Archive of Our Own

Rurouni Kirito

Twenty-Third of the Month of Holly, Aincrad Year 2504

Rovia's canals were dyed red like blood by the setting sun. The body that fell in, bleeding from both slashed chest and the stump of a neck, made that dye real.

“Listen up!” a deep voice boomed. “I am the Black Swordsman! You're only here, back on solid ground, thanks to me!” A tall figure, wearing a black cloak that billowed in the wind, swaggered down the wide bridge leading to Rovia's Teleport Plaza. His hood hid everything except his bright gold eyes, and the gleam of teeth in a savage grin. “For two years, I fought and bled to save you people, and what did I get out of it? Nothing!”

The late afternoon crowd around the teleporter scattered, the visitors desperately vanishing through the azure portal, locals scrambling for the smaller side bridges. Only the half-dozen town guards even tried to hold their ground, and their knees were visibly shaking.

“Well, you've had five years of peace now. Five years to get used to being back on the ground. So I think it's time I got some respect for what I did. A reward. After everything I did for you, only to be treated like scum, you owe me!”

The blonde girl who watched from a gondola, face hidden behind a leather mask and goggles, couldn't blame the guards for being afraid. Not when the figure in black was carrying a huge black sword as if it weighed nothing. Not when that sword's edges still dripped with the blood of the townsman he'd casually beheaded.

Not when he'd declared himself to be the most dangerous of the long-missing Swordmasters, and showed the strength to back it up.

“L-like hell!” one of the guardsmen shouted, raising his one-handed sword with shaking arms. His act of defiance seemed to strengthen the nerves of his fellows; they fanned out to block the murderer's way, wavering but determined. “If you're what Swordmasters are like,” the leader continued, “then we don't need your kind—!”

The man in black blurred, with all the speed of those legendary warriors, and the next thing the masked girl saw was the guardsman falling back—while his legs remained standing for a few breaths. Then the guard to his left went flying back, struck so hard he sailed clear past the teleporter, falling into the canal behind it, before anyone could so much as scream.

The remaining guards scrambled back, giving voice to the screams their fellows hadn't. Though it was hard to tell, with how just about every townsman added their own sounds of terror.

“Don't even try it!” the man in the black cloak boomed, cutting through the screams. He swept his heavy sword up to his shoulder, grin gleaming with malice. “None of you are any match for even the weakest Swordmaster, let alone me! So here's how it's gonna be: I'll be back tomorrow, right at the northeast edge of town. You're going to have four. Million. Cor. Waiting for me. And,” he added, grin turning somehow more sadistic still, “maybe throw in a little… company. Or else what you've seen tonight… will only be the start!”

He followed up the demand with a booming laugh, sending what few onlookers remained scrambling to be somewhere, anywhere else. Only the masked girl in the gondola stood her ground, out of reach and unnoticed.

You are a monster. A worse monster than my father ever was, the masked girl thought, hand clenching on the hilt of the rapier hanging from her belt. She watched, unflinching, as the man in black's laugh faded to a cruel chuckle. She watched as he slung his heavy sword behind his back, and swaggered into the teleport gate, vanishing in a flash of blue.

She watched until he was gone, and only then forced tense fingers to release the hilt of her sword. Only then did she turn, seize her gondola's oar, and begin rowing furiously toward the southern exit from Rovia's canals.

He has the strength of a Swordmaster, but that won't save him. The Swordmasters were never the only strong people in Aincrad. He'll pay for this—and for using that name.

Twenty-Fourth of the Month of Holly, Aincrad Year 2504

Bright, noonday sunlight streamed in through the windows of the office on the third floor of Yofel Castle's east wing. The Dark Elf scout standing in front of the desk looked as if he felt neither it nor the warmth of the Castle's heating charms. His back was arrow-straight, standing so rigidly at attention that one might've thought him a recruit just out of training.

Given the news he'd brought, the woman sitting behind the desk couldn't entirely blame him. “More murders,” she said, running a hand through her smoky-purple hair in weary frustration. “How many is it now? Twelve?” The reports had been coming in for over a week, each worse than the last. She hadn't seen anything so horrible since the Exile had finally ended.

And during the Exile, it was never so visceral.

“Thirteen, Commander,” the scout said with a wince. “Counting the guards in yesterday's attack. The mayor has officially requested our assistance.”

The Commander sighed, shifting her shoulders to settle a probably-imaginary wrinkle in her purple-trimmed black tunic. “That's exactly what I was hoping to avoid,” she muttered. “Especially when the murderer is obviously human himself. The last thing I wanted was to have to intervene directly.”

The last five years, since the Great Separation's reversal and the end of the eons-long Exile in the sky, had been a delicate enough balancing act as it was. For five years, Lyusula had tried to aid the human settlements without coming across as condescending or bent on conquest. Mostly, they'd limited themselves to keeping the roads as clear as they could, leaving any affairs within town to the humans.

Mostly, it worked. Unfortunately, the magic guarding human settlements from monsters and criminals had vanished with the Exile's end, and bandits were gradually gradually becoming more of a problem.

“Humankind does need us, Commander,” the scout pointed out carefully, staring straight ahead, not risking meeting her eyes. “They were far worse affected by the spell dulling the mind during the Exile. We can't expect them to recover in such a short time, can we?” He paused, visibly weighing his next words. “I believe you, yourself, intervened this way during the final years of the Exile, Commander.”

“I did,” she acknowledged, keeping her tone even. She wanted subordinates willing to speak their minds, after all. “But in those days, the peoples of Aincrad couldn't band together, not with the Pillars of the Heavens blocked. Now, the world is open again, and humanity must learn to govern itself again.” She glanced back at the window behind her, even after five years not yet accustomed to being able to see the open sky. “I am not against human communities joining Lyusula. But it must be their own choice, as equals.”

Otherwise, she knew, it would be paternalistic at best. At worst, it would be a relationship of conquerors and the conquered. Neither was conducive to a stable society, and stability was hard enough to come by, in the world after the Exile. Beginnings must be clean, she remembered reading in one human book, when she'd traveled with those two strange, wonderful humans. Beginning by conquering them, or by assuming responsibility for them like parents for children, would not be clean.

Still. They had to deal with the situation as it was, not as it would ideally be. One of the few solid details they'd gotten so far was that the murderer had the strength of a Swordmaster, and even she had to concede mere town guards probably couldn't handle such. With magic flowing freely again, they had the potential, but she knew of none who had yet reached it.

I had heard reports of Swordmasters, or those like them, appearing elsewhere in recent times. Why did we have to end up with one of the criminals? A survivor of Laughing Coffin, perhaps? I know not all of them died that day, much as some of us tried….

The Commander sighed again, and turned her attention back to the scout. “Very well. If the mayor has officially asked for intervention, he shall have it. Are we going to have to search blindly, or have genuine leads finally come up?”

The scout finally relaxed. “We do, Commander. Yesterday's attack was witnessed by one of our informants. The murderer claims to be a Swordmaster who aided the town in the last years of the Exile, and is demanding compensation be ready at a certain time. He identified himself as the Black Swordsman, and—”

Crack!

The Commander's fists nearly broke the desk, slamming down hard, and the scout jumped back. “When is the 'compensation' supposed to be ready?” she demanded harshly. “And where?”

“T-tonight, Commander,” the scout stammered, wide-eyed. “At the park in the northeast part of town.”

She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the crack in her desk. “Arm yourself,” she snapped. “We're going. And we will put a stop to this ourselves.”

“But, Commander,” he said, clearly bewildered by her sudden change in attitude, “surely there's no need to involve yourself directly. Any of us could—”

“No,” she said flatly, marching to the north wall and snatching up the saber and heater shield that hung there. “I knew the Black Swordsman. He would never act like a bandit running a protection racket, nor was he a murderer. That someone would use his name as cover for such crimes—!” She cut herself off, before she could utter the curse the situation so richly deserved. “This is no mere human quarrel now. I will see that man dead in the dust before I allow that slander to remain unchallenged even a single night more!”

Not even bothering to see if the scout was following, she stormed out of her office. Five years, her heart had ached, hoping for even the smallest news of her dearest friends, of the man who had come to mean so much to her. For the first news to be from a murderer claiming his name to aid his crimes….

He will be stopped. No matter what. Fury burning in her heart, she stalked down Yofel Castle's halls toward the docks, uncaring of the way soldiers, staff, and priests alike scattered at the look on her face. For the victims, and for my friend, he will be stopped!

December 24^th, 2029

Mount Tsurugi was absolutely breathtaking, Kirito had to admit. One of the tallest mountains in Japan's Hida range, it was also known as the “most dangerous mountain” among them. Snow-covered, in the middle of winter, it was without doubt one of the most spectacular places he'd ever seen on Earth—even if climbing it had nearly killed him a couple of times on the way up.

Long black coat billowing in the breeze halfway up, he pulled his hood closer against the cold as he looked out at the Hida Mountains. It was something he'd never seen in this world, until this last evening, and he wanted to fix it in his memory.

This may not be the last time I ever see it. But it'll be a long while, I know that. …It's too bad it took me so long.

Kirito's regret was more than offset by his sense of anticipation, though. Of longing. As beautiful as the mountains of his homeland were, it was another vista that held his heart. A vista he'd been away from for far, far too long.

“Kiri-nii? Isn't it about time?”

Deliberately, he turned away from the view, heading for the cave where his companion awaited him. “Coming, Leafa.” He couldn't help a smile at the sight of his sister, dressed in an emerald coat and carrying a suitcase in one hand and sheathed katana in the other. It meant the world to him that this time, as he prepared to venture away from the “real” world, she was coming with, fully informed and prepared.

Come to think of it, that's pretty unusual for me, too. This might be the first time I went into something like this expecting trouble.

Expecting, and ready for it. The sword slung over his own back, modeled on the Night Sky Sword that had gotten him through the most realistic battles of his life, was a comforting weight. The kind of trouble they were probably walking into was the kind he knew best, not like what he'd been dealing with for the last five years.

Stopping just inside the cave mouth, out of the worst of the wind, Kirito set his own luggage down and pulled out his phone. “It's me,” he said, when his contact picked up. “We're just about to go through, Kikuoka-san. I'll set up the relay as soon as we're across; hopefully it works.”

“Hopefully,” Colonel Kikuoka Seijirou said dryly, safely out of the wind in a car at the base of the mountain. “Magic and technology don't get along in a lot of fantasy stories, right?”

“We know this magic does,” Kirito pointed out. “That's how NerveGear connected with that world in the first place. The real question is really just whether the gateway stays active enough to let a signal through without being fully triggered.”

“Theoretically, anyway. Remember, Kirito-kun, no one has ever done anything like this. Even Kayaba's experiments were more of a dreaming medium than full contact. There's no way to know what will actually happen until you do it.” The JSDF Colonel paused. “Last chance, Kirito-kun. You can still back out.”

“No,” the swordsman in black said quietly. “I can't. Not when this is the best lead on where the SAO Survivors have been disappearing.” Not when this is the only way I can be me.

He kept the last part to himself, though he knew both Kikuoka and Leafa heard it anyway. It wasn't something he liked to talk about, and he was grateful that they respected that. Besides, his official reasoning was perfectly true, too, and they all knew it.

Kirito had started his search for the device at the heart of the cave for completely selfish reasons. It was only two years into that search that Kikuoka had informed him of a disquieting trend: a disproportionate number of missing persons cases involving survivors of Sword Art Online. When Project Alicization's chief had first become aware of it himself, his first suspicion had been survivors of Laughing Coffin acting out. By the time the number of missing had reached the triple digits, that possibility had seemed improbable, to say the least.

When other details emerged, suspicions had turned to more… unnatural possibilities, and Kirito's personal mission suddenly gained official support.

Which, in the end, had led to a cave on the slopes of Mount Tsurugi, and Kirito—along with Leafa—about to make the biggest leap of faith of his life.

“No,” Kikuoka said finally, “I suppose you can't. All right, Kirito-kun. In half an hour, or as soon as we've gotten an all-clear from you on the other side, I'll send in a team to secure the site. Assuming everything goes well, we'll set up a regular supply line, as well. And prepare for future… expeditions.”

“Expeditions”. A nice, safe-sounding word, for people very possibly throwing away their old lives entirely.

“Anyway, good luck, Kirito-kun, and—yes, all right, just a second! We do have to pretend to do this officially, you know…. Kirito-kun, I'm putting Asuna-kun on.”

Kirito couldn't suppress a chuckle at Kikuoka's beleaguered tone. In his experience, exactly two people had ever intimidated the Colonel, and Argo the Rat had never lifted him clear off his feet bare-handed. Asuna had, after managing to sneak her way onto a top-secret ocean facility right under his nose.

“Be careful, Kirito-kun,” Yuuki Asuna, his old partner, said, when she got hold of the phone. “We know that place better than just about anyone, but who knows how things have changed in the last five years. And you don't know exactly where you'll appear. Even if it's just the towns we knew, there's at least a hundred different possibilities.”

“I know.” More, Kirito knew that was technically more than they'd ever seen, in those two frightening, wonderful years. After all, they'd cut things short with still a quarter left to go. “I will be careful. I won't be stupid and get myself killed before I even find her.”

“Good.” He could practically hear the firm nod over the voice call. “Then just make sure you get things ready for the rest of us, Kirito-kun. I'll be heading over as soon as I've got everything settled here. I think,” she said wryly, “even my mother has finally accepted I know what I'm doing. But she won't admit it until you send the all-clear, so don't you dare dawdle!”

“I won't, I won't,” he assured her, with a bittersweet smile. Her family supported her, mostly. The irony, after the problems he knew she'd had with her mother after SAO, wasn't lost on him.

“Good.” Asuna said again. Then, voice softening, she continued, “Find her, Kirito-kun. Tell her I'm coming, too, as soon as I can.”

“I will,” Kirito promised, forcing the words past a sudden lump in his throat. “Talk to you soon, Asuna. And… see you on the other side.”

“See you on the other side, Kirito-kun.”

When he ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket, he found Leafa giving him an odd look. “Who's 'her'?” his sister asked, tilting her head.

“An old friend,” he replied, remembering long, pointed ears and dusky skin. He had to blink to clear the sudden film in his eyes, and quickly turned to walk into the cave. “One Asuna and I have been waiting to see again for a long, long time…. C'mon, Leafa. It's time to go.”

The first few meters of the cave were plain, rough rock, untouched by human hands. Deeper inside, past a curve taking any intrepid explorers out of sight of the entrance, was a different matter. The walls were smoother, and the floor took on a polished, tiled look. A few meters farther on, and the lines between the tiles began to glow, pulsing with neon blue light.

Following behind her brother, Leafa thought the whole thing looked a lot like a dungeon in Alfheim Online. Which, she supposed, was appropriate, given what had led them to this place to begin with. Exactly how much Kayaba Akihiko had known, when he created Sword Art Online, she didn't think even Kirito knew. But he'd definitely known something, and it had heavily influenced his game design.

“To think Kayaba came so close, but never found the last step,” Kirito murmured ahead of her, even his low voice echoing strangely off the walls. “I wonder why he stopped short? This was his dream, all his life….”

“Maybe he just ran out of money,” Leafa suggested, glancing uneasily around the increasingly surreal stone tunnel. “Face it, Kiri-nii, you wouldn't have found the last clues if Kikuoka-san hadn't decided it was credible enough to start funding you.”

“You've got a point. Still….”

Kirito trailed off, and she didn't have to ask why. The narrow tunnel opened just ahead of them into a larger chamber, at least five meters across. Mostly adorned in the same onyx stone tile, it was dominated by a platform in the center—or rather, by the pulsating azure glow floating over it.

“I don't think we need to worry about the gateway staying active without us,” Leafa said after a moment. “Either it's been used recently, or it just stays on all the time. …How?”

