I don't know a millimetre about Accel World!

...

Friday, April 1, 2039 AD

"...and with that, I warmly welcome the new first-years to Mitsukihara Middle School! Class lists will be sent in a moment, and I trust that you will enjoy growing up into young men and women in this interconnected world!" The Student Council President finished his speech, and bowed slightly to his audience. Light applause followed as a sea of fresh faces nodded and clapped politely.

One boy in particular was hardly paying attention to the Student President's speech. As soon as the 'New Mail' icon lit up in the corner of his vision, he tapped on what appeared to be empty air. The Neuro Linker he wore around his neck responded swiftly, opening up the welcome letter sent to all new students. Gunsou Kihara skipped through everything else and went straight for the class lists, swiping downwards as fast as he could while scanning for his name. When he reached the bottom, he blinked in disbelief and his shoulders slumped.

He turned to a girl with radiant red hair seated besides him. "Misawa," he groaned, "We're not in the same class…"

"Oh, come on," she said, "It's not the end of the world!" Misawa reached over and scrolled through the list: 'Kitamura, Misawa' was placed under Class 1-A, and 'Kihara, Gunsou' had been placed in Class 1-B.

"Look, we're neighbours again! What a coincidence, haha!" she grinned, "Stop moping about it. There's some other people from our old school here too… Hey, isn't this the weirdo guy from G class…?"

Gunsou was barely listening. In his mind, the gods were laughing at him somewhere.

...

The day passed in typical forgettable fashion. The teacher was uninteresting, the girls were chatty, and the boys without friends stayed quiet. Gunsou made a note of the assigned readings - all twenty pages of it - and decided to go grab a snack from the canteen. Although he had only been given 500 yen for lunch, he had saved up some of his own money just in case he wanted some comfort food. All the stores were open and decorated with colourful banners, welcoming the new students, but he took little interest in them.

"Good afternoon... I would like, a... Uh, one warm beancurd please."

The aged stallholder smiled warmly, and scooped out a bowl of piping hot dessert for Gunsou. As he carefully brought the bowl back to an empty table, he briefly recalled his first day at elementary school: when a tall, reassuring figure had held his hand and bought him breakfast in school. After buying coffee for himself, he had shared a bowl of beancurd just like this with the young, 6-year-old Gunsou...

His hands curled into a fist. "No," he muttered to himself, "You're gone."

Pushing that old memory away, Gunsou began to eat, but then a shadow fell across his face and his food.

"Hello! Are you from my class? May I sit here?" A bright, cheery voice asked. Realising it wasn't Misawa, Gunsou glanced upwards: a girl. Smiling politely, her hair in a side ponytail and tied with a flower decoration. Gunsou seemed to recall that she was from his class this afternoon, but couldn't remember her name for the life of him.

"...Yeah, I am. Er.. Go ahead, there's no one sitting here."

In fact, the canteen only had a handful of people apart from the girl and Gunsou. Of all the empty tables that were available, this girl had picked his one. Why? Gunsou kept his eyes down, not really wanting to have to entertain a conversation.

An awkward moment passed. "...Uh, so," the girl said, "Which school were you from?"

"Hamada Elementary." Gunsou replied, "It's close to where I live."

"Oh? Isn't that on the other side of town?" She asked.

Gunsou shook his head. "No it isn't, you're probably confusing it with another school. A lot of them have merged or changed names; it might be confusing."

The girl nodded in understanding. "Ahh, I'm sorry about that. I'm not quite familiar with the city yet, because I just moved here from Hokkaido last year."

Gunsou nodded silently. I'm not going to pretend I know any better than her, he thought.

"Ah- I haven't introduced myself!" she giggled nervously. "I'm Mikiseki. Gekkagawa Mikiseki. N-Nice to meet you...?"

"Kihara," Gunsou said. "I'm Gunsou Kihara. Nice to meet you too."

"'Kihara'? How do you write that?" Mikiseki asked.

"Well, um..." Gunsou thought, "You just take the word for 'tree' and 'source' and put them together for my family name. And my first name is just the words for 'group' and 'strength.'"

Mikiseki traced the letters in midair. "Kihara... Gunsou... That's a nice name you have there! Your parents were very thoughtful people, weren't they?"

Gunsou felt his cheeks colour a little. "Y-Yeah, they were."

