Chapter 8: Thin Red Line
Day 7
A village stood in the clearing ahead, idyllic huts and cottages clustered around a square, reminding him of his vague memories of Rulid. For hours since dawn, they had followed the stream until it became a river, and it had led them to the depths of the valley at dusk, where the rays of hope and salvation glittered under the setting sun.
Three deaths in six days - that was how much it had cost to bring them to where they were. Yet all that was about to end as they were nearly back to civilisation, no longer having to shiver and starve in the cold or fight wolves in the snow.
Rika, Keiko, Yukinoshita-san, we made it, thanks to you.
"Finally, some real food," Suguha almost cried, falling to her knees, "No more chilled vegetables, cold rice or frosty potatoes, ever."
"No more aircraft snacks either," Shino echoed, not that they had any provisions left other than more wolf meat than anyone would ever want in their lives.
"One Maxx Coffee please," mumbled the dead-fish eyed loner, rubbing the bags under his eyes.
"Don't forget Saizeriya, onii-chan," Komachi reminded, smacking her lips as she imagined all the dishes she wanted to order, "Let's all go there when we're done."
Home huh, Kirito mused as his friends set their eager sights on the finish line, raring to reach the end of their long and arduous journey, where they had sacrificed so much and lost so many.
Yet he hesitated. What was holding him back? Was it his instincts as a gamer, or mere paranoia from days of mental trauma? Somehow, he found the silence unsettling, as was the darkness devoid of streetlights or any signs of illumination from within.
"Wait," he declared before his little sister could begin her frenzied dash, "Let's be cautious about this. The whole place seems to be out of power. And that could mean that the EMP–"
"What are you saying, onii-chan?" she spluttered, wriggling away from his grasp, "Maybe the village isn't connected to the grid in the first place."
"Perhaps, but they should have diesel generators or solar cells at least," he muttered, motioning at the lampposts beside houses and the wires between barns, "Yet it's completely dark and silent."
He paused as morale instantly sank. Everyone had heard his theories and hypotheses, no, speculations about the EMP and global thermonuclear war, but none had the time, effort or spare capacity to care about the fate of the world amidst their own struggle for survival. Yet here they were, a bloody and agonising week later, having lost a quarter of their members, steps away from the supposed culmination of their torment and suffering, but forced to confront the possibility that the prospects of their rescue could have been but an impossible illusion, a mirage that had long evaporated in the heat of mushroom clouds from the very beginning.
"Whatever it is, it's getting dark down there," he pointed out in the still quiet, forbidding himself from losing hope, "The village may just be abandoned for all we know, but we can't tell for sure. It's best to stay back and observe for the night, we'll make our entry at dawn if the coast is clear."
"Can we at least knock on a few doors?" Iroha suggested, to which Asuna nodded in agreement, having been deprived of running water much less the warm baths that she so craved.
"I know we're all dying to go home, I can barely wait myself," he admitted, turning to head back into the woods, "But we'll have to be patient and careful, because if my hunch is right, contact with other people could either turn out to be very good or very, very bad."
"Aw, sometimes I wish you weren't so uptight," his girlfriend grumbled as she followed closely behind, massaging her temples to prepare herself for yet another meal of wolf meat.
Despite the reluctant groans from his own friends, he decided not to start a fire as they huddled under a ledge overlooking the village, gnawing on cold canine flesh that they had fortunately roasted earlier in the afternoon. Nobody could sleep, glaring at him and staring in apprehension and anticipation at the houses that remained dark and motionless under the pale moonlight.
"It'd be anticlimactic if everything turns out to be just fine," Iroha snorted as she folded her arms, more than a little frustrated at the brooding young man, "Just when I thought that I'd recovered enough for the new school term, we'd wasted another day twiddling our thumbs doing nothing."
"I miss home too, but I kinda agree with Kirito that it's better to be safe than sorry," Yui remarked, toying nervously with her fingers, "Right, Hikki?"
"Yeah," came the half-hearted reply.
