A .Hack Christmas Carol
By Evs
Well it is that time of year again and I wanted to do something special. So here's my take on "A Christmas Carol," but with .Hack characters. Enjoy.
Alone
A young man sat alone in a grand library. The library was enormous; stretching endlessly furnished wall to wall with every book imaginable. On ordinary days, the library was glutted with students and readers, the halls ablaze in light. Yet on this uncommon day, only the man resided in its grand halls only alit by a few scattered desk lamps. His pen raced across his notes, all the while his darted back and forth through the lines of an old book. The man was a common sight in the library, you could find him almost anytime of day, reading or studying or merely just sitting and pondering, yet always alone. Barely a word ever escaped his cold lips, just the occasional grunt or mumble, always to himself though. His white hair fell upon his eyes and he brushed it back, in an almost subconscious and automatic manner. The book was of economics, not that he needed any more knowledge in the subject, being top in his class. The man continued to read and write, so engrossed in his work that he did not notice the woman before him. In fact, it was not till the woman gathered her courage to speak.
"Tsukasa," said the girl.
"Hpm," said Tsukasa, lifting his face from his book to peer around his surroundings. "Oh it's you Mimiru, what is it this time?"
Mimiru stood motionless in Tsukasa's cold eyes, as if in trace. "I just came to see if you, you know, wanted to spend Christmas with me?"
Tsukasa, without any hesitation answered. "No," and returned to his studies.
Mimiru stayed and spoke once more, "But it would mean so much to me, and to everyone really, if you came. Even if it was just for a little while."
Tsukasa stopped writing and looked up. "I will answer you how I have answered you before, like every other time I answer you. No."
Mimiru sighed, "Why do you always do this?" she asked.
"Because you always do this!" he answered. "Every Christmas, and any other time it suits you, you come to me and ask the same question. 'Do I want to be with you?' And the answer's the same because the feeling's always the same. No."
"But Tsukasa," said Mimiru.
"But nothing," interjected Tsukasa. "Who I was in the World is dead, and whatever happened between us is over. You of all people should understand this." Tsukasa turned to studies again and added once more, "Good day, Mimiru."
Mimiru stood frozen in shock for several moments. She finally turned and began to exit, but faced Tsukasa one last time. "Tsukasa," called Mimiru.
"What?" questioned Tsukasa.
"What do you want for Christmas?" she asked in-between sniffs of her nose.
"I want," answered Tsukasa flatly, "to be alone. So I may never have to sufferer from your company ever again."
"Then alone is what you shall be," said Mimiru as she ran out of the library. Tears ran down her darkened skin as her amber hair flew through the air. She ran through the doors and into the cold night.
Tsukasa watched her leave. "What a fool," mumbled Tsukasa as he scribbled more notes to himself. "Can't she understand we're not meant for each other?" he asked the emptiness, which gave no reply as usual.
An hour later, Tsukasa gathered his belongings and made his exit. It was a cold night, as Tsukasa walked the illuminated streets. The Christmas lights, stretched from building to building, like a web, bathing the once darken city in aurora of red, green, and white. But such beauty was lost to Tsukasa, who merely cursed the lights and averted his eyes from them.
While Tsukasa walked with his eyes on the ground, he bumped into a man. It caught Tsukasa off guard and sent him crashing into the snow.
"Oh, sorry sir," said the man as he extended his hand to Tsukasa, "let me help you up."
The young man pulled Tsukasa up and brushed him off. "I am really sorry about this, you're not hurt are you?"
"No," answered Tsukasa, "just be more conscious of where you walk. Good day." Tsukasa began to walk off, but the man called to him.
"Excuse me sir, but since I've got your attention, I was wandering if you'd like to make a donation to the Red Cross?" Said the man as he raised the donation box.
"No," answered Tsukasa, as he walked away.
"But sir," said the man walking next to Tsukasa now. "Every Christmas, millions less fortunate than you and I, wander the streets for lodging as we lie snugly in our beds, and starve alone on street corners while we feast in the company of loved ones."
"What's this got to do with me?" asked Tsukasa annoyed.
"Well, sir. We at the Red Cross, try to feed the starving, clothe the naked, and give hope to the hopeless. But we need help."