“A magic crystal, probably,” her brother replied absently, carefully approaching the platform. “According to Kayaba's notes, those can keep magitech devices going a long time. It's how Aincrad worked. Took me years before I started wondering how long even that would've lasted, though. The Great Separation couldn't have lasted forever…. “

Leafa thought about that for a second, and blanched at the implications. The Steel Castle, falling out of the sky when the magic sustaining it ran out…. Not a pretty image. Especially not given what they were about to do.

“How are you so calm?” she asked, pushing that thought aside. “It's one thing seeing it in a game, Kiri-nii, but in real life is something else!”

“You never spent much time in the Underworld,” Kirito pointed out. Setting aside his luggage, he gently knelt in front of the platform, gingerly reaching out to trace a finger across its base. “That was so realistic, it really did a number on my idea of 'normal'.” He glanced back at her, a wry smile playing across his face. “That's kind of why we're here, isn't it?”

She nodded ruefully. It was exactly why they were there, in the end. Like he said, she hadn't spent much time in the Underworld, not enough to get quite so used to the fantastic in photo-realistic detail, but it had been enough to warp her sense of “normal” in other ways. There were reasons she had followed her brother on his insane quest, all the way to what was going to be the biggest leap of faith of her life.

“Last chance, Leafa,” Kirito said, breaking into her thoughts again. His smile had disappeared, replaced with a very somber expression. “I have to do this. For a lot of reasons. You don't. This shouldn't be a one-way trip, exactly, but it will change you.”

“I do have to, Kiri-nii,” she said firmly, steeling herself and walking over to join him before the swirling azure light. “We're finally a family again, after everything. If Dad can't accept what you are now, well, he can't accept me, either. I'm with you to the end. Always.” She hesitated, then said, more softly, “You're not the only one who can't sleep right in this world anymore, you know. After Dee Eye Ell….”

Leafa didn't finish. She didn't have to. Her brother nodded slowly, understanding in his dark eyes. He was one of the few people she knew who did understand, and the only member of the Kirigaya family. He'd been through what she had, and then some.

“I know, Leafa. And… thank you.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “There's someone waiting for me on the other side, I hope, but making the leap across… I don't know if I could've done it alone.”

She couldn't suppress a flush at that. Even five years after they'd reconciled, he still managed to fluster her, sometimes. And Kiri-nii still doesn't have a girlfriend? You'd think with all the girls he came out of SAO with, and Sinon, and Alice, and… all of them, you'd think he would've charmed at least one of them into his arms!

Leafa had asked him, from time to time. Her brother had always dodged the question. She'd even asked Asuna once, only to get a gentle smile and an assurance that Kirito would tell her, when he was ready. Five years on, though, he never had.

Before she could decide whether to ask once again, Kirito had released her shoulder and knelt again. “Yeah, this is definitely the place,” he murmured, studying a line of strange characters inscribed in the platform's base. “Like Kayaba's notes said, this is supposed to take those who pass through to where—and who—they're meant to be.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “I've got a strong hold on my own self-image, Leafa. I don't expect to have any problems. You should be careful.”

She tried not to twitch at that. “What does it say? Exactly?”

He looked back at the inscription, and cleared his throat. “Ware, you who would step through this door: to cross between worlds, you must know your true self, and embrace it, else be scattered to the four winds, forever. Who you are may not be who you will be on the other side….”

“Well. That's… dramatic.” Deliberately, Leafa shrugged. “Doesn't matter. My decision's final, Kiri-nii. Let's go.”

Kirito took a deep breath. “Okay, then. Just give me a second here.” Fishing a small device out of his suitcase, he stepped back to the chamber's entrance and carefully secured it to the wall. In theory, Leafa knew, it would relay phone signals back out. Assuming they crossed the gateway from the other side in the first place.

While he took care of that, Leafa got the rest of their meager luggage together. When he rejoined her by the platform, just about to take the last step, one final question popped into her head. “Say, Kiri-nii? Why a hooded coat?” She'd seen him wear a variety of long coats in the years since he'd come back from SAO, but the hooded version was a new one.

Kirito only smiled mysteriously. “Oh, just a hunch. You'll see, sooner or later. …C'mon, Leafa. It's time.” He took her free hand in his. “Time to see what's beyond the horizon.”

“Right with you, Kiri-nii.”

Taking a deep breath, heart racing, Leafa took that last step with her brother, jumping into the swirling energy over the platform. The world vanished in an azure flash. It was like a teleport within ALO, only it wasn't just the world that went away—it felt like her very body was vanishing, changed, being pulled and twisted.

There was no pain, in those few, eternal moments. Just swirling change, and the knowledge that she was crossing the gulf between two worlds. She was afraid, but in the middle of it all, she clung to one thing: to her brother, whose feelings she could somehow sense as if they were her own, in that swirling maelstrom.

Kirito wasn't afraid. As everything swirled and changed, he was consumed by a soaring sense of a long lost wanderer coming home.

The maelstrom of energies wasn't exactly what Kirito had been expecting. Even with the warning written on the device, its resemblance to one of SAO's teleporters had left him more or less anticipating something of the same sort, just more intense.

He could feel Leafa's fear in the middle of it all, but despite the surprise, he held onto himself. This is like Incarnation, from the Underworld, he thought, as the gateway tugged at his very self. Only in reverse… I know what this is doing! I can handle it!

Because at its core, the magicks of the gate between worlds were pushing and pulling at his sense of who I am and who I want to be. Those were questions Kirito had asked himself many times over the years, had weaponized in his battles within Project Alicization's virtual environment, and finally found solid answers to in the aftermath.

Battered by magicks pulling at his mind, he remembered the day he'd given up on kendo, and his grandfather's beating. He remembered Suguha—Leafa—defending him. He remembered the moment he'd found the truth of his parentage, and the shattering of his entire world. Remembered the day he'd put on NerveGear, uttered “Link start!”, and fallen into the Steel Castle.

He remembered the fighting. The friends he'd gained, whom he never would've met had it all stayed as just a game. He remembered dusky skin, pointed ears, and a brilliant, teasing grin. The good times and the bad, the lives he'd cherished, and the lives he'd been forced to end with his own hands.

The Underworld, and five years of living a life as tangible as the real world, becoming Kirito in ways even SAO had never pushed on him. The jarring return to reality, and being pushed back into a societal box that felt more stifling than ever.

Tense discussions with his father flashed across his mind's eye, and then the final, bitter argument that had pushed his ultimate decision. The magicks of the gateway forced him to examine it all, to know who and what he truly was, at the end of it all.

A long black coat. A sword slung over the shoulder, hilt grasped in a battle-tested grip. The surety that a blade was all he needed to move forward, and the cocky confidence he was a match for anything that would come his way.

The shut-in computer geek died in Sword Art Online. His ghost was exorcized in the Underworld. I am… a swordsman!

He couldn't tell exactly what his sister was seeing, but the moment everything clicked into place for him, he felt a similar resolution from her. It felt like a key had been turned, like a boundary had been irrevocably crossed.

Then, suddenly, it was all over. Kirito found himself stepping down onto a solid stone floor as if it really had been an ordinary teleport. The only sign that anything had happened at all was the subtly different shape of the cave, proving they'd gone somewhere in the endless seconds inside the gateway.

Well, that and a surging feeling of strength and energy in his body. Setting down his luggage, he flexed his hand, feeling a strength that harkened back to his days as a Level 96 Swordmaster, in the final days of SAO. Without even trying, he knew he could break rocks bare-handed, and jump several meters from a standing start. It was, he thought, a more honest strength than the imagination-based power in the Underworld.

“Okay,” he heard Leafa gasp out, her hand trembling in his grip, “that… was a thing. Not as bad as I was afraid it was… going… to be…?”

She trailed off, and Kirito finally glanced her way—immediately seeing what had shocked her. She'd also set down her suitcase, and was instead holding the end of a long, golden mane in her hand. Her wide eyes, fixed on the hair that was most definitely not what she'd had a minute before, were a bright green, not her old gray-black.

“I did warn you,” he told her, unable to suppress a grin. Not that it was a laughing matter, he knew, and when she shot him an incredulous look, he softened the grin to a reassuring smile. “I guess you really are 'Leafa', now, huh?”

“I… but… why?” Leafa swallowed, glancing back at her hair, and then looking him up and down. “You didn't really change, Kiri-nii. Maybe a little more muscle, but, you're still… you.”

Kirito shrugged. “I spent a long time in VR with my own face, Leafa,” he pointed out. Too long. I'm glad I don't remember those centuries. Five years is bad enough. “My self-image is my real body, just… better built for fighting. You've always used variants of 'Leafa'… including for some pretty heavy stuff.”

She hadn't spent nearly as much time in VR as he had. He still knew, from personal experience, that what time she'd had in the Underworld would've left an indelible mark in her psyche. In her sense of self. Terrible as the War of the Underworld had been, it was also a large part of why she understood him enough to have followed him to another world.

“…I guess you're right,” she finally whispered. “I wonder… does that mean…?” Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she closed her eyes, flexed her shoulders—and sprouted gossamer wings from her back, another quick flex taking her a meter off the floor. “Oh… wow. This is… different.”

“Well, that probably answers another question,” Kirito said thoughtfully, watching his sister hover, her expression warring between unease and delight. “If there's enough magic around for you to fly, then what I saw at the end of SAO must really have happened, somehow.”

“I guess so.” Leafa allowed herself a few more moments in the air, carefully drifting through the confines of the teleport chamber, before touching down and dismissing her wings. Turning bewildered green eyes on him, she asked, “But why? Why would a teleporter between worlds do… well, this?”

“Hard to say,” he admitted, picking up his suddenly-lighter luggage again. “But my guess, based on the old records Kayaba found? The people who built this were exiles from Aincrad, who were trying to return. Except they didn't really understand what they were doing, and the magic they invoked to 'go home' had a few kinks in it. Like computer programming: it'll do exactly what you tell it to, even if that's not exactly what you meant it to do. …Hm.”

Inspired by Leafa's wings, Kirito played a hunch, and swept two fingers of his right hand down. He wasn't entirely surprised to find an ethereal page spring to life under his fingertips; from the way she only twitched, Leafa had been half-expecting it, too.

After all, she always called it “Mystic Scribing”, so the locals do have the concept. Let's see what we've got here….

After just a minute of poking, he nodded to himself. “It doesn't have half the features from SAO, but we do have Inventory, Map, and Instant Messages—excuse me, 'Far-Scribing'. That'll make carrying our stuff easier, at least. Uh, I think,” he amended.

A granola bar from his luggage was a reasonably expendable test subject. Once he'd put it in storage, taken it back out, and eaten it, he stuffed the suitcase in. If he had the option, there was no way he wasn't going to take advantage of it. One habit he retained from all his years in VR was a hatred of not having his hands free for fighting.

While Leafa did the same, Kirito pulled out his phone, sent a quick text message, and breathed a sigh of relief when he promptly got one back. “We've got communications,” he said, tension he hadn't even noticed easing out of his shoulders. “Looks like we're not stranded, anyway.”

“…That's good.” Leafa glanced back at the teleporter, a troubled frown creasing her brow. “Kiri-nii? Do you think… going back through would, well, reverse it?”

“There's no way to know without trying,” he said honestly. “But… I kinda doubt it. I think we'd go through the same process as before, and unless you've changed how you see yourself….”

He didn't have to finish. To his relief, though, after only a moment Leafa mustered a weak but real smile. “You're probably right. Well… I wasn't planning on going back for a while, anyway. We just got here, right?”

Kirito smiled back, and on impulse pulled her into a hug. That she'd come here with him, and was willing to accept the changes that came with it, was a bigger relief than he was willing to admit. “That's right, Leafa. We made it. And….” He reached up to gently touch one of her newly-long, pointed ears, startling a yelp and a blush out of her. “Thanks, Leafa. For everything.”

“…You don't have to keep saying that,” she muttered, leaning into him, not quite flinching away from the touch on her ear. “It wasn't just because of you that I came, y'know.”

“I know.”

We can live with it. Good. Better yet…. Kirito glanced back at the teleporter himself. This will probably mean Kikuoka won't want to try sending troops through any time soon. As it stands now, he has to keep an eye on it, but he won't feel obligated to do anything more active.

“Well,” he said finally, pushing that thought aside, “it's about time to see exactly where we ended up, right?”

It was a short trip out of the teleporter chamber, down a narrow, twisting tunnel, to the cave's mouth. The first thing Kirito noticed was that it was late afternoon; apparently, they'd ended up somewhere in an equivalent time zone to Japan, which at least meant they wouldn't have to worry about jet lag. Teleport lag? I don't think anyone's ever needed to describe that.

The second thing was that they could see the open sky, with no stone “lid” overhead. “Either we're in the wrong place,” he murmured, leaning against the cave wall while he peered out at the lush grasslands beyond the cave, “or what I saw at the end was true.”

Leafa glanced at him, eyes narrow. “You know, Kiri-nii,” she said slowly, “you never did tell me what happened that day. When you cleared SAO. You showed me all the stuff Kayaba sent you afterward, but you still haven't told me what got you looking in the first place.”

“I haven't?” Kirito thought back, over the two years since he finally let his sister in on his quest, and realized she was right. “I guess I haven't,” he mused, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “Well… the short version is that, after we beat Heathcliff—Kayaba—we were teleported to a plane overlooking Aincrad. Kayaba told us, then, that his version of the Steel Castle was just an imitation of one he was convinced existed for real, in another world. He'd tried to reach it, with SAO, but even combining NerveGear with the ancient magic he'd dug up, he could only reach halfway.”

And hadn't that been a weird conversation. Two years of thinking everything in Sword Art Online was just a game transmitted to their brains through machines, and Kayaba had suddenly started talking about magic? He and Asuna had thought he'd gone even crazier than they'd originally assumed.

“That was when she realized what was really going on,” he went on, after a moment's reflection on that strange, long ago day. “Asuna and I didn't get it, not then, but she did. She said… Kayaba had achieved more than he knew. Below us, Aincrad was disassembling itself, descending into the clouds, and she said that he'd broken the spell, and ended the Great Separation.”

“You are a monster,” Kirito heard, as clearly as if it had all happened yesterday. “There is no justification for your actions, Kayaba. But… you may have done the people of my world a great service. And you brought me the greatest friends I have ever had. For that, as your people might say, I will at least give the Devil his due.”

“Then she told us she'd be waiting for us.” His chest felt tight, remembering his last sight of that dusky skin, and the mysterious smile. “It just… took me until after the Underworld, after Kayaba's digital ghost sent me his files, to realize it was all true.”

And until then to be desperate enough to chase a dream. I just… couldn't take it anymore.

Leafa was staring at him. “It's a good thing you waited until you did have a magic rock on hand to tell me that,” she said finally, shaking her head, long blonde hair waving with the motion. “And you'd better tell me who 'she' is, soon. I don't like it when you get cryptic on me.”

“I will,” he promised. Taking a deep breath of the new world's air, he found himself smiling at the thought. “I've… wanted you to meet her for a long time, actually.”

“I don't like it when you smile like that, either. It usually means you're going to pour snow down the back of my neck or something.” She huffed, and turned to take in the vista herself. “Whatever. How do we know this is Aincrad gone back to the surface, and not some other place?”

“We don't,” Kirito admitted, forcing himself to focus on the immediate reality, not the hoped-for reunion. “But we will as soon as we reach a town. …Think you're up to playing scout, Leafa?”

Twenty-Fourth of the Month of Holly, Aincrad Year 2504

Later, Leafa was going to have a panic attack, and she was not sorry. Her big brother might've been just fine with his body being magically modified—he might not have looked any different on the outside, but she could tell just from his grip he was a lot stronger than he'd been five minutes ago. She didn't find it quite so easy.

That would have to wait until they found a safe place to rest, though. Kirito promised he'd know where to look as soon as they figured out exactly where they were, and she did trust his knowledge of Aincrad. So when he asked her to scout, she tied back her newly-long hair into an approximation of her avatar's ponytail, took a deep breath, and spread her wings.

