'Do not be discouraged. We are gamers. Problems solvers. Laughing Coffin is just another problem to be solved, and they can be solved without ever having to confront them directly. We solve the problem of Aincrad, and we solve the Coffin. Aincrad is a game, and games are made to be beaten. As gamers, this is our specialty. Every day we draw closer and closer to achieving this. Do not let the cowards below distract us from the finish line above us. We fight! We win! We survive!'

-Culverin, giving a rousing speech to his men seven minutes before their collective murders-

Kirito breathed deep through his nose, taking in the pleasant floral scent, and opened his eyes. Before him was the beautiful vista of the Crimson Hills, back when they had been anything worth seeing. Back when they had been more than a series of craters, patches of scorched earth, and grave markers. Fields of vibrant red solstrus flowers blanketed the rolling hills, rippling like waves in the soft evening breeze. The calls of birdsong warbled around him. In the fields, a few dozen NPC workers skimmed along, walking on slim cobblestone walkways as they cared for the crop. A few scattered human overseers strolled this way and that, giving the occasional order or checking their work more closely when needed.

Solstrus flowers were useful for enhancing the regeneration rate of healing potions. An item that was always in high demand, and the flower was a staple ingredient of any player made health potion. Though the Crimson Hills could be a busy production center, the scenery still made for a gorgeous sight. At some distance stood the person he was here for, speaking to one of the overseers. The guild she was second in command of held a majority stake in the Hills as investors, and occasionally monitoring their output was one of her many responsibilities. Spotting him, she gave an inviting, sweeping wave. Raising an arm over his head and returning the greeting, Kirito started towards her. Ignoring the stone walkways, he stepped through the fields, crushing the soft flowers underfoot.

Every step released a burst of fresh aroma. If this were real, the overseers would no doubt have had some choice words for him. As he walked, he closed his eyes again to drink in their scent. He missed these hills. Their sights and smells, the memories within them. The Crimson Hills had been one of Asuna's favourite spots in Aincrad. After several shared strolls through their fields and one particularly adventurous night sneaking into one of the greenhouses, it had become one of his as well. A lopsided smile pulled at his lips at the memory of the aftermath. of flattened patches of flowers and Asuna's fretting over grass stains.

The tinge of smoke tickled his nose as the dry ground began to crunch underfoot. Kirito came to a halt, the parched air blowing in arid gusts.

Stop it. He chided himself. Not now.

Kirito scrunched his brow, silencing the world and started over. Again, Kirito drew in a long breath, smelling more smoke.

Inhale. Count to four. His jaw clenched as he focused, calming himself and the world around him. Exhale. Count to four.

On the fifth such repetition, he got the desired results.

'Better?' Came a dearly missed voice.

Kirito slowly, cautiously opened his eyes, finding everything as it should be. Asuna standing before him smiling warmly, dressed in a simple, flowing yellow sundress.

His expression grew to match hers. Everything was as it should be. "It is now."

The last few feet between them were crossed as Kirito wrapped her in a tight embrace.

Her palms pressed into his back as she returned the affection. "It's been a while."

"I've been busy." Kirito nuzzled into her neck, reminded of how much he missed the soft strawberry smell of her shampoo.

Asuna pulled back far enough that he could only see her face. "You really should sleep more often. It isn't good to push yourself so hard."

He touched his forehead to hers. "If I did that I'd never want to wake."

She embraced him again, setting Her chin on his shoulder. "From your dream within a dream?"

Something about that question struck a cord. It was familiar, yet not. Her body trembled in his arms. No, it was more like She shimmered, like he was briefly holding static.

"What?"

One of Her legs moved forward between his, and She gently pressed the back of Her knee against his. Surprised, he let his leg bend as She pressed Her weight against him, toppling the two of them. Kirito landed on his back, Her atop him. The flowers dampened the impact, but he still gave a slight exhalation at the unexpected development.

Ok, I guess. He thought. Going to be one of those kind of dreams.