"No," said Tsukasa.
"But, sir, Christmas is the time of giving and compassion to those less fortunate than ourselves. Even a small donation one would help."
"Compassion, charity, they're nothing but hollow words," said Tsukasa. "Every Christmas, those parasites surface to feast on the gullible. Who foolishly give up their earnings so some dead beat and his kid can a bit of turkey. Well I say no."
"But, sir," said the young man shocked. "You can help these people."
Tsukasa stopped, "Help?!" he said in an enraged tone. "Help, is the most crippling and despicable device ever imagined. Help, forces us to degrade ourselves so we may allow someone weak and unworthy to carry on, instead of dying as nature intended. It prevents men from reaching their true potential, which can only be obtained on their own. And worst of all, because of help, everyone thinks they'll never have to work or struggle ever again, all because of the belief that someone will help them."
"Sir, but help is," said the man trying to put a word in.
"Now you listen boy," said Tsukasa, inches from the man's face. "Every one who walks this earth is alone. Companionship, love, help, friends, all illusions to keep the truth from being heard. We are born into this world alone, and we die alone, that's the truth." Tsukasa paused for a moment, and he eyed the box. "Now tell me, what do you get out of this?" The man stood mute, "Eh, nothing? And what do those less fortunate parasites get? Why, they get a hot meal and that box don't they. Why help such people, such leaches who only live on by taking advantage of you." Tsukasa stopped again, but started once more. "Now if help is what you want, I say take that box and start a new life for yourself. Help yourself for once, cause no one else will."
With that Tsukasa walked away, leaving the poor man standing alone, clutching his little box.
Tsukasa continued to walk the streets. Passing shoppers, couples and children, all smiling and joyful. Tsukasa kept walking; his face forever fixated on the ground locked in a cold frown. He finally stopped and entered a tiny Chinese restaurant, by the name of Chin's.
Tsukasa was seated and ordered a simple dish of rice and chicken. He dinned alone, with the exception of the Jewish family across the room, but he did not bother himself with them. Upon finishing, he pulled his wallet, which was bursting with bills and left the money on the table, minus the tip.
Tsukasa continued onward to home. He entered his building and checked his mail. The usual bills, junk, ahh there it was. A grin etched itself across Tsukasa's thin lips. He eyed the hall, making sure no one else was around. After making sure, Tsukasa stuffed the rather fat envelope into his jacket and made his way up the steps.
He entered his apartment and sat down at his table. He quickly reached for the envelope. He helped it before his eyes for several moments, savoring it most greedily. Finally, with shaky hands, Tsukasa ripped the envelope the contents spilled on the table. Ten thousand dollars, all in twenties glowed under the lamp. Oh so beautiful, only something like this ever gave Tsukasa any happiness. He began to count it feverishly, meticulously organizing the money into one thousand-dollar piles. In the end he had ten little mountains of bills, all bounded by rubber bands. He gently gathered the money in his arms, as if holding a baby, and went to his bed. He kneeled and reached for a rather large box and pulled it forth. He opened the box and his eyes danced with glee. For inside that box was Tsukasa's hopes and dreams. His money and maps and journals filled the box, and it was becoming quite heavy. Oh Tsukasa loved his money so, for it was his ticket to freedom. He had more than enough to be comfortable for the rest of his life, and if things worked out with CC Corporation as he thought they would, he could leave. He could leave this city behind, live in a mansion far away from everyone, in a place so isolated and tranquil, he would never have look at another person ever again. Oh, and the maps. All the maps were covered in lines and dots, creating a path through the most deserted and lonesome places in the world, all of which Tsukasa would see, alone of course. The journals too he kept, revealing his secrets and plans, never even confessing them to the darkness, for fear it would betray him to the world. Such a beautiful thing this box was to Tsukasa, such a treasure.
Since Tsukasa left the World three years ago, CC Corporation had given him an allowance, you could say, for being quite. At the end of every month, Tsukasa was delivered an unmarked envelope containing ten thousand in cash. Tsukasa was 19 years old now, and more than happy to stay quite about what happened to him in the World, as long as the cash kept flowing that is. And tomorrow he was to meet with CC Corporation for a bit more than just his allowance. Oh, things were looking up for Tsukasa.