"Meh, you're no fun," pouted the light-brown haired kouhai, "We've finally made it out of that cursed mountain, can't we think of some happy thoughts? Like what we'll be doing after we–"
"I'll be heading to the Yukinoshita family home to apologise and pay my respects," he cut her short, not wanting to hear the rest, "If the world hasn't ended, I may even return to mark out the location of her grave for her to be exhumed and reburied properly in Japan. You're welcome to join me, Iroha–"
"Onii-chan, stop!" he did not expect his little sister to shout in his face as the former President of the Student Council got up and ran off in tears.
"Iroha!" he cried, hurrying after her in the darkness as everyone gasped in surprise and confusion, his heart racing with every frantic step. Cold sweat trickled down his back as he found himself approaching the houses in the desolate silence, the soles of his shoes echoing off the gravel as he sprinted down the quiet square.
Damn, she's fast, he gritted his teeth as he looked around desperately for her lone silhouette, only to see her knocking and slamming on doors, tears of anguish and despair pouring down her cheeks.
"Iroha, stop!" he hissed, dashing forward to clamp her mouth and pull her away before she could start screaming in the middle of the night.
He did not expect her to bite him in the hand and break out of his grasp. Unwilling to give up, he lunged at her, only to be slapped away, staggering to the ground in shock as she fell to her knees, choking and heaving between sobs.
"A-All I-I e-ever wanted was for you and Yukino-senpai to be happy. Yui-senpai and your little sister too. But I couldn't even seem to do any of that without messing everything up. Isn't that right, senpai?"
"Iroha, nobody is blaming–"
"You hate me, don't you, for losing Yukino-senpai, for having k-killed her with my stupid, selfish request. A-And here I thought we'd been saved, that the nightmare has ended, that we'd all be able to go home, to go back to school, and you just had to say that."
That wasn't what I meant at all, Iroha.
I just couldn't bring myself to hear you talk about life as if her death didn't mean a thing, as if she never mattered, as if I could just let go and forget her with happier times.
"I hate this, I really do. I should be the one lying in that grave, not Yukino-senpai. What the hell is wrong with this world? What on earth is an EMP? How did we even end up in World War Three when all I ever wanted to do was to–"
"Iroha, we're here together, aren't we?" he interjected, slowly wrapping his arms around her shuddering frame to pull her into a comforting hug, "You don't have to weigh everything so harshly upon yourself."
"W-Will you take responsibility then?" she questioned, struggling to push herself away from his warm chest, "Will you tell me that everything is fine, that you'll protect me, shield me from the ugly truth, that I can continue to live in blissful ignorance and denial?
For a long while he did not reply as he held her firmly in his embrace, never wanting to lose her again in the cold, dark night. She continued to trash around for a good twenty seconds until she finally stopped, too exhausted to move, immersed in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
"I don't know, Iroha, is that what you really want? Reality is brutal, and the universe may very well be absurd and meaningless. In the grand scheme, everything that we've done could've been futile and in vain, but if it's going to make you stay, if it's going to help you live and fight, then I'll–"
"Hachiman-senpai," she stopped him before he could continue, "Please don't say things you don't mean. I don't deserve–"
She froze as he tensed, tightening his grip around her as they blinked in the illumination of a dozen torches and flashlights. An equal number of figures emerged from the darkness, surrounding them on all sides, as if to encircle them, box them in, leaving them with no room for escape.
"Iroha," he assured before she could freak out at the cold gleam of axes and machetes, "They may have mistaken us for intruders. We'll just have to apologise for the ruckus and–"
Before he could finish, rough hands shoved him to the ground, pinning him down, the sharp tip of a blade pressed against his neck as Iroha screamed out of his sight. The same hands dug through his pockets and tore open his pouch, as if to search for weapons and stolen goods, only to take everything from him - not that he had much to begin with, and not that he could care as Iroha continued to shriek until she abruptly fell silent.
"Iroha?" he gulped, his throat dry, "Iroha!"
