[July 14, 2169]
**Krrrrnk… tik… shhhhhh—tok**
—"It can't be... It's been over 140 years... That means..."
Kirito remained kneeling, grappling with a shocking truth that raced through his mind, yet a small part of him refused to accept what it meant for him.
—"Asuna. Alice. Suguha. Klein. Agil. Silica. Lizbeth... All of them."
He murmured the names of his loved ones who were, most likely:
(—"Dead... They all died... Died. They all died... While I... I")
**Crack… shhhhhh… plin**
**Krshhh… boommm—tik**
He clenched his fists and then struck the ground hard as if trying to shatter this reality, producing a loud sound. Nevertheless, a life bar appeared that did not decrease but indicated he was protected for being in a safe zone of the world, still giving a warning.
—"What are you doing? Was the date so important to you? Did you forget your wedding anniversary or what?!"
The android said in panic, scolding him, as others turned to see what the commotion was about.
**Clink… fzzzz**
—"Wedding anniversary... With Asuna."
His words, though unintentional, dealt another harsh blow to his already terrible situation, something that filled him with dread about the truth.
**Fzzzzmm—shhhhh**
—"I'm sorry, friend."
Kirito said as he stood up, feeling more emotional and psychological pain than physical from the impact.
—"Are you okay?"
The android avatar asked, seeing the defeated look on this unknown rookie's face.
**Krrnk… shhhhhnk**
Kirito looked at him. His eyes, which had been black in the real world, retained the same deep blue hue he had chosen before being trapped in Underworld, now reflecting the lights of the skyscrapers.
—"Not so well..."
He replied.
His voice sounded strange, and forcing a smile, he continued:
—"But I think I can move on..."
The android blinked, and seeing he was not entirely okay, said:
—"Want to grab something while I tell you the rules of this place? My treat, buddy."
Kirito shook his head slowly:
—"I appreciate the offer, but I have more important things to learn now that I'm here… No distractions…"
The unknown android didn't understand why he had entered NEOSPHERE in the first place if it wasn't to have fun or meet him.
—"Goodbye…"
**Thepm—themp—themp**
However, Kirito paid no more attention to the android. He turned around and began walking aimlessly, searching for a place to uncover the truth about the past he never lived.
*****
**Thepm—themp—themp**
(—"143, 143... 143 years...")
The number repeated in his head like a countdown that never ended. Each of the faces he had stored in his memory as an irreplaceable treasure were now just names in some historical record.
**Thepm—themp—themp**
He forced himself to walk.
The digital city engulfed him. Kirito wandered aimlessly, moving away from the crowded areas where avatars bought and sold information as if it were bread in a market. He needed a solitary place. A place where he could think.
It was night in NEOSPHERE.
Kirito instinctively headed to the outskirts, where the lights of the skyscrapers grew fainter, more spaced out, until they became small blinking dots in the distance.
...
Here, the digital silence was denser, almost oppressive. It was the limit of the safe zone. Beyond that, the world became dangerous for any rookie. But that didn't concern him at all in his circumstances.
(—"I just want to know the truth... I want answers... Even if it hurts like hell...")
He thought as he saw in the distance, silhouetted against a starless virtual sky, a dark figure rising.
It looked like an abandoned building, one that had once been a corporation, with cold, functional architectural lines.
But what caught his attention wasn't the structure itself, but what surrounded it: trees.
Digital trees with elongated, twisted branches that grew from the base of the building and extended upwards, nearly covering it entirely, as if embracing it, as if trying to hide it from curious eyes.
Black leaves and gray trunks that barely reflected the scant light from the virtual stars.
(—"Seems like a good place for privacy...")
**Thap—thap—thap—Thap—thap—thap**
Kirito felt a tug in his chest. That place called to him. He quickened his pace, moving even further away from the city's light.
**Paf—paf—paf...**
**Paf—paf—paf...**
There weren't many users around, but the few he encountered stared at him intensely. There were six, maybe seven, arranged in a perfect semicircle that betrayed years of teamwork. Their postures were tense, predatory, each covering a different angle as if they had rehearsed that formation hundreds of times. In this world where information was the true currency, those professional groups didn't hunt for sport: they hunted to survive and grow stronger.
Kirito recognized that look. It was the same he had seen in the PKers of SAO, in players that lurked in the orange zones. These weren't digital tourists. They were hunters.
He was not afraid of them. His years of combat in lethal worlds had hardened him to the point where those murderous gazes became almost routine. Unlike any common rookie who would have trembled at such a display, Kirito walked among them with a calm he didn't need to feign. He simply ignored them as he passed by, for logical reasons and understanding the thoughts of such people regarding a newcomer.
And what happened next proved him right...
**Krrrk—click**
Just as one of them stepped toward him, their eyes (or the sensors that served that function) scanned Kirito's attire. The black jacket, the white shirt, the simple pants. No valuable weapons. No flashy gear. No data gleam indicating valuable loot.
**Tik**
The user halted.
Another one, further back, shook his head barely perceptibly.
—"Just a rookie..."
Said one who seemed to be the leader, with a distorted voice, not directed at Kirito but at the others—. He carries nothing interesting.
—"This is a waste of time."
Answered another, and they turned around, until the first one who had stepped toward Kirito, with a scoff of disdain, followed his companions.
**Whirrr...**
Kirito watched them cross the digital street without looking back at him.
(—"Quite interesting...")
He thought as he noticed something about them.
The reason he stopped to observe them more closely was that none of them had moved a single finger. They hadn't opened any interface with their hands like in the many other virtual worlds he had visited —including Underworld, which had that feature—. But they hadn't slid floating windows to consult data either. They had simply assessed him with a glance… or something more.
(—"I see...")
Then he understood in an instant.
They didn't need hands. No one here needed hands. So neither did he.
**Fzzzz—tin**
—"I'm going to test that hypothesis..."