After going through the treasure, Tsukasa got up and changed into sleeping garments. He poured himself a stiff brandy, and sat down to read the paper. As he read a knock came from his door. Rather odd was the knock, for no one ever came to see Tsukasa, and Tsukasa certainly never invited any one. Tsukasa cranked opened the door and his blood froze. For before his eyes, two chain bound feet stood where a face should have been. Tsukasa stood motionless, until he heard the raspy voice from beneath him.
"Tsukasa," said the wrinkled face.
"My God!" cried Tsukasa, "Harold Hyuek!"
And yes, it was Harold Hyuek, the creator of the World. "May I come in?" asked Harold.
Tsukasa, upon the request, slammed the door and put his back to it. He was panting now, and for good reason. Yet, within no more than few moments Tsukasa felt a cold chill as the ghost of Harold floated through the door, and through Tsukasa.
"It's very impolite to slam doors," said Harold, "especially on ghost."
"No, no," cried Tsukasa, "you're dead, you've been dead for three years!" Said Tsukasa as he pointed a shaking finger towards Harold. "You can't be real, you're, you're just a hallucination brought upon by stress and old brandy."
"Oh, but I am real," replied Harold. "More real than either of us would like to believe."
"Ok, ok," said Tsukasa in-between breaths. "This is just a dream, all I have to do is wake up."
"This is no dream!" yelled Harold, slamming the chains that ran across his body to the floor. "Tsukasa," he began, "I've come here tonight to give you a message, so that you and others may avoid the suffering that I endure."
"What the devil are you talking about?" asked Tsukasa. "Am I in some sort of danger?"
"Yes," answered Harold, "for you walk the same path, as I once did. A path of solitude, enslavement, indifference, and waste."
"Waste," said Tsukasa. "You wasted your life? But how can that be? You created the World, a paradise for millions."
"A paradise!" screamed Harold, once again throwing his chains to the ground. "I created a prison, where men forgo their true selves, blind to the real world and its people. I was the architect of that madhouse, of that wasteland. And you!" cried Harold, pointing at Tsukasa, "you are destined to destroy your life as I did in that artificial hell."
"But I left the World," said Tsukasa, "and I've never been back since."
"Do you not consulate with the CC Corporation?!" Said Harold, "Do you not have dealings with them?!"
"Yes, but that's just business," said Tsukasa. "A man like you should understand."
"Business," said Harold, "Tsukasa if you continue on as you do now, not only your life, but every one around you will suffer."
"Suffer, you say," said Tsukasa. "Why, let those fools suffer then, I never asked them for anything."
"But they beg of you, just as I do," said Harold. "Do you see these chains," said Harold raising his bound hand.
"Yes, what of them," questioned Tsukasa.
"These are for my sins as a man," said Harold. "By wasting my life, I have enslaved my soul to wander this earth. Neither alive or dead." He paused, "Tsukasa, my fate will be yours if you do not heed my message."
"Well, what is it?" said Tsukasa, now just wanting to get ride of this upside down ghost of Harold Hyuek.
"Tonight, at midnight, you shall be visited by a ghost," said Harold.
"What, like you?" asked Tsukasa.
"No, the Ghost of Christmas Past," said Harold, "your past."
"Is that all," asked Tsukasa.
"Later, the Ghost of Christmas Present and Future will come," said Harold.
"Can't they visit me all at once and be done with it," pleaded Tsukasa.
"This is no game Tsukasa!" cried Harold. "For if you choose to ignore them, and continue on in your life, you shall be as I was. Alone, disillusioned, and in misery, that not even death could cure."
With that, Harold made his exit and ascended through the window. Before he was out sight though, he called once last time to Tsukasa. "Take warning Tsukasa, for this is your last chance at redemption." And he was gone, leaving Tsukasa alone and cold by the window.
Tsukasa, closed and bolted the window immediately. He then walked to his bed and curled up for the night. He could not close his eyes though, for they were fixated at the clock, which read five minutes to midnight.
Well, that's it for the first installment, hopefully the rest of the chapters we'll be done before Christmas. Hope you liked it.