It was like coming home. With just a flex of physical and magical muscles, Leafa launched herself into the air, into the wide expanse that had been her digital playground for years, only now made real. For so long, she'd known flight only in the virtual realm, without the fidelity of the real world; experiencing it in flesh and blood for the first time chased the panic right out of her veins.

Climbing rapidly into the sky, sheer excitement filled her. The wind ruffled her hair, the snow-covered trees dotting the landscape shrank, and in seconds all she could see was the deepening blue of the evening sky, and the brilliant gold of the setting sun. Energy thrummed in her wings, into her limbs, and she could feel magic at her fingertips, just waiting to be unleashed.

Laughing, Leafa couldn't help but spin as she flew higher, finally beginning to understand why her brother had been so focused on coming to this world. To her, it had been mostly just about not letting him go without her again, and gradually an escape from a society she could no longer accept herself. In that moment, soaring on her own wings, she was happy to have come.

She was sorely tempted to just keep on ascending, to see just how high she could go in a world not restricted by the whims of game developers and their need for balance. She wanted to know what she could truly do, with her new body and the magic it commanded. Glancing back to the ground, though—to her brother, whose smile her new eyes let her see clearly even from so high—reminded her that she had a job to do.

Soon, though, Leafa promised herself, leveling off at about five hundred meters. Kirito wants to meet some mysterious girl—he didn't actually have a girlfriend he never mentioned, did he?—and we need a place to stay tonight. But… soon.

She almost went higher anyway, realizing the locals probably wouldn't know anything about flying people. Half a kilometer, though, was probably high enough to be mistaken for a bird, if she was seen at all, and she didn't want to lose sight of Kirito. Which didn't stop her from launching herself into a headlong flight that was only slightly slower than her usual cruising speed back in ALO.

Kiri-nii's so calm about his new body? Fine. Let him try to keep up with me!

The teleporter cave was, on this side, set in the base of a tall cliff rather than halfway up a mountain. Beyond it, snow-covered grasslands dotted with occasional groves of trees stretched clear to the horizon. As Leafa sailed over that prairie, idly noting what seemed to be wild herds of cattle and the occasional monster she recognized from New Aincrad, she reflected that that was both good and bad. While it meant they were going to have to travel a ways to reach any kind of civilization, it also suggested no one was likely to just stumble on the teleporter.

She firmly pushed that thought to the side, reminding herself that it was Kikuoka's problem, and took a quick glance directly below. As she'd kind of suspected, Kirito was keeping up with her just fine, his Swordmaster's body running along as fast as a car on a country road without a problem. He even sent a cheeky grin her way, when he noticed her looking down at him.

Let him have his fun, she told herself, firmly resisting the urge to accelerate and turn it into a real race. This is the happiest I've seen Kiri-nii in years.

Leafa would forgive much, to see her brother lose the tension that had been building in him ever since his return from the Underworld. Especially since that last, bitter argument with their father.

So she raced through the sky, reveling in her new-found freedom, here and there giving in to the urge to just pirouette in the sky, roll, and loop. Below her, Kirito ran with the ease of someone back in his element, and together, they chased the setting sun.

Around half an hour into their journey, Leafa began to notice the distinct salty scent of a sea breeze. A few minutes more, and her Sylph's eyes caught sight of a ripple breaking up the grassland, a ripple that shone in the fading sunlight. A river, I think? It must lead to an ocean, with that smell. And… hm?

More regular shapes rose into view in the distance, over top of the water as it split into narrower channels. Slowing down, Leafa brought up her Mystic Scribing, typing up a quick message. [Kiri-nii? I think I'm seeing canals up ahead. You know Aincrad better than I do; where do you think we are?]

A brief pause; when Kirito stopped, she braked to a halt, as well. [If we really have reached Aincrad,] he replied after a minute, [that'll be Rovia. …Huh. That's almost exactly where I wanted to go, anyway. Weird coincidence.]

[You're going to explain that later. But you did say that teleporter was made to send people where they were “supposed” to be. Maybe it was even more literal than you thought?]

Another pause. [Could be. All right, Leafa, you'd better land for now. I think we should get a better idea of what's what before we show the locals flying fairies.]

Leafa had thought of that, too. [I can hide my wings, Kiri-nii, but what about my ears?]

The laughing emoji at the start of his next message surprised her. [Trust me, Leafa, pointed ears aren't exactly unheard of around here….]

Assuming Aincrad's world had roughly similar poles and rotation to Earth, Kirito thought, they were on the east side of Rovia. At least, they were running directly into the setting sun, and back in SAO that had certainly meant “west”. Which means, he mused, as they raced toward the city of canals, we're not too far from Yofel Castle. So maybe… maybe….

He pushed that hope aside for the moment. For one thing, he still didn't know for sure they were in the former Aincrad, however familiar the wildlife was. It all still seemed so incredible, even after demonstrably teleporting, that he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it.

Though as they ran across the grassy plains, a river winding its way just north of them, the terrain was definitely beginning to jog his memory. The forest south of them was giving him flashbacks, to fighting a giant, horned, fire-breathing creature that most definitely was not a bear. An incredible pain at the time, it had become a treasured memory in years since.

Then, finally, the plains cut off in a sheer cliff ahead of them. Skidding to a halt, Kirito found himself looking out at a sharp rectangle carved out of a rocky, water-filled canyon. Lit by the setting sun, a vast network of canals framed a town bigger than he remembered, yet still very much recognizable. A place in which he'd spent barely a week, if that—most of his time on that floor had seen him and Asuna based somewhere more personal—yet one which held many memories.

“Rovia,” he breathed, heart beginning to race. “We're really here… Leafa, we're really here! We made it!” It was true! It was all true! Which means…!

“Yeah,” Leafa whispered, seemingly as caught up as he was, despite not having quite the sentimental attachment he did. “We made it. …But, um, Kiri-nii? Was Rovia normally like that?”

“Like what? …Oh.” It was hard to tell, from their distance, but it looked like the townspeople of Rovia were agitated. With his newly-regained Swordmaster's vision, Kirito could see people scrambling around, almost like they were running away from something.

For a long moment, he could only stare. Then, finally, he heaved a deep sigh. I should've known. Do I go anywhere there isn't something crazy going on?

“What do we do, Kiri-nii?” His sister glanced from the increasingly-chaotic town to him and back again. “Do we get a closer look, or find someplace calmer to spend the night?” She bit her lip. “You're the expert, here.”

Yeah. He supposed he was. Barely six thousand people had survived to tell the tale of the original Aincrad, and not many of them knew it as well as he did. “To get where I really want to go,” Kirito said slowly, “we'd need a gondola, anyway. I think we'd better at least see what's going on.” He glanced at her sidelong, unable to suppress a small grin. “Think you can make the jump without wings?”

Leafa snorted. “I should be asking you that.” She backed off several meters from the cliff edge, and set herself. Giving him a challenging look, she said, “You coming, Kiri-nii?”

“You know it.” Kirito stepped back to join her, and carefully stretched. The run from the teleport cave to Rovia had told him his body had regained most if not all of the strength he'd possessed at the end of the death game, but this would be another, different test.

When he'd first come to Rovia, he wouldn't have attempted this at all. His stats hadn't been anywhere near high enough. By the time we cleared the game, though, this was child's play. Let's see if it still is.

On an unspoken signal, Kirito and Leafa took off running, straight for the cliff's edge—and jumped, sailing across the broad canal that defined Rovia's perimeter. In the brief moments of freefall, Kirito felt nothing but exhilaration, feeling a strength and freedom that he'd never quite managed in his real, flesh and blood body. The fidelity of the Underworld had come close, yet even there, in the back of his mind he'd never quite been able to forget his strength and speed were just numbers on a server.

Here, in the true Aincrad, it was blood and muscle, bone and sinew. Empowered by magic, maybe, but real. At long last, he felt like himself, body and soul as one.

Then they were landing on one of the walkways crossing the canals, light as if they'd stepped off the bottom of a staircase, and only then did it occur to Kirito that it might just be a tad alarming to any locals who happened to notice. Especially with everyone running around like a disturbed anthill.

A few seconds after touching down, as they started toward the northeast quarter of the town—the apparent epicenter of the commotion; the park district, if he remembered right—it seemed like his worries were coming true. “Hey, you!” a local called out, running like his life depended on it. “Are you crazy?!”

Probably. “What's wrong?” Kirito asked, trying to play it cool. Not that he'll buy it, he probably just saw us do something nobody around here can, but it's worth a try—

“What's wrong?!” the local repeated incredulously. “Didn't you hear?! The Black Swordsman's coming back again! He's in the park, he's going to kill more people, and if you go anywhere near there looking like that, people are going to think you're him! Run, idiot!”

Then the local was running on by, and Kirito was left standing still, blinking. The Black Swordsman? Not me? …Killing people? More people?

Confusion gave way to a chill in his veins. Not fear, no. Anger. A cold, rising anger. He still didn't know what was going on, but the idea that someone was committing murder, using that name…. Before he knew it, his right hand was clenched on the hilt of his sword, loosening the blade in its scabbard. “Leafa. Stay behind me.”

He didn't have to look at her to know she was bristling. “Now, just a second, Kiri-nii! I've fought for real, too! Blood, and pain, and… look, I know I don't have Terraria's power here, but—!”

“I'm not asking you to stay out of it,” he cut her off, stalking toward the park, pace quickening with every step. “Just to hang back a little… and watch my back. People like this? They're never alone. They don't have the guts. I know people like this.” He chanced a glance over his shoulder, and part of him thought that he didn't want to know what his expression looked like in that moment. He was just a little unnerved by Leafa's uncharacteristically cold eyes as it was. “I trust you, Leafa.”

Picking up the pace along with him, falling back just a couple of meters, she loosened her own blade and gave a grim nod. “I won't let you down, Kiri-nii.”

Kirito returned the nod, and faced forward again. Fast walk turning to a run, he slipped through the stragglers of the fleeing townspeople and raced across the walkways over Rovia's canals. It looked like they'd arrived not a moment too soon. He didn't know what was going on, but he did know one thing.

I did things I never, ever wanted to, to stop Laughing Coffin back in the digital Aincrad. I won't let someone start it all up again. No matter what I have to do now. This… is my home. I will protect it!

Rovia was in chaos.

The Commander had visited the city of canals many times, in the years since the Exile ended. The last time she remembered seeing it in such turmoil was immediately after that end, when the hundred floors of Aincrad had returned to the earth and the spell dulling the minds of its denizens had finally broken. Then, though, confusion had reigned more than anything else.

This day, as she and her scout rode a green-trimmed ivory gondola north through Rovia's canals, it was pure terror. Panic. This time, there was an immediate threat, and clearly everyone knew it.

The Black Swordsman. She doubted very many truly remembered the name—its bearer had always kept a low profile, no matter how crucial his actions had been—but if anything that just made it worse. A name from the shadows. A name slandered, all too many times.

It was as well that the scout was handling the oar. The Commander feared she would've broken it with her bare hands. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so enraged.

At least I'll soon have an outlet. This foul imposter will regret this. Briefly.

When they reached the northeast quarter, the Commander didn't even wait for the gondola to come to a complete stop before leaping up to the nearest walkway. “Tie up the boat, then follow,” she snapped at the scout. “Hurry!” Because while she intended to deal with the imposter personally, she didn't believe he would be alone. There was only a certain kind of Swordmaster who would both know of the Black Swordsman and dare to impersonate him for crime, and she knew how they operated.

This part of Rovia, with its lush park, beautifully-tiled plaza, and outdoor theater, was a favorite place for visitors and locals alike. Especially in the evening, with the park providing a wonderful view of the sunset-dyed canals. This evening, it was barren, empty. It was wrong.

But it did mean there would be fewer bystanders, and it made it easier to find where, exactly, the imposter had chosen to receive his ransom. Sounds of clanking metal and anxious voices made the Commander's ears twitch, and she ran toward the theater. It made some sense: the sunken amphitheater, with its stage providing a dramatic backdrop and the columns ringing it supplying perfect cover for any accomplices. It was such a dramatic arrangement that the Commander half-expected to see a certain man in a black poncho, when she passed through the arch serving as the entrance.

No. Not him. This one is too large. …Not that it matters.

Perhaps Rovia's mayor hadn't believed Yofel Castle would truly send help, because the timid man was just then approaching the stage, holding up a heavy sack of Cor with trembling arms. She grimaced, but couldn't really fault the man. After all, the imposter had already killed several people, including among the town guard. Little wonder he was terrified.

She wanted to intervene immediately, to put an end to the farce—to the slander of her friend's name—but she forced herself to hold back. Slipping around the edge of the amphitheater, she began to search for the inevitable accomplices, ears alert for the slightest sound, her sharp eyes peering into the shadows. Take it slow, she told herself. Do it right. You can kill him once you're sure there won't be a knife in your back….

“H-here,” the mayor got out, voice shaking as much as his hands. “T-this is the full amount you asked for. N-now please, please just leave us alone!”

The man in the black cloak, one hand holding a sword far too enormous to sell his deception to anyone who knew anything about the real thing, took the bag of coins in his free hand. Shaking it, sending out a clinking that made the Commander's ears hurt, he smiled slowly. Menacingly. Cruelly. “Yes…” he said, drawing out the word. “That sounds right.” He tossed the bag in his hand, showing off a strength that certainly lived up to his claims of being a Swordmaster. Then he licked his lips, and added, “But… this wasn't all I asked for. Remember?”

Halfway around the east side of the theater, the Commander froze, and she stiffened in another spike of fury. She'd heard about his other demand, but that he would actually push it…!

“I said you should throw in a little company, didn't I?”

The mayor trembled, almost falling over. “But that's… you can't seriously demand that we—!”

“Oh, yes, I can.” The imposter stepped forward, setting down the bag of Cor to more easily brandish his heavy sword. “It's the least I'm owed, after everything I did for this world. So you're going to go find some… company… or else things are going to get a little ugly. Got me? I'm the Black Swordsman, little man!”

Enough! The Commander drew her sword, preparing to leap in and end the farce—

“No! You're not the Black Swordsman!”

Another voice. Higher pitched, if a little muffled. Startled, the Commander turned toward the theater's entrance, just in time to see a slim figure hurtle in, rapier drawn and gleaming in the sunset. Face covered by a leather mask, the Commander recognized her in an instant, and cursed herself for not realizing the moment her scout had mentioned an informant. Of course she would know, and be just as outraged.

“Myia, no!” she shouted, knowing it was too late.

Myia was one of the most skilled humans the Commander had ever met, of those born to the Steel Castle. Only Myia's mother, perhaps, exceeded her. But the girl was young, and her strength had yet to approach that of the most powerful Swordmasters. When the imposter saw Myia coming, even with the girl's rapier shining with the charm of a Linear, the man only grinned, and swung his heavy sword out to meet her.

The Commander threw herself toward them, heedless of any possible accomplices in the shadows, knowing she would never reach them in time—

A flicker of a shadow, faster than anyone in Aincrad. A glowing boot, flying through the air, crashing into the imposter's sword a bare instant before it could clash with—smash aside—Myia's rapier. The bright flash and concussion of two sword charms colliding.

The imposter was blown backward several meters, forcing him to drive his sword into the stage just to keep his footing. “What the hell—?!”

The shadow flipped back, riding the backlash, and landed in a neat crouch on the edge of the stage. He straightened—and the Commander's heart leapt into her throat, seeing the long black coat billowing in the evening breeze. The dark hilt that hung behind his right shoulder. The cool, confident stance.

She couldn't see his face, with the unfamiliar hood. She didn't need to.

“Looks like I got here just in time. That name… I can't say I have good memories of it, but….” He reached up, and drew that sword from his back. A simple one-handed sword, black as night, made of a metal the Commander didn't recognize. He held it low to his right, in a stance she knew better than her own face. “I can't let some Laughing Coffin wannabe use it for killing people.”

