Suguha and her brother were enrolled in a local kendo dojo at the same time they entered elementary school. Kazuto seemed to be influenced more by Midori’s job as the editor of a computing magazine—he loved the keyboard more than the sword, and he’d quit within two years. But Suguha, who was only placed in the dojo to keep her brother company, took to kendo quite easily, and she still practiced it now, even after her grandfather was gone.
Suguha was fifteen. Last year, she’d placed among the top in the country at her final middle school kendo meet, and she’d already earned a recommendation to one of the premier schools in the prefecture for kendo.
But…
Suguha had never struggled with her direction in the past. She loved kendo, and it made her happy to please others and meet their expectations.
But ever since the incident that shocked Japan and stole her brother two years ago, a seed of doubt had grown within her, one she could not remove. You might call it regret—regret that she had not tried harder to fill the deep, wide gap that grew between them when Kazuto quit kendo when she was seven.
After leaving kendo behind, her brother had taken to computers as though slaking an unquenchable thirst. As an elementary school student, he’d built his own machine out of spare parts, even doing some rudimentary programming with their mother’s guidance. To Suguha, he might as well have been speaking a different language.
Of course, she’d learned how to use a computer at school and even had one of her own in her room, but the most she used it for was e-mail and web browsing. She didn’t understand the world her brother lived in. The online RPGs he played were even more baffling. She couldn’t fathom ever wanting to wear a mask to hide herself and playing along with other masked people.
When they were much, much younger, Suguha and Kazuto had been closer than friends. But when he’d ventured off to this strange world she didn’t understand, Suguha filled that sense of loss and loneliness with kendo. Yet the more she swung her sword, the less they talked and the further apart they grew, until that became the normal state of things.
But deep down, Suguha still felt that loneliness. She wanted to spend more time with her brother. She wanted to understand his world, and she wanted him to see her compete.
Before she could bring herself to talk to him, the Incident had happened.
The game of nightmares, Sword Art Online. The minds of ten thousand young Japanese had been trapped in an electronic prison, asleep to the outside world.
Kazuto had been taken to a large hospital in the city of Saitama. On the first day that Suguha went to see him, surrounded by cords in that hospital bed with the hateful apparatus stuck on his head, she’d cried uncontrollably for the first time in her life. She clung to her brother, wailing and bawling.
She might never talk to him again. Why hadn’t she tried to close the distance between them? It shouldn’t have been that hard. It should have been possible.
That was when she’d begun reconsidering in earnest her reasons for doing kendo. But no amount of agonized deliberation brought her an answer. She turned fourteen, then fifteen, without her brother. She moved on to high school, following the path others laid out for her, but she never once was certain that she was moving in the right direction.
If he came back, she would talk to him in earnest. She would reveal all her anxieties and indecision and ask for his advice. And two months ago, a miracle had occurred. He broke the shackles of his own accord and came back.
But much had changed between them by this time. Suguha’s mother had revealed that Kazuto was not actually her brother but her cousin.
Her father, Minetaka, was an only child, and Midori’s only sister had died at a young age, so Suguha had no concept of cousins. When she suddenly learned that Kazuto was the son of her mother’s sister, she couldn’t immediately grasp the distance of that distinction. Part of her felt he was infinitely more distant, and part of her thought there was no difference at all. She still couldn’t put her relationship with Kazuto into words.
But…no. There was one thing that had changed…
Suguha swung her sword sharper than before, trying to jolt herself away from that train of thought before it took root. She was afraid of where that would lead her, so she focused her mind on the sensations of her body and kept swinging.
By the time she finished her allotted number of swings, the angle of the morning sun was quite different. She wiped away the sweat on her brow as she put down the shinai, and then turned to see…
“Ah…”
Suguha froze the instant she looked back to the house.
At some point, Kazuto had sat down on the edge of the porch, clad in sweats, watching her. When their eyes met, he smiled and said, “Morning.”
He tossed her a small bottle of mineral water, and she caught it with her left hand.
“G-good morning. You should have said something if you were watching.”
“You looked so serious, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Trust me, it’s all automatic to me at this point…”
Suguha was secretly pleased that they’d been able to manage easy conversations like this naturally over the last two months, but she still sat at an awkward distance from him. She set down the shinai and twisted the cap off the bottle, feeling the cold water permeate her flushed body as it passed her lips.
“Yeah, I guess so. You’ve been doing it this entire time…”
Kazuto picked up her shinai and gave it a quick swing, still sitting down. He looked instantly perplexed.
“Too light…”
“Huh?” Suguha pulled away from the bottle to stare at him. “That’s a true bamboo blade, so it’s on the heavy side. The carbon fiber ones are almost two ounces lighter.”
“Oh, right. I meant, uh…comparatively speaking.”
He suddenly snatched the bottle of water from her hands and downed the rest of it in one mouthful.
“Hey…” She felt her cheeks burn and questioned him in order to hide it. “Compared to what?”