By Evs
Well it is that time of year again and I wanted to do something special. So here's my take on "A Christmas Carol," but with .Hack characters. Enjoy.
Alone
A young man sat alone in a grand library. The library was enormous; stretching endlessly furnished wall to wall with every book imaginable. On ordinary days, the library was glutted with students and readers, the halls ablaze in light. Yet on this uncommon day, only the man resided in its grand halls only alit by a few scattered desk lamps. His pen raced across his notes, all the while his darted back and forth through the lines of an old book. The man was a common sight in the library, you could find him almost anytime of day, reading or studying or merely just sitting and pondering, yet always alone. Barely a word ever escaped his cold lips, just the occasional grunt or mumble, always to himself though. His white hair fell upon his eyes and he brushed it back, in an almost subconscious and automatic manner. The book was of economics, not that he needed any more knowledge in the subject, being top in his class. The man continued to read and write, so engrossed in his work that he did not notice the woman before him. In fact, it was not till the woman gathered her courage to speak.
"Tsukasa," said the girl.
"Hpm," said Tsukasa, lifting his face from his book to peer around his surroundings. "Oh it's you Mimiru, what is it this time?"
Mimiru stood motionless in Tsukasa's cold eyes, as if in trace. "I just came to see if you, you know, wanted to spend Christmas with me?"
Tsukasa, without any hesitation answered. "No," and returned to his studies.
Mimiru stayed and spoke once more, "But it would mean so much to me, and to everyone really, if you came. Even if it was just for a little while."
Tsukasa stopped writing and looked up. "I will answer you how I have answered you before, like every other time I answer you. No."
Mimiru sighed, "Why do you always do this?" she asked.
"Because you always do this!" he answered. "Every Christmas, and any other time it suits you, you come to me and ask the same question. 'Do I want to be with you?' And the answer's the same because the feeling's always the same. No."
"But Tsukasa," said Mimiru.
"But nothing," interjected Tsukasa. "Who I was in the World is dead, and whatever happened between us is over. You of all people should understand this." Tsukasa turned to studies again and added once more, "Good day, Mimiru."
Mimiru stood frozen in shock for several moments. She finally turned and began to exit, but faced Tsukasa one last time. "Tsukasa," called Mimiru.
"What?" questioned Tsukasa.
"What do you want for Christmas?" she asked in-between sniffs of her nose.
"I want," answered Tsukasa flatly, "to be alone. So I may never have to sufferer from your company ever again."
"Then alone is what you shall be," said Mimiru as she ran out of the library. Tears ran down her darkened skin as her amber hair flew through the air. She ran through the doors and into the cold night.
Tsukasa watched her leave. "What a fool," mumbled Tsukasa as he scribbled more notes to himself. "Can't she understand we're not meant for each other?" he asked the emptiness, which gave no reply as usual.
An hour later, Tsukasa gathered his belongings and made his exit. It was a cold night, as Tsukasa walked the illuminated streets. The Christmas lights, stretched from building to building, like a web, bathing the once darken city in aurora of red, green, and white. But such beauty was lost to Tsukasa, who merely cursed the lights and averted his eyes from them.
While Tsukasa walked with his eyes on the ground, he bumped into a man. It caught Tsukasa off guard and sent him crashing into the snow.
"Oh, sorry sir," said the man as he extended his hand to Tsukasa, "let me help you up."
The young man pulled Tsukasa up and brushed him off. "I am really sorry about this, you're not hurt are you?"
"No," answered Tsukasa, "just be more conscious of where you walk. Good day." Tsukasa began to walk off, but the man called to him.
"Excuse me sir, but since I've got your attention, I was wandering if you'd like to make a donation to the Red Cross?" Said the man as he raised the donation box.
"No," answered Tsukasa, as he walked away.
"But sir," said the man walking next to Tsukasa now. "Every Christmas, millions less fortunate than you and I, wander the streets for lodging as we lie snugly in our beds, and starve alone on street corners while we feast in the company of loved ones."
"What's this got to do with me?" asked Tsukasa annoyed.
"Well, sir. We at the Red Cross, try to feed the starving, clothe the naked, and give hope to the hopeless. But we need help."