The Commander stood still, hardly breathing. Myia scrambled back, eyes wide with shock. And the imposter… the imposter slowly straightened, warily raising his sword. His own hood had been blown back, revealing a sharp, thuggish face and spiked red hair—not a face the Commander recognized, but certainly nothing close to the true Black Swordsman's.

Nothing close to the face revealed when the new arrival threw back his hood in turn, freeing black hair and showing off eyes dark as night. The Commander's heart raced at the sight. He's here… he's here…!

The imposter seemed to recognize that face, too. “Can't be,” he breathed, gripping his heavy sword in both hands. “You… they killed you! You're already dead!”

“They killed Kirigaya Kazuto,” the newcomer said evenly. “Kirito is all that's left. And you… you are not worthy of the name 'Black Swordsman'.” He raised his sword, almost over his shoulder; the Commander recognized the motion, having seen it more times than she could count.

The battle, such as it was, was about to begin. And end, she thought, with grim satisfaction. No imposter could possibly—

“What the hell are you idiots waiting for?!” the imposter bellowed. “Kill him already!”

The Commander whirled, cursing herself again, as half a dozen men emerged from the shadows. One of them, wielding a short sword, was close enough for her to immediately leap upon, but the others were spread too widely. Worse, in the fleeting instant as she began her counterattack, she saw at least two of them armed with crossbows.

Not a weapon she'd encountered during the Exile. Not a common weapon since. Seeing them aimed at the man who'd just arrived, too far away for either of them to stop, chilled her to the bone.

The first crossbow bolt flew, and everything seemed to happen at once.

The Commander gutted the thug who'd made the mistake of revealing himself within her reach, falling back with a scream and a spray of blood. Another, attacking from behind, made the mistake of assuming Myia was just a reckless child; his knife was quickly swatted away, and then her rapier was piercing his throat.

As those two fell, bleeding out, the crossbow bolt flew—and the swordsman in black, Kirito, snapped his sword up and out, almost casually cleaving it in half. Though the other crossbowman fired an instant later, that bolt never got anywhere near; another voice shouted words the Commander didn't understand, and a gust of wind blew the bolt aside and shattered it.

A blonde woman, riding ethereal wings, dove into view, landing right in front of the crossbowmen. They reacted quickly, dropping their crossbows in favor of drawing short swords, but the girl—a Forest Elf, the Commander thought for a moment, seeing the long, pointed ears—was faster still, drawing a katana and striking in the same motion. The ribbon cut carved up one man's torso from hip to shoulder, throwing him back with a scream and gushing blood.

The other man's sword nearly reached her. She only twisted her wrists, swatted the shorter blade aside in a screech of metal-on-metal, and in the same motion lopped off his head.

Four men down in the space of perhaps three heartbeats. Two of the imposter's confederates remained, hurling themselves toward Kirito from behind the stage. They both carried knives, dripping with a sickly green poison; the Commander knew that a single nick would be the end, even for a Swordmaster.

She felt no fear, even seeing that. She had faith. She always had.

The swordsman spun on one foot, slamming his heel into the first knifeman's throat hard enough for the Commander to hear the sickly crunch. Choking, he fell; Kirito ducked in the same motion, letting the other man's knife go by harmlessly. He continued the spin, slashing his black blade through the thug's spine.

In mere seconds, all of the imposter's accomplices were dead or dying. Yet he hadn't been idle, either, and with a roar, taking advantage of Kirito's distraction, he leapt. Black sword glowing a bright orange, he crossed the few meters separating them in a blink.

A blink too slow. Kirito whirled back upright, snapping his blade out at shoulder-height, parallel to the ground. The sword took on a deep crimson glow, and the Commander heard an unearthly howl. A familiar howl.

The signature skill of the true Black Swordsman! The Vorpal Strike!

The imposter's blade was heavier than Kirito's. Longer. But not as long as the crimson lance that lashed out from the black sword's tip. The Vorpal Strike met the imposter's sword, blew it away without losing momentum, and pierced straight through the man's left shoulder. His arm wasn't so much severed, the Commander thought with clinical detachment, as completely annihilated by the strength of the skill.

He always was the strongest of them, she thought with a warm flush of pride, despite the bloody carnage. How foolish was this… this bandit, to think he was any match for the true owner of that name?

The imposter slammed down on the stage, bleeding from the stump of his arm. “You… you….” He glared at Kirito, clutching at the stump; the last time the Commander had seen such hate in a man's eyes was the day of the Laughing Coffin Crusade, years before. “You'll pay for this, you bastard!”

“It's over.” Kirito lowered his blade from the Vorpal Strike's stance, then briefly swung it up to the left and then down to the right, shaking off blood. He didn't sheathe it, though, only holding it carefully at his side as he advanced toward his imposter. “Whoever you are, you've got the build of a Swordmaster. You'll live… long enough to be handed over to the local authorities.” He grimaced; almost the first expression he'd shown since appearing so unexpectedly. “Assuming there are any, that is.”

The Commander knew what that meant. What he was thinking. She knew he'd do it, too, if he absolutely had to. But he doesn't. Not this time. This time, blood isn't the only way for battles to end, my friend. Taking her cue, she began to walk toward the stage. “That would be my job, I believe—”

Kirito twitched, and began to turn to face her—only to be interrupted by a snarl of rage. “Like hell you're taking me! This isn't over! I am Genesis, and I never lose!” The imposter let go of the stump of his shoulder, snatched something from his belt, and slammed it down at his feet.

Smoke billowed around him, and the Commander found herself swearing once more. An old PKer trick from the Exile, one she knew all too well, and by the time Kirito could slash a Horizontal to disperse it, there was already a flash of bright blue light. When the smoke cleared, the imposter—Genesis—was gone.

“Teleport Crystal,” Kirito said, in tones of resigned disgust. “So those work here, too….”

“Is it over, Kiri-nii?” The blonde maybe-elf swooped down to the stage on ethereal wings, touching down by Kirito's side. Her face was pale, and the Commander could see the hand still holding her katana was trembling. “That was….”

“Yeah. I know.” Kirito finally sheathed his sword, and laid a reassuring hand on the blonde's shoulder. “It's over for tonight, Leafa. There's no one else here. Except….”

He finally turned to look directly at the Commander, and her heart leapt at the look in his eyes. Wonder, she thought. Wonder, and relief, and maybe, just maybe, something more. Those eyes, she knew well—black as the night sky, and warm as a summer's night. Eyes she'd hardly dared to hope she would ever see again.

“Hello, Kirito,” Kizmel said, forcing herself to remain cool and professional, just a little longer. “It's been a long time.”

She couldn't quite suppress just the faintest glimmer of a smile. After waiting so long, she refused to be ashamed of it.

It's her. It's her! And she remembers me!

Even if there'd been empirical evidence of crossing between worlds, even if Rovia had proven they'd come to the true Aincrad, Kirito hadn't known the Aincrad he'd experienced had had any connection. For all he knew, Kayaba had only managed a copy, and no one who lived in the real one would know him. Of course, the name “Black Swordsman” was a strong clue, but it hadn't quite been proof.

She was wearing a neat uniform instead of armor, but the saber and shield were the same arms of the Royal Guard he remembered. Her cape wasn't the hooded Mistmoon Cloak, yet the styling was unmistakable. The dusky skin, even darker in the fading sunset, the smoky purple hair, the violet eyes, the long, pointed ears… those, too, were the same as his memories. The smile, almost stifled by professionalism, but bearing a familiar, teasing edge.

Kirito's heart raced, and it had nothing to do with adrenaline from the battle. Compared to many of the battles he'd fought over the years, his imposter had been like swatting a fly. No, his pulse was racing from the realization of a dream—and the realization that, after all these years, he had no idea what to say.

“…Yeah,” he finally managed. “It has, Kizmel. Too long. Um….” He cast about for more words, and in the process his eyes fell on the corpses around them, jolting him back to reality. “Sorry I couldn't capture that guy,” he said, grasping the practical topic. “I guess I'm a little out of practice….”

“You sent him fleeing, and I doubt he'll soon return. And between you and your companion, you've made sure he has fewer allies. …Excuse me a moment.” Kizmel turned—with some reluctance, Kirito thought, wondering if he was imagining it—to the girl the imposter had nearly killed, and the local who was still shaking like a leaf a few meters away. “Myia,” she said sternly, “I believe we need to have a talk about recklessness. Again.”

Myia? Kirito blinked, taking a closer look at the young blonde. It is Myia! She's grown a lot, but I still should've recognized that gas mask right away. She always loved that thing. Whew. Guess we made it just in time.

Even through the mask, the young fencer was visibly mulish, only muttering, “Fine….”

Kizmel sighed, with the air of someone who was about to give a scolding in full knowledge that the tenth time probably wouldn't do any more good than the first nine. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the well-dressed local. “Mister Mayor, I'm sorry we were almost too late, and I apologize for the… mess.”

“N-no, Commander,” the man—the local mayor; Kirito realized he'd never actually seen him back in SAO—squeaked, shakily straightening. “You saved us—you and that Swordmaster there.” The mayor turned a jerky bow on Kirito himself. “I don't know who you are, but I'm very grateful. That man—whoever he really was; that couldn't really have been the Black Swordsman, could he?—did terrible things here, and he was going to do worse.”

“Clearly. Well, he may have escaped tonight, but now that we know about him, his days at large are numbered. In the meantime, the least we can do is dispose of the bodies….”

Kizmel looked then toward the theater's entrance, where another uniformed Dark Elf had appeared. Switching languages, she said something sharp that Kirito's rusty Elvish told him was some kind of rebuke. For being late, he thought. The rest was too quick for him to catch, but set the man to dealing with the bodies.

“Ki-ri-nii,” Leafa said, low and slow, suddenly gripping his left arm with steely fingers. “Who are these people, exactly?”

Oops. Kirito wasn't truly sorry, though—if only because his sister's annoyance was distracting her from what she'd just done. It wasn't the first time she'd killed; he knew all too well how her encounter with the mage Dee Eye Ell in the Underworld had gone. But it's never easy, and she hasn't been pushed to it as much as I have.

Leafa's grip tightened, and he realized he'd been silent just a moment too long. Rescue came before he could learn the hard way which of them was stronger in their new forms, when a figure lightly leapt up to the stage. “I'm Myia!” the girl in the gas mask announced. She pulled the mask up, just enough to show Leafa her face, before pulling it down again like a weird security blanket. “I met Kirito on the Sixth Floor, during the Exile. My mother and I were dealing with my father's scheme, and… oh, it's a long story.” She abruptly seized Kirito's hand. “You're finally here! How's Asuna? And who's this?”

Well, at least she's happier than when I last saw her. But then, it's been twelve—seven—years since all that happened. “Yeah, I'm here,” he said, awkwardly squeezing the young fencer's hand in turn. “Asuna's fine, just busy. And this is Leafa, my sister.” He sheepishly scratched the back of his head with his free hand, and turned a wry smile on Leafa. “Leafa, like she said, this is Myia. Asuna and I had quite an adventure with her, in the first year in Aincrad.”

“Um.” Bemused, Leafa bowed to Myia. “Nice to… meet you?”

“Kirito's sister?” Myia's quizzical look was obvious from the tilt of her head, even with the mask concealing her face. “I'm kinda surprised. You don't really look like family. Not that I know much about humans from your world, but….”

Kirito coughed. “It's a long story?”

“With you, it always is.” Myia hurriedly stepped aside, letting Kizmel nimbly jump up where she'd been. “Leafa, was it? My name is Kizmel, Royal Guard and Commander of the Ebon Knights Brigade of the Kingdom of Lyusula. It's a pleasure to finally meet Kirito's sister.”

“…Likewise?” Leafa gave another bow, before turning an arched eyebrow on her brother. “Ki-ri-nii?”

Oh, boy. I did not think any of this through. “It's a long story?” he said weakly, and quickly looked away from Leafa's glare to meet Kizmel's eyes again. “Um. 'Ebon' Knights?”

Another faint smile. “As you would say, it's a long story.” She reached out and gripped Kirito's arm; he felt a vague pang, even as he returned the gesture. It was friendly, but not quite the welcome he'd expected from her. “Speaking of long stories, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask the two of you to accompany me for the moment. Viscount Yofilis is going to want a report on what happened tonight, as well as your own return, Kirito. Much has happened, in the years you've been away….”

Kizmel's scout, working together with late-arriving town guards, set about cleaning up after the battle. In addition to the simple mess, they would need to search the bodies for any clues as to the bandits' true identities. Kizmel also hoped the experience would be of some use to the locals. If it made them even slightly less dependent, she would be relieved.

In the meantime, she led Kirito, Leafa, and Myia back to her gondola. Townspeople were cautiously starting to come out of hiding, as word spread that the danger was past; Kirito, though, only had eyes for the boat, those dark eyes widening at the sight. “Tilnel,” he whispered. “After all this time…?”

“Always,” she said quietly. She finally turned a full, gentle smile on him, away from prying eyes. “I've taken great care of the boat you and Asuna named for my sister, and it has served me well these past years.” Dropping down into it, she waited for the others to follow, before allowing herself to fully unbend. “Kirito. It's so good to see you again. After all these years, I hardly dreamed this moment would come. And just as an imposter appeared, using your name! Your timing could hardly have been better.”

Tilnel wasn't meant for four, but Myia was still slight enough to scrunch in, just barely leaving enough room for Kizmel and Leafa. Kirito, rolling his eyes at the arrangement, nonetheless took the oar without comment. “Yeah, I didn't see that coming,” he said, pushing them away from the dock and into the southbound canal. “I had reason to think there were already Swordmasters here, but a criminal calling himself the Black Swordsman? That's just weird.”

“Weird?” his sister—Leafa—muttered. “More likely creepy. Kiri-nii, who was that guy? He recognized you, but I don't remember him from Kikuoka-san's files on Laughing Coffin.”

“No, he definitely wasn't one of them.” Kirito frowned, pensive. “He said his name was Genesis, didn't he? I've heard that name before somewhere… right.” His frown deepened in obvious confusion. “If he's who I think he is, he's a kinda infamous gamer and hacker—they call him the 'God of Cheats'. Can't imagine what he's doing here, but after seeing what SAO did to people who might've been just ordinary griefers anywhere else, I could see a guy like that turning to highway robbery …Whoa!”

Conversation was briefly interrupted as Kirito, clearly rusty, almost slipped Tilnel into the northbound lane. The resulting near-miss with a cargo gondola, his frantic rowing to get them back on track, and Myia almost falling overboard in the process provoked a curse from the other gondolier. It made Myia's ears burn, and it took all of Kizmel's dignity as a knight not to respond with a choice Elvish epithet in return.

“Well,” she said, when their course had straightened out, “there's time to confirm his identity, and determine what he's doing here. With the wounds you inflicted, Kirito, I doubt the man will be back for some days, at least—Healing Crystals and potions are somewhat scarce in this region, sad to say—and we've cleared your name. Just knowing the true Black Swordsman is as heroic as ever will be a relief, among those who remember the name.”

Kizmel wasn't surprised to see her old friend look away uncomfortably at that. “The real me isn't exactly a hero, either,” he muttered, fixing his gaze on the water ahead of them as they slipped out of Rovia. “I've just done what I can. It… isn't always enough.”

Leafa winced. “Kiri-nii….”

There's a story there, I'm sure. Much as I wanted him to return, I know Kirito must've had reasons of his own. He returned to his own, peaceful world five years ago, yet his skills haven't dulled at all. If anything, he's even better than when we fought Kayaba. What has happened to him?

Aloud, Kizmel said firmly, “You were one of those who ended the Exile, Kirito. Yes, you are a hero. No,” she said quickly, when he opened his mouth to protest, “you didn't kill Kayaba alone, but neither did Asuna, nor I. Without your twin swords, the skill Kayaba himself created for the Hero of Aincrad, we would have lost. You know this.”