Kirito said, stopping, and with a thought about the interface, tried to summon information.
(—"Status...")
After considering it, the information blossomed before his sapphire-blue eyes.
«New. No history. No transactions. No gear. No valuable data. Level: 1. Loot probability: nil.»
---
BASIC DATA
· Name: Kirito
· Race: Human (standard, no registered modifications)
· Rank: Absolute rookie
· Level: 1
· Experience (EXP): 0 / 100
---
MAIN ATTRIBUTES
· Strength: 5. Minimum capacity to carry lightweight objects. Barely enough to hit without causing real damage.
· Speed: 5. Normal walking pace. Running short distances quickly exhausts him.
· Endurance: 5. Can withstand little effort. A couple of hits or a long run would leave him breathless.
· Agility: 5. Basic reflexes. Can dodge a slow blow, but not something fast.
· Concentration: 5. Maintains attention for short periods. Easily distracted in chaotic environments.
· Perception: 5. Notices only the most obvious. Hidden details or subtle threats go unnoticed.
· Intelligence: 5. Basic general knowledge. Lacks training in tactical analysis.
· Will: 5. Minimal mental resilience. Easily intimidated or manipulated.
· Synchronization: 5. Standard connection to the system. No enhancements or delays.
---
UNLOCKED SKILLS
· None.
---
CURRENT GEAR
· Common clothing (no protection, no bonuses).
· No weapons.
· No tools.
· No consumables.
---
ECONOMY AND REPUTATION
· Credits / Data: 0
· Transactions made: 0
· Combat history: Empty
· Reputation: Neutral (irrelevant)
· Contacts: 0
· Access to restricted areas: Denied
---
LOOT PROBABILITY
· Nil.
---
SYSTEM OBSERVATION
«Subject with no prior history. Does not represent a known threat or exploitable resource. Recommendation: ignore.»
Kirito's eyes widened. He hadn't moved a muscle. He hadn't uttered a word. He had only thought, and the digital world had responded to him.
—"So that's how it worked..."
Then he placed a hand on his chin and continued:
—"It seems it's something only I can see and no one else... And for that reason, they dismissed my 'value' immediately... Although this, actually..."
He said, glancing back at where the other users or players had gone, but immediately shook his head.
—"That doesn't matter right now..."
So he continued walking toward the abandoned building, quickening his pace.
Upon arriving, he observed the height of the building and saw how the branches of the trees stretched over his head like skeletal fingers. The facade of the old corporation was cracked, with broken windows flickering with residual static. The main entrance was a black void without a door.
—"So you've been left alone too, huh?"
Kirito said as he entered, touching the doorframe.
He climbed the emergency stairs with firm steps, a metronome of will against the oppressive silence of the abandoned building. Though his rookie lungs burned slightly and the [STAMINA] indicator in the lower corner of his visual field flickered in a tired yellow, Kirito never stopped. His boots echoed against the rusted metal of the steps with a hollow sound.
**CLANC, CLANC, CLANC**
He didn't look back. He didn't look to the sides. Each floor he passed was a small triumph over that initial fatigue only low-level players know well.
Upon reaching the last landing, the scant light concentrated on a single dead point. There it was. A metal door that had once been industrial gray, now painted by rust and moisture in brown and green hues. The frame was swollen, and the door leaf visibly bent and brittle, like a giant cookie about to crumble.
Kirito stopped in front of it. His instinct told him that the doorknob wouldn't turn, so he didn't even try. Instead, he extended his gloved hand and pressed his knuckles against the surface.
**KNOCK-KNOCK… CRRRAC**
The sound was more a creak than a firm knock. At the slightest contact, a rain of scales of dry paint and rust dust fell on his boots. He probed the bent area and felt how the metal yielded slightly under his fingers. «It's completely rotten —he thought—. This can't hold anything.»
Determined, he stepped back and lifted his leg.
**¡THUMP! … CRACK.**
The first kick landed with a sharp direct hit, just below the knob.
The internal wood and metal emitted a groan of agony. A crack two feet long opened like a black wound on the surface. Kirito felt a sharp pain surge from the sole of his foot to his knee. In the transparent interface floating at eye level, a tiny red number appeared over his life bar: -1 HP.
**¡THUMP! … CRACK**
Ignoring the floating warning, he delivered a second kick.
**¡CRASH! … CRAC-CRAC-CRAC**
The bottom panel of the door splintered inward, creating a hole large enough to see the night sky on the other side. But the damn door still hung stubbornly from its upper hinges. The pain in his heel was now a persistent annoyance, but his mind was on the other side.
—"Enough games..."
Kirito muttered, frowning.
—"Haaaah... Here I go."
He took a deep breath and stepped sideways. Lowering his center of gravity, he shielded his face with his forearm and charged against what remained of the barrier with a brutal push using his shoulder.
**¡¡BROOOM… RIIIING!!**
The door disintegrated. The sound was a bestial cacophony of twisting metal, hinges flying through the air, and rotting wood shattering against the concrete rooftop.
Kirito stumbled forward from the inertia and managed to stay upright just at the entrance's edge. The cold night wind hit his face immediately.
The pain in his right shoulder was sharp and real. A warm vibration coursed through his arm to his neck. Automatically, his gaze shifted to the HUD. A small red flash pulsed to the left of his iris. The life bar, which had been completely full, visibly decreased. The numerical percentage flickered: 98%.
—"Kuggg... That hurt a bit..."
He dropped two percent for opening a door with clean shoulders... Logical. He brought his left hand to his sore shoulder and rubbed it with a mechanical gesture while a muffled groan escaped his lips.
But despite the muscle burn, he didn't care. The life indicator dropped, but his determination rose. Without dwelling on the damage alert, Kirito turned his head to the right and ignored the pain to focus on his new target.