"No," said Tsukasa.
"But, sir, Christmas is the time of giving and compassion to those less fortunate than ourselves. Even a small donation one would help."
"Compassion, charity, they're nothing but hollow words," said Tsukasa. "Every Christmas, those parasites surface to feast on the gullible. Who foolishly give up their earnings so some dead beat and his kid can a bit of turkey. Well I say no."
"But, sir," said the young man shocked. "You can help these people."
Tsukasa stopped, "Help?!" he said in an enraged tone. "Help, is the most crippling and despicable device ever imagined. Help, forces us to degrade ourselves so we may allow someone weak and unworthy to carry on, instead of dying as nature intended. It prevents men from reaching their true potential, which can only be obtained on their own. And worst of all, because of help, everyone thinks they'll never have to work or struggle ever again, all because of the belief that someone will help them."
"Sir, but help is," said the man trying to put a word in.
"Now you listen boy," said Tsukasa, inches from the man's face. "Every one who walks this earth is alone. Companionship, love, help, friends, all illusions to keep the truth from being heard. We are born into this world alone, and we die alone, that's the truth." Tsukasa paused for a moment, and he eyed the box. "Now tell me, what do you get out of this?" The man stood mute, "Eh, nothing? And what do those less fortunate parasites get? Why, they get a hot meal and that box don't they. Why help such people, such leaches who only live on by taking advantage of you." Tsukasa stopped again, but started once more. "Now if help is what you want, I say take that box and start a new life for yourself. Help yourself for once, cause no one else will."
With that Tsukasa walked away, leaving the poor man standing alone, clutching his little box.
Tsukasa continued to walk the streets. Passing shoppers, couples and children, all smiling and joyful. Tsukasa kept walking; his face forever fixated on the ground locked in a cold frown. He finally stopped and entered a tiny Chinese restaurant, by the name of Chin's.
Tsukasa was seated and ordered a simple dish of rice and chicken. He dinned alone, with the exception of the Jewish family across the room, but he did not bother himself with them. Upon finishing, he pulled his wallet, which was bursting with bills and left the money on the table, minus the tip.
Tsukasa continued onward to home. He entered his building and checked his mail. The usual bills, junk, ahh there it was. A grin etched itself across Tsukasa's thin lips. He eyed the hall, making sure no one else was around. After making sure, Tsukasa stuffed the rather fat envelope into his jacket and made his way up the steps.
He entered his apartment and sat down at his table. He quickly reached for the envelope. He helped it before his eyes for several moments, savoring it most greedily. Finally, with shaky hands, Tsukasa ripped the envelope the contents spilled on the table. Ten thousand dollars, all in twenties glowed under the lamp. Oh so beautiful, only something like this ever gave Tsukasa any happiness. He began to count it feverishly, meticulously organizing the money into one thousand-dollar piles. In the end he had ten little mountains of bills, all bounded by rubber bands. He gently gathered the money in his arms, as if holding a baby, and went to his bed. He kneeled and reached for a rather large box and pulled it forth. He opened the box and his eyes danced with glee. For inside that box was Tsukasa's hopes and dreams. His money and maps and journals filled the box, and it was becoming quite heavy. Oh Tsukasa loved his money so, for it was his ticket to freedom. He had more than enough to be comfortable for the rest of his life, and if things worked out with CC Corporation as he thought they would, he could leave. He could leave this city behind, live in a mansion far away from everyone, in a place so isolated and tranquil, he would never have look at another person ever again. Oh, and the maps. All the maps were covered in lines and dots, creating a path through the most deserted and lonesome places in the world, all of which Tsukasa would see, alone of course. The journals too he kept, revealing his secrets and plans, never even confessing them to the darkness, for fear it would betray him to the world. Such a beautiful thing this box was to Tsukasa, such a treasure.
Since Tsukasa left the World three years ago, CC Corporation had given him an allowance, you could say, for being quite. At the end of every month, Tsukasa was delivered an unmarked envelope containing ten thousand in cash. Tsukasa was 19 years old now, and more than happy to stay quite about what happened to him in the World, as long as the cash kept flowing that is. And tomorrow he was to meet with CC Corporation for a bit more than just his allowance. Oh, things were looking up for Tsukasa.