He didn’t answer, placing the bottle on the porch and getting to his feet. “Say, you wanna have a go?”
She looked up at him, dumbfounded. “Have a go? Like…a match?”
“Exactly.”
Kazuto never had much of an interest in kendo, but he spoke as though the idea were commonplace.
“With all the equipment and everything…?”
“Hmm, I guess we could try holding back at the last moment…but I’d hate to see you get hurt, Sugu. We still have Grandpa’s old gear, right? Let’s do it in the dojo.”
Suguha quickly forgot her confusion and trepidation over his sudden idea, and a grin crossed her lips.
“Are you sure? It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it? And you want to face one of the national quarterfinalists? Will there be any contest? Besides…” She looked concerned. “Can your body handle it? You shouldn’t push yourself…”
“Heh! I gotta show off the results of all that muscle-building rehab.”
He smirked and began trotting off to the building around the back of the house. Suguha hurried after him.
The Kirigaya family plot was larger than it had any right to be, and to the east of the main house was a small but cozy dojo. Their grandfather’s will had made it absolutely clear that the building was not to be torn down, so Suguha used it for her everyday practice, and it was therefore well maintained.
They stepped into the dojo barefooted, performed the customary bow, and started preparing for their duel. Fortunately, their late grandfather had been about Kazuto’s size, so he found a set of armor that, while dusty, was a good fit for him. They finished tightening the strings on their helmets at the same time and faced each other in the center of the room. Another bow.
Suguha rose from the formal kneeling position and held her beloved shinai at mid-level. Kazuto, meanwhile…
“What’s that supposed to be, big brother?”
The moment Suguha saw Kazuto’s stance, she b
urst out chuckling. It was absolutely bizarre. His left foot was extended forward, his right foot back. His waist was crouched, the tip of the shinai in his right hand nearly touching the floorboards, while his left hand was merely placed on the hilt.
“If there were a judge here, he’d totally chew you out!”
“Good thing there isn’t. This is my own personal style.”
Suguha resumed her position in disbelief. Kazuto spread his feet even farther, lowering his center of gravity.
Just as she steeled her back foot for a forward pounce that would easily catch his helpless helmet, Suguha hesitated. Kazuto’s stance was preposterous, but there was a kind of ease about it. His defense appeared full of easily exploitable holes, but she felt she couldn’t just charge forward without caution. It was as though he was utilizing a stance he’d practiced for years and years…
But that couldn’t be right. Kazuto had only practiced kendo for two years, from age seven to eight. He wouldn’t have learned anything but the very basics.
He suddenly sprang into motion, as though sensing her hesitation. Kazuto slid forward, still low, his shinai springing upward from the right. His speed itself wasn’t surprising, but the motion was, and Suguha was caught flat-footed. She could only act on reflex.
“Teya!!”
From her open right foot, she swung down at Kazuto’s left gauntlet. Her timing was perfect—or it would have been if she hadn’t hit empty air.
His dodge was impossible. Kazuto pulled his left hand off the hilt of the shinai and pulled it in close to his body. That shouldn’t be possible. Now his shinai shot forward at Suguha’s exposed helmet. She craned her neck hastily to avoid it.
They circled around and pulled back to allow a space between them. Suguha’s mind had switched to a different mode altogether. There was a pleasant, familiar tension present, all the blood in her body threatening to boil. This time it was her turn to attack. She unleashed her best, a “kote men” strike from gauntlet to helmet—
But Kazuto evaded it cleanly once again. He pulled back his arm, twisted his body, and avoided the point of her blade by the width of a hair. Secretly, Suguha was shocked. She was known on her team for the quickness of her strikes, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d missed on multiple attacks in such a spectacular manner.
Now she struck powerfully, in full attack mode. The tip of her sword flashed at breathless speed. But Kazuto dodged each and every strike. Glancing at his eyes through the helmet’s mask, Suguha thought that he saw every one with perfect precision.
Irritated, she came in close to catch hilt on hilt. The pressure of Suguha’s powerful legs and core pushed Kazuto off-balance. Without missing a beat, she unleashed a powerful overhead blow.
“Yaaah!!”
By the time she came to her senses, it was too late. The uncompromising swing caught Kazuto flush on the center of his mask. A high-pitched thwack echoed through the dojo.
He stumbled backward several steps until he managed to regain his balance.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” she cried, but he waved a hand in easy reassurance.
“Wow…I give. You’re really tough, Sugu. Heathcliff’s got nothing on you.”
“Are you sure you’re all right…?”
“Yeah. Let’s call it a day, though.”
Kazuto took several steps backward and did something even more bizarre. He whipped the shinai back and forth, then attempted to place it over his back. The next moment, he froze, then scratched the outside of his helmet. Now Suguha was really worried.
“Are you sure that blow to your head didn’t…?”
“N-no, no! It’s an old habit.” He slumped down to his knees and began untying his guards.
They left the dojo together and headed for the wash station outside the house, splashing water onto their faces to rinse away the sweat. The duel’s transition from good fun to deadly serious had left them both feeling plenty warm.