Just a few meters away was a stone, wood, and metal bench. It was an improvised lookout, almost hidden by the shadows of the large branches of the tree that embraced the building, where only the dim, silvery light of the stars barely entered. Just enough to see, but enough to sit.
**Thump, thump, thump**
(—"I better sit down before knowing the harsh truth...")
Without looking back at the destroyed door, Kirito straightened up and headed toward the bench. His steps crunched on the gravel of the roof.
Upon reaching the seat, without any concern for how dirty it was, he sat on the moss-covered bench, as one thought changed his whole life... the year.
(—"The world sent me back: to the year 2169...")
Kirito remained seated.
He closed his eyes.
(—"Asuna... What happened to your life?...")
And he thought of the one who he believed knew him best...
So Kirigaya Kazuto thought again of the interface and wished for the information or History of Asuna Yuki from the year 2029 onward...
He took a breath. The cold wind dried his lips.
—"System... Access to public historical records. Biographical search request."
On the floating screen of the device, a minimalist amber interface flickered and displayed an icon of a stylized ear. A neutral, pleasant but completely soulless voice responded:
[—"Central File System online. Unregistered user. Read-only access granted for public domain information. Please specify search parameters."]
Kirito moistened his cracked lips. It was hard for him to pronounce the name. The syllable was a door to a past that hurt like a recent burn.
—"Asuna Yuuki. Search period: from January 2029 onward."
The cursor on the screen briefly spun, transforming into a minimalist hourglass. The silence between the wind and the distant hum of the city grew thick. Kirito expected a denial. He expected a security lock to jump, a notice of "Restricted Access: Level 5 Permissions Required." He expected to have to do what he was best at in the old days: force the digital lock.
(—"I'll have to find a more powerful terminal... or sneak into a private network...")
He thought with some annoyance if that became reality.
(—"If the information is classified as sensitive by descent, I'm going to have to sweat ink.")
But the system's voice interrupted him, halting his spiral of hacking plans.
"Query received. The requested information is outside the standard confidentiality period."
Kirito blinked, disoriented.
—"Outside the period of...?"
["Affirmative," the system continued in its pedagogical and empty tone. "The information exchange protocol 2147-AC states that to receive updated information from the world, a user must previously contribute an equivalent or greater volume of active data. However, records older than ten years are exempt from this mandatory reciprocity as they are considered historical and heritage material."]
The system paused briefly, as if evaluating the batch of data Kirito had just requested.
[—"The data regarding 'Asuna Yuuki' belongs to a temporal range of over one hundred and forty years. They are not considered relevant for active security protocols. No special permission or identity verification is required."]
—"Haaaah..."
Kirito let out a long sigh, one he didn't know he had been holding. His back, which had been as stiff as a board against the cold bench, relaxed a millimeter.
—"At least that..."
He told himself.
—"At least they won't put obstacles in my way regarding the past. The present doesn't matter to me right now, but the past... the past is mine..."
—"Alright..."
He murmured, nodding slightly at the system icon.
—"Give me the available data... images, videos, whatever..."
But the system still didn't show any files. The loading circle kept spinning, but the neutral voice resonated again, this time with a slight tone of administrative correction.
—["Clarification note before proceeding with the transfer of biographical data."]
Kirito frowned.
—"What now?"
[—"The identity record of the sought user experienced a change in marital status in the year 2031. The search name 'Asuna Yuuki' corresponds to her single status. From the mentioned date, the system registers her legally and socially as 'Asuna Kirigaya' or 'Asuna Kirigaya,' depending on the cultural use of the prefix. Both identifiers are valid for the search."]
**Ssshhh**
The wind carried away the sound of the surroundings for Kirito...
Time seemed to stop on that dirty, forgotten rooftop. Kirito remained completely still. The light from the screen flickered slightly because his eyes were doing the same.
—"Asuna Kirigaya..."
His own last name. His last name, yet it wasn't really him...
(—"Asuna Kirigaya...")
The system's words echoed in his mind like the tolling of a bell in an empty cathedral.
(—"She got married...")
he thought. It wasn't a question. It was the acknowledgment of a fact that had occurred more than a century ago.
—"She lived. She grew. She got married... But not with me... and I, I..."
He felt a knot in his throat, rough like the rust on the door he had just shattered minutes before.
**Kugggg, Grhhhr**
He clenched his teeth. A slight tremor ran through his jaw. His eyes, dry from the smog and insomnia, remained fixed on the last word of the system notification.
[—"Kirigaya..."]
—"...Alright..."
Kirito whispered, this time with a voice so low and broken.
An anchor to prevent himself from being swept away by the tsunami of a past that no longer belonged to him, but to history...
—"Continue... Show me the rest. Show me her story... The Story of Asuna Kirigaya..."
The system continued with its narration, a litany of data and timelines that aimed to fill the void of lost years. But for Kirito, the words were a distant buzz, an echo in an empty cavern. His mind, saturated with a pain as ancient as his soul but as recent as a heartbeat, had erected a barrier.
But nothing of the voice really penetrated. Only the images.
The images were knives.
First, it was a mosaic, a carousel of the life that had been stolen from him. But it didn't start with celebration. The system, with its ruthless chronological precision, first showed the beginning of the ritual.
He saw the entrance to the church.
It was a white chapel of simple yet elegant architecture, with tall stained glass windows filtering the golden light of an early spring afternoon. The light wooden benches, adorned with garlands of cherry blossom and white lilies, were occupied by all those he loved. In the center of the red-carpeted aisle, she walked.
Asuna advanced on her father's arm, her face partially hidden behind a veil of translucent tulle that fluttered gently with the breeze that entered through the porch. The dress... the dress was exactly what they had imagined together. A dream silhouette, elegantly scooped, opening into a cascade of layers of organza and Valencian lace. She held a bouquet of pink peonies and forget-me-nots, and her steps were slow, ceremonial, as if she floated millimeters above the carpet.