She adjusted Herself, straddling his hips with Hers. Leaning Her head down, She stared deeply into his eyes. Kirito gazed right back, bracing his elbows on the ground so that he could curl upwards the rest of the distance and meet his lips to Hers. The kiss lingered for a second until he recognized that something was still wrong. Asuna made no response to his advance, verbal or physical, and when he pulled away, he realized that he could no longer smell Her hair, or the flowers, or anything for that matter. She flickered again, and he had the perplexing sense of...lavender? Asuna was still just staring down into his eyes, probably having kept them open during their kiss.

"Something wrong?" He asked, hesitantly.

She cocked Her head to one side thoughtfully, wiping the thumb of one hand over Her lips, then awkwardly repeated the same motion across his, pressing stiffly enough to push his lip uncomfortably against his upper teeth. "That was...interesting. Mine to yours to mine to yours to mine...Thank you."

Her weight on his hips had turned from seductive to deeply unsettling. As Kirito watched, She slowly uncocked Her head, and then let it flop over to tilt the other way.

Asuna held his head in Her hands, cradling his jaw and cheeks in Her palms. "Four days. It will have to be enough for now."

"What?" He had to ask again. "Enough for what?"

"For me to help you." The breeze had stopped, as had the sounds of birds. Her grip had turned from tender to completely solid.

Kirito couldn't move. A worried look around found that all the NPC workers and overseers were gone. He was alone with Her.

"I don't underst-aaaaaAAAAAAHHHH!" As Kirito had tried to speak, Her fingers slipped under his skin like fat, blunt needles. The pain was sudden and excruciating. Slowly, Her hands worked and tugged their way upwards, jerking deeper as though She was wearing his face like a set of misshapen gloves until Her fingertips were at his temples.

"Relax." Her soft, cooing statement was almost drowned out by his wailing. "Relax, and let me help."

Kirito could feel the digits penetrate through his skull and into his brain, and She was inside him.

.

.

.

.

.

In a flash, Kirito lurched upwards, flailing his arms. After a second's struggle, he'd freed himself from a tangle of bedsheets. He was in a bedroom. He was not alone. Of course he wasn't alone.

"Kirito?" Asuna stirred beside him, startled by his outburst. "What's wrong?"

Her touch on his chest caused him to recoil so fast he fell out of the bed. He noticed that he was naked. This was the night after their honeymoon, of course they were naked. Except, no, that wasn't right. He wasn't here. He couldn't be here. How was he here? Not answering her, he backed away from the figure in the bed, heading for the door, taking no care to his state of undress.

"Where are you going?" Asuna called out to him as she got out of bed after him, perplexed. "What's going on?"

He had to get away. Ignoring her, Kirito opened the door and ran through.

A crowd of people were there to greet him, shouting in unison. "Surprise!"

It took a full four seconds to process what he was looking at. Kirito stood in his living room at his modest house, the entry door behind him. Inside were all of his friends, Asuna, Klein, Agil, Argus, everyone. It was a little impressive that they'd all managed to fit. It paled in comparison to the house Asuna owned in Selmburg, and the home he would later share with her would be a significant improvement.

Kirito might have thought to cover himself, but there was no need. He was, after all, fully dressed. It was October 7, 2024. He'd just gotten back from an errand Asuna had fabricated in order to get him away from his little house long enough to set up the surprise birthday party he had known about ahead of time for weeks.

Kirito could only squawk out a "Huh?"

Klein gave a hearty chuckle. "No need to overplay it. We know you hate surprises. I figured Asuna told you, or somethin'."

Kirito stood there, unmoving, cogitating. Something about this wasn't right. What it was, he couldn't figure out. His head hurt, throbbing as he tried to think. Kirito rubbed at his temples, feeling as though there were too many fingers there, as if that made any sense.

"Long day?" Klein asked. He poured out a cup of something from a large bowl that sat amongst a variety of other such snacks and drinks. "Here, you look like you could use this."

The drink was held out to him, lingering as Klein's expression turned to concern. "Hey, you okay, buddy?"

Kirito took hold of the cup with shaking hands. Something was bothering him, but what was it? He'd been going somewhere, to meet someone, or get away from something. The reason for his confusion was at the edge of his thoughts, but eluded him. "I-I'm fine. Thanks."

The cup was full of something blue with a scent of berries and alcohol. He had no idea what the drink was, but it was quickly imbibed. Unaccustomed to such strong libations, Kirito burst into a subdued fit of coughs.

