Well, time sort of slipped away from me for a bit XD Anyways, happy holidays to my favorite cinnamon roll :)
(yes, it's the middle of summer, just ignore that :3)
For once, the tables are turned as Rinko wakes to find him by her bed.
Reaching his scrawny arms as a scaffold around her, he helps her sit up, although she's pretty sure that she's still doing most of the work. She promptly headbutts his shoulder with a yawn, eliciting an amused huff. His fingernail traces the new stitches on the tiny new scar he just gave her to hide an explosive the size of a button, before his hand lifts to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Why?" is the first thing she thinks to ask as he hands her a glass of water.
"Why not?" he asks; he's definitely teasing her.
Rinko takes a sip of water and heaves a sigh, drawing back slightly to squint at him. "Did you have it with you the whole time?"
Akihiko's 'I told you so' smile, the one she has always found equal parts endearing and infuriating, speaks volumes, both of his unspoken answer and of how transparent she obviously is to him.
"It was a precaution," he admits lightly. "One that I wasn't truly sure if I would need to implement. Then again, I suppose I should've had more faith."
Faith in what? In her? In her pathetic lack of resolve?
Rinko has to admit that she did not see this coming. When he woke up early in the morning on Christmas, he nearly gave her a heart attack from where she was huddled at the foot end of his bed with her laptop.
"I have something for you," he told her, looking weirdly excited as he nudged her leg with his feet in an almost playful manner.
She narrowed her eyes in a deadpan look that probably made him very proud, as the master of said look. The look turned to a frown when he opened a drawer in the nightstand and held up this tiny thing; she couldn't even tell what it was, especially in the uncertain light.
"...And what is it, exactly?" she asked, supremely skeptical.
His steel gray eyes gleamed. "Your future."
Being extremely tired already and in no mood for his riddles, she stared at him and said flatly, "What?"
She spent all of yesterday decorating the house for Christmas and made grand plans to spend Christmas day working, sleeping, or streaming sitcoms, and none of those plans involved interacting with other people in person. Something was clearly afoot, but being operated on by someone who is definitely not a certified surgeon was nowhere on her list of suspicions. Maybe it was stupid to trust him with a scalpel around her, but she was too busy thinking about what he said to question it very closely, even though the future was the last thing she wanted to think about.
The winter still feels endless, but logically, she knows it will come to an end, as will Sword Art Online. Whether someone clears the game, or the remaining thousands of players' real bodies give out, there's no way it will persist forever.
Still groggy from sleep, she cuddles in closer, wanting to make the most of it while he's here. "How much longer, do you think?"
Akihiko hums softly, the sound scratching roughly in his chest against her ear. "I give it another two years or so. They've done well, but the battles and dungeons after the fiftieth and the seventy-fifth Floors get exponentially more difficult-"
He breaks off in a fit of coughs, and she holds on tighter, reaching to rub his back with one hand silently, glad that he can't see her expression.
"And by that time," he continues, a little more hoarsely, "I expect there will be a reduction in the number of capable fighters as well. The timeline will all depend on whether or not new blood will rise to fill the ranks." With one hand, he drums his fingers lightly against her back. "Speaking of which, I need to do some more scouting for new recruits…"
Reluctantly, she takes the hint, letting her arms fall as he slips away. As she burrows under the covers again, one hand curls over the fresh scar on her chest, the gift he gave her, her key to a future—one that will certainly be without him, by the time it's all over.
All this time, she's been living here, in the present, and far too often dwelling on the past and what once was. She's had no energy or mindspace to spare to think about the future except to dread the returning endless winter that has now swallowed them whole; she hasn't wanted to think about the future, afraid of the worst possible outcomes and that it will all be her fault.
She'll have to move out of this cottage. Maybe she'll move back to Miyagi and find a new job near there. She won't have to drive down a mountain every time she wants something outside of her house, and she won't need to shovel snow every other day for over a third of the year either.