At the end of the aisle, he waited. The other one. With his back to the altar, hands clasped in front, and a smile that Kirito knew all too well because it was his own. That nervous, happy smile of the boy who can't believe his luck.
(—"...")
Kirito felt a void in his stomach. Seeing the scene was like witnessing the prelude to an execution.
And then the system moved on. The next image was the definitive stab.
**Kuggrr**
It was the kiss.
The photograph captured the precise moment when the priest declared the pact sealed. The other Kirito held Asuna's face in his hands —his hands— with a tenderness that made the real Kirito's soul shrink.
The veil was already lifted, revealing her radiant face, with closed eyes and wet eyelashes resting on her flushed cheeks. Their lips joined in a sweet, reverent, eternal contact. Behind them, cherry blossom petals fell like a silent blessing through the window, and the guests erupted in a
silent applause that Kirito could imagine thunderous.
—"The kiss... The marriage contract..."
It wasn't a blurry dream. It was a cold, perfect image in ultra-high definition of what he would never have. The kiss that belonged to him, given to a ghost with his face.
**Crrrrhh, Crrrrkh**
His fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into the palms of his hands. An involuntary tremor coursed through his jaw. That was the peak of pain. Watching his beloved seal her fate with lips that were not his.
—"..."
After that image, the system continued its visual litany, but Kirito was barely an active spectator. His mind had gotten stuck on the kiss.
He saw the cake, a multi-tiered tower adorned with sugar flowers imitating falling cherry blossom petals. He saw the exact moment when he cut the first slice with Asuna's hand over his. He saw his friends in the gardens of the venue: Klein making an obscene yet affectionate gesture to the camera while hugging Agil; Silica and Lisbeth drying tears of feigned joy, although in Lisbeth's eyes, Kirito recognized that glassy shine, that hint of a crooked smile that hid a "what if it had been me."
He saw Alice, not the Alice from his nightmares in the Central Cathedral, but Alice Synthesis Thirty, standing in a corner, with an expression that was a hieroglyph of duty fulfilled and a melancholy as vast as the ocean they once sailed in their world.
But Kirito barely blinked at them. The kiss still burned in his retina. The ghostly taste of defeat flooded his mouth. His attention, however, was hijacked again as he stopped on a specific image. A group portrait of the "groom's friends."
And there he was:
—"Higa Takeru!..."
The system, perhaps detecting a fluctuation in his heart rate, attempted to narrate something about [—"Higa Takeru, head of the RATH development team, key to the Alicization project...".]
Kirito didn't hear a word. All he could see was that round face and those glasses behind which hid the gaze of the man who condemned him. The man who, with a keystroke and a cowardly panic grimace, cut the umbilical cord that connected him to the real world.
{—"I'm sorry, Kirito..."}
In the image, Higa raised his glass towards that other Kirito with a broad and genuine smile. Kirito felt the acid rise in his throat. He remembered a conversation in the dark before being thrown into Underworld and his death: a whispered threat from Higa while he lay helpless:
{—"They will marry surrounded by their friends and family with big smiles, receiving their congratulations... Including mine, and you? Where will you be when she says 'I do'? I'll tell you..."}
**Crrrk**
His right hand tensed. He wanted to tear the image apart, rip Higa's photon and erase that satisfied smile. But it was just light. Just data. A ghost of a world that moved on without him.
The pain in his chest was not data. It was more than physical; it was a slab of granite crushing his ribs.
**Tick, tick, tick**
Without warning, without his programmed stoicism as the Black Swordsman being able to stop it, the tear duct gave way. A warm tear traced down his cheek, oblivious to the cold of the medical console environment. And then another.
The central image reoccupied the screen. It was the main photograph of the ceremony, taken just outside a small white church with pointed windows. The cherry blossoms were in bloom. It was early Sakura, early 2031, as indicated by the breeze carrying a constellation of pink petals through the frame. The real world had dressed up for them.
And there she was. Asuna. His Asuna.
She wore her light brown hair gathered in a soft bun from which some mischievous strands escaped, caressed by the spring wind. Her smile... was so bright that it eclipsed the afternoon sun filtering through the cherry petals. It was the smile he always wanted to protect. The smile of absolute happiness.
—"..."
And the man beside her held her at the waist.
Kirito observed his own face. The same jaw, the same black eyes, the same rebellious bangs over his forehead. He wore a modern-cut black suit. It was him. But it wasn't him.
—Who did you marry, Asuna?
Kirito whispered. His voice sounded strange, like the creak of old wood about to break.
—"With me... or with your memory of me?"
No one heard him. No one ever knew.
Not even Yui, their pixel daughter and unconditional love, could detect that perfect substitution. To the world, Kazuto had awakened, had overcome the Underworld incident, and had fulfilled his promise of love under the cherry blossoms. Reality was crueler than any Game Over. It was a game he never played, but whose ending credits he was forced to watch.
—"Old memories are replaced by new ones... right?"
Kirito murmured, recalling Higa's poisonous words about human psychology. He was right. The other Kirito had filled the mold of his life with new moments, burying old dreams beneath the sand of a foreign present.
**Fff—fff—fff...**
He shook his head, over and over, as if the physical gesture could reset the corruption in his memory.
**Zzzz—ras...**
He wiped his tears with the back of his hand in a cursed fury.
—"It was a beautiful dream..."
He finally said, his voice broken.
—"Seeing you like this... it was just as I had dreamed. But not this way..."
....
**Glup**
The silence was deafening. Kirito swallowed, tasting the metallic flavor of defeat.
—"System..."
He ordered with a coldness he didn't feel, hiding the tremor in his lips.
—"Skip to the next image of her story..."
Another image appeared. This time it was a beach, a sunset of orange and pink colors. Asuna and the other Kirito walked barefoot on the sand, hands intertwined. It was their honeymoon.
Kirito shook his head slowly and painfully.
