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Chapter 2

Home

"When I was a child, I had a dream."

Nedzu cursed under his breath as he furiously typed at the keyboard, eyes fixated on his screen, "Please tell me we know where this is being broadcast from?!"

On the wall a large screen perched, projecting the video of a man in a lab coat smiling genially down at them as he spoke. This same video that was currently being broadcast over every working screen this side of the planet.

Around him technical heroes and other researchers frantically dug through the internet, the news stations, the coding, everything that they could get their hands on. By the increased cursing at his question, he was going to assume that the answer was no.

Nedzu was a proactive hero. He couldn't fight the up front battles like most of the other popular heroes, nor did he want to. No, his battleground had always been his mind. His strategy. The world was at his fingertips, and he reveled in it. Every scrap of information he could get his hands on, every news station, every police report, it all came together as a giant tangled web, one which he sat in the center of, tugging the strings where he wanted them.

Nothing happened without him already having some forewarning about it.

And yet, somehow, this had taken him completely by surprise.

Kayaba Akihiko - Nedzu silently fumed as the code he was trying to hack into twisted, reacted, and threw him back out again, like a living thing - was a madman. The man had first come on the radar when he first brought his idea of virtual reality to the table. Like any good researcher, Nedzu could see both the benefits as well as the dangers that such technology could bring. He'd done extensive research into the man, even gone in person once or twice to get a feel for his personality, but there had been nothing out of place. He'd simply been a man who wanted to bring the games he loved to life for the people that played them. It had just been a bonus that he wasn't too eager to sell his technology to the highest bidder.

And in the end, Nedzu had put the issue of the avid game developer to the side in favor of bigger problems. He'd seemed harmless, and honestly what could go wrong in a false world?

Quite a lot, apparently.

"A castle, floating in the sky, with its own people, culture, and life.

No heroes, no villains, just people.

I saw this, not just as a game, but as a reality."

And by deeming the man not worth his attention, Nedzu had been unprepared for - for - for this catastrophe.

Ten thousand trapped. Over two hundred dead and counting.

Kayaba hadn't just created a game in which the players would be forever trapped, he'd created a death game.

"Some may call me a villain, others a murderer."

Nedzu jerked away from his computer as it sparked violently, and scowled. Typically, coding was like facing off against a wall. Walls had weaknesses, chipped areas, imperfect code that could be nudged out of the way to implant his own suggestions if he could just get deep enough.

This wasn't a wall. This was the ocean. No matter how much water he scooped out of it, more would simply move it to take its place. Anything carved into its sandy depths, anything forgin, simply got washed away in the current and shredded like lint. Not just that, though, it was learning. Every attack he made it countered, studied, and adapted.

It's alive. Nedzu realized distantly, staring at his now whining computer. Kayaba, you fool.

"But in the end," here, Kayaba's face turned stony cold, "you will all thank me."

"Ahalo," Nedzu turned to his second in command, waiting patiently by his side as she directed the chaos, "I need you go get in contact with the heroes association immediately."

He sucked in a deep, fortifying breath, "I am calling for a national emergency."

"So good luck, heroes," The smile was back, just a hint of warmth, and the lack of mask chilled those watching to the bone, because this wasn't a man who was hiding what he had done. No, he was proud. "But you will not find me, and only they can save themselves."

Kayaba Akihiko. Nedzu stared up at the smiling face of the man who had seemingly vanished off of the face of the planet as of three hours ago. This had all been pre-recorded, of that there was no doubt.

Why?

0~o~0

It's funny, he thinks, how life can change so quickly.

A half hysterical laugh bubbles up in his throat. He swallows it back down, choking on air that he can't breath, and listening to the pounding of blood in his head that doesn't exist as he runs and runs and runs.

It's funny.

His feet lift up little puffs of dirt as they dig into the dry dirt, every loud thump of his worn combat boots against the earth ringing wrong in his ears. He feels leather armor against his chest, digging snuggly against his ribcage with every lunge forward. The air sputters around him, bringing with it the scent of fresh leaves and moss, and the moon illuminates the world before him. It's entrancing. Beautiful.