She won't be so isolated, she realizes. She won't be so alone, but she's terrified that she'll be even lonelier than she is now.
o0o0o
The rest of Christmas passes by in a lethargic daze, and she doesn't see him for another few days until it's almost New Year's.
"Red players," he tells her when he finds her in the kitchen working at some ungodly hour. "They've been causing more and more trouble lately."
Rinko "hmm"s noncommittally, eyes glued to the screen in an attempt to force down the nausea rolling in her stomach. Why do people feel the need to cause even more death in a game that's already trying to kill them all?
"Can you check my work?" she asks instead in an attempt to distract herself from the matter of the red players, and how little he probably cares about the bloodshed.
He shrugs a shoulder in agreement, and she stands to let him sit down, electing to perch on the tabletop next to him. Taking one of the blankets on her shoulders, she drapes it over him before pulling the other one tighter around herself.
"What is everyone doing for New Year's?" she asks while he taps away at the keyboard every few seconds.
"We're hosting a gala for the clearers." His tone tells her just how enthusiastic he is about that, to her mild amusement. "Luckily, Asuna-kun is in charge of the planning. She comes from an upper class family in the real world who used to attend and host such events regularly, so she knows what she's doing."
Rinko nods a few times absently, before realizing that she's going to nod herself right off the table if she closes her eyes for too long. She shakes herself, rubbing her eyes tiredly.
His gaze doesn't leave the screen as he asks, "What about you?"
With a tired 'I dunno' sound, she props her elbows up on her knees and her chin on her hands, most definitely not staring longingly at the coffee machine across the room.
"No more extreme mountain climbing?" he asks, definitely teasing her, and she scowls half heartedly.
"I'll probably just watch the fireworks from here or something," she says. They were pretty enough last year, and at least the view is one of a kind.
"You're not going into town?"
"Don't feel like it," she mumbles into a sigh; her fingers are uncomfortably cold against her cheek.
"Why? It's not likely to snow anymore for another day or two. It would be a good time to make the most of the weather."
She just makes a noise in the back of her throat. "Traffic's always bad around New Year's."
"Well, I imagine you're not visiting anyone, so you wouldn't need to go very far downtown, would you? It's usually quieter on the outskirts of town."
As always, his logic is sound, and she hunches lower. "I don't want to."
At her petulant tone, he gives her a half exasperated, half amused look. "You should. I know winter has been hard on you. Maybe looking at it from somewhere other than here or your job will help."
Her downcast gaze flickers to him as he stands up, bracing one hand on the table for support, the other grazing absently over her knee. Moving slowly and methodically, he pulls the blanket from his shoulders and repositions it around her, brushing his chin against the top of her head before disappearing into the dark of the hallway.
o0o0o
He was right, as per usual. The cities are likely congested with traffic, but the outskirts aren't too bad. She finds herself actually enjoying wandering around in the suburban area. Christmas lights are still up, adding to the show as small fireworks regularly pop and bloom overhead on a backdrop of diamond stars. He'd convinced her to book somewhere to stay in town ahead of time, so that she won't have to worry about driving back up the mountain in the dark.
It's not so cold down here compared to the mountains, but she can't help breathing on her hands and rubbing them together in an attempt to warm them nonetheless. Some kids sprint past her, shrieking and laughing in glee, and she dodges them with a faint, absent smile. Most other people are partying, almost always accompanied by someone else, but she's content to just wander alone, knowing that the one person whose company she desires most is too far away to count the kilometers.
Unsurprisingly, he was never a big fan of the festivities, but while she occasionally let it slide on Christmas and other traditional dates—some of which she admittedly also forgot sometimes, though he would never let her hear the end of it if she said so—she never took no for an answer on New Year's. Aside from work conventions, New Year's was the only time that she could get him to put in an effort to dress nice and look pretty, and he soon learned to stop arguing.