—"I don't want to know anything about the honeymoon... Just skip this part already..."
[—"As you wish."]
The system obeyed without hesitation.
Then Kirito found an image that froze him.
It was a funeral.
At first, Kirito thought:
(—"It's Asuna's mother, or maybe her father... It can't be...").
The age Asuna appeared in the image matched the recent one from their honeymoon.
But then he read the data accompanying the image, along with the system's narration.
[—"Memorial ceremony in memory of Alice Zuberg..."]
[Date: May 21, 2031]
[Location: Tokyo Cemetery.]
—"What?!"
Kirito's heart stopped for a moment.
—"It can't be you... Alice!"
Unknowingly, he shouted.
For a moment, he paused everything and searched frantically. News. Reports. Everything NEOSPHERE could offer him.
Attack on RAP (Research Artificial Photon) facilities in the Seto Inland Sea.
[Date of attack: May 19, 2031]
[Target: Theft of Fluctlight technology.]
[Fatal victims: Alice Zuberg (confirmed). Naoki Fujimura (killed on the spot).]
[Case status: Closed. No arrests.]
Kirito read each word with burning eyes.
—"Another attack on Alice's life?"
According to the reports, two employees were infiltrators who had worked at Rath for years, named: Toma Nishikawa (guard) and Aya Shizuki (doctor). They worked for a corporation dedicated to researching digital souls and their transfer between synthetic bodies, from countries unknown to date. Alice, who was in the facilities, resisted capture.
The fight had been brief. The assailants had extracted the Fluctlight from her body, shattered by multiple gunshots to her limbs.
The attackers had fled in a helicopter. Security forces pursued them, but the helicopter exploded over the open sea.
A body was found among the wreckage. Shattered, but identifiable. It wasn't Alice. It was Toma.
The Fluctlight... Alice's... never appeared.
They searched for days. Weeks. They never found anything.
Finally, with Alice's body abandoned in the Rath facilities but with irrefutable evidence that her digital soul had been extracted — which equated to a definitive death, even in a world where bodies could be replaced — her death was declared.
The funeral was symbolic.
Kirito observed the enlarged image. There were dozens of attendees. Faces he recognized among the crowd. Klein, Agil, Silica, with cheeks marked by tears. Lizbeth, hugging Silica as both trembled.
And in the front row, next to the empty grave, was Asuna... And the false Kirigaya Kazuto holding her trembling hand.
She was crying. Not a contained and dignified weeping, but a heartbreaking cry, one that comes from the depths of the soul. Her face was twisted in pain. Beside her, the copy of him had no choice but to hold her tightly, teeth clenched and eyes also wet.
It was the first time Kirito saw that image.
And he could do nothing.
He had been trapped. Locked in Underworld. Sleeping a dream of one hundred and forty-three years while the world kept spinning. While his friends lived, laughed, fought, died.
—"Alice... I'm sorry."
Kirito murmured.
—"I'm so sorry... Hic... For not being there!"
A tear rolled down his cheek. Then another. Soon he was crying silently, head down and hands trembling on his knees.
—"Maybe... maybe if I had been there... maybe I could have done something...".
But he hadn't been. And he never would be.
The case had been closed years ago. "No arrests." "New findings are not ruled out in the future." Clichés that meant nothing. It had never been completely finished, but no one was looking for answers anymore, despite causing great tensions with the countries suspected of such infiltration...
**Grccrr, Gkrrr**
Kirito clenched his fists.
—"I will find out...".
He said, in a hoarse but firm voice.
—"What happened to Alice. Who was the mastermind. Why. I promise you, Alice. I won't let you be forgotten...".
But first, he needed to know more. He needed to understand what had happened to his stolen life.
He kept searching.
Images of Asuna with children appeared. A boy and a girl. The eldest was a dark-haired boy with brown eyes, identical to Kirito when he was little. The middle child was a cheerful girl who had inherited Asuna's brown hair but with her black eyes. Kirito stared at their faces for a long time.
Were they his children?
He had not raised them. He had not been there to see them born. He had not dried their tears when they fell. He had not taken them to school nor taught them to use a sword. That other Kirito had done so. The fake. The replacement.
—"I am not their father..."
Kirito whispered, slowly shaking his head.
Another stab.
He continued watching. Images of birthdays. Of graduations. Of weddings. The children growing up, having their own children. Asuna becoming a grandmother, then a great-grandmother. Always smiling. Always by her Kirito's side.
And then, the gatherings.
Every year, on the anniversary of the SAO release —November 7th— everyone gathered. Klein. Agil. Silica. Lizbeth. Yui (because Yui was also there, now transformed into a young woman with an eternal look). Sometimes Suguha, though she lived in Kyoto and could not always travel. Sinon even appeared.
Kirito watched recordings of those gatherings. Laughter. Hugs. Toasts for the fallen. Memories of the days of fear inside the floating castle. Anecdotes he had lived... but that his replacement had also lived because he inherited his memories.
—"No one noticed the difference..."
No one knew that the man laughing beside them was not the real Kirito Kirigaya.
Each image, each recording, each shared smile was a direct stab to Kirito's heart.
—"No one... —he whispered, his voice broken—. No one realized. No one knew it wasn't me. Because he had my memories. My voice. My face. My way of laughing. But it wasn't me... It wasn't me... Me!"
He wanted to stop. He wanted to close his eyes and see nothing more. He couldn't bear another memory of a life he had not lived, another smile that did not belong to him, another hug he had never received.
But he couldn't stop.
He needed to know. He needed to see it to the end. Even if it hurt. Even if each image tore away a piece of what was left of his soul.
And he saw.
He saw Asuna grow old. Her brown hair turned gray, then white. Her movements became slower. Her smile, however, never completely disappeared. It was always there. Always lighting the faces of those around her.
He saw the day she died.