Klein's smile widened. "Another?"

He covered his mouth as he nodded. "Yeah."

"Happy Birthday." Taking the cup back, he stepped away to make it so.

"Happy birthday." Said Lisbeth, for some reason still dressed in her work clothes, covered in soot and glistening with sweat. She handed him a small, undecorated wooden box, tied with a bow made from steel cable.

His thoughts were interrupted as Agil slapped a jovial hand on his back. "Happy birthday. Got you something, too. No peaking."

In Agil's hands was what was clearly a dagger wrapped in colourful paper. It wasn't even in a box.

"Thanks." Kirito took hold of the gift. He knew somehow that this was a very good dagger that he would have for a very long time.

"Happy birthday." Someone else said. She held out both hands, open and palms up. Above them floated a recording crystal.

"Thanks, Sachi." Wait. Sachi? "Sachi?!"

.

.

.

"You say something?" The question came from Klein.

Kirito had to crane his head around to find out where he was asking from. They were in a room made from solid slabs of grey stone. There were no windows. The floor, walls and ceiling were all featureless. The only things of note were the door, made from gunmetal grey steel, with a small viewing port covered in crossed bars, a fireplace, besides which was a table covered in small, intimidating tools. Next to that table was a medieval style metal torture rack. Presently, there was a single male tied to it, his arms affixed to one end up over his head, and his feet bound to the bottom corners.

The man had already been stripped down to the nude, and soon he would be stripped further. The rack was situated horizontally at about waist height. It was important, after all, for him to feel small, exposed and vulnerable. The only things he wore was an expression of determined defiance, still holding strong, and the tattoo of the Laughing Coffin, placed over his left pectoral. He might have had something to say, if he wasn't already gagged with a tightly tied cloth.

Kirito did not want to be here. The air was too hot, the atmosphere heavy. "Huh?"

"I asked if you said something." Klein was by the fireplace, working the bellows with his feet as he held an iron poker deep in the flames. He was dressed in his streamlined armour, thin plates and leather.

"No." Kirito shook his head. At least, he didn't think he had.

"Then go next door and keep an eye on our other guest." Klein's voice was stern, cold. The iron, its tip red hot, was pulled from the fire as he turned towards the man on the rack. "This will take some time, and you don't need to see this."

Klein pulled the gag free from the man's mouth and tossed it aside. His first action was to suggest that his two keepers fornicate with themselves, albeit with less tact and more obscenities. Next he gave a declaration that he wasn't going to tell them anything. Lastly, he spat directly into Klein's left eye with surprising marksmanship. Kirito, for his part, lingered by the door, observing this exchange for the second time.

"Relax." Klein calmly dabbed the spittle from his face with a handkerchief. Returning it to his pocket, he pinched the tip of the red hot iron between his forefinger and thumb. "I'm only going to ask you one question, and it's an easy one."

The man turned his eyes to Klein's hand, his fingers still pinched around the glowing red iron. Kirito watched as well. He was well aware that his friend was placed far higher up the compatibility scale than he was, yet he made no outward acknowledgement to the iron burning his fingertips, save for the slightest twitching of his lip.

Continuing, Klein gave his question in slow, deliberate tones. "What, is my name?"

A few seconds passed in silence. A wisp of smoke could be seen rising from between Klein's digits, and the scent of burning skin tinged the air.

"Perhaps a hint?" Klein finally released the iron and dug his hand into the collar of his breastplate, pulling the necklace he wore into view. A simple metal cord, with five small glass vials full of something fine and grey.

The man's eyes instantly widened, darting between the vials, his face and back again. "K-Klein?"

The man who bore that name only nodded in acknowledgement.

Forward.

Kirito clutched his head as he felt like his skull was being crushed in a sudden, invisible vise grip.

"Shit, that's Klein!" Someone somewhen else shouted.

A quick survey revealed that Kirito was standing amidst a series of crumbled ruins. Directly behind him was a half collapsed wall. A little bit in front of him was a party of four; three men and one woman of varying ages. Between them, with his back to Kirito, stood Klein. In his left hand was a set of handcuffs, one cuff open, grasped like a claw, letting the other cuff dangle on its short chain.