No, this can't be happening, he whimpered as the seconds ticked by.
"I-I'm fine," she finally stammered as he let out a heavy sigh of relief, "I just thought–never-mind. They took everything but they're looking through my passport now, I-I'm sure that'll help explain things."
"You really gave me a scare back there," he managed to breathe before the blade on his neck forced him to shut up.
Whatever it is, this can't be good. If they're all armed and ready and so desperate to scrape two strangers for resources, does that mean that the world has really–
He was interrupted by shuffling footsteps, followed by muffled shouts as the men surrounding him were distracted, loosening their grip to focus on the band of newcomers. At this point, he did not care who they were, or what they were here for, but it was his only chance, and he took it for himself and for Iroha. Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, he ducked and pushed the machete aside with all his strength, kicking one of the men squarely in the face as he sprung to his feet to sprint towards Iroha, just as familiar voices yelled in accented English–
"Stop! This is misunderstanding. We survivors. Plane crash on mountain."
Kirito, Komachi, he resisted the urge to call out their names as the others approached with sharpened sticks and a makeshift shinai, appearing more like post-apocalyptic bandits and raiders than regular high school students. Nevertheless, he stopped, if only to give everyone a chance to reach a peaceful solution before he flipped the tables.
In the unnerving silence, he glanced at his assailants. Most were young but some were old, a few were thin while the others were well-built - suggesting that they were most likely local guardsmen or scavengers themselves, outnumbering his group by a dozen to eight. For a good ten seconds, both sides glared intently at each other, sharpened sticks and machetes held high, not willing to yield or back down, until a burly figure in a beret emerged and completely threw off the equation.
Clearly the leader, he pulled a handgun from his coat and thrusted it at Kirito, who forced himself to maintain a steely expression even as Shino looked away, paralysed in fear. The gunman shouted at him in a language nobody could understand, and the young man in black continued to explain calmly but firmly using the limited English he knew that they were survivors who just wanted to contact local search and rescue, not that the man seemed to be able to comprehend.
That was when the other men began to shout and screech as one of them handed their leader a crumpled little booklet, which Hachiman could recognise as Iroha's passport. A photo fell from the pages as the gunman took the document in his hands, his face twisting in absolute hatred as he read the text inside.
No. Stop. This is bad. This is really, really bad.
"Japan. Japanese. They are enemy. Kill them!" came the first words from the gunman's mouth that they could understand.
What in god's name–
Time seemed to slow as the armed men swung axes and machetes at exposed skin and raw flesh, drawing first blood from Komachi who could only raise her wounded arm to block as she lashed back with her stick. Iroha screamed as she was dragged away by her hair on rough gravel, and Hachiman roared like a beast unchained as he smashed his bare fists and elbows into the men standing in his way to reach the girls whom he would gladly give up everything to save.
Alas, he had but one life to offer. He could not possibly save them both, could he?
As the gunman's finger tightened around the trigger, Kirito tensed, half expecting to see the bullet lines as Shino screamed by his side. This was just like that time in GGO, except this was the real Death Gun, with no respawns, retries or second chances, with but a sharpened stick in his hands that would not be able to deflect hot lead.
The gunman's finger twitched in the cold silence.
This is it, Kirito thought aloud as he closed his eyes, the inevitable end.
Sorry, Asuna, Sugu, everyone. Humanity has fallen, and we're the enemy.
Time froze as a shadow flashed like lightning, pushing him away a fraction of a second before a resounding gunshot rang out, drowning out the chaos. The deafening echoes of two more follow-up shots reverberated in his ears as he struck the surface of the street, yelling as a warm pool of crimson stained the pavement.
From the corner of his eye, he could see his little sister fighting for her dear life against five crazed men, blood spilling from the bandages on her arms as she swung at the assailants with all her courage. Beside him, Shino had collapsed to the ground, petrified and catatonic, stricken in pure trauma as she watched the red puddle grow thick. Gritting his teeth, he was about to crawl to her to get her out of harm's way when he stopped, turning to face what he had subconsciously avoided for the past few seconds - the motionless figure with chestnut hair that was sprawled on the floor, the girl who had taken the shot, no, shots that were meant for him, just like how she had taken the stab that was supposed to end his quest on the 75th floor of Aincrad.