Yesterday, he asked if she'd brought her kimono, reminding her that she did not, to her disappointment. Dressing up was about as much her thing as it was his, which is to say, not at all, but she didn't mind the occasional opportunity to look nice. If there's one thing she's sure of, it's that her looks were never what piqued his interest, or whatever it is, in her. Still, there was something in his eyes that softened the last time she'd put on that kimono, and she wants to believe that she didn't just imagine it.
And she probably is imagining this, but the microbomb in her chest feels as though it pulses with every beat of the heart it lies so close to. He didn't tell her that it would never go off; he didn't need to. She's been here for a year already and hasn't spoken a word. If she's being honest, she's not sure if she would care even if the microbomb was a legitimate threat. Maybe it would even make her feel better, if there was a tangible chain shackling her down instead of just sentimentality and a broken heart.
Rinko has joined the mass of people at the local shrine when someone taps her shoulder. "Hey!"
Nearly jumping out of her skin, she whirls around to find a familiar-looking young woman standing there, all bundled up and waving cheerfully. "O-oh. Hi...Amane-san, right?"
Amane beams. She looks thinner, her face a little more gaunt, a little more tired, but she still looks stunning, dressed up and all. "You remembered!"
Rinko would be surprised if she ever forgot how the hiker had nearly sent her into cardiac arrest about a dozen times in as many minutes. "Of course...Are you here with your family?"
"Ah, no, they're at home. They're busy with our relatives. I just wanted to come alone tonight, and I'll go back tomorrow with the family."
The thought of family brings to Rinko an ache of regret and unbidden memories of fireworks, sunrises, shrine visits, homemade osechi, knowing that what made them special was the company she always found herself in. Homesickness sweeps in melancholy waves through her chest as she tucks her arms in closer, feeling small.
Come to think of it, her family's dedication to the holiday was why she was always so insistent that Akihiko participated, too. She would've never been able to bear the thought of bringing him home to meet her parents one day if he didn't at least pretend to care about the holidays—a broken pipe dream now, of course.
Amane is still talking. "I brought a few friends, though. They're…" She looks around, shading her eyes with one hand. "Somewhere. I'll find them eventually. Say, you're not here by yourself, are you?"
Rinko offers an awkward shrug, sticking her hands in her pockets. "No one I wanted to go with could come." It was true enough.
"Oh." Her face pinches in sympathy. "That's too bad. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I sort of prefer it this way." That isn't entirely true, but it's close, more or less. New Year's is a time of remembrance, yet also moving forward. She wouldn't wish for anyone to be stuck with her in the past forever.
With an uncertain smile, Amane gestures vaguely at the shrine. "I was gonna go, uh, pay my respects. Do you want to come with me, maybe?"
It takes Rinko longer than it should for the meaning to sink in; a polite refusal is on the tip of her tongue before it crawls back down her throat to die.
Pay respects.
The realization must've shown; Amane's smile turns a touch bittersweet, and resigned; though she doesn't say a word, the way she rubs the back of her neck in silence and the hairline crack in her expression speak volumes.
Run, every beat of Rinko's heart screams; the microbomb—a safety created just for her while he plays with thousands more lives like disposable toys—burns inside of her chest, searing each breath of cold air she draws in unwittingly.
If Amane knew that her sister is now gone because of Rinko's inaction, she would never extend the same hand of companionship.
But, a tiny voice says, it doesn't change how right now, under the canopy of fiery flowers blooming in a velvet and diamond sky, she is grieving. They both are.
So Rinko nods once in acquiescence, and when Amane's expression brightens, in the way that it can only when it has seen its equivalent darkness, Rinko thinks to herself, maybe…
Maybe Rinko deserves to be alone and miserable, to steep in her guilt in solitude. But Amane doesn't.
Listen, I have no idea how Akihiko got the microbomb into Rinko's chest and I don't have the patience to try and logic that one out, soooooo we're just not going to think too hard about it :D
Fun fact, I started writing this story on New Year's Eve 2020. Honestly can't believe it's been that long O.o time is meaningless.