The soft rumbling of distant thunder brought Kirito's attention to the sky. He shouldn't be here. This wasn't now. These puzzling thoughts distracted him from whatever words Klein and the hostile party were exchanging, at least until a wet crunching and a shrieking howl snapped Kirito back to the moment, turning his head back down to see one of the group had closed with Klein, who currently had the thumb of his right hand bottomed out into the man's left eye so deep as to hold his palm against the side of his face and head.

The claw of the cuff was brought in, and a sound best described as a 'squelching' of ruined soft flesh redoubled the man's cries. Shocked as much as he was, Kirito stepped forward to ward off the man's party mates, though at the moment they looked busy being terrified.

Deeper.

Kirito's foot sank into the rain softened earth. The mud gave way, and he didn't so much sink as fall, the ground pulling in around him like a cloth until he was engulfed.

His boots clicked against the floor as he landed. No, not landed, stepped. Stepped inside his door.

"Surprise!"

Kirito feigned the appropriate emotion, smiling at the group of friends and friends of friends packed in his home. "Whaaat?! Oh, guys, you shouldn't have."

Klein, standing at the front of the gathered party, drink already in hand, gave a wry chuckle. "No need to oversell it. C'mon, get in here."

Kirito obliged, accepting a cup of something pungently alcoholic from his best friend. Once Kirito had dutifully greeted and thanked each attendee, time seemed to slip by as the birthday party progressed. In what felt like a blink, Kirito was sitting in one of his living room chairs. Kirito hadn't even owned living room chairs until Asuna had given them to him a couple months ago in the unlikely event he ever had company. In retrospect, she might have been planning this party longer than he'd given credit for.

Across from him on the other side of a squat coffee table was Klein and one of his Fuurinkazan on an also new sofa, the former of which was presently wrapping up a no doubt exaggerated tale of one of their more outlandish adventures, full of shared mirth.

"So, we pop open the lid to the casket, which of course is empty, but it's got this false bottom," Klein gave a hearty laugh, "and he's hiding inside!"

"Wait," Kirito raised an eyebrow, "the guy that was murdered?"

"Yeah." The other man said, whatever his name was...Dale? "He faked the whole thing as some sort of plot to frame the other guy."

"But why did he get a casket?" Kirito asked, incredulous. "We don't leave bodies."

Klein could only shake his head, sniggering. "Dude, I don't know."

The mirth was contagious. "And why would he hide in it, as opposed to anywhere else?"

Klein could only repeat through his laughter, "I don't know."

"And how was he planning to claim the bounty if he was supposed to be dead?"

Klein at once both heartily stomped his foot and slapped his knee. "I don't friggin' know!"

After a moment of shared amusement at the tale, Klein leaned back and let loose a last, long winding laugh more akin to a hooooo.

"We never did figure out what the goat was for." The other man finished. Issin? Or was it Dynamm? "Or why he painted it red."

"Knowledge not meant for saner minds, no doubt." Klein decided, lounging into the couch. He was about to say something else, but paused. His smile became more lopsided as he tilted his head to get a better look at something behind Kirito. "Whoa. Hello, who's that?"

"Hmm?" Twisting around in his seat, Kirito saw a girl by herself near the window, looking to be wondering what snacks to sample from the assorted spread and purposefully taking her time at it. A bespectacled young woman with smartly cut brown hair, dressed in a long navy blue dress with a pronounced white collar. Kirito was aware that she was fairly good friends with Asuna, but had to think a moment to place a name to her. "Oh, that's Sasha, I think."

She was somewhat out of place at the party, as most of the attendees were in their mid to late teens, and she was somewhere vaguely in her twenties. Old enough to be unwilling to divulge that information lightly, while looking young enough to get away with whichever number in that spectrum she chose. The fact that this put her squarely into Klein's age group did not escape his immediate attention.

"She single?" A simple question that was both sparing in words yet brimming with hope.

In truth, Kirito had no idea. "...Yes?"

"Well," Klein slapped his palms on his knees as he stood up, newfound purpose and determination settling into his features, "someone oughta fix that."

A hand was placed on Kirito's shoulder as his slightly inebriated friend passed by him, stifling any potentially discouraging words he might have uttered. "Don't worry, buddy. Imma fixer."