He shook his head, hoping to log out of this cruel death game, to wake himself up from this hell of a nightmare, but was unable to dispel the grief and anguish and pain gripping his heart and mind and soul. Had he not promised Sachi and Rika to take care of her, to love her, to protect her, to rescue her from this mess? Had he not vowed to himself - and her - that he would bring them home safely, to apologise to Rika's and Keiko's parents together, to work things out as a couple to close the distance that had slowly but surely grown between them in the bitter, unforgiving winter?
Why then, was she lying on the ground, stained in crimson, quiet, motionless and limp?
Why then, was she unresponsive, ignoring his frantic cries and desperate screams?
He did not know, but at that very moment, something in him snapped. Driven by pure rage and instinct, he found himself on his feet in the very next second, lunging, hurtling, pummelling at the figure in front of him with the full weight of his vengeance. The gun flew and clattered noisily on the ground as he threw his fists at the wretched face, hoping to crush it into bloody pulp, only to be flung back by a surprisingly heavy counterpunch that was quickly followed by another, another and another.
A hard kick exploded on his stomach and he threw up his dinner, only to have another boot crashing into his chest, emptying the air in his lungs. He gasped and choked, not in agony or excruciation, but in abject hopelessness of being torn apart alive, the time that she had bought for him barely lasting ten seconds before it had all turned to nothing.
"A-Asuna," he barely managed to splutter before a foot slammed into his head, knocking him out of his misery.
Mortified, Shino could only watch with her eyes wide open as Kirito was completely destroyed by the man before he could land more than a few punches. She had seen the handgun fall to the ground, dripping in Asuna's blood, and she could not help but hyperventilate in absolute fear and terror.
God, no, not that gun again. Please, anything but that–
All around her, everyone was fighting with everything they had, getting hurt, injured, killed. She saw Komachi swinging with all the strength she could muster, bravely blocking the frenzied swing of an axe with a broken stick that shattered under the force. She saw Hachiman parry a machete with his arms, sending fresh blood spattering across the floor as he ran after the girl whose screams had trailed off into the night. She even saw Yui tussling with two armed men, struggling to hold them off while trying her best not to lose her only remaining eye.
And she saw herself, quivering, trembling, shuddering at the mere sight of blood and a Type 54 Black Star handgun.
Why the hell are you so damn weak, she clenched her fists, biting down so hard on her lip that it began to bleed as she watched the man trudge back to pick up the gun to finish the job.
Kirito - the boy who had accepted her past and understood her trauma, the boy who had protected her by taking a deadly syringe to the chest, the young man whom she had hopelessly fallen for back in that cave and on the bike that they had ridden on, who was now but an unconscious heap beside a pool of his girlfriend's blood.
Somehow, she found herself reaching for the handgun as the man broke into a wild charge. She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to vomit at the horrible images of the man that she had so brutally murdered in the post office when she was eleven, and before she knew it - guided by the memory of her one real experience and the countless trigger-pulls as the top sniper Sinon in the virtual, post-apocalyptic world–
She shot him.
Just as it had those years ago, the blast of gunpowder erupted - louder and more real than she could ever remember, the recoil rippling through her arms as a hole drilled itself through the face that continued to advance with sheer momentum. She froze like a deer in the headlights as he, no, it crashed into her, pinning her to the ground, glops of warm blood and unknown matter splashing onto her cheeks from the gaping wound between the eyes that had remained wide open.
She could only scream at the top of her lungs, holding on to the gun but unable to move or breathe under the weight of the eternal glare, until a pair of bloodied arms dragged her out from beneath the corpse. Startled, she almost shot the person in the head, only to catch herself at the very last moment, panting in mental and emotional exhaustion.
