeking nothing but selfish gain,
filling your pockets, again and again
Selling your soul, taking your fill
Grasping at straws, feeding your own will
Killing your conscience, empty, bereft
Losing your life for the world, you are left alone
 Left - Five Iron Frenzy

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"Hikaru always aspired to be something more then an introverted scholar. He crouched on the thin banister of the second floor, peering over. I reached out to him fearfully. I thought he would fall. Yet he showed no signs of losing his balance, and not wanting to trigger any mishap, I cautiously approached him. 'Is the fatass crying?' Hikaru had asked suddenly, without a hint of qualm or panic, in his 'new' voice. 'Are they going to cure him, release him and let him free once more to RUN RAMPANT LIKE AN ANIMAL!?' And as his voice rose in volume, his eyes tainted with rage instead of his usual naïve charm...

"God...that...that's when I truly feared him...Hikaru...no, I fear the one called Sora." Kiyoki

The door was pushed open, and it glided on its hinges before thumping against the wall of Ryo's large townhouse; Ryo only looked up once, eyebrow lifted in spite of itself, before standing and crossing the room to close the door behind a soaked Sora. For a moment, the house was quiet, except for the shyest hint of music coming from Annako's room.

Ryo sighed and rubbed at his heavy-lidded eyes with the back of his knuckle. "Sora," he began begrudgingly, "if you were planning to take the long way home, you could've called me from the school so I could've picked you up." His voice held a hint of a plea, one that spoke loud and clear to Sora: let me help you. Ah, how familiar it sounded...yet no matter how loud or clear the statement was, it fell upon deaf ears.

This is not a good way to start a parental relationship, the man thought dully.

Sora didn't speak; his eyes were cut, as if focusing on something on the floor a few feet ahead. Yet it was a small expression of bottled rage--heat and frustrations emitted from his small frame, vibes so strong that even patient Ryo felt the need to step away.

Instead of a scream, a shout, or a tantrum as a parent may have expected...the boy laughed.

It was the maniacal laughter a villain off television would've burst into after committing some heinously comical crime; cruel and bitter, forced out by what Annako, from her room and over droned music, could only recognize as sadistic amusement. She flung herself from her seat, and her homework slid off the desk, riding the soft air-conditioned breeze to the carpet. And she bolted out of her room as if having heard a blood-curdling scream instead of the barking hysterics.

Sora's hand snaked into his pocket, pulling out a pair of office scissors. And slowly, they loop around his fingers a few times before sliding easily from his grip. As they clattered onto the ground, Annako's hands flew to her mouth with a stricken gasp.

As the blood on the blades sprinkled onto the floor, and as Annako and Ryo alike adapted a horrified expression, Sora didn't stop.

Whether mirth or perhaps hints of longing despair itching to be released in the locked confines of Sora's memory, tears, warm and uninvited, swarmed down his cheeks. Laughter dissolved into cruelly-maintained silence, and an attempt to regain composure by silence; his hands shook at his sides, yet he made no motion to wipe away the saltine liquid that trickled off his face. Ryo slowly plucked the scissors off the floor, wolf-gray gaze lingering on his foster son.

Stop crying, Sora.

And he tried--oh, Sora tried to swallow back the lump building in his throat, and he tried to cultivate what little sanity he owned, sinking slowly to his knees. The boy's hands wrung themselves in the air, as if grasping at something invisible in front of him... A garbled sound of despair escaped, and suddenly, his body churned in pain. Where did the pain come from!?

STOP CRYING, SORA, OR ELSE.

"Is this..." A whisper dying to be a scream, loud enough for the puzzled and worried Ryo to hear and ghastly enough to cause the usually calm and gentle Annako to flinch. "...punishment!?" The last disconsolate fragment, the last word of his complaint was hoarse and wheezy as his body racked with dispatched sobs. And finally, the weeping could not be silent any longer.

Tsukasa-kun, let's be friends.

It was an unnerving experience for Ryo--a notation made later when all was silent and no one was there to object to his claims. To watch a child crushed by mental anguish, especially when no one has the faintest idea of what's running through his mind. He hadn't seen an ordeal of this caliber for nearly seven months...and he had prayed he wouldn't experience anything of the sort again.

Sora's knees gave way underneath him, and the feel of Annako's arms gently pulling him upwards as he collapsed was the final key, locking the chains that dragged him down into unconsciousness.

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A pale Wavemaster in tan and gray robes ported in at the Chaos Gate in Dun Loireag, promptly followed by a hulking Blademaster in blue and white body paint much resembling the video game hero Player Character Orca. They stand there idly for a moment, without speaking yet occasionally glancing around. A player rushed past, and Tsukasa was prompted to step aside, but not before getting smacked in the side by the Twin Blade girl's long braid.

Ow.

"Good evening," a sultry woman's voice called from behind them. "What's with the late-night calls, Bear? I'm going to burn dinner." BT stepped up to them, and the trio walked in unison across the bridge to a more secluded peak of the mountaintop city.

Bear decided not to beat around the bush. "It's about Sora."

BT gave him a cold, unforgiving stare, that which could be accomplished by simply narrowing a fraction of her solemn eyes. In spite of her physical reaction, her head tilted to the side slightly. "Ah, yes. Still amnesiac?" Tsukasa nodded aimlessly, his eyes examining the foggy distances of the Root Town. A spiritless worry twinkled beneath shades of emerald. "So, what's wrong with him?" she prompted, leaning on her staff.

"He came home from school this afternoon--" Bear paused, then frowned slightly. "Don't make a crack on how he went to school too soon; I'm not willing to touch on the subject." The blonde Wavemaster shrugged dismissively, eluding any further lecturing. Seeing no hint of argument, he continued: "Anyway; he came back from school this afternoon. ...I'll be frank: he took out a pair of blood-covered scissors, dropped them, laughed hysterically, and then cried. Then he passed out."

Without skipping a beat. Tsukasa had visibly shuddered each time Bear listed one of the points of the escapade; flecks of violet studied the ground so intensely, one may have wondered if he was willing the mountain to open up and swallow him on the spot. And then Tsukasa spoke, voice quavering: "And...his hands...were twitching...like he was having a seizure, but...only his hands.

"Then he asked...if it was...punishment..." Bear was quiet, and it was his turn to avert his gaze in the feeble hopes he would disappear on the spot. BT knew; she read people like books, and could pry them open. He felt as if he had failed...failed to introduce the awoken into a world that would do him some good. She didn't smile.

Tsukasa's head shot up. "His voice...it was like...it was not...a little boy's..."

"It was his player character's."

Striding out from the misty depths, the infamous hacker, Helba, glided out of the abyss and onto the platform. All was silent for a while; BT glanced around casually to realize--no other player was moving. It was as if they were frozen; frozen in time...

Helba bowed deep and low as she usually did when gracing others with her presence. And her second opening statement was: "Morganna is on the move."