A moment passed. Gunsou looked from side to side, wondering if he should say something. "H-Hey, what about your name-?"

He never got to finish his question. Just as he spoke, a familiar figure appeared besides them. "Oi, Gunsou!" Misawa snapped, "I thought you were going to meet after class!"

"I was hungry!" Gunsou said, "And you didn't reply my text or anything, so..."

"Oh well, it's fine," Misawa sighed, and eyed the half-eaten cup of beancurd. "I'm taking the rest, then!"

Mikiseki watched wide-eyed at the casual manner in which Misawa sat down next to Gunsou, and asked, "Are you two... friends?"

"Yeah," they replied together. "This dude over here," Misawa jerked a thumb towards Gunsou, "Lives next to me. We went to elementary school together."

"Ah, so you must be real close then! I have a few childhood friends too, but unfortunately they're all back home..." Mikiseki said sadly.

"'Back home?'" Misawa asked, "Did you move here from somewhere?"

Mikiseki smiled fondly. "Yes! I moved here from Hokkaido just a few months ago..."

The girls erupted into noisy chatter while Gunsou mourned his empty bowl. Not that he really minded, but he had bought it with his savings. He propped his chin on his hand and stared out the window for what seemed like an age, on the first evening of the school year.

...

"So, Gunsou, how was school?"

Her fingers poked at what appeared to be empty air as she spoke, tapping numbers and names into a spreadsheet. Gunsou's mother, Mayumi Kihara, sat across from him on the dining table while they finished up their simple dinner.

"Uh... Good, I guess," Gunsou said. "The teachers seem friendly. They talk to everyone."

Mayumi snorted. "They're doing their job, Gunsou. Every teacher has to make their class score well in the exams. They will be friendly, they will help you with homework, they'll do anything short of writing the answers themselves because it's so difficult now. Trust me, I was your age once and I know what it feels like. Listen to them, ask them questions, get a head start! Make me proud and get some good results, won't you?"

Gunsou rolled his eyes. Every night during dinner, his mother would without fail remind him that she 'knew' what it was like to be a teenager, and therefore should listen to her advice on what to do in life. He didn't want her advice now when he had no need for it, and especially when it wasn't particularly useful advice to begin with.

She swiped through the air to close her work, and removed a white Neuro Linker from her neck. "Goodness, using this thing gives me headaches. Aren't you lucky you got one of those when you were born?" She pointed at Gunsou's Neuro Linker, still on his neck. "In my time, we had no high-tech gadgets like that! We were still using landlines for the Global Net connection, mind you. Don't you think you're lucky?"

Gunsou swallowed a mouthful of food in silence and nodded his head. Mayumi looked on her son with a look of approval, and patted his head.

"Eat, enjoy your mother's cooking. It's rare I get to cook at home, or at least not since your father left..." she nearly spat out the word. Gunsou's skin crawled and his stomach lurched. This was another one of those evenings. He had no excuses that could free him from the dining table. As quickly as he dared, Gunsou reached for the remaining porridge and began to gulp it down.

Mayumi sighed and drew her head back. "You know, your father asked me to pay the bills myself again. Look at this!" she gestured at the Neuro Linker, "This morning, knowing full well I have to fetch you to school, he decided to send me yet another reminder to use our joint account to pay. But didn't I tell you before? I contributed all the money in that account. What right does he have to call that money his, just because he made a few tiny deposits? Nothing, I say, nothing!"

The porridge was going to burn his tongue if he ate any faster. Gunsou slurped some soup and glanced at the clock: 8:00PM.

His mother threw up her hands in exasperation. "I did so much for your father, and this is how he repays me. Tell me, Gunsou, did your mother do anything to deserve this?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah, I guess." Just as he put down the bowl of soup, Gunsou's mind suddenly realised the grave error he had made.

"What did you say?" Mayumi snarled. Gunsou's hands trembled, and his spoon fell to the table with a clatter.

"No, I mean, I didn't mean to say that, I was-" he stammered. But then The Volcano had erupted: Mayumi stood up, knocking her chair over.

"'Yeah?' You mean I do deserve this?!" she shrieked, "Who do you think you are?!"