"Relax, Sinonon, it's me," her ears perked at the greeting as a brief glimmer of hope filled her heart, only to realize that it had come from the nickname-loving pink-haired airhead that was trying to pull her to her feet.
"Don't ever call me that," she snapped, refusing the outstretched hand to stand by herself, "It's not for you."
"Sorry, Shino, and thanks for saving us," Yui bowed earnestly, more grateful than anything, "They're gone, we beat them."
"Huh?" she spluttered in disbelief, staring blankly at the fleeing assailants who had abandoned their injured comrades, having seen their leader fall to the gun in her hands. On the supposedly triumphant side, a wounded Komachi was struggling to hold back her inconsolable older brother, while a heavily bruised Kirito and his little sister were both huddled around–
Throwing aside her weapon, she raced over, unable to stop the tears from pouring down her cheeks.
They had won. They had survived. They had lived to see another day.
But this was not the victory she wanted.
"W-We're even now, aren't we?" the chestnut-haired girl mumbled, coughing painfully as she heaved for precious air, if only to cling on for a little longer, never wanting to leave his side, even if she knew she may be hoping for too much.
"W-What are you saying, Asuna!" he spluttered as he tried his best to staunch the bullet wounds on her chest and abdomen, only to bloody his hands to no avail.
"T-That time when you rescued me from Sugou, and when you shielded me from Laughing Coffin, just like how you saved Shino," she reminded, gently clasping his trembling fingers, "And we somehow ended up spending a lifetime in the STL. It was a good, long life, Kirito, I-I'm starting to remember a little."
"A-Asuna, stay with me, you can tell me all about those hundred years every night."
"I'm sure you'll remember one day too, as long as you want to," she giggled ruefully, panting to catch her breath, "Take care of yourself and the others, I'm sure they'd take care of you too. Sorry, Kirito, but I-I don't think I can anymore."
"Asuna, I-I love you. I want to take care of you forever and ever and ever, if only–"
"You already did, Kirito," she said, pulling a soft smile over her lips, "For two years in Aincrad, and an entire lifetime in Underworld. We even have a daughter together. I don't think anyone else can beat my record."
"I–"
"E-Except Alice, maybe," she mused, "If you could revive her and get an android body yourself, I-I guess your love could be eternal."
"Asuna, stop, I don't care about that, I love you, please, I–"
"I'm glad you do, I really am," she cut him short, "But you'll have to choose someone else this time, okay?"
"I don't want that!" he almost yelled, but she did not seem to hear as she closed her eyes in exhaustion, having forced herself to stay awake with all her strength.
"Kazuto," she whispered his first name, knowing that it would be the last time in forever, "Wouldn't it be nice if there was a castle in the sky, where we could all meet again? I'll be waiting with Liz and Silica-chan in that log cabin, but promise me you won't come to see us for a long, long time, okay?"
"I promise," he vowed, placing her hand over his chest as tears streamed down his face, "We'd all have so, so much to tell you when we see you again."
Nodding, she exhaled in relief, never to take another breath, ever. In the empty silence, he froze, overwhelmed with grief, unable to cry any more than he already had - for Rika, Keiko and his one and only Asuna.
"It's time to go, Kirito," a voice spoke up, and he turned to see Komachi pulling her older brother by the cheek, "Before they return with more reinforcements. Even if it's in self-defence, we've killed their leader and wounded a couple of their men, I'm sure they won't just stop here."
Sighing, he knelt beside Asuna's lifeless body, picking her up and cradling her in his arms, holding her tightly to his chest, never wanting to let go as he trudged forward for her and for the both of them. Yet they were not alone as the others followed in his heavy footsteps, and together, they headed back to the shelter in the tranquil quiet under the starlit night.
A/N: Chapter title inspired by the damage lines in SAO. The passing of Rika/Lisbeth, Yukino [Sachi], Keiko/Silica and Asuna marks the end of Aincrad, and we progress to the second arc (Chapter 8 - 13) with Shino's awakening.