"Fix 'er?" The other Furinkazaan quipped. Was it Harry? No, didn't they call him 'Harry One'? Was that with or without a preceding 'The'? "You 'ardly know 'er."

It was beginning to bug Kirito that he'd been chatting with this person for the last quarter hour but couldn't recall his name ever coming up. It has to be Ishin...Issin?

"So, what have the rest of you been up to?" Kirito asked him, trying to be polite now that his only real social connection to their group had just walked away.

"It's been quiet lately." He answered. "Issin's been trying his hand at alchemy. Just about burnt his house down. Harry One won a small tourney the other day, feels he's entitled to start being called 'The Harry One' now. Dale's been busy all week. Shame he couldn't make it today."

That just about narrowed it down. Kirito leaned forward, if nothing else to make himself appear more engaged in the now floundering conversation. "And what about you,...Dynamm."

His lips twitched down in a suppressed frown, trying to hide his offense. "It's Kunimittz."

Kirito had completely forgotten about that one.

Kunimittz got up, excusing himself. "And I'd better find Dynamm."

Kirito thought to follow him, but there wasn't much point. Damage was done and he couldn't think of anything to say. Well, crap.

Asuna appeared from out of view, standing to his side and lovingly placing a hand on his head, cupping his cheek. "Having fun?"

"I am. Thanks for everything." He instinctively placed one of his hands over Hers. "How about you?"

"It's been elucidating." She stepped around in front of him, keeping Her hand steady and placing Her other palm against his other cheek. Slowly, Her hands slipped up to the sides of his head. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Of course."

Her smile widened and filled with warmth. "Who is Sachi?"

Kirito jerked backwards, pulled through his chair and flopping onto the floor. No, there was no floor. There was no party, there was no house. There was nothing but the flashing of memories.

In the blink of an eye, there was a quest on Christmas Eve to kill Saint Nicholas the Renegade, and the prize gained from it, useless for the purpose he'd sought it for. There was the Monument of Life, one more named crossed out. One that he'd promised to protect. There was Keita, moments after receiving the news he couldn't handle, stepping over the edge. Ducker, exuberant as he approached a chest that should not have been opened.

A stone golem, delivering a fatal blow to her back as he failed to reach her.

He failed to reach her.

I failed her.

Another person he'd failed to save. Not the first. Far from the last.

There was the echoing of footsteps slowly approaching from a distance. A vision of a figure wreathed in red.

In the span of a heartbeat, Kirito was deposited in an earth tone room, sitting on the edge of a bed and speaking to Asuna. Like her, he was wearing the uniform of the Knights of the Blood Oath, though it still felt new on him. He doubted he'd ever get used to it, and hoped he wouldn't be wearing it long enough to test that belief.

He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes as he explained the answer to her simple, innocent question of why he avoided guilds. Why he'd avoided people.

"I'm responsible for all of their deaths." As he went on, his answer felt more and more like a confession. "If I hadn't hid the fact that I was a beater, they would have heeded my warning about the traps."

Kirito clasped his hands together in his lap. "The one who killed them all, including Sachi, was me."

There was a silence as he waited for her reaction. He sensed no judgment from her, but that was something he could supply himself. Finally, she stood up, stepping over to him and sitting on the bed next to him. A pair of warm, loving palms were held against his cheeks as she directed his face to hers.

The light from the window behind her lit up her hair in beautiful silhouette as he waited for her to deliver what would become a horribly tragic promise, 'I won't die.'

Kirito waited, but she said nothing. Instead, she simply kept staring into his eyes. No, not her, but Her. But who was She if not her?

Asuna tilted Her head to one side. "Sachi: deceased. Correction: who was sachi?"

That wasn't right. Kirito made to pull her hands away from his face, but her fingers were buried beneath his skin as his head began to burn from within.

The room melted, collapsing in on itself.

"No. Who was Sachi to you?"

Another series of flashes. There was a conversation by a city drain, and the promise of protection. There was a meeting with Keita, Leader of the Moonlit Black Cats, and the pledge that he would serve as their forward, so that Sachi wouldn't need to.