It was in a bed, surrounded by her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. The other Kirito was by her side, holding her hand. Yui was also there, silently crying. Everyone was crying.
Asuna smiled for the last time. She said something that the data did not record. And then she closed her eyes.
—"You didn't realize... —she said, her voice breaking—. It was very difficult, wasn't it? Knowing the truth of who shared your time... your life... until the end."
Asuna had had a happy life. That was undeniable. And he, the real Kirito, had not been a part of it.
It was March 12, 2101.
Kirito felt the ground open beneath his feet. Asuna had died. The girl he had loved, whom he had kissed under the trees of SAO, whom he had sworn to protect no matter what... had died of old age, surrounded by a family that was not his, beside a man who was not him.
And he had not been there.
He had not been able to say goodbye. He had not been able to hold her hand. He had not been able to tell her the truth.
He saw Asuna's funeral. It was massive. Hundreds of people. All the survivors of SAO who were still alive. All his friends. All crying.
And at the front, the other Kirito. His copy. His replacement. Surrounded by his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Embraced by Suguha, who was now an elderly woman with silver hair. Crying the loss of his wife.
Kirito stared at that image for what felt like hours.
Then, with a trembling gesture of his hand, the system resumed the projection. It was not a fixed timeline but a torrent of snapshots and dates that NEOSPHERE had meticulously compiled. The life of all those he loved passed before his eyes like a river he could not stop.
Klein had married a few years after the Underworld incidents. In the images, he appeared with a warm-smiling woman with short hair, a former coworker from the import company. They had a daughter. At the annual meetings on November 7th, he was always the first to arrive, the one who raised his voice for the toast, and the one who, now gray-haired and slightly hunched, sat next to the fake Kirito reminiscing about the silly things they did in the early floors of Aincrad. He never doubted it. To him, the man with the scar on his shoulder was always his "brother."
Agil had transformed his "Dicey Cafe" into a small franchise. He married his lifelong girlfriend, Kathy, and although they did not have children of their own, his place was always full of young players who saw him as a mentor. In his old age, in one of the last photos Kirito could see, Agil appeared bald and robust, giving a friendly slap on the back to the imposter while laughing heartily at something Yui showed them on a holographic tablet.
Silica and Lizbeth opened a virtual pet workshop and store together in the new Alfheim. Silica, now a confident adult woman, found love with a skilled businessman who liked animals as much as she did.
Lizbeth, more reluctant at first, ended up yielding to the insistence of a patient man who won her heart among hammers and metals. Both had children.
Both aged with their weathered but always active hands, creating and caring. In every group photo, they both embraced the present Kirito with the same naturalness as breathing.
Sinon was the most distant, but not absent. She continued competing in Gun Gale Online tournaments into her old age, becoming a living legend of the circuit. She lived alone for much of her life but in her mature years adopted a girl and formed a small, quiet family on the outskirts of Tokyo. In the videos, she was seen sitting in a corner of the gatherings, sipping tea and watching the fake Kirito with her always analytical eyes.
Suguha moved permanently to Kyoto to run her own kendo dojo. She married a fellow instructor and had two strong sons like her. She was the only one, according to records, who regularly visited the Kirigaya family grave. She would leave flowers for her parents and also for her brother's name. Kirito saw an image of her, now in her eighties, kneeling in front of the family altar, whispering. She still called "brother" the one who was next to her at family meals. Her heart never knew the truth.
But what truly tore Kirito apart was Yui's story.
The data showed how, thanks to exponential advances in Fluctlight technology and the interaction between the real and virtual worlds, a new legal framework had been enacted. Sapient and emotional AIs, born or residing in virtual spaces like Underworld or Alfheim, were recognized as "Digital Humanity."
Yui, the little navigator he and Asuna found lost in the Forest of Memories, had grown up. She had fallen in love with a digital soul, a young programmer and poet who had decided to permanently transfer his Fluctlight to a new pacified world.
In the most surprising image of all, Kirito saw a ceremony. Not in a church in Tokyo, but in a clearing in an Alfheim forest, with graphics so perfect they blurred the line with reality. Yui, in a white light dress, was holding hands with a young man with kind features. By her side, officiating the ceremony, were Asuna and... her copy.
[—"Digital marriage legalized. First case of union between two non-biological Fluctlight entities with full state recognition."] —the system narrated.
Yui had formed her own virtual family. She had lived a nearly normal life, with the joys and sorrows of any human being, within the confines of that data world.
Kirito covered his face with his hands.
—"Not even Yui...".
None of them realized. No one knew that the man who embraced them at birthdays, who dried their tears at funerals, who toasted to old times, was not the one who had lived those experiences in their purest and primal form. They had shared their lives, their secrets, and their final days with a perfect ghost, with a backup so well made that it rendered his absence invisible.
Because no one knew he existed. No one knew that the real Kirito had been trapped for one hundred forty-three years while another took his place. For the world, for his friends, for Asuna... he had never left.
—"They never missed me... —whispered Kirito, his voice shattered—. Because they never knew they had lost me."
He closed his eyes. Tears continued to fall, hot and uncontrollable.
**Thump... Thump... Thump...**
He struggled to stand. His legs trembled.
From the top of the building, he looked out into the darkness. The black abyss of NEOSPHERE, where the city lights faded like dying stars. There was no moon. There were no real stars. Only data and silence.
And in the midst of that darkness, Kirito wondered:
—"Does it really matter what I did?"
He had fought. He had survived. He had killed and saved. He had been a hero. For what? What was the use of all that if in the end...
...in the end he had been erased?
Replaced by a copy. Forgotten by all those he loved. Condemned to wake up in a world where his life had already been lived by another.
Kirito looked at his hands. The same hands that had wielded the Elucidator and the Dark Repulsor. The same hands that had killed Kayaba Akihiko. The same hands that had saved Alice and thousands more.
And now they were empty.
—"Would it be better...?"