“The two of you and Asuna, huh?” Leafa turned a narrow glance on her, then Kirito. “So… Kizmel-san obviously isn't an SAO Survivor, Kiri-nii. How much have you still not told me, after all these years?”

Myia blinked behind her mask. “Kirito never told you about Kizmel? But she went everywhere with him and Asuna! Even—”

“Even to the battle with Kayaba,” Kirito interrupted hastily, so hastily he almost swerved Tilnel into the canyon wall and sent them all clutching the sides for dear life again. “Look, it's a long story, and I didn't want to talk about it until I was sure, and—”

The look his sister was giving him was turning more arch by the moment. Amusing as it was, Kizmel decided to rescue him—if only to make sure he didn't capsize the gondola. “It was two very eventful years, Leafa,” she interjected. “And… difficult, at times. I'm not surprised your brother wasn't ready to talk about everything, even after all this time.” Though I must admit, even I wonder why he never mentioned me. …Perhaps for the same reason I've been loathe to speak of him, these past years. Sometimes, hope seemed so slim…. “I suspect we've much to discuss, after we've reported to Viscount Yofilis. Before that, however—Kirito. I hope Asuna is well?”

“She's fine,” her old friend assured her, looking very relieved at the change of subject. “She's just tying up some loose ends back home. As soon as she can, she's coming here, too.”

Warm relief eased the remaining chill in Kizmel's veins. As delighted as she was by Kirito's return, she'd also been terribly worried about her sister in all but blood, especially when Kirito appeared without her. “I'm very much looking forward to seeing her again. It's been too long.”

“It has.” There was a faraway look in Kirito's eyes, as he guided them down the river south of Rovia. Before long, Tilnel was slipping into the fog that marked the charm concealing Yofel Castle from intruders. “It's been way, way too long….”

Something about that sounded off to Kizmel, leaving her wondering once more exactly what had happened in her friend's world, in the years they'd been apart. Before she could question it, though, Leafa yelped. “Where are we going, anyway? What's with this fog?!”

That, at least, brought a laugh from Kirito. “It's just a Forest-Sinking Charm, Leafa. As for where we're going—you'll see in a second!”

The scent of forest, despite sailing down a river canyon, was the first thing to reach Kirito's senses through the charm. A welcome scent, which instantly took him back ten years, to the first time he'd ever come this way. It was what came after, though, when they burst out of the mist, that prompted an astonished exclamation from Leafa.

“Is that—a castle?! But I didn't see anything like that when I was flying! Just… just an empty lake!”

Myia giggled at the Sylph's awed confusion. “Yeah, it's pretty amazing, isn't it? I was surprised, too, the first time I came here. I'd been to Castle Galey on the Sixth Floor, but that one's just protected by the desert around it.”

“Indeed.” Kizmel chuckled, a sound that tugged at Kirito's heart, after so long away. “Here… well, even today, with our closer ties to human settlements, we prefer to maintain a certain level of security. If only to keep either side from getting too comfortable.”

Kirito suspected there was quite a story behind that, but it wasn't what really grabbed his attention. Nor, he suspected, his sister's. No, they were both fixated on the castle that stood on the island in the center of the lake. White marble, blanketed in winter snow, its four towers rising above its grand outer wall to reach some fifty meters into the sky. From each tower, a flag flew proudly, displaying crossed horn and scimitar on a black field.

Even at night, that white marble gleamed in the light of Aincrad's twin moons, and soft orange spilled from the tower windows. It was more than enough to help him guide Tilnel to the dock, bringing her to a rest with hardly a bump.

He did have a brief moment of embarrassment, realizing he had no clue how to tie the boat to the bronze bitt without the simplified motions of Sword Art Online. His brief fumbling drew an amused smirk from Kizmel, who silently motioned him aside to do it herself.

Then the four of them were climbing onto the dock, and walking toward the dark gleaming plates of the heavy metal gates. “Kiri-nii,” Leafa breathed, craning her neck to take in the sight of the grand fortress rising above them. “What is this place? You never showed me anything like this in New Aincrad!”

No. He hadn't. After a brief, futile foray into the Forest of Wavering Mists on the Third Floor, Kirito and Asuna both had avoided anything related to the Elf War quest. It had been too painful. Then, once they began to realize the truth, they'd simply been too busy. And, he thought, as the halberd-armed sentries guarding the gates saluted Kizmel, I think we both wanted to save it. Until we could see it for real.

He was still fumbling for a way to explain it all to Leafa, who had never seen what he and other SAO Survivors had, when Kizmel saved him the trouble. As the gates swung ponderously open, the elven Knight turned to face them, a broad smile on her face. “This, Leafa, is a place where your brother and I, and Asuna, spent many a fine evening, and once fought a grand battle.” She swept her cape out in a grand gesture; Kirito mused absently that she'd gained something of a taste for theatrics since last they'd met. “Welcome, Leafa, to Yofel Castle!”

The Castle's front garden was much as Kirito remembered it, a place of trees, planters, and wrought iron fences, all frosted in snow. Apart from there being footprints in the white blanket covering the long path to the Castle's doors, it was exactly the same as the first night he and Asuna had arrived there, twelve years before.

No, he reminded himself sternly. Seven. Seven years to the day… huh. I wonder…?

Kizmel led them into the main hall, with its red rugs, marble fountain, and grand staircase. The smell of food wafting from the west wing made Kirito's mouth water, and reminded him he hadn't eaten more than a granola bar since arriving at Mount Tsurugi. Something about that must've shown on his face, from the tiny smirk Kizmel gave him—though it might also have been from the way Leafa's stomach growled, and her blush—but his old friend headed up the stairs and straight south. “I'm sure you're all quite hungry, but first we must report to the Viscount. Then, perhaps, I can show you a proper Yole Festival.”

“Yole Festival?” Leafa whispered in his ear, as they followed Kizmel down a hall and toward another staircase.

“They don't have Christmas here,” he murmured back, “but the seasons roughly match up with ours. Yole Festival goes from Christmas Eve through the New Year… I think. That was in the game, and we only ever attended one properly. The war was still going on the first time Asuna and I came here, and we defeated Kayaba over a month before we could've been to one in the third year.”

“That's right,” Myia put in, voice still muffled by her mask. “Almost, anyway. It starts a week before that, usually.”

“Ah.” That made more sense. If Aincrad had only been a game, the festival matching up so perfectly with Earth holidays would've made sense. Knowing it was real, it had confused Kirito. It being more of a general “end of year” celebration made much more sense.

Well, aside from the implication that this world's orbit and axial tilt match Earth's… oh, whatever. Who cares about that?

Not his sister, apparently. Even as they walked down Yofel Castle's halls and ascended two more floors, Leafa was giving Myia a puzzled look. “Um, so… Myia-san. Do you always wear that mask…?”

The young fencer giggled. “It's a long story?”

Leafa's eyebrow twitched, and Kirito stifled a laugh. “If I hear 'long story' without getting the story one more time….”

She trailed off. Still following closely behind Kizmel, they'd just reached the top of the staircase leading to Yofel Castle's fifth floor, and the first thing they saw was a pair of guards. Flanking a door on the right side of the hall, they came briefly to attention, before relaxing again.

Mostly. One of them, Kirito thought, did a very subtle double-take, and he wondered if it was because of Leafa's resemblance to a Forest Elf, or if the guard had actually recognized him.

Either way, neither guard commented, simply letting Kizmel approach the door. She gave a firm knock, then said, “My Lord? I've returned from dealing with the murder case in Rovia. I've brought two guests I believe you should meet.”

“Ah, Commander Kizmel.” The voice, though muffled by the heavy door, was light, almost melodious. Almost amused, Kirito thought. “Guests, hm? Very well. Come in, and give me your report.”

Kizmel pushed open the door, and revealed a room Kirito remembered well. A large office, floor covered in a thick crimson rug, its primary feature was the three-meter-wide desk at the far end. Despite the late hour, the office was much brighter than the first time Kirito had set foot in it, lit by multiple lanterns along the walls instead of a single, weak one on the desk. More, moon and starlight streamed in through the windows, no longer covered by thick curtains.

Standing before one of those windows, back to the door, was a man in elegant black and white, dressed fit for a nobleman. His long black hair was tied back at the neck, and what could be seen of his skin was lighter than any of the Dark Elves they'd passed along the way. Darker, though, than Kirito remembered it, as if emerging from his old seclusion had brought him more toward his old self.

When the man turned to face them, he revealed a long scar down his closed left eye, just as Kirito remembered. His remaining eye, though, widened slightly, and then he smiled. “Well, well. I see you've brought young Myia; I presume she couldn't quite wait for help… again. A young lady I assume is not the Forest Elf she so resembles… and Swordmaster Kirito.” The man inclined his head. “It's been a long time. I see Kizmel's faith was justified after all. After so many years, I admit I had begun to wonder.”

“A lot of things happened along the way, My Lord,” Kirito got out, past a suddenly thick throat, and he bowed. “Ah… this is my sister, Leafa. She's… well, right now she's a Sylph. Not an elf.” He chuckled nervously, realizing too late it hadn't occurred to him to think how he'd explain that to their hosts. “It's complicated?”

“With you, it generally is,” the man said dryly. Turning his attention to Leafa, he gave a proper bow of his own. “Lady Leafa, I am Viscount Leyshren Zed Yofilis, master of Yofel Castle. Your brother has done my Castle, my Kingdom, and my family considerable good. Family of his is always welcome here.”

“Thank you, M-My Lord,” Leafa stuttered out, managing a bow of her own. “It's an honor to meet you!”

“The honor is mine, I assure you. Now then. I am dying of curiosity as to why you and your brother are here, but first things first.” Yofilis walked to his desk, sat down, and looked to Kizmel. “Well, Kizmel? I trust the so-called 'Black Swordsman' terrorizing Rovia was not the man standing before me now?”

Kizmel firmly shook her head. “No, My Lord. It was an imposter. Indeed, Kirito arrived just as the confrontation was beginning…,”

She summarized the encounter Kirito and Leafa had stumbled on, and Kirito found himself frowning. He knew about me, he thought, as Kizmel gave her report. But he didn't know me. And he thought I was dead. How many people even know about Johnny Black's attack? Not to mention, he wasn't up to my level, but he definitely had a Swordmaster's physical abilities. Damn, I wish I'd had the time to get a photo. I could've sent it to Kikuoka and had him do a search. I guess a description will have to do for now.

“I see,” Yofilis said slowly, when Kizmel finished her report. Drumming his fingers on his desk, he frowned thoughtfully. “While I'm relieved it was merely a bandit using Kirito's reputation, and that he was at least badly wounded, the situation still concerns me. If he was only acting according to what he'd heard, there may be someone else involved here…. Kirito. Do you have any idea who he might truly be?”

Kirito grimaced. “He called himself Genesis, and said he 'never loses'. From that, I'm pretty sure he's an infamous gamer from my world. They call him the 'God of Cheats' for being able to obviously hack the system but never get caught. I have no idea what he's doing here, though, or why he knows about me. As far as I know, he wasn't an SAO player.”

“SAO player… ah, the Swordmasters, of course. Forgive me, I still have difficulty remembering that to your people, this world was merely a game turned deadly.” The Viscount visibly pondered that for a moment, before shrugging. “Well, if you've never met, we'll simply have to pursue other leads. From the sound of it, he's not as clever a bandit as he was a 'gamer', at least.”

Kirito nodded. He'd dealt with criminals more times than he wanted to remember. His imposter wasn't exactly weak, but at the same time he wasn't the smartest he'd ever run into, either. The God of Cheats doesn't seem to know what it's like to be in a real fight, with real stakes. “I'd like to help out with that, My Lord. If that's all right. It's… kind of why I'm here, actually. Part of it, anyway.”

That got him Yofilis' full attention, and felt Kizmel turn a sharp stare on him, as well. Even Myia was looking at him funny, he thought, though her mask made it a little hard to tell. “To clear your name? No,” the Viscount murmured, before Kirito could answer. “You didn't even know about him before. So tell me, young Swordmaster, what does bring you back to Aincrad, after all these years?”

“Well….”

It was Kirito's turn to summarize. To tell the tale of how, years after Aincrad had been cleared—after Kayaba Akihiko's death game had finally been ended—strange things had begun to happen. SAO Survivors disappearing without a trace, with a scattering of eyewitness reports improbably claiming they'd vanished in flashes of bright blue light.

One witness, an SAO Survivor herself, had specifically described it as looking like a teleport from the game. Though before anyone had been able to properly interview her, she, too, had vanished.

“I was investigating Kayaba's records by then,” Kirito said at length. He'd absentmindedly wandered over to one of the windows, to look up at the alien stars. “It was all crazy, but if it was true… I had to come here. I didn't defeat Kayaba just to see everyone disappear, one by one.”

“It sounds as if you would also likely have come here, eventually,” Yofilis mused, once again lightly tapping his desk. “Better to arrive under more controlled conditions, hm?”

Kirito shook his head. “No. I was coming regardless. This just gave me additional reason, and got me government funding for my search.”

The Viscount's fingers stopped, and a glance over his shoulder showed him Yofilis and Kizmel had both tensed at that. “Government funding,” the Viscount repeated carefully. “Then your expedition is… official.”

Oh. Right. “You're not going to be invaded,” Kirito said dryly. “Trust me, the process we used isn't one soldiers are going to want to go through.” He pointed at Leafa, who had spent most of the discussion thus far trying not to be noticed. “She wasn't a Sylph two hours ago. And here I am, with a body like the one I had in the 'game' Aincrad. The gate between worlds… changes people. Believe me, Colonel Kikuoka isn't going to be sending an army through that. No way to know what they'd come out as.”

“Ah. Fair point.” The brief tension eased from the room, and Yofilis smiled faintly. “Somehow, it doesn't surprise me that you, or one of your family, would come through as you did. In any case, between that and Lady Leafa's obvious grasp of magic—something still rare even with the long Exile ended—we clearly have much to discuss. Too much, I believe, for the late hour. For the moment, consider yourselves guests of Yofel Castle, as you and Asuna were before. Kizmel?”

The Knight stepped forward, an almost imperceptible smile curving her lips. “I'll see to their accommodations, My Lord. If the two you would come with me? We should perhaps begin with dinner, late as the hour is.”

Dinner. Kirito's stomach took the opportunity to remind him of its empty status, and, reddening, he gave Yofilis another bow. “If you'll excuse us, My Lord.”

He'd made it almost all the way to the door, with Leafa and an amused Myia, before the Viscount called out again. “One last thing, Kirito. You said you were planning this even before you learned of the disappearances of your comrades. Why?”

Kirito hesitated. There were a lot of different answers he could've given to that question. Some of them Leafa knew. Some of them she didn't. Some would be safe, and close the subject without any fuss. But the real answer… the most honest answer….

Turning to face Yofilis directly, he said, “For the same reason as the last time you asked that question, My Lord. My answer hasn't changed.”

He could feel both Leafa and Kizmel staring at him, but he willed himself to ignore that. He focused on Viscount Yofilis, and the man's inscrutable, one-eyed gaze. Because Yofilis had asked him that, many years before, and he'd given an answer he never would've imagined. In the ten years he'd lived since, that answer had only become more true.

Finally, Yofilis smiled. “I see. A fine answer indeed, Swordmaster Kirito. Welcome back. …No. Welcome home.”

Welcome home.

Those words hit Kirito harder than he would've expected, and he was in a bit of a daze for the first few moments after they left the Viscount's office. They felt right, in a way almost nothing had since escaping Kayaba's Aincrad. Certainly since the Underworld. Even as he followed Kizmel back down the stairs to the fourth floor, while Leafa and Myia chatted about the Yole Festival feast they were about to have, the word home bounced around in his head.

He was so distracted by it that, when they reached the fourth floor hallway and were out of sight of any other Dark Elves, he was caught completely off-guard by the hand seizing his arm. By the time he realized what was happening, Kizmel had caught him, and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Welcome back, my friend,” Kizmel whispered into his ear, resting her chin on his shoulder, purple hair brushing against his cheek. “It really is so good to see you again, after all these years. I'd almost given up hope that you'd realized that my world—that I—was real.”