"Mum, I'm sorry!" Gunsou cried, "I was, uh, I wasn't-"

"How dare you side with him! I'm your mother, do you understand? Everything I do is for your welfare, and you- repay- me- with such- ungratefulness-"

Slap, slap, slap. With every word, Mayumi hit her son with her palm. Slap, slap, she knocked him off his chair.

"OUT!" she screamed, "GET OUT!"

Gunsou scurried out the door, not even bothering to put on shoes. A mighty WHAM! shattered the night, and then all was still and quiet again.

He slowly got to his feet, shaking. A fear of not being able to return home lingered, but his hands slowly clenched into fists.

I messed up, he thought. Should have listened more carefully to her.

And none of this would have happened if Dad hadn't left us.

His fingernails dug into his palms and he ground his teeth. In his head, Gunsou began to count: One, two, three, four. He slowly released his clenched fists.

Five, six, seven, eight. He relaxed his jaw, and took deeper breaths.

Nine. The world is not going to end tonight. Everything is going to be alright.

Ten.

He clasped his hands and cracked his knuckles. Gunsou looked at his front door again; while the door lock merely required his passcode to open, he wasn't entirely sure if it was okay to go back.

Fortunately, there was another option. He looked to his left, at a wooden door decorated with paper flowers. They were dusty, but the bright colours and glitter danced in the light, beckoning him to knock. When he was sure that he was calm, Gunsou brought his hand up to touch the doorbell.

There was no noise, of course, when he touched it. Doorbells today transmitted a notification to the occupant's Neuro Linker. And barely a second later, the door swung open.

A familiar sight warmly greeted his eyes. "What's up?" Misawa asked.

"Err..." Gunsou stammered, "I think... I think you heard it."

"Damn right I did. Come on in and let's hear about your FU." Leaving the door open, Misawa spun around and headed inside. Dusting his feet on the doormat, Gunsou hurried inside and gently closed the door.

...

"...And that's why I'm out here," Gunsou threw up his hands, "I messed up."

Misawa, on the other hand, was muffling her laughter into a blanket. "You had it coming, honestly. You wanna bet she's going to disown you the next time?"

"Misawa!"

"I'm kidding."

The two children were in Misawa's room. It was lit with soft yellow light from her bedside lamp, where Misawa was lying down. Gunsou was sitting on the floor, a cup of warm water besides him. Around him, the walls were decorated with drawings, posters of singers and boy bands, and next to the lamp itself was Misawa's apple-red Neuro Linker, charging on its dock.

Her room was their playground and study. Tonight, it was also their sanctuary. As a child, Gunsou had often been left to be babysat by Misawa's mother, and naturally Misawa became his best friend. He would bet no small sum that he had played more in her room that he had in his. In fact, his room was right next to hers, separated by a rather thin wall. They used to knock gently before their bedtime to tell the other it was their bedtime.

"Honestly, Gunsou, there's nothing you can do except to apologise. It was your fault you didn't listen, this isn't the first time even! Your mother is mad and you have to not do that." Misawa said.

Gunsou nodded. "I know. And... Well, sorry for telling you this, I guess."

"Don't worry," Misawa waved her hand dismissively, "I'm happy you came over, in fact! Can you help me with something?"

"What is it?"

Misawa reached into her drawer and pulled out a bottle. Shaking it, it appeared to be filled with a dark fluid.

"Help me dye my hair."

After fifteen minutes of fumbling with the plastic glove, spreading the dye poorly, and nearly dropping the bottle at one point, Gunsou finally got the hang of dyeing hair. He carefully combed the dye across her scalp, making sure it was evenly distributed, and then used the brush to spread it up. With gloves of her own, Misawa spread the dye to the ends of her radiant red hair, until it was uniformly black.

Apparently, her teacher had disapproved of her in her very first lesson, and told her 'to mind the way she attired herself.' Nothing else was wrong with Misawa's uniform, so the only explanation was that he was offended by her natural hair colour. And even though the principal himself had no particular objection, he had eventually supported his colleague when Misawa brought up the matter to him. This left her with no choice but to dye her hair.

Trying to take her mind off the subject, Misawa asked Gunsou, "So, who was that girl you were talking to earlier?"

"Huh? Oh, um," Gunsou said, "She's a classmate, I think. I don't really know her that much."