There was the first night she'd slept in his room, with her giving the claim that being near him allowed her to sleep more peacefully. That she felt safe with him. A silly notion in retrospect, that anybody could be safe with him. It had been an awkward conversation, and had left him blushing boyishly. It was a possible beginning to something wonderful that had ended all too soon and all too painfully. There was the memory of a time delayed recording crystal, its weight defying its minuscule size.

His mind blinked, and there was the empty void. Nothing in all directions, save for the man in red who drew closer. His face resolved into that of his closest friend.

"Why are you here?" Looking around the void as if it would answer him, Klein asked, "What's happening?"

The reply came in the form of the sensation of fingers burrowing deeper into Kirito's skull. As he doubled over in agony, another flash heralded the world's return.

He was on his knees, forehead nearly pressed to the floor. His face was wet with tears that had already run out. Turning his gaze upwards, he rested his eyes on the Monument of Life. So many names crossed out. It would take less time to count those that weren't.

Between them was Her. Asuna crouched down before him. "You feel you are guilty?"

Kirito wiped at his face. Too many hands were there. He didn't want to answer, but was compelled beyond his reckoning. "I promised to protect her, and she died because of my failure. She would have been better off if she'd never met me. Sachi, you,...everyone."

"Your feelings...you loved her?"

"No, I didn't," the next words were ones that he'd never spoken, even to Asuna, "but I would have."

"You still mourn her." She shifted so that She was on Her knees like him, getting comfortable. "You still hold onto your guilt."

She held Her hand to Her chest. "And you still mourn me."

"I do."

"And you loved me." An obvious statement.

"Always."

Asuna tilted Her head in cogitation. "You cling to these feelings, even as they poison you. Why?"

It was almost a half minute of silence as She patiently waited for him to gather some shred of an answer. "Because of my fear of rejection, Sachi, all of the Black Cats, died. Because of my weakness, I lost you. Because of my cowardice, I lost Lisbeth. Lost or turned everyone else away."

Kirito couldn't help but sob as he forced himself to acknowledge the rest of the weight he carried. "And how many thousands have died, because of my pride?"

She frowned and furrowed Her brow. "I don't understand."

Slowly, he stood up. "Heathcliff. Kayaba. I'd figured it out. I figured out that Heathcliff was Kayaba. I felt, soooo smart at that moment. And it only took a minute to prove how stupid I was."

Kirito couldn't help but laugh at himself. A single, sobbing laugh devoid of any humour. "And I thought I could take him."

His voice began to raise to a shout. "We had the admin, the God of the game fighting on our side! He was leading the charge, our main tank! I knew he had to be indestructible, immortal! Why wouldn't he be? Why wouldn't the god of Aincrad be playing with God mode turned on?!"

She brushed herself off as she stood up as well, letting him vent.

"I figured out all of this," Kirito jabbed his thumb into his chest, "and I just had to attack him, to prove that I was right! Who knows how long he was going to keep up his act! He could have kept helping clear floors all the way to the Ruby fucking Palace as our immortal, unkillable tank, front and center! But no, I had to stab him."

"Huh." Asuna uttered in dull surprise at this outburst.

"I could have kept my mouth shut, told Asuna later. Worked out a plan. Let Kayaba keep his stupid roleplay," Kirito gesticulated wildly as he damned himself, "and I had to ruin everything! And even then, I had the arrogance to think that I could beat him in a duel, in his own game!"

Kirito's shoulders bobbed as he let loose a fit of weeping laughter until he was out of breath, ending in a defeated, rattling sigh. "Every death since that moment is on me. How could I not feel guilty?"

Asuna tapped a finger against Her chin in thought. "Wow. You really messed up, huh?"

The statement was so blunt that Kirito had no idea what he was supposed to say in response.

"Lisbeth loved you." She said flatly. "Why did you choose not to reciprocate?"

He averted his eyes. "I don't want to talk about that."

She bent down and tilted at the waist, twisting Her head unnaturally to keep Her gaze boring into his. "Okay, then. We can talk about something else. Sachi wasn't the first person you felt guilty about. Who did you let down before her? Show me."

Kirito reeled back as he felt another stab in his brain. Another flash of memories. He ground his teeth. The world flickered, settling on two incompatible landscapes, the Room of Resurrection and an open amphitheatre trying to occupy the same space.