Once upon a time, the tight embrace from the very shapely elf would've left Kirito a stuttering, blushing mess. This time, it was nothing more than what he'd expected, and had honestly been a little disappointed not to experience when they'd met again in Rovia. Always, from their first reunion in this very castle, Kizmel had been one to greet her friends with enthusiasm, and after so long apart her mostly professional greeting had been a letdown.

Only now did it occur to him that she'd just wanted a little privacy first.

Relaxing into those terrifyingly strong arms, Kirito returned the hug, breathing in the pine scent that always accompanied the elf girl. “It's good to see you, too, Kizmel,” he murmured back, letting himself revel in the final proof that he really had made it back. “Sorry it took so long. A lot of things happened, the past few years.”

“Better late than never, Kirito.” Kizmel laughed in his ear, a warm, bright sound that tugged at his heart. “A few years is nothing, now that you're here.” She tightened her embrace, nearly squeezing the breath out of him. Not that he really minded. “I've… been lonely, without you and Asuna. Now all that is over.”

“Yeah.” He swallowed hard, heart pounding at the suggestion that she had, perhaps, spent the last few years much the same way he had. “It'll be a bit longer for Asuna, her family's… kinda complicated. But she'll be here sometime in the next week or so, probably.”

“I'm looking forward to it. In the meantime….” She sighed, a long, contented sound. “Having you here will make life brighter indeed, my friend.”

Kirito leaned into that, her words as much as her arms. After the last few years in his own world, being accepted back into Aincrad—being welcomed back by the person in the Steel Castle he'd missed the most—felt like waking up from a nightmare.

It feels more like coming home than returning from Aincrad did, he admitted to himself. I didn't really realize it until after the Underworld, but… I never really did come back from SAO. Not deep down.

An awkward throat-clearing abruptly reminded him that he and Kizmel weren't quite alone, and he turned to look at their two companions. Myia's face was inscrutable behind her mask, but the way she had her hands behind her back and was lightly bouncing on her toes told him she found the whole thing hilarious. His sister….

Leafa was staring at them, eyes wide. “So…” she said slowly, “you two do know each other.”

Kizmel pulled back just enough to look, and something about her smirk made Kirito nervous. “Oh, yes,” she said, with a low, throaty chuckle that made his heart race. “Intimately.”

Leafa's jaw dropped, her eyes almost popping out of her head. Myia descended into a fit of giggles.

How did I ever forget her sense of humor? Kirito wanted to facepalm, even as he flushed red, but his arms were still thoroughly trapped by Kizmel's. “Please don't say it like that,” he managed, groaning.

“Why not?” Chuckling again, she slowly pulled away, fingers seeming to deliberately trail down his arms as she went. “It's true, after all. We may never have been lovers, but I would certainly call our friendship an intimate one.” At last, she let go entirely, and gestured down the hall. “Now, then, I believe we could all do with some dinner, after such a long evening. And then, perhaps, we can catch up in the bath? Just like old times.”

Myia doubled over, laughing openly. Leafa's eye twitched, and Kirito didn't like the look she was giving him. “Bath?” she repeated, slow and careful.

Hands free, he succumbed to the facepalm. “Kizmel… phrasing….”

Leafa had to admit, the Dark Elves did things grand. Yofel Castle was like something out of a fairy tale or a Lord of the Rings movie just from the outside, and the inside hadn't disappointed at all. The food they'd been served in the dining hall, despite the late hour, also more than lived up to what she'd have expected from a nobleman's castle. The roast chicken that had topped it off was better than any she'd ever eaten back in Japan.

With all of them famished from such an eventful day, they hadn't talked much over dinner. They only ate their fill, and then followed Kizmel to the southern end of the west wing's third floor, which ended in a room of brilliant white tiles. A changing room, not too different from ones Leafa had seen in Japan, but definitely fancier. Huge, lit by a large chandelier and decorated with a number of potted plants, there were a number of wicker chairs, and a long marble table dominated the center of the room.

She could only vaguely see the bath itself, through the clouded glass door at the far end. What little she could see, though, suggested it was on a similar scale, such that “bath” seemed an inadequate word.

All in all, Leafa was impressed. Awed, even. Also just a little perturbed, though, to discover there was only the one changing room, not segregated by sex. By unspoken agreement, they let Kirito go in first, and only when he'd gone on into the bath did the girls go in to get ready.

Now I know why Kiri-nii told me I should have a swimsuit ready, she thought, materializing her luggage from her Mystic Storage. But boy, does he have a lot of explaining to do! He never said a word about the Elf War quest, all these years, and now I find out he's best friends with a gorgeous lady knight and pals around with a viscount? What else hasn't he told me? He even told me everything about the Laughing Coffin Crusade! Why would he hide this?

She'd known, vaguely, that Aincrad had elves. She'd read about the questlines in New Aincrad, if nothing else. But neither her brother nor any of the other SAO Survivors had ever seemed interested, and she'd been too busy juggling New Aincrad and regular Alfheim to do much exploring on her own. Now she was seriously wondering what she'd missed out on, if there was something like Yofel Castle as early as what had been the Fourth Floor.

“Kiri-nii has a lot of explaining to do,” she muttered, stripping off her emerald coat and practical traveling clothes in favor of the green bikini she'd packed. “What was he doing in SAO, all that time?” She turned toward the two Aincrad natives, who seemed to be such good friends with her brother despite her never having heard of them. “I thought he was just focused on… clearing the… wha…?”

Myia had traded her fencer's garb and gas mask for a simple one-piece swimsuit, which looked close enough to a Japanese school swimsuit that Leafa suspected Asuna had had something to do with it. She was still settling it into place when the Sylph turned to look.

Kizmel was already heading for the door into the bath itself—but while she'd doffed her uniform, she hadn't bothered to replace it with anything else.

For a moment, all Leafa could think was that it was no wonder Kirito had believed Aincrad really was just a game. After all, it was hard to believe nature had resulted in that blend of gymnast muscles and curves fit to turn a Sylph green with envy. Kizmel was, by any measure, a knockout that made Leafa herself feel positively inadequate for a few stunned moments.

When Kizmel reached out to open the door to the bath, stark naked, Leafa finally found her voice. “What do you think you're doing?!”

“Hm?” The Knight paused, glancing over her shoulder, blinking in apparent confusion. After a moment, though, understanding dawned in her eyes, and she smiled—a wry, wicked smile that Leafa didn't trust one bit. “Oh, I see. It's been some time, so I'd forgotten humans had such odd ideas of modesty.”

“Odd?!” Leafa squeaked out.

“You get used to it,” Myia said ruefully. Looking a paragon of modesty next to the shameless elf, the young fencer shook her head and dropped into one of the wicker chairs. “Mostly. And you didn't 'forget', Kizmel. I'm around here often enough, and my mother drops by at least once a month.”

“Bah.” Kizmel waved a dismissive hand, still smiling. “What does it matter, anyway? This would be far from the first time Kirito saw me naked, after all. I won't push Leafa to follow our customs, of course, but I hardly see any reason to be concerned at Kirito seeing me.”

Leafa stared.

Kizmel laughed. Then, smile turning gentler, she folded her arms under her breasts, and said, “No, Leafa. Your brother and I were never lovers. Friends, yes, and eventually a kind of family, but not lovers. It's simply that, while my people do have some idea of segregated bathing, it's not a luxury afforded on the frontlines where we first met. After that, well, why should a little skin be a concern between family?”

The logic didn't quite click, for a Tokyo-born woman. A quick glance at Myia's eye-roll confirmed it wasn't a general Aincrad notion, either. Still, as scandalizing as it was to her, there was some strange logic, and Leafa reminded herself that she'd always known things had been different within SAO. Her brother had learned to live in Japanese society again, but she'd long realized it was never quite “normal” for him anymore.

That was the whole reason they'd come to the true Aincrad, after all.

Family, huh? She says they were family, but Kiri-nii never mentioned her… oh. Oh, that explains so much. Why didn't I see it?

“Now I get it,” she said slowly, glancing over at the frosted glance, beyond which Kirito waited for them. “Kiri-nii… never talked about elves. At all. But now that I think about it, he always seemed kind of sad, especially after we cleared the Third Floor in New Aincrad. Something happened then, and I never quite got it. …He thought you were dead, didn't he?”

“I suspect so,” Kizmel agreed, all traces of teasing gone. The look she turned on the door was nothing but warm and fond. “I did tell him and Asuna, at the end, what was truly going on, but I always knew it would be hard for them to believe. Even so, I had faith that they would come to truth eventually, and come back here. To me.”

“And he did.” It was finally starting to make sense. Leafa had known from the beginning part of what drove her brother to find the real Aincrad, yet there'd always been a strange spark of something she couldn't quite identify, driving his quest. “When he got Kayaba's notes, it was like he found a new reason to live, after… well, everything. I always thought it was just because he was on track to find the one place he'd ever really belonged, but now….”

“Indeed. I wouldn't presume to speculate on how much it was because of me, but I'd like to think I did have some part in motivating him to return.” Kizmel reached out for the door again, a pensive frown creasing her brows. “And now, I believe it's time I learned what did happen to him, in the years we've been apart. Certainly I have my own stories to share.”

Leafa choked. “Wait! You really are going in there naked?!”

The smirk the elf girl tossed over her shoulder reminded the Sylph of Argo the Rat, and sent a chill down her spine. “But of course.”

Yofel Castle had long been one of Kizmel's favorite places, in her time as a Knight, between her good working relationship with its Master, and the many happy memories she had with her human friends there. The bath was no exception. Most of the room was covered in tiles of pure ivory, leading to a bath the size of a large swimming pool, itself made of ebony basalt. Fed by a golden faucet in one wall, the bath was positioned such that it looked like it was one with the lake visible out the windows.

As she stepped quietly into the room, a scandalized Leafa still hesitating in the changing room, Kizmel took a moment to observe her old friend, already mostly submerged in the tub. Uttering a long sigh as the warm water soothed aches Kizmel could only guess at, Kirito was gazing out the windows, oblivious to her presence. Not that she blamed him, having long appreciated the view from the bath herself.

The western and southern walls were glass from floor to ceiling, providing a wonderful view of the lake surrounding Yofel Castle and the cliffs bordering it. Kizmel suspected that Kirito was taking in the view of the open sky, with no lid formed by the Fifth Floor of the Steel Castle blocking out the stars. She herself still often fixated on that, the unobstructed sky still novel even after five years.

The Blackwyrm, she mused, following Kirito's gaze to the constellations she had once shown him in an old book in Moongleam Castle's library. The great dragon that spreads its wings over the world. Fenris, the wolf that stalks the forests of the sky. The mighty warrior Artorias, who united Man and Elf, before he died in a battle in the sky… so many stars we only knew from books. Now that Kirito is here, we'll have to find time to sit outside and watch the stars together soon.

Later. In that moment, Kizmel only wanted to luxuriate in the bath, and enjoy the company. Though she hoped Kirito's sister wouldn't be too scandalized—

“You're crazy, you know that? I know Kiri-nii knew some strange people back in SAO, but even with all the girls he introduced me to when he came back, none of them were like this!”

She allowed herself a low, throaty chuckle. “Oh, you might be surprised, Leafa. One or two of them might simply have been making concessions to human sensibilities around you. I simply see no reason to, in my own people's domain. Ah, there you are, Kirito. Enjoying the reality of Yofel Castle's bath at least as much as when you came here as an avatar, I trust?”

“It's as amazing as ever,” Kirito admitted, lazily turning to look back toward the entrance. “Better, really. NerveGear's sensory simulation never did match real nerves. Especially where water was concerned.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Kizmel said, gliding toward the bath, smiling with a mix of warmth and pride. “And tonight, you can enjoy it without an impending crisis, hm? Quite the novelty, with our history.”

Kirito nodded in agreement. “I see you haven't changed a bit,” he said wryly. Somewhat to Kizmel's satisfaction, he took a moment to just look at her, taking in the combination of toned muscles and soft curves that had once led Asuna to admit she'd thought Kizmel must have been designed by a male programmer.

I do believe she may have been just a little jealous, when she realized the truth, she thought, amused. Hardly my fault I inherited my mother's looks. Still, I suppose that didn't help either of them believe this world was real. Even if I believe the two of them always sold themselves short.

I missed this. Missed him.

Kizmel's smile turned affectionate, with just a touch of mystery. She stretched deliberately as she stepped into the tub, looking over Kirito's own physique. Which, she noticed appreciatively, was more toned than the purely scholarly body on which his avatar had been based. She suspected he'd spent a good deal of time exercising, prior to the journey between worlds. Probably, she supposed, from the need to be ready to wield a sword in the real world. But perhaps… perhaps for other reasons?

She couldn't help favoring him with a smirk, and feeling a rush of warmth at the way he flushed in response.

“Kiri-nii!” Leafa scolded, stepping past Kizmel. “Stop staring!”

Kizmel laughed, sinking into the water to sit a couple of meters away from Kirito. “Oh, I don't mind, Leafa.”

It was, perhaps, unworthy of her to be amused by the way Leafa was reduced briefly to wordless sputtering. “W-well, I do!”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing from Leafa to Kirito. “You know, I think I'm going to like your sister. She reminds me a great deal of Asuna, in the early months of our travels together. Don't you think?”

Kirito hummed thoughtfully. “Kinda, yeah,” he admitted. She could see that he, too, was remembering how Asuna had insisted on Kizmel wearing a swimsuit, the first few times they'd bathed together. On the other hand, Kizmel had to admit, the fencer had also worn a very modest one-piece swimsuit herself in those days, while Kirito's sister was obviously more comfortable showing a little skin.

Interesting. Perhaps we'll win her over a little quicker than we did Asuna?

Leafa looked from one to the other, her expression a mix of exasperation and befuddlement. As Myia slipped in to join them, the Sylph hissed, “Are they always like this together? I know SAO changed Kiri-nii a lot, but I never imagined he'd be so relaxed in this kind of situation!”

“Like I said, you get used to it,” the young fencer replied, with a wry smile. “When you're friends with Dark Elves, this is pretty normal. And Kizmel traveled with Kirito and Asuna for a couple of years, after the Elf War ended. Right up until Kayaba was exposed, and the Swordmasters were freed.”

Kirito visibly had to stifle a laugh at the look on his sister's face. Ah, yes. How did they put it, years ago? “Culture shock”? I'd almost forgotten. Even Asuna stopped insisting I wear a swimsuit after the first month. By the time we defeated Kayaba, I don't believe either of them had even thought about it in over a year.

“As much as I might like to take the time to discuss bathing standards,” Kizmel said, smirking, before Leafa could make any further protest, “there are other matters we need to talk about.” Her mirth faded, as she looked Kirito in the eye. “I'm absolutely delighted to have you back, old friend, but I do have to ask: how long are you planning on staying?”

She couldn't hide the hopeful note in her voice. After waiting so long for his return, she could hardly bear the thought of him leaving again soon. You and Asuna made life worth living, after Tilnel died. Hope for your return has been my solace, the past few years of chaos. And I….

There was an odd flicker in his onyx eyes, as if he did have some idea what she was thinking. “Permanently,” he said quietly, meeting her gaze. “I don't know if I'll be living here in Yofel Castle long-term, but I do mean for Aincrad to be my home from now on.”

The silence that fell at that was an uneasy one. Leafa simply settled deeper in the bath, silently watching, as if she'd been expecting it. Myia's breath hitched, eyes widening; Kizmel's eyes followed suit, before narrowing with a predator's intent, feeling a mix of warmth and concern.