“You really caught me by surprise back there. When did you get to practice like that?”
“Well, my step is good, but the attack still isn’t up to snuff. It’s a lot harder to re-create those sword skills without system assistance,” he muttered cryptically. “Still, that was a lot of fun. Maybe I should pick up kendo again.”
“Really? Really, really?!”
Suguha hadn’t meant for it to sound that excited. She could tell her face had lost its composure.
“Can you teach me, Sugu?”
“O-of course! Let’s do kendo again!”
“Once I put more muscle back on.”
Kazuto ruffled her hair, and she grinned. Just the thought of them having practice together again nearly brought her to tears with joy.
“Um, hey, big brother, guess what?”
Suguha didn’t know why he had suddenly decided to pick up kendo again, but in her excitement, she was about to reveal her new hobby to him. But abruptly thought better of it and clammed up.
“What?”
“Um, never mind. It’s still a secret!”
“Whatever, weirdo.”
They walked in the back door of the house, drying their heads off with large towels. Their mother, Midori, always slept until noon-ish, so breakfast was usually Suguha’s job, though Kazuto helped alternate now.
“I’m gonna hop in the shower. What’re you up to today?”
“Oh…I’m going to…the hospital…”
“…”
She’d asked the question without thinking, and now Suguha’s buoyant spirits returned to earth a bit.
“Ah, right. You’re going to see her.”
“Yep…It’s the only thing I can do…”
It was about a month ago that Kazuto had told her he’d found his beloved in that other world. They’d been sitting against the wall, side by side, in his room, holding coffee mugs as he told the story in bits and pieces. In the past, Suguha would never have believed you could fall in love with someone in a virtual world. But now, she felt like she understood. What really struck her was the faint glimpse of tears she saw welling in his eyes as he spoke.
They’d been together until the very final moment, Kazuto said. They were supposed to return to the real world hand in hand. But only he came back. She was still sleeping. No one could explain what had happened to her—what was still happening to her. He had visited her in the hospital for three straight days.
Suguha tried to imagine Kazuto sitting at the bedside of his lover, holding her hand, silently calling her name, as she had done to him. Every time she did, she was struck with an indescribable emotion; it was a sharp twinge, striking deep in her heart. Her breathing grew painful. It made her want to hold herself and fall to the floor.
She wanted Kazuto to have a smile on his face forever. He was so changed after his return, so much brighter, that he might as well have been a different person. He talked to Suguha easily, he was shockingly kind, and he didn’t seem to be forcing himself to do it. It was as though they were back to their childhood ways. That was why seeing tears in his eyes was so painful to her, she told herself.
But I already know…
Suguha knew that when he hid his eyes while talking about Her, the pain that welled in her chest came from another, secret emotion.
She silently called out to him as she watched him drinking his cup of milk in the kitchen.
Big brother, I know the truth.
Suguha still wasn’t sure what had changed when he went from brother to cousin.
But she did know one thing: something she’d never considered before, but which now perpetually twinkled inside of her secretly.
It was the fact that maybe, just maybe, she was allowed to fall in love with her brother.
I took a quick shower, changed, and left the house on the mountain bike I’d bought a month ago. I pedaled slowly and easily to the south. It was a nine-mile trip to my destination, which was a long way to ride on a bike, but it made for good muscle-building rehabilitation.
I was headin
g for the city of Tokorozawa in Saitama Prefecture—a state-of-the-art general hospital on the outskirts of town. In a room on the top floor, she was quietly sleeping.
Two months earlier, I’d ended the game of death that was Sword Art Online by defeating its final boss, Heathcliff the Paladin, on the seventy-fifth floor of the floating castle Aincrad. Just after that, I awoke in an unfamiliar hospital room and realized that I’d returned to reality.
But she—my game partner, the woman I loved more than any other, Asuna the Flash—did not come with me.
It didn’t take long to look up her actual location. After waking in that Tokyo hospital room, I wandered the halls on uncertain legs until the nurses spotted me. In less than an hour, a man in a suit rushed in to see me. He claimed to be from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, SAO Incident Office.
That imposing-sounding organization had been formed soon after the SAO Incident began, but in those two years, they’d been able to accomplish very little. I couldn’t blame them. One wrong move attempting to interfere with the server and undo the mastermind Akihiko Kayaba’s programmed protection, and ten thousand minds could have been boiled in an instant. No one man could shoulder the responsibility to make that choice.
What they could do, however, was arrange for the victims to be taken to adequate hospitals—in itself a remarkable accomplishment of coordination—and monitor what little player data was available to the outside world.
Somehow, they knew my level, my coordinates, and even that I was high up among the “clearers” who were responsible for advancing progress in the game. Which was apparently why, when players held captive suddenly began waking up one day last November, they rushed to my hospital room to ask me what had happened.
I’d given the man in the black-rimmed glasses my conditions. I would tell him everything I knew. In return, he would tell me what I wanted to know.
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