"She laid out half her life story before us, and you don't really know her that much?" Misawa snarked. "Does deafness run in your family?"

"I was actually wondering how much could I charge you for stealing my beancurd."

"Your head is about as empty as the bowl afterwards, I swear," Misawa scoffed. "She told us she moved from Hokkaido, and has hardly any friends here. She thought she recognised you at first, but it turned out to be a mistake."

"Uh huh." Gunsou carefully moved the comb through a knot of hair. "No wonder she wanted to sit with me."

"Sure the name 'Mikiseki' doesn't ring any bells? Hmm?"

"No, I don't know her," Gunsou huffed, "I've never seen her before in my life."

"If you said you never heard her, I'd believe you." Misawa quipped. She giggled as Gunsou bopped her on her shoulder in retaliation.

"What kind of a name is 'Mikiseki' anyway?" he said, "It's so weird! Doesn't sound like any kanji we've learnt."

"Ah, she said so earlier too. Her family name is written as 'River Under the Moon,'" Misawa traced the words in midair, "And her first name is basically, 'Beautiful Miracle.' Someone either sucks at naming girls, or has really high hopes pinned on her."

"Strange indeed," Gunsou shrugged. "Alright, that's the last of it. Just left with the ends..."

As he put aside the empty bottle, he caught a strong whiff of the chemical dye and wrinkled his nose. "I'm going to miss your old hair, Misawa," Gunsou said.

"Me too." she murmured softly.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Gunsou could hardly recognise his childhood friend. The black hair was still wet with dye and left streaks on his forearms. It reached down to Misawa's shoulders and threatened to make a mess of the white towel she had put over her shoulders.

"That's all, thanks for helping me out. You'd better get back," Misawa added, as she glanced at the bathroom clock. "It's almost your bedtime."

Gunsou nodded and yawned. The fatigue was straining his back with the prolonged period of standing. He tugged off the plastic glove and tossed it into the dustbin, but something tugged at his mind before he could leave.

"Misawa, I..." he began. This close to her, he momentarily forgot what he was about to say as he locked gazes with her warm brown eyes.

"Umm... Thank you, I-I'm really grateful you were here to listen to me. I-I'll try to talk to her later, okay-?" he stammered.

Misawa gently patted his shoulder. "It's alright. Everything's going to be okay," She said as she smiled softly. Her warm hand squeezed his shoulder tightly.

...

The house was dark when he entered. Gunsou sniffed - he caught a hint of cheap Sapporo beer.

His mother was asleep in her room, the moonlight falling across her face. An empty can dangled precariously from her fingertips. Moving on autopilot, Gunsou carefully plucked the can from her grasp and left to toss it in the trash can. Another empty can was already inside it.

Going back to his mother's room, his throat suddenly felt dry. What should he say? Would his mother even be in the mood to listen to his apology? What if she was actually dead drunk?

He resolved to do the next best thing: closing her curtains, he adjusted the air conditioner and pulled her comforter over her. As bravely as he could, he said in a small voice, "Goodnight, Mum."

If she heard it, there was no indication that she did. Gunsou left her room to go shower and get ready for bed.

The time was 10:30PM when he laid down in on his squeaky spring mattress. Would she be awake, he wondered. He brought up his knuckles and knocked softly on the wall: two knocks, a pause, and then two more knocks. Goodnight, Misawa.

Three seconds passed before three knocks sounded. Tap, tap tap.

Goodnight, Gunsou.

Gunsou smiled. He turned over and closed his eyes.

...

to be continued.

...

Author's notes:
Hello everyone, I'm Tusjecht, and thank you for reading the first chapter of I don't know a millimetre about Accel World!

I began writing this because I have been having second thoughts about how the story began in my first iteration. A friend taught me that a tragic backstory doesn't and won't work if your character isn't believable. When he isn't believable, there's no connection between the reader and the story. The message he's trying to tell will become lost in translation.

So here's my new attempt at writing an original story within Accel World's universe. I want to connect with the reader about real issues children face, and to show that in our story, it isn't only the game that drives the story. There would be nothing interesting about a character who goes around winning every duel he fights if his problems in real life are never talked about or worse, non-existent.

Here's to a touching story and an emotional read. I hope to update soon, and in the meantime, please let me know what you think of this fanfic. See you soon!

-Tusjecht