This is what I'd hoped. More than I'd dared hope, really. But—

“Kirito,” Kizmel said, very softly, “please don't take this the wrong way. I am delighted to see you again, and the idea of you staying in my world warms my heart. But… why? You fought so hard to return your family, during those years in the illusory Aincrad. Indeed, I see that you succeeded in reconnecting with your sister. Why would you leave it all behind now?”

Sighing, Kirito slid deeper into the water and turned his gaze out the window, to the lake and the cliffs of the place that held so many memories for them both, now covered in snow. “For you,” he began, “it's been five years since we last saw each other. For me, it's been around ten. I spent five years or so in a virtual environment with accelerated time.”

Accelerated time? I knew the machines the Swordmasters used to link with this world were capable of things we could scarcely imagine, but that… oh, Kirito. What have you been through, since last we met in this place?

After a brief pause, as if reflecting on experiences Kizmel could hardly imagine, Kirito continued, “You know I was fourteen when we first met. Subjectively, I'm about twenty-six now. Between SAO and that other place, the Underworld, I spent seven years—formative years, for a human—living as Kirito, not Kirigaya Kazuto. After five years as a swordsman in a world almost indistinguishable from reality, on top of the two I spent with you in a shadow of this world… the world I was born in felt like the strange one.”

…I do remember him talking about that, years ago. Worrying about how well he'd adjust to his own world—a safer world—again. That was just from the two years he spent here. Years more spent in another world, while hardly any time passed for anyone else….

He seemed to focus deliberately on the bath, and Yofel Lake beyond. On the stars reflected in both. “Eventually,” he said quietly, “I realized I was never going to find a place in my own world again. I'd spent too long as a Swordmaster. It's… what I am now, Kizmel. So when I finally realized this world was real, I had to come. Even before I knew SAO Survivors were disappearing. This… this is home now, Kizmel.”

Thinking about it, Kizmel wasn't as surprised as she might've been. Though she'd known from the day she met him and Asuna that they weren't of Aincrad, that they were fighting to return to their own world, she'd seen how he'd taken to the Steel Castle. Watched as he grew ever more comfortable there. As early as two months in, she'd noticed him briefly but seriously consider Lady Nirrnir's offer to make a home on the Seventh Floor, and he'd only settled in more over the two years that followed.

Still, Kizmel wondered if Kirito could hear the pain in his own voice. It was subtle. Faint enough that she doubted Myia noticed at all. The pain of leaving behind everything he once knew. And… something more. I can tell. You're not lying to me, but I know you, Kirito. You are leaving a great deal out of your story. For my sake… or yours?

Choosing not to press him too hard in the moment, though, Kizmel contented herself with a brief frown, before sighing and sinking deeper into the water with a rueful smile. “If you're absolutely certain, you will hear no objection from me, old friend. As Viscount Yofilis said… welcome home, Kirito.”

She'd seen him relax, hearing it from the Castle's master. Hearing it from her, Kirito gave her a smile that warmed her heart like nothing had in the past five years. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “It's good to be home, Kizmel.”

She held his gaze, and her smile, a moment longer, than turned her attention to Leafa. “I admit I'm not entirely surprised by Kirito's choice,” she began, “but I would like to know what brings you here, Leafa. You weren't in Kayaba's world. Surely this isn't as personal for you.”

“Kiri-nii's gone through too much without me,” Leafa said, folding her arms with a defiant lift of her chin. “He's had to leave me behind for almost all of his adventures. I'm not letting him out of my sight this time.” She hesitated, a shadow crossing her eyes. “And… it was time for a fresh start for me, too. There are things I can do here that I can't back in our world.”

“From what Kirito and Asuna always said of your world, I would imagine flying isn't something you normally do there,” Kizmel said, nodding slowly. “Nor the magic you used on those bandits. Indeed, that's nearly unheard of here, with magic only possible again within the last five years. I haven't heard of anyone who could use it as you do.”

“Yes!” Myia agreed, grinning. “That was incredible! Can you teach that to anyone else?”

Not the reaction most girls her age would've had to what Leafa had done with that magic, Kizmel mused. Not even in Aincrad. But she had to grow up fast, with what her father was like. Not to mention Laughing Coffin's plot back then.

Leafa gave a sheepish chuckle. “Um… I might be able to? The flying is a racial trait—I'm a Sylph, in this body; you probably don't have those around here—but the magic worked, too, so… it's worth a try? I mean,” she added quickly, glancing at Kizmel, “if that's okay. Honestly, what I was hoping to do in this world was start a dojo, teaching my sword style. I could try teaching what I know of magic, too.”

Kizmel let out a long sigh, and for the first time in almost five years, she felt a flicker of hope in what had come to seem a truly impossible task. A human—however changed—who wants to help train more humans to fight. Kirito's return is the greatest gift I could imagine personally. Professionally, his sister may be at least as important.

When she spoke, her tone was nothing but pure relief. “That, Leafa, would be a wonderful idea,” she said, tension easing out of her shoulders. “Especially if you intend to spread your knowledge to humans of this world. Anything that helps them stand on their own would be extremely helpful.”

Leafa blinked, turning a questioning look on Kirito. He shrugged, clearly just as confused as she was. “I think we're missing something here,” he admitted.

“Mm. It has been five years.” Kizmel stood up, wading toward the south window. “When the Exile finally ended,” she began, placing a wet hand on the glass, “and the hundred floors of the Steel Castle returned to the surface… it was like everyone woke up from a long dream. There had been a spell on the peoples of Aincrad, dulling our minds. We elves were less affected, yet I believe it was largely what kept us from making any effort to change the status quo ourselves. We've always been apt to keep to ourselves, but before the Great Separation, I believe we would've at least fought for safe travel between the floors.

“Humans, however, had it much worse. I am sure you remember how most humans of the Steel Castle scarcely cared to even leave their towns.”

Kirito nodded. “If I ever thought about it at all, I figured it was just ordinary game mechanics. I mean, of course they'd leave the fighting to the Swordmasters—to the players. That's just how games like that work.” Frowning thoughtfully, he turned his gaze to the northwest, where Rovia lay far beyond Yofel Castle's walls. “But in a real world… that doesn't make sense, does it?”

“Right,” Myia put in, a sheepish smile on her face. “Even Mother and I didn't even think about how unusual we were for learning to fight and traveling so far out of town. Not until the Exile ended, and… everything changed.” Her smile faded; he thought she looked like she was wishing she could wear her mask even in the bath. “It was… scary. Especially the first few months.”

“Chaos,” Kizmel said softly, looking out at the snow beginning to gently fall over the lake. “The elven kingdoms at least had kept proper governance over an extended area throughout the Exile. Humankind had long since forgotten how to handle anything larger than a town. When it was realized that the Safe Haven barriers were down….”

Kirito swallowed hard, and Leafa turned pale. She didn't blame them. She didn't like to think of those days herself. Once the aftershocks of the floors of the Steel Castle settling back into the ground had faded, people had mostly been concerned with the sudden clarity in their minds, and just repairing damage to their towns from the landing. She didn't think it had occurred to anyone, Man or Elf, to think about the Safe Havens.

Until the first monsters came into town. Kizmel couldn't suppress a shiver at the memory. She hadn't been there for the first attacks, but she'd seen the aftermath after Lyusula had gotten word and sent help. Though human towns did have some guards, the sheer surprise of facing monsters in what should have been safe territory had been devastating. And there simply are not enough of them. Not with the floors of Aincrad returned to the ground, and nothing to prevent monsters from roaming freely.

“Lyusula has done its best to help them,” Kizmel said, finally turning to face Kirito again. “As has Kales'Oh,” she added, with a flicker of a wry smile. “Things are mostly stable, now. But now we have a power imbalance. Some humans see us as condescending, paternalistic overseers. Others—many others, in some places—view us as outright conquerors. And worse….” She sighed, shaking her head. “Worse, I think, are those who want us to rule them. To return to their safe, coddled existence from the Exile, with the elves taking the place of the Safe Havens.”

Leafa shivered, despite the warmth of the bath. “I… I don't think I'm really surprised,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Think about it, Kiri-nii,” she added, when he looked at her. “How do you think people in Tokyo would react, if they were dropped into this world? Would they be any different?”

Kizmel had to admit, privately, that she was curious about that herself. Some of the things Kirito and Asuna had let slip, in the two years they'd traveled together, had made it fairly clear to her that they'd come from a largely peaceful society. Not burdened by the spells that had muddled the minds of the people of Aincrad, but still very much unused to the realities of war.

Something I never would have guessed, from how skilled those two were by the time I met them. Yet they fought so hard to return to that peace. Why give it up to return here? Surely it couldn't just be to find out why survivors of Kayaba's game have been disappearing.

“I've… seen something like it,” Kirito finally said. “The Swordmasters who stayed behind in the City of Beginnings through the entire death game. And that was with Safe Havens, and bodies stronger than any normal human.”

“Exactly,” Kizmel said, nodding, and pushed aside the questions of Kirito's motivations. “So you see, Leafa,” she continued, turning again to the Sylph, “we will be very happy to have you training anyone willing to learn. Perhaps,” she added, lips quirking in a wry smile, “Myia might even help you. That would give her something to keep her out of trouble. Or at least into more… controlled trouble.”

Myia's unrepentant grin fractured the building tension. “Mother and I were there for the Irrational Cube battle, Kizmel. You can't expect me to be scared of much after that.”

Kizmel gave a theatrical sigh. “Unfortunately not. Your mother taught you too much swordsmanship and not enough caution…. Ah, well.” She finally moved away from the window, wading over to settled back into the water barely a meter to Kirito's side. “That's enough serious talk for now, I think. Come, Kirito, Leafa, tell me what you've been up to since Kayaba's defeat. Surely you have stories of proper adventures to share, in the worlds you've traveled these past few years.”

Kirito visibly relaxed at her words, and her proximity, a fact which brought a smile to her lips. And if Leafa was looking a little askance at it again, well, at least that was better than the gloom that had threatened to settle over them all. “A few,” he admitted to Kizmel, as Myia leaned forward in rapt attention. “Let me think… well, there was the time Alfheim was nearly destroyed because the programmers didn't think things through. The only stakes were the game. Well, and Klein's love life. Poor guy. Though that turned out pretty well in the long run, weird as it is….”

After the bath, and everyone was properly modest again—Leafa was still flabbergasted that her brother hadn't batted an eye at Kizmel's antics—Kizmel led them all to the fourth floor of Yofel Castle's east wing. “The two of you may want to find other lodgings later,” the Knight said as they walked down what Leafa thought was a residential hallway. “I believe I speak for Viscount Yofilis, however, when I say that you're both welcome to stay here as long as you like. I'm sure you'll contribute enough to earn your keep, even if we didn't still owe you and Asuna a great debt for your aid seven years ago, Kirito.”

So much history there, Leafa thought, following obediently. Things I never knew. Kiri-nii was always vague about SAO, but I never imagined how much he was holding back.

After hearing takes of the Elf War, she thought she finally understood why her brother had been so deeply affected by SAO. It wasn't just because of the threat of death, it was because he'd found a place for himself, and friends, and then—as far as he'd known at the time—lost it all when the game was cleared.

And now we're getting the VIP treatment because Kiri-nii helped end a war between two elf races that had been going on for hundreds of years. Onii-chan, you never told me knew royalty!

Good thing he did, though. Leafa had gotten a lot of strange looks as they walked through Yofel Castle, and now she knew why. Looking like one of the Forest Elves just got double-takes now. If Kirito and his partner hadn't helped unravel the conspiracy behind the war, she might've been attacked on sight before she could explain she was a fairy, not an elf.

Finally, Kizmel stopped beside one particular door. “Tomorrow, we can have separate rooms arranged,” she said. “Tonight, I'm afraid we weren't expecting you. Leafa, do you mind sharing with Myia for now? If you'd rather be with your brother, I'm sure something can be managed.”

Leafa shook her head. “No, that's fine,” she said, waving a hand. “I'm not going to freak out if Kiri-nii isn't right with me for one night. Besides….” She hesitated. “I think you two probably want to catch up, right? I'll get to know Myia-san tonight.”

The look Kirito gave her made her stifle a giggle. He looked like he couldn't decide whether to be grateful or scold her. Sorry, Kiri-nii, but now that I know what you were hiding all this time… you're not exactly subtle.

Kizmel raised an eyebrow, then smiled enigmatically. “Very well, then. Kirito will be next door, so you need only come a little ways out if you do need him.”

“You sure you'll be okay, Leafa?” Kirito asked, concern apparently winning out. “This is your first night here, in the Aincrad I knew.”

Leafa rolled her eyes. “Go catch up with your friend, Onii-chan. If something crazy happens, I'm sure you'll hear the screaming.” Then, before she could lose her nerve, she turned to Myia. “C'mon, let's go. I don't know about you, Myia-san, but I'm about to fall asleep on my feet.”

She was pretty sure the younger girl was grinning, behind the mask she'd put right back on after the bath. “That's fine with me. Don't worry, Yofel Castle's beds are comfy, and even the guest rooms are huge.”

Leaving her brother and his Dark Elf friend in the hallway, Leafa followed the young fencer into the guest room, and let the door close behind her. She found herself in a large common room, dominated by an appropriately-large sofa, with two doors each on the east and west walls and one leading to a balcony to the south. It was, honestly, a lot more comfortable than she might've expected from a castle, though she supposed the dining hall and bath should've given her a clue.

Then, and only then, did she let herself sigh, and her shoulders slump, as the reality of the situation settled on her.

“Do you… want to talk about it, Leafa?”

Startled, she turned to look at Myia. The younger girl had taken off her mask again, tossing it lightly on the couch by the west wall. Now she turned a concerned look on Leafa, and the Sylph realized Myia wasn't quite the headstrong hothead she'd thought.

“Am I that obvious?” Leafa sighed. “I hope Kiri-nii hasn't noticed. It's so good to see him so happy again, I don't want him to worry about me. Not tonight, anyway.” She gave Myia a speculative look. “I know they denied it, but are he and Kizmel, um…?”

Myia laughed. “No, they're not. Kirito and Asuna were really close with Kizmel five years ago, but never like that. Kizmel's just… um, unusually cuddly for an elf.” She glanced back at the door, and lowered her voice. “I heard they were the ones who gave Kizmel a reason to live, after her sister Tilnel died.”

Her sister…? Oof. I know how I was when Kiri-nii almost died in Johnny Black's attack. Actually losing her sister… I can barely imagine.

“You're changing the subject,” Myia said suddenly. “I was asking about you, Leafa. Do you want to talk about what's wrong?”

Darn. Leafa wasn't really bothered, though. She didn't want to worry her brother, but she wanted—needed—someone to talk to. “I'll be okay,” she said quietly. “It's just only now sinking in that I'm here long-term. This isn't just fun in a game, or a brief visit to a place like the Underworld. This… this is home, now.”

Without really thinking about it, she drifted to the balcony, Myia following quietly behind. Stepping out onto the stone floor overlooking the lake, she looked up to the night sky. To the alien constellations, like nothing she'd ever seen back on Earth. ALO was different, too, but this… this was real. Alien, but real.

“I'm homesick,” she whispered, shivering from more than the cold. “I miss my parents. I miss… everything.”

“But you came anyway,” Myia said softly, stepping up to the railing beside her. Her tone didn't sound at all judgmental, just prodding.

“Like I said in the bath, I wasn't going to let Kiri-nii go without me again. Especially not when he was going to be moving to this world. And….” Leafa hesitated, before turning to look at the young fencer. “Was today… the first time you ever killed a person, Myia-san?”

She knew her question was blunt and personal, but she somehow had the feeling Myia wouldn't be offended. Aincrad, she already knew, understood the subject better than Japan did. At least, the elves do, and some local humans. I want to hear how Kiri-nii got to know Myia and her mother, sometime.

“No,” Myia said, quiet but unflinching. “Even before the Exile ended, it wasn't just monsters and rogue Swordmasters who were dangerous.”