"Relax." She cooed, reaching out a hand to brush his cheek.

He slapped it aside, and reality shifted. Both the Room of Resurrection and the theatre were gone. The two of them were back in the flowery gardens of the Crimson Hills.

Kirito clutched at his aching head, feeling as though it were ready to explode. Through his clenched jaw, he spoke in a growl."Why are you doing this?"

She retreated a step, Her rejected hand still outstretched. "I...I'm trying to help. Let me help you."

"Help me?" He asked harshly. He hardly felt helped.

"Yes." She nodded, perking up again. "I want to help."

There was something both incredibly familiar about that phrase, and intensely wrong. He had heard it before, said it before. Something about those four words made it the worst thing to say, but it escaped him.

His breathing grew more and more rapid as he tried to compute this, his tired mind straining against a wall. The air grew hotter, dryer. The flowers surrounding them wilted and crumbled into dessicated dust.

She took a step towards him, worry in Her voice. "Calm down! Please!"

Her words only made it worse, the contents of his skull feeling as though they were approaching their boiling point.

"You need to calm down." She pleaded. "Relax!"

In the distance, at the edge of his awareness, he heard the warning trills of medical equipment, their beeping matching his increasing pulse.

Something tore, or rather, it was like a string being plucked, a rope pulled beyond its limits, fraying.

His will exhausted, Kirito collapsed, falling to his hands and knees. The world cooled.

"I'm sorry." She was getting hard to focus on. It was getting hard to focus on anything. "I'll try to be gentler. Now, let's-"

"ENOUGH!"

The booming, furious command hadn't come from Kirito, but he'd recognize that voice anywhere. Equally surprised, both of them turned to see Klein, approaching with steady, determined strides. As he walked, the ground beneath his feet gave way, the land behind him crumbling into endless nothingness. He wasted no time in closing the distance to Her. In a single fluid motion, Klein drew his katana and impaled Her, pressing the tsuba into Her gut. Before she could begin to protest, to gasp in shock, he made his off hand into a claw and grabbed Her throat, wrapping his grip around Her larynx.

Kirito was still trying to process what exactly was happening when Klein made the claw into a fist, crushing Her windpipe, and jerked his arm back, tearing Her throat out. What might have been a voiceless scream issued as a hoarse exhalation from Her new orifice. Her entire being flickered, a haze that defied perception, save for a brief but now strangely familiar sense of lavender.

Finally, She vanished. There was no burst of pixels or glasslike shards one would expect from a death in Aincrad, nor any fairytale pop. She was simply gone.

"No, she isn't." Klein grasped his friend by the shoulders and pulled him gently to his feet. "Hold still and relax for a second. This'll probably feel a little really weird."

If Kirito had any will left he might have asked just what that was supposed to mean, or what he intended to do, but his weakened mind could only listlessly comply. For some reason the command to relax was infinity more comforting from this source than the other.

Seeing no argument, Klein moved over to his right, turning to face in the same direction so that they were standing side by side, almost shoulder to shoulder. He took a deep breath, held it in a second and exhaled just as deep, shaking his shoulders like he was loosening up. Finally, Klein held his arms down to his sides, then slowly began to raise them back up.

Unexpectedly, Kirito felt his own arms follow suit, his own limbs simultaneously mirroring the motions as if moving of their own volition. As if testing their fit, Klein interlocked his fingers and cracked his knuckles, Kirito's limbs doing the same in perfect snych. Satisfied, Klein reached his hands up to the sides of his head, miming as though he were grabbing onto something invisible.

Kirito felt his hands wrap around something. Two somethings, one by each of his temples. Wrists that did not belong to him.

"Sorry if this hurts." Klein warned.

His friend began to stretch his arms out, pulling his hands to either side and away. Kirito's did at the same time, and he could feel resistance pushing against them. Pulling harder, Kirito could feel something beneath his skin.

He blinked, and Klein was gone. Kirito was back at the beginning of his dream, laying on the ground in the Crimson Hills. She was on top of him, straddling him, hands pressed into his temples, fingers buried in his skull. Once more it felt like his very mind was burning.

With nothing aiding or steering his motions, Kirito reclaimed control and struggled against Her, Her fingers slowly uprooting from his flesh like roots.

