Reksinya hadn't always looked like this.

Kazuto could remember a time, in his childhood, when the dust didn't coat the streets. When the houses were painted bright colors; the hue of sand present only in classrooms. When there wasn't a yellow tinge to the sky.

When the grass grew green and long. When every crack was painted over, every child running about without a care in the world. When the playgrounds rang with squeals of joy and not shouts of pain as they were massacred.

When parents didn't have to bury their children…

And when children didn't walk home with their family's blood coating their shirts.

It wasn't that long ago.

But to Kazuto, it felt like years. And for more reasons than one.

As he arrived home-or what passed for a home, nowadays-Kazuto sighed deeply. Having just made it to his doorstep minutes before curfew, he looked at the pitch-black night sky, the only time he could look around and not see particles floating through the air. He hated it when there were no stars. But by the time they came out, he was supposed to be inside, like a good little slave.

Another memory.

Going stargazing in the meadow.

Kazuto shook himself. No more time for reminiscing. He stepped inside quietly, hoping to not wake the other people in the house, not daring to start a light. Finally rid of his bothersome shoes and dirty clothes, he collapsed on his bed.

Four-year-old Kazuto would have current Kazuto's head if he knew that the teen actually wanted to take a bath every night. But it was those little things that kept his head on straight. Without those memories to cling on to, how would he get through life?

Without the stability of a life past, Kirito could never have hoped to kill those 31 knights.

As the moonlight filtered through a hole in the pastel-colored clay wall, he drifted off to a sleep sure to be dreamless; here, there were no was only pain.

Kazuto awoke the next morning lazily, a rare occurrence in a world where he pulled 12 hours at the quarry for the Principality, followed by a good chunk of the night with the RFF. Mornings like these were his reprieve.

Because it meant he had more time with the Freedom Front. He rose from the bed sluggishly, the pensive moonlight replaced with the harsh and unforgiving sun. Whose bright idea it was to put Reksinya in the middle of a desert, Kazuto didn't know.

But he cursed them just the same. A clatter from below restored his senses fully. The sounds of his mother and sister getting ready for work signaled that it was time for him to do the same. Only, his job was infinitely more treacherous.

Kazuto shielded his eyes from the unforgiving brightness exploding through the hole-ridden walls of the Kirigaya home. As he'd thought last night, this place didn't remind him much of safety and love.

He descended the stairs two at a time, classic adolescent impatience winning out against the discipline he was always forced to employ while constructing bombs. Kazuto simply excused this with the knowledge that every other step was damaged in some way anyway.

Kazuto reached the entrance of the house and moved to grab the doorknob and flee when a voice stopped him.

"Ah, Kazuto, I see you're finally awake!"

Crap. It was his mother.

His mother who did not know about him being in the RFF. His mother who would kill him herself if she knew about those 31 Authority Knights he'd murdered. His mother who could not know, because she worked for the enemy. His "mother".

"Ah...hi, mom," Kazuto said, emphasizing the title for his "sister's" benefit. "I was just about to head out."

"I know you are. Where to?" His mother crossed her arms, giving him a look.

Kazuto panicked. Does she know, does she know, oh God does she- "To the...to the quarry. I have to check in with my supervisor there." It was the easiest lie he could come up with.

She gave him a disapproving look before sighing. "And you were just going to slip out without telling me or Suguha?"

"I just didn't want to disturb you. I know you've got work and neither of you can afford to be late."

Kazuto's mother shook her head and turned around to walk back into the living room. "I worry about you, sometimes, Kazuto."

Relief coursed through his veins as he stepped outside the house. It wasn't that Kazuto liked lying to his mother, but sometimes lying was the only way to seek truth. And his mother had lied her fair share of times to him, too. "In my opinion, well more than her fair share," he whispered to himself as he navigated the bustling streets.

For a minute, Kazuto almost felt like a normal 16-year-old, slipping out of the house first thing in the morning to go hang out with his buddies. The world felt like a normal Reksinya. Just another Sunday.

Then that god damn YELLOW came back. It coated everything once more, the rose-tinted glasses turning sunflower. Kazuto resumed his search for his designated meeting spot. According to the message, it was at Location Epsilon, the codeword for the roof of 33 East Epoto Street.

Getting there took a little less time than Kirito had expected, meaning he had some time to look around. From his perch upon Epsilon, Kirito had a view of much of the city, but most of the city did not have a view of him. He took in the landscape, scanning the crowd, the people, his people, and something seemed out of place.

There are too many Authority Knights.

Of the 800 or so Authority Knights in commission at a given point in time, only half were assigned active duty - meaning defending the border, fighting abroad, or administering Occupied Territories.

In Reksinya's case, the only Occupied Territory at the moment, 100 Authority Knights were relegated. Since Kirito had eliminated 31 of them, that should have meant only 69 were present in the city, at the most 80 if the Authority or the Throne had sent in backup.

So why in the name of everything that was good and holy were there suddenly 120 and counting Authority Knights patrolling the streets?

Where the hell had the other 50 come from?

"The mysteries of life abound rather peculiarly." The password was spoken by someone on the other side of the tarp that halved the roof of 33 East Epoto Street. Because no one was to see Kirito's face. Ever.

To finish his part of the password, Kirito responded, "Life is the most peculiar mystery of them all."

"I'm the courier for this message," the person said after a pause.

"Very well."

A few sheets of paper were slipped under the tarp, followed by the rustling of clothes as the courier left.

He picked up the message and made his way home.

Asuna supposed she should be grateful for the education she got; there were few privileged enough to be able to attend school. That too, as a woman!

But she could not stop herself from hating numbers. Mathematics and chemistry must have been created by savages in hell and those who were able to use them were nothing more than the spawn of the devil.

As she collapsed onto her bed after painstakingly completing her final assignment for the day, Asuna cursed her tutor and every one of her wealthy, rich classmates. She preferred the freedom, the creativity, the beauty of simply cooking a meal. Those who were at school with her everyday did not think the same thing. They seemed to prefer the rigidity of classes, the absolution of equations, the staticity of bureaucracy.

If only she had the energy to cook anything today.

She supposed there always was a tomorrow.

After reading the message given to him by the RFF, Kazuto realized that from that particular moment, the next day was no longer a certainty to anyone fighting the good fight.

The Authority had assigned 121 more Knights to Reksinya as a precaution after Kirito had eliminated 31 of them, bringing the total number of Knights in the Occupied Territories to 190.

Granted, they were green and had only just graduated from being cadets, but that meant diddly squat when they were outnumbered and outgeared. This wasn't even counting any of the Authority foot soldiers, with whom the personnel count would rise well into the thousands.

Compared to the RFF's 54 members, the Authority was exponentially more powerful.

I guess it just means I have to kill more with less.