He started to speak, but the sentence got stuck halfway.
To end his life. To disconnect. To erase his own avatar and cease to exist. After all, he had nothing left to lose. He had lost everything. His love. His friends. His place in the world. His own future.
Everything had been taken by a false Kirito who didn't even know he was false.
—"I lost everything... —he whispered in the darkness—. Everything..."
**Sssshhss...**
The digital wind blew.
Kirito stood there, atop the abandoned building, staring into the infinite night. Tears kept falling. His heart kept breaking.
But he didn't jump.
(—"No!")
He didn't know why. Perhaps out of habit. Perhaps because, despite everything, something inside him refused to give up. Perhaps because, deep down, he still held a tiny, diminutive, almost ridiculous hope that all of this had some meaning.
—"Alice... —he finally said, in a hoarse voice—. I promise I will find out what happened to you."
It was all he had left. A promise. A thread to cling to in the midst of the storm.
He turned and sat back down on the ground, leaning his back against the wall. He closed his eyes. Information continued to float around him, waiting.
—"There is still much to know. Much to discover... But for now, I just need to know what happened with the person responsible for all my tragedy... Higa Takeru."
---
Something he couldn't forget were those words in his farewell:
—"And you? Where will you be when she says 'yes, I do'? I'll tell you..."
A calculated pause.
—"You will be dead. Erased from existence in this supercomputer, in a mountain of zeros and ones. No one will know the truth that you were ever here, not even her... the person closest to you."
---
Back in the present, he clenched his fists and said:
—"I won't let you be right anymore, damn you..."
Something was changing within him.
**DOOM**
He didn't notice it at first. The pain blinded everything. However, little by little, amidst the fog of his sadness, something else began to emerge. Something darker. Hotter.
**DOOM**.
Fury.
A fury that had been latent since the moment he woke up in NEOSPHERE. A fury that had grown with every image, with every memory of a stolen life, with every smile of his replacement beside Asuna.
And that fury had a name.
Higa Takeru.
Kirito gritted his teeth. Yes. Higa. The mad scientist who had set him up. The one who had forced him to remain trapped in Underworld while his copy lived his life. The one who had started all this. The true culprit behind his loneliness, abandonment, and being forgotten.
—"Higa... —murmured Kirito, his voice sounding like a growl—. What happened to you?"
The interface reappeared in his mind just by thinking of it. This time he didn't search for happy memories or images of his loved ones. He sought a name. A face. A target.
[Higa Takeru.]
[Date of birth: April 2, 1998.]
[Date of death: September 17, 2031.]
[Cause: Not officially determined. Suspicious circumstances.]
[Place: His private residence, Tokyo.]
—"How is this possible?"
Said the real Kirigaya Kazuto, surprised by such a mystery.
Kirito frowned. 2031. Just four years after the accident that had trapped him in Underworld. And according to the dates he had seen before, the attack on Alice had occurred the same year.
(—"This is too suspicious...")
Something inside him told him they were connected. That Higa's death and the attack on Alice were not isolated events. There was an invisible thread linking them, and Kirito could feel it.
—"System, show me about..."
He searched for more information. The details of Higa's death were available, though partially censored. What he could read left him frozen.
[—"Circumstances of death: Higa Takeru was found dead in his residence on September 17, 2031. No signs of external violence were present. There were no traces of struggle in the house. The doors were locked from the inside. No toxic substances were found in his body."]
[—"Key finding: He was wearing a total immersion virtual reality helmet, an experimental model not marketed. The device was still functioning at the time the body was discovered."]
[—"Condition of the body: No signs of suffering or agony were noted. Higa Takeru's face showed a serene expression, almost as if he had exhaled his last breath while sleeping."]
[—"Investigation: The case was closed due to lack of conclusive evidence. No suspects were identified. The official cause of death was not determined. A possible device failure was speculated, but forensic analyses found no technical anomalies."]
Kirito read each word carefully. A strange death. Too strange. A VR helmet on. No suffering. No explanation.
—"It wasn't an accident... —whispered Kirito—. Someone did this... But the question is: who has so many reasons to kill him, besides...?"
His murmured voice stopped at a wild thought:
(—"Besides me... I have plenty of reasons. But...")
He shook his head quickly.
—"No, no, no... That can't be true. I just got here... Too late to be the culprit... The only way would be if I had invented a time machine or something that let me go back to that exact year..."
Kirito wanted to deny it over and over again. But something pulled him toward the most illogical conclusion possible.
—"Am I crazy or what?... That's totally impossible for the me right now."
Kirito, shaking his head once more, continued scrolling through the data, looking for more details. And then he found it.
Additional evidence: Next to Higa Takeru's body, on his desk, there was a handwritten message on a sheet of physical paper. Something unusually anachronistic in an era where most communication was digital. The content of the message was recorded in the police report.
The words were few. But Kirito felt a chill run down his digital spine when he read them.
<"Nothing is impossible KT.">
That was it. Those four words. Written in a firm handwriting, without hesitation. As if whoever wrote them was absolutely sure of their meaning.
The police had never managed to connect those words to the killer. They found no link to any of Higa's acquaintances. There were no prior threats. No documented hatred. They simply appeared there, like an unsolved riddle.
But Kirito, upon reading them, felt they were directed at him.
—"Nothing is impossible KT... Kirito..."
His mind was spinning. Why did they seem familiar? Why did they resonate so deeply in his chest? It was as if someone, from the past, from beyond death, was telling him something. Something important. Something he needed to hear.
He kept reading. There was more. The same report mentioned another sheet, this time with a single fragment of text. Less cryptic, but equally disturbing.
<"Time is controllable in Brain Burst.">
Kirito frowned again.
—"Time is controllable..."
He closed his eyes, concentrating. His mind was racing, connecting dots he didn't know existed.
**Doom**
(—"Time manipulation...")