Fake.

"I am not a hero nor a villian, and indeed neither of those exist in this world.

We are all, together, simply human." The red spector speaks so mildly, as if commenting on the weather. As if he isn't taking every single one of his hopes and dreams and crushing them under a broken reality that rings with truth.

This isn't what I want.

Kirito. That was the name that he had adopted when he first ventured into Aincrad, all those months ago. Back then, it had meant freedom. Another barrier between him and his family, between him and his legacy.

"Our world has forgotten their humanity. What does it mean to be human? What does it mean to be alive? Here, in Aincrad, you will discover the truth."

Now, it was his name. Probably for the rest of his life. That's what people would see when they looked at him, when they traded with him, when he spoke. He was Kirito. Just Kirito, and no one else.

What did it matter about life beyond Aincrad? It's not like any of them would ever live to see that day.

In the beta, Kirito had been one of their best warriors. Battling monsters and pushing the frontlines forwards with better tactics, scouting, and his own desperate, wild stubbornness. In two months, they made it eight floors.

Eight. Floors.

Aincrad had a total of one hundred floors.

"Clear the game, and you may leave this world."

Every floor was twice as hard as the last, and as time went on it became harder and harder to level. Aincrad was radical because it was a game in which quirks were not available to the players. Everyone was reduced to the same state: Quirkless. There would be no special advantages, no secret moves, no cheat sheet.

"Once your HP reaches zero, you will be deleted from the game, and the real world," The red figure spread its arms wide, and he could almost see the grin under the heavy hood, "Welcome to Aincrad, players. Welcome home."

We are going to die here. It had been a distant thought, as the screaming started and the tall red head beside him had stumbled back in shock. I'm going to die.

He wasn't going to follow in his parents footsteps. He wasn't going to go to UA. He wasn't going to be a hero.

It's everything I ever wanted, he realized distantly as he turned tail and ran for the outskirts, ran awayfromthemfromhimfromeveryone.

It's everything I wanted, and I hate it.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

A shadow detached itself from the waving grass, looking forward to blocking his path with brisling black fur and gleaming teeth. It was almost a blessing, to draw the sword into position and lunge forward without faltering, to suck in a breath and scream as the wolf was sliced cleanly through its middle.

It must have been hours before he finally came to a stumbling stop, legs shaking in exhaustion as he collapsed at the edge of one of the small frontier towns, just inside the safe zone. He stared down at his hands, at the flawless skin unmarred by his years of training.

We are going to die here. The thought once again floated through his mind, the inevitable truth slipping through his mind like tar. We are going to die here, and no heroes are going to save us.

He wasn't a hero. He wasn't. He couldn't protect everyone. People had already died. Some people couldn't be saved. Heroes were supposed to be able to save everyone.

They didn't save you.

"Shut up," Kirito hissed, hitting the dirt with his curled fist, "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Aincrad wasn't a world of heroes. It wasn't a world of good versus evil, right versus wrong.

I'm going to die here.

Behind his eyes, he could see flames turning the sky orange. When he blinked only tears blurred his vision.

I don't want to die.

0~o~0

The days pass in a haze. He hasn't seen Klien since they were informed about the truth behind Aincrad and the logout button. Sometimes Kirito wonders if the redhead is still alive. A part of him hopes. A part of him doesn't dare to. There is a room in the inn booked in his name. He doesn't sleep there.

During the day he slips into the forest to hunt down monsters. He hacks at them with his beginners sword, collecting drops and coins and experience without really looking. He just can't bring himself to care. At night, he collapses in a safe zone. Sometimes it's high in a tree, sometimes a cave barely big enough to fit his slumbering form. Sometimes he doesn't sleep at all.

A week passes.

His sword shatters, and he goes back to the town for another. Klein still isn't there, though a few others are. They look at him as if he's a ghost. Kirito ignores them as he heads back into the forest for the night.