After going through the treasure, Tsukasa got up and changed into sleeping garments. He poured himself a stiff brandy, and sat down to read the paper. As he read a knock came from his door. Rather odd was the knock, for no one ever came to see Tsukasa, and Tsukasa certainly never invited any one. Tsukasa cranked opened the door and his blood froze. For before his eyes, two chain bound feet stood where a face should have been. Tsukasa stood motionless, until he heard the raspy voice from beneath him.
"Tsukasa," said the wrinkled face.
"My God!" cried Tsukasa, "Harold Hyuek!"
And yes, it was Harold Hyuek, the creator of the World. "May I come in?" asked Harold.
Tsukasa, upon the request, slammed the door and put his back to it. He was panting now, and for good reason. Yet, within no more than few moments Tsukasa felt a cold chill as the ghost of Harold floated through the door, and through Tsukasa.
"It's very impolite to slam doors," said Harold, "especially on ghost."
"No, no," cried Tsukasa, "you're dead, you've been dead for three years!" Said Tsukasa as he pointed a shaking finger towards Harold. "You can't be real, you're, you're just a hallucination brought upon by stress and old brandy."
"Oh, but I am real," replied Harold. "More real than either of us would like to believe."
"Ok, ok," said Tsukasa in-between breaths. "This is just a dream, all I have to do is wake up."
"This is no dream!" yelled Harold, slamming the chains that ran across his body to the floor. "Tsukasa," he began, "I've come here tonight to give you a message, so that you and others may avoid the suffering that I endure."
"What the devil are you talking about?" asked Tsukasa. "Am I in some sort of danger?"
"Yes," answered Harold, "for you walk the same path, as I once did. A path of solitude, enslavement, indifference, and waste."
"Waste," said Tsukasa. "You wasted your life? But how can that be? You created the World, a paradise for millions."
"A paradise!" screamed Harold, once again throwing his chains to the ground. "I created a prison, where men forgo their true selves, blind to the real world and its people. I was the architect of that madhouse, of that wasteland. And you!" cried Harold, pointing at Tsukasa, "you are destined to destroy your life as I did in that artificial hell."
"But I left the World," said Tsukasa, "and I've never been back since."
"Do you not consulate with the CC Corporation?!" Said Harold, "Do you not have dealings with them?!"
"Yes, but that's just business," said Tsukasa. "A man like you should understand."
"Business," said Harold, "Tsukasa if you continue on as you do now, not only your life, but every one around you will suffer."
"Suffer, you say," said Tsukasa. "Why, let those fools suffer then, I never asked them for anything."
"But they beg of you, just as I do," said Harold. "Do you see these chains," said Harold raising his bound hand.
"Yes, what of them," questioned Tsukasa.
"These are for my sins as a man," said Harold. "By wasting my life, I have enslaved my soul to wander this earth. Neither alive or dead." He paused, "Tsukasa, my fate will be yours if you do not heed my message."
"Well, what is it?" said Tsukasa, now just wanting to get ride of this upside down ghost of Harold Hyuek.
"Tonight, at midnight, you shall be visited by a ghost," said Harold.
"What, like you?" asked Tsukasa.
"No, the Ghost of Christmas Past," said Harold, "your past."
"Is that all," asked Tsukasa.
"Later, the Ghost of Christmas Present and Future will come," said Harold.
"Can't they visit me all at once and be done with it," pleaded Tsukasa.
"This is no game Tsukasa!" cried Harold. "For if you choose to ignore them, and continue on in your life, you shall be as I was. Alone, disillusioned, and in misery, that not even death could cure."
With that, Harold made his exit and ascended through the window. Before he was out sight though, he called once last time to Tsukasa. "Take warning Tsukasa, for this is your last chance at redemption." And he was gone, leaving Tsukasa alone and cold by the window.
Tsukasa, closed and bolted the window immediately. He then walked to his bed and curled up for the night. He could not close his eyes though, for they were fixated at the clock, which read five minutes to midnight.
Well, that's it for the first installment, hopefully the rest of the chapters we'll be done before Christmas. Hope you liked it.