That was what those words suggested to him. "Nothing is impossible" applied to time. "Time is controllable" as a warning. As if someone was saying to him: yes, it's possible, but be careful.
—"Who wrote this?" Kirito murmured. "And why do I feel it's directed at me with the initials KT?"
He shook his head. It couldn't be. He was trapped in Underworld in 2031. He had no way to reach Higa's house. He had no way to write those words. And yet...
...something inside him told him yes. That, somehow he couldn't explain, that message was for him.
—"How can I control time?" he whispered, almost voiceless. "That's impossible..."
(—"Nothing is impossible KT.")
The words echoed in his head like a refrain. His mind flipped. And then, something happened.
**Doom**
It was a pulse. Weak at first, almost imperceptible. But then it grew.
**DOOM**
It became stronger. More intense. A heartbeat that didn't come from his digital heart, but from somewhere deeper. From somewhere he didn't even know existed within him.
**¡DOOM!**
Kirito put a hand to his chest. The pulse repeated, rhythmic, powerful. As if something was awakening. As if some part of his consciousness that had been asleep for centuries was finally opening its eyes.
And then, the words he directed to his two friends Vaelinne and Lyrielle from Underworld came back to him.
**¡DOOM!**
**¡DOOM!**
Something inside him shone. A tiny light in the darkness of his mind. A flash of possibility that refused to fade.
**¡DOOM!, ¡DOOM!**
**¡DOOM!, ¡DOOM!**
The pulse intensified. Kirito felt as though his chest was about to burst. He grabbed it with both hands, gasping. The interface flickered around him, unstable.
---
—"Knowledge is power."
—"This isn't just the saying 'the pen is mightier than the sword'. No... this is something deeper: knowledge transforms into power."
—"The more knowledge an individual possesses, the more powerful they will be. And that power can be used for good or for evil, to attack or defend, to kill or to save lives... It all depends on their heart."
**DOOM**
A new pulse from that star vibrated in his soul.
---
—"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!"
Kirito felt like his entire mind was about to explode from that sound and the incessant pulses in his head.
And as if that memory was the last drop that broke the filled container, it burst inside Kirigaya Kazuto.
**¡DOOM!, ¡DOOM!, ¡DOOM!**
The explosion was internal.
**¡DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!**
There was no fire or visible light. But inside Kirito, in some deep place in his digital consciousness, something broke. Or perhaps it was released. As if a lock that had been closed for years finally snapped open.
—"¡AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"
A cascade of information flooded his mind. Data he didn't know he had. Connections he didn't know existed. Possibilities he had never considered.
Knowledge was power. And in that moment, Kirito understood that the power he had been seeking was not outside of him. It was within. It had been there all along, waiting.
And then, the world became blurry after that last scream that echoed in the darkness of that abandoned building.
**Plaffff**
His knees gave way. The ceiling, the digital night... everything blurred into a whirlpool of lights and shadows. Kirito tried to grasp something, but his hands only found air.
—"I..."
He managed to say.
But he didn't finish the sentence.
**Thump**
He fell to the ground. His digital body, his avatar, his consciousness... everything shut down like a candle in the midst of a storm.
...
And in the absolute silence of the abandoned office, only the faint glow of digital moss and the distant echo of a scream that no one heard remained. Kirito had lost consciousness.
Light struck his eyes before his consciousness fully returned.
Kirito frowned and raised a hand to cover his face. The rays of digital day—this perfect imitation of a real sunrise—filtered through the branches above the building, drawing patterns of light and shadow on the moss-covered ground.
—"Ah..."
He grunted, while his other hand sought support on the ground.
**Pap**
He slowly sat up. His head was spinning. He had spent the whole night there, unconscious. His avatar had no muscle stiffness or cramps, but something deep within him felt... different: his mind.
(—"What the hell happened?")
He thought, rubbing his temples.
(—"What happened to me?")
And then something strange occurred that would mark his life forever.
{—"I lost consciousness. It was inevitable after the overload."}
An answer came. It wasn't an ordinary thought, one that one formulates and then answers. It was different. It was as if another part of him—calmer, surer, more aware—spoke up and responded with absolute certainty.
—"Something changed in me..."
Kirito blinked. The answer had been immediate, precise, and sounded true. It wasn't an assumption or a doubt. It was a fact.
—"But what changed in me?" he asked again in his mind, almost challenging that other voice. "And what caused it?"
{—"'Knowledge is power' was the trigger. However, the truth is that it was the accumulation of past experiences and the heightened current emotions that contributed to this great change."}
The response came as quickly as the previous one, as if it had been waiting for the question.
—"!..."
Kirito sat in silence on the ground, processing what had just happened. He was talking to himself. As if his mind had split into two streams of thought working in perfect sync.
And then he noticed it.
His reasoning was faster. Much faster. Thoughts flowed like water, effortlessly, without stumbling. He could analyze an idea, break it down into parts, examine it from all angles, and reassemble it in a fraction of a second. What would have taken him minutes of concentration before now occurred naturally, almost automatically.
He was beginning to understand the world at a speed he could never have imagined.
—"This doesn't seem real..."
{—"But it is, without a doubt."}
Kirito shook his head, still processing the astonishment. But there was no time for surprise. He had to decide.
—"What should I do now?" he wondered. "What should I do with this power... if I can call it that?"
And the other voice—his second mind, quick and reasonable—responded without hesitation:
{—"Seek knowledge. Seek power. If you lost everything, you must reclaim what you can and forge your own path... Our new future..."}
—"That's..."
Kirito nodded slowly. It made sense. He couldn't recover Asuna. He couldn't recover his friends. He couldn't recover the one hundred and forty-three years that had been stolen from him. But he could recover something. He could build something new. He could...
And he would.
—"I won't let them take anything else from me in this new life."
Unbeknownst to him, his sapphire blue eyes were as sharp as a hungry hunter ready for action when his life regained purpose.