He could care less about what they think.

0~o~0

There is a boy fighting in Kirito's usual hunting grounds.

There is a boy with two daggers fighting against the vine like nepenthes monsters. He's quite good at it, Kirito realizes distantly. It only takes him half an hour to clear out the small clearing. It will be a few more minutes before the next wave spawn in. The boy wipes the sweat off of his bow and turns -

"Woh!" the other takes a step back with wide eyes as his gaze lands on Kirito, "How long have you been there?!" There's a hint of panic in his voice as he speaks.

Kirito doesn't bother to reassure him. Instead he just tilts his head slightly. "I live here."

"Y-you do?" the boy frowns for a second as he takes in Kirito's ragged appearance, and then understanding sparks in his eyes. "Oh, oh! You're that guy!"

Kirito frowns. That guy?

"Ha, you sure had me worried for a moment! I was thinking you might be one of those - well, best not bring them up - but you're just The Ghost!" the boy laughs and waves his hand slightly, "I'm Cooper, by the way. My quirk is - ah, right, it doesn't matter here. Nice to meet you!"

Grey eyes narrow slightly, "Why do you call me that?"

Cooper tilted his head, "What, Ghost?" at Kirito's nod he shrugged slightly, "Well, you're kind of the local legend. People are still trying to figure out if you are real or not. Like, some people think you're some kind of wandering NPC, but no one knows for sure." A quick glance down at Kirito's sword had him shaking his head slightly, "It looks to me like you're just another player, though. NPC's can't respond like you can. Most of the time. You're not an NPC, right? Ah, who am I kidding, if you were you wouldn't even know!"

Kirito swallowed softly and wet his dry lips as he considered Cooper's words, and then sighed, "You talk too much."

Cooper froze in the middle of rubbing the back of his neck and then laughed again, "I guess so! Tell me, kind stranger, may I have your name?"

Kirito considers, for a moment, just walking away. But this is the first person he's spoken to in . . . in weeks? Days? Time has become a little blurry. "Kirito."

"Hello Kirito!" The grin Cooper wears is bigger than it should be, Kirito things, but doesn't say anything, "Like I said, the name's Cooper! By the way, you didn't really tell me, but why are you here?"

There is a moment of silence before Kirito sighs, "Hunting for monsters. Like always."

"Ah," Cooper blinks, as if caught off guard, and then his smile comes back full force, "Well so am I! I am trying to collect the flowers from the Little Nepenthes. Do you want to help? I will split the drops! Does half and half sound okay?"

Not really, no. Kirito already has several of those flowers stored away in his inventory. He doesn't need any more.

Something in the distant corner of his mind whispers that the flowers are important, but he hasn't been listening to that side of himself for a while. It's what got him in this situation in the first place.

However, just being able to speak with someone else . . . Kirito feels more alive than he has in quite some time. More grounded. Here.

I exist. I am alive. I exist and I am alive to more than just me.

He shouldn't get close to anyone. He shouldn't - can't - make friends. He can't lose anyone else. But . . . maybe . . . maybe just a few more hours with someone else will be good for him.

"Okay," his lips crack slightly from how dry they have become, and he notes to seek out a stream after this, "Okay, I will hunt with you."

Cooper's smile makes something inside of his chest warm, and Kirito can't help but smile back.

Just a few hours won't hurt anything.

0~o~0

So, question for you all, what would you think if I moved this story over to Archive of Our Own? I have recently become very annoyed with how Fanfiction handles their ads, and I have already set up an account over there. It's just an option at this point, but I wanted to know all of your opinions.

It's been very hard for me to write lately. I just can't get into the mood, or I write a chapter for a random story and then never post it because that means making a new story. So, sorry for not updating in so long. It's probably going to continue like this, sadly.

I hope that you are all staying safe! Please let me know what you think of this chapter! I have an idea for where this is going, but we will see.

(Updated: 8/26/2020)