Grinding his teeth, he shouted into Her face. "Get off!"

"Fine, then!" Giving up, She withdrew from his skull and crossed Her arms, pouting petulantly.

The sudden plucking of Her digits from his head sent a shockwave through his body.

Kirito's entire body convulsed,

and he opened his eyes.

He'd fallen asleep on top of his bedsheet, lying on his stomach. Spasming, he turned onto his side as he folded into the fetal position. A strong dry heave curled his body further as he fought the urge to vomit despite living in a world where vomiting was not possible for him to do. Straightening out, Kirito rushedly stood up, his eyes darting around the room, searching for whatever had woken him up. There was a deep need to take flight or fight, but he could not tell what from. Sleep had apparently not been pleasant, but he couldn't remember anything he might have dreamed.

He felt filthy.

Still covered in ash and a combination of old and fresh sweat, this was not inaccurate.

Still hyperventilating for reasons he couldn't parse, Kirito stumbled out of the room and into the bathroom. Not bothering to undress, he turned on the shower and stepped in. The ash coating his body and clothes quickly coloured the water running off of him grey. Closing his eyes to keep the grit out of them, he put his head under the showerhead and rested his palms against the wall.

He felt filthy. Nauseous.

Scrubbing himself harshly with his bare hands, his drenched clothes clung to and chafed against his skin. Gradually, the water flowing into the drain became more clear, but he didn't feel any cleaner. If anything, he felt the opposite. Trying to distract himself, he checked the time.

He'd only been asleep for two hours. Two hours of sleep after twice as many days.

Something was bothering him, but he couldn't put words to it. Grasping at it, he could only sense that he'd awoken from some unpleasant dream, but couldn't remember any of it. No, not a dream, nor a nightmare. Something distinct, yet vaguely other. He had no definition to give the experience, nor any detail to help him narrow it down. The harder he tried, the more his head ached.

Exhausted in mind and body, Kirito let himself crumple to his knees, leaning against the shower wall as he began to sob.

The only concept that he could latch onto was the sense of some unknown, yet deep violation, lingering at the edge of his comprehension.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was both behind him, and around him.

On reflex, Kirito lashed out defensively, his wild swing sending his hand into the shower door, shattering the glass. Springing back up and backing into the shower's corner, a panicked survey showed he was as alone he ever was.

"I'm sorry." The voice of Asuna repeated, utterly sincere in Her words. "Four days wasn't nearly enough."

Trying his best to ignore Her, he plucked the shards of broken glass from his hand and wrist, clenching his fist to stop his fingers from twitching. Her next words froze him.

"We can try again later." She cooed, attempting to sooth him and failing utterly.

"Get out!" Kirito shouted to nobody. "Get out! GetoutGetout!"

Free of glass, he roughly rubbed his fist against the back of his head, repeating the command a few more times under his breath. A part of him was aware of how disconcerting this behavior should be. That he'd seen something quite similar to it recently.

Stopping himself, he clenched his fist until his knuckles cracked. Needing to do something, some outlet, he punched the shower wall, breaking the ceramic tiles.

"Why are you doing this?" He whispered. This behavior was so unlike Asuna that it was out of character even for a hallucination of her.

No answer came, but somehow he already knew it.

To help.

Author's Notes: Been a while. New job. The narrative in this is mostly a long fractured dream, and Kirito's perception of it is equally fractured. Hopefully this is pulled off without being completely incomprehensible. Just, mildly comprehensible.

The scene where Kirito is dressed in a Blood Oath uniform and explaining to Her about Sachi is ripped directly from the anime, with a couple of Kirito's lines being copied verbatim to reflect this. A source of guilt that is dwarfed in comparison to others, but is still held distinct and separate. Kirito's failure to protect Sachi made him determined to never fail anyone like that ever again. And then he still did, because he looked at the god of Aincrad and thought, without any planning, 'yeah, I can take him.' And then, like in the anime, he couldn't, except this time he wasn't saved by being inexplicably unable to die. In the anime, there were 6,147 players that survived Aincrad. Multiply the guilt of letting just one person die by a number somewhere around that.

Hints of history with Klein.

Kirito isn't the only one damaged.

Lavender.