[How long has it been?] A woman asked herself. Hands upon her mouth as she silently prayed in anxiousness.

She was sitting in a clean white room with a large one-sided mirror was right in front of her and through it was a pale, skinny boy surrounded by a doctor, a surgeon and their fellow assistants.

"Patient's losing too much blood doctor! We have to operate on his head immediately!" the Surgeon spoke in urgence.

"You can't do that, doctor! Cutting him off from the Nerve Gear in ANYWAY would absolutely kill him!" One of the Assistants argued.

"But what choice do we have?! If we cut him off he dies, if we leave him he may also die! We might as well euthanize him for God's sake!" They argued on as the Doctor fell silent.

Louder did the heart-rate monitor beeped then the woman who watching broke into a weep. The woman widened her eyes in despair as she went over toward the glass.

The machine beeped faster and everyone began to panic, "Heart-rate's decreasing! Pulse is slowing down!" It beeped and beeped and kept on beeping faster and louder until eventually...

The line fell flat as the echo came into a halt.

[No... No...! Not him too! Please, not him too!] Her rivers of tears fell onto the floor as despair gripped at her heart, forced to watch everything without being able to do anything.

"He's not breathing, he's not breathing!"

"Patient's suffering cardiac arrest! Somebody get the defibrillator running!"

"Defibrillator's set to 100 joules. CLEAR!" The boy's chest jumped at the sudden jolt of electricity. The monitor beeped twice, but it the line fell flat again.

"Responses are weakening, zap him again!"

"Defibrillator's set to 110 joules. CLEAR!" The body jumped again and the machine beeped a few more times before once again falling into a flat line.

And so the woman watched in utter powerlessness as the boy struggled to cling unto life even in his unconsciousness. She couldn't think, she couldn't scream. She cried in worry as she kept muttering words between her sobs. She said she was sorry, she begged for God not to take him away, but there was nothing that she could do now.

Nothing, but cry and pray that he would be safe; the boy was now at the mercy of death himself.

She closed her eyes, but her tears never stopped falling. She closed her ears and tried to lie to herself that everything was okay, that everything was just a bad dream.

But she knew it wasn't; for truth was a cruel thing and it was taking all the hopes she had left in her. She didn't want to accept it, but she knew it was happening.

The boy would die and she would left all alone and—

"H-HE'S BACK!"

She opened her eyes, hope filling her once despairing heart.

"We're getting steady responses! It's weak, but it's there!"

"My God... He wants to live."

"Give him one last jolt!"

"Setting defibrillator to 100 joules! CLEAR!"

And with one last shock, the line fell flat and just like that, the woman's very last hope was shattered like dust in the wind.

She stood there motionless, not believing the cold-harsh truth. With the last of her strength, she whispered one last prayer.

"Please, don't... die!"

Silence fell and everyone in the surgery room grimaced. The doctors and nurses turned toward the one-side view mirror and, as if piercing through it with sharp guilty and shameful eyes, they bowed.

"We're sorry—"

It was then the machine suddenly beeped once. Then it beeped again and again and again until it echoed within the room and, eventually, everybody realized... that the boy was still alive; that even in his unconscious form, his mind trapped within the horrible helmet on his very head, the boy didn't want to die.

The woman cried once more as her legs gave out and tuned out the world around her. The nurses and doctors frantically returned to then to their patient, but she couldn't hear it over the huge surge of relief that was flooding her heart. She knelt on the floor as tears of joy fell from her cheeks, an ever so grateful smile etched on her face.

Her prayers were answered and Death had shown his mercy of the boy's soul.

And so she wept in gladness and relief, her sobs echoed throughout the white and lonely room for her son... was given a chance to live once more.

"-We can't risk losing his life if we were to damage the Nerve Gear in anyway if we were to operate him and so we decided not to operate him and, as you can see, his condition is stabilizing." The doctor told the woman as she sat right beside her son's bed.

"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you, for saving my son!" She bowed.

"No, no, please. You don't have to bow, madam. It's my job to save your son as does saving the other victims of SAO and patients." The Doctor modestly replied.

"And still, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you, Doctor."

"You're welcome, madam. Now, if you would kindly excuse me, I have other patients to attend to." The doctor replied with a smile and so he left the woman her son alone in the room.

As soon as the doctor left the room, the woman turned her attention toward the boy's malnutritioned figure.

His skin looked sickly and was as pale as the snow in winter breeze now as opposed to his previous healthy looks months ago. His hair also grew longer and there were hints of beard and mustache starting to grow around his mouth and chin.

But that was not what she was worried about, what worried her was the fact that his eyes was closed; that he was still trapped in this death game called Sword Art Online for God knows how long. She took her sons' hand in hers and felt the hint of coldness that his hand possessed, this hurt her even more.

"I'm sorry, Mizuki... I'm so, so sorry..." She began slowly as a single tear fell from the corner of her eye. "If only I was a better mother... If only I gave you the attention you deserved… If only I realized how much you truly mean to me until… Oh, Mizuki… I'm so, so sorry…!"

She had heard it before; that some unfortunate victims trapped within SAO's heart rate would suddenly fall into a flat line; that dying within this accursed game meant death in real life.

She held on to his cold hand and muttered her apologies over and over, even though she knew that he couldn't hear it and thought of it only hurt her very deeply, especially considering the fact that one day, he too might fall into a flat line and he would never be able to hear her apology.

Right now, at this very moment, even if her son would suddenly wake up due to some miracle and didn't accept her apology out hatred, she didn't care.

All she cared about was that his heart was still beating and that she hoped that it would stay like so until the day he wakes up.