Leafa nodded, somehow not surprised. “Same here,” she whispered, looking back up at those strange stars. “In Kiri-nii's last 'adventure' before he started looking for the real Aincrad, everyone was a real person. Most of them decent. Some of them jerks. And some of them….” She shivered, remembering the raw malice Dee Eye Ell had exuded. “Some of them were evil. I didn't see most of what happened there. I only got involved near the end. But I had to kill. To survive. To protect other people. I don't regret it, either. But my world, my homeland… nobody there really understood it.”

Not even Dad. He never treated me the way he did Onii-chan, but I knew. He just didn't get it. And he was never going to.

“It changes you,” Leafa said quietly. “And where Kiri-nii and I come from, you're not supposed to admit that. You're supposed to just… pretend it never happened.” She shook her head. “Kiri-nii couldn't do it. Not after SAO. Not after the Underworld. After what I saw, what I did, in that world, I can't, either.”

“So you came here?” Myia said, tilting her head. “To a world where you might have to do it again?”

The question was blunt, and struck straight on a subject Leafa was trying not to think about. Still, she didn't flinch. “If Kiri-nii is going to be here, then so am I. And if it's risky… at least the people here will understand it. Some of them, anyway.”

The elves, at least. Though she still had only a vague idea of how deep her brother's connection with them ran, she found herself deeply grateful for it. No matter what, it seemed, they had a place to retreat to. That made the whole thing just a little less scary.

And Kiri-nii is happy. That alone means a lot.

“So!” Leafa said, deliberately pushing the dark thoughts away. “Enough about that. We should talk about how I'm going to start a swordsmanship school here. Or,” she added, a thought striking her, “better yet… tonight, I want to hear any stories you have of Kiri-nii's time here. Especially how he got so comfortable with taking a bath with a girl I never heard of before tonight!”

Myia grinned. “Well,” she began, “I only met them around three weeks into their partnership, so I wasn't there at the start. But there was the Castle Galey hot spring, and Kizmel pulling a prank on Kirito and Asuna. That place has separate entrances for men and women, but Kizmel didn't tell them they both led into the same space.”

Leafa choked. “You mean…?”

The young fencer laughed. “From what I hear, Asuna almost beat Kirito up for that, before she realized it was Kizmel's fault. After that, well, apparently swimsuits just seemed pointless….”

Somehow, Kirito wasn't surprised to discover exactly which quarters Kizmel had chosen for him. It had been a long time since he'd been to Yofel Castle, by his own subjective experience, but some of his favorite memories of the Steel Castle had happened in this place. He knew the way to his friend's own chambers well enough.

It wasn't the first time they'd shared lodgings, nor the most confined. The first night they'd known each other, the two of them and Asuna had shared a tent, albeit a large one, and their adventures had later taken them to tighter quarters than that. Far from being uncomfortable with the implications, he simply crossed quickly to the bedroom opposite hers, where he took a few essentials out of his inventory.

Later, he'd unpack more thoroughly. In the moment, he haphazardly tossed most of his basic gear into a dresser, and changed into a simple combination of sweat shirt and pants. Last time I was here, I literally had nothing to wear besides my battle gear and sleepwear, he thought, smiling at the memory. Everybody will be shocked I actually brought a few changes of clothes.

By the time Kirito stepped back into the common room, Kizmel had already emerged from her bedroom. As he'd more or less expected, she was wearing the same sheer black nightgown he remembered from the time they'd spent together in the death game, which had scandalized Asuna almost as much as her bathing habits in the early days. Now, his elven friend was laying out a tray of snacks, a bottle of moontear wine, and two glasses on the table by the couch.

Seeing him, she crossed the space from the couch in two quick strides and captured him in a hug, even closer than the one she'd given him earlier with decidedly less cloth between their bodies. “It really is good to see you again, my friend,” she murmured in his ear. “Myia's been good company, these past five years, but she wasn't… you.”

“I know what you mean,” Kirito said quietly, relaxing into the embrace. “I've had the other veterans of Aincrad with me, and I've met a few more people since who've been through the same kind of things, but society in general….” He sighed. “I guess you haven't had that trouble, though. 'Ebon' Knights?”

Kizmel laughed, the sound vibrating against his body. “When the Exile ended, and the situation with the human settlements became clear, it was determined that the Kingdom needed an order that could address our shared interests. That I ended up more or less in charge of it… I blame you.”

“Me?” He pulled back far enough to meet her eyes, bright with amusement. “How is it my fault you were promoted? And why 'blame' me for it? A promotion is a good thing, usually. Better than the trouble I got you into with the Keys being stolen, anyway.”

Not something any of them had found even remotely amusing at the time, of course. Kizmel had been branded a traitor by the Lyusulan priesthood when Kirito's desperate scheme to save a guild that had run into trouble with the Fallen Elves had gone awry. She'd almost been executed for it, and he and Asuna had ended up in considerable trouble themselves.

All had ended well enough, and it had won Kirito and Asuna high standing with both the Dark and Forest Elves, as well as Kizmel's companionship for the rest of the death game. On the whole, he counted the whole mess as more a victory than a defeat.

“You haven't seen the paperwork I've had to deal with,” Kizmel said dryly. “Or the politics. And it's your fault, because my time traveling with you and Asuna left me the 'expert' in Lyusula on dealing with humans. With Viscount Yofilis in particular trying to build some measure of stability here, I have been very busy, the past five years.” The mirth faded from her eyes. “Very busy, indeed.”

I knew it. “There's more going on than what you talked about in the bath,” he guessed.

“Mm.” Finally, she released him from the hug, and walked back to the table. After she'd poured two glasses of moontear wine and handed one to him, she guided him down to side beside her. “Myia,” she began, idly swirling her wine glass, “is not quite privy to everything going on. And I would rather not worry your sister too soon. What even Myia knows is that banditry has been on the rise the past year or so—your imposter was the most brazen and the most dangerous, but far from the first bandit to haunt the Rovia region.”

Kirito sighed, sinking back into the couch cushions. Taking a long sip of wine, he allowed himself to savor the slight sweet and sour taste, one he hadn't sampled in far too long. “I wish I could say I was surprised,” he said finally. “But without a real nation, without something resembling normal law and order, it was inevitable.” He grimaced. “And if that's the part Myia does know, it must be worse than that.”

“We believe so. Mind you,” Kizmel cautioned, “our knowledge of most of the former Steel Castle is very limited; though the old Teleport Gates are in full operation, Lyusula's reach only extends as far as the Spirit Tree network. Beyond the seven regions where we have territory, we have only limited scouting reports.” She frowned down into her wine. “I have pushed for investigation beyond that, but even as the Commander of the Ebon Knights, my influence is limited. And I do understand Her Majesty's reasons.”

He nodded. The elves were insular and isolationist by long habit; even Kizmel herself had tried to warn him and Asuna off from interfering, the night they'd met. It was amazing progress that they were trying to help the human settlements close to their domains as it was.

“That being said,” she continued softly, “there are… disturbing rumors to the east. Out beyond the former floors of Aincrad that came down on the continent's west coast. The human settlements Lyusula knows remain largely disorganized. Far to the east, where the higher floors came to rest, there is word of an empire forming. Or so, at least, the rumors name it.”

Kirito felt a chill go down his spine, one which another long swallow of moontear wine didn't do much to dispel. The last time he'd dealt with an empire… well, his soul still bore the scars. Literally. Higa, Alice, Asuna, everyone… they put me back together. But wounds like that don't just go away.

“For all we know,” Kizmel told him, after taking a drink from her own glass, “this 'empire' might be perfectly benevolent. As I mentioned earlier, we want mankind to pull themselves together. But something does not sit right with me, or many others of Lyusula, about an outright empire forming within a mere five years. Not after seeing the disarray of humanity here.”

“Can't blame you.” Kirito couldn't help a rueful chuckle. “The last time I had anything to do with an empire, I ended up having to assassinate its 'highest administrator'. Then I got stuck ruling it for… a long time.”

As heavy as the topic was, as dark as the memories were, he had to stifle a genuine laugh at the look Kizmel gave him. It wasn't often he was able to truly surprise her. The absolutely flabbergasted look she was giving him was one he knew he'd treasure for a long time.

Finally, Kizmel looked down at her wine, frowning deeply. “I don't think I'm that drunk yet…. Kirito. How in the world, even with the kind of strange adventures you fall into, did you become an emperor?”

“Technically, they called me the 'Star King', apparently. I… don't remember much about that. Fortunately.” Smile fading, he reached for a chunk of Lyusulan fudge on the table, and bought himself some time devouring it. When he couldn't stall any longer, he began, “Let me tell you about the Underworld, the Human Empire, and… a whole other life I lived. An entire second childhood….”

Kirito intended to tell her about his experiences with Project Alicization, but when he mentioned Johnny Black's attack on him, Kizmel's insistence on clarification made him go back and tell the story from the beginning. From the first crisis he'd faced after they'd parted at the Steel Castle's end.

Over elven wine, he told her about Sugou Nobuyuki's attempt at twisting the minds of three hundred survivors of Sword Art Online, and his depraved behavior toward Asuna. As hideous as the memory of it was, he couldn't help but smile fondly at her outrage, and her declaration that if Sugou had attempted it where she could reach, he wouldn't have survived the experience.

As midnight approached, Kirito explained the Death Gun incident, where Laughing Coffin's ghosts had returned to kill again. Kizmel didn't have the context to understand the mechanics, but she clearly remembered the murderous guild well enough; she tensed as he related his duel with Sterben, revealed to be Red-Eyed XaXa, and visibly relaxed when he assured her that he'd been apprehended and imprisoned afterward.

Only then did he get into how Johnny Black had escaped justice that day, only to reappear almost a year later and attack him directly. “I was careless,” he admitted, over his second glass of moontear wine. “I hadn't had a serious duel, with my real life on the line, since Kayaba. Even with just an umbrella, I should've won that fight. But I didn't, and… I think that was the day Kirigaya Kazuto died.”

From there, he told her the long story of his time in the Underworld. Growing up within it, even if he hadn't remembered it until later. Being trapped in it, while recovering from Black's attack. The journey he'd gone on, in that all-too-realistic world, which had started just as an effort to rescue one girl, and had spiraled into overthrowing Quinella's tyranny. The damage his very soul had taken, when power was interrupted while he was still dependent on the system.

The War of the Underworld, when he'd recovered, hadn't been that traumatic by itself. Turning PoH into a tree and leaving him to rot until his real brain failed hadn't made his conscience even twinge, next to some of what he'd done before. Defeating Gabriel Miller in his guise as the Dark God Vector had been nothing to him.

What came after….

“They tell me Asuna and I were trapped in accelerated time for over two hundred years,” Kirito said, very softly, sometime after midnight. “We don't remember more than the first couple years. RATH had to wipe the rest of it, because our brains couldn't handle it. But….” He stared down into his glass, vaguely realizing it was at least his fourth; given the potency of moontear wine, that he was still coherent was another confirmation that he'd gained a body equivalent to his old avatar. “Between the time I spent 'growing up' in that world, living in it later, and the years I spent here in Aincrad, more of my life has been as the Swordmaster Kirito than as Kirigaya Kazuto.” He downed the rest of the glass, and finally set it aside. “That's why I'm here, now. I… couldn't be Kazuto anymore.”

At some point, Kizmel had slipped closer to him. Now she took his hand, gently rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. “I can hardly imagine,” she murmured. “I did wonder why you were still going by that name, knowing that it wasn't your real one. Is that why your sister is also using an alias?”

“More or less,” he admitted. “It's not really my story to tell, but yeah, Leafa… did some things that our homeland didn't understand. What our father—” He cut himself off, but too late. Kizmel, always sharp, picked up on it at once.

“Your father,” she said, eyes narrowing. “You know, throughout your entire tale, you never did explain why the two of you would be so ready to leave your parents behind.” She held his gaze, compassionate but unyielding. “What happened, my friend? What really drove you here, in the end?”

For a long moment, Kirito considered trying to make up an excuse. He didn't like to talk about it. He didn't even like to think about it, as much as it had hurt. The first time it had come up, he'd thought on some level that his father was in the right, even if something in him rebelled at the thought. He'd been a child, his father an adult; obviously, his father had to have known better, right?

Alice had been the one to get it through to him that his father's age and greater experience with “normal” society didn't make him automatically right. Born of a very different culture, with experiences that mirrored his own particular circumstances, she'd had the perspective to finally convince him his perspective wasn't automatically inferior.

Which might've been what led to that last argument. But… no. Sooner or later, it would've come to a breaking point. She just helped make sure I wasn't what broke.

Kirito didn't like to talk about it, or remember it. He also hated to lie to Kizmel, especially after the early days of their friendship, when he and Asuna had been forced to talk around their own circumstances around the elven knight, believing that, as an NPC, she couldn't possibly understand. Since learning the truth, he'd promised himself he wouldn't ever lie to her again.

Finally, with a sigh, Kirito stood. He walked out to the balcony, Kizmel's footsteps a faint whisper on stone a pace behind him; wine glass still in hand, he turned his gaze to the alien constellations above. Ones that, in that moment, felt more inviting than the night sky of Earth.

“I told you my homeland didn't understand what the SAO Survivors went through,” he said quietly. “That was true of just about everyone, except people like Colonel Kikuoka. But most of them… just tried to forget it all happened. Pretend nothing was wrong. My father… didn't. Mind you, I barely saw him for the first couple of years after Aincrad; he came home for about a week after I woke up, but otherwise he was usually away on business. There wasn't time to find out what he thought about everything, after the euphoria of me being back at all wore off.”

He paused to take a fortifying sip of wine; without even looking, he could feel Kizmel's gaze on his back. Patient. Waiting for him to tell the story at his own pace, just so long as he did tell it. She'd always been good about that. Pushing him, but only as much as she absolutely had to.

“If there's something you want to say, now is the time for you to do it, while you can. Your ability to do so makes you very fortunate.”

Something she'd said to him in the earliest days they'd known each other, and one of the things that had convinced him she was a real person, even before he learned that Aincrad itself was real. It had stuck with him all the years since.

“I didn't really get a chance to sit down and talk with him for a long time,” Kirito said, idly swirling the wine in his glass. “Not until after Alfheim, Death Gun, and the Underworld. One night, a few weeks after I got home, we had dinner as a family. Practically the first with all of us since Aincrad. My father started talking about how I needed to think about what I was going to do as an adult and….” He hesitated. “I didn't think much of it at the time. Apologizing for causing my family to worry just seemed natural—”

“For causing them to—?!” Kizmel's outburst cut off as quickly as it began; when he finally turned to look at her, she was taking a deep, calming breath, but there was still fire in her violet eyes. “I'm sorry. Please, go on.”

Her outrage on his behalf somehow made it easier to continue, a tension that had coiled in his chest for a long time finally loosening. “Yeah,” Kirito said simply. “Dad… held me responsible for all the trouble I'd gotten in. He wasn't angry about it—well, not then—but he made it clear I was at fault, and it was my duty to apologize and make it up to them.”

“For falling prey to a trap no one in your world had even known was possible,” the Knight said flatly. “For apprehending a murderer. For being murdered, and being swept up in events beyond your control as you were recovering. Your father blamed you?”

“He kind of had a point about Death Gun,” Kirito couldn't help pointing out; some last vestige of his old upbringing, he supposed. “Kikuoka and I had every reason to think it was just a hoax at first, but I did volunteer. And I did know I might be getting into danger when I rescued Sinon.”

Kizmel snorted. “Anyone with a trace of honor would've thought less of you if you had not acted to save your own comrade. Kysarah would've been disgusted.”

He had to choke back a laugh at the implication that his father was worse than the Fallen Elves. It wasn't that funny. …Almost, though. If I met her today, I'd probably have a more civil conversation than I did with Dad, last time I saw him.

Kirito's smile turned bittersweet at the thought, and he looked down into his wine. “You're right,” he admitted. “It took me a long time, and help from a friend, to see it, but you're right. That, and his insistence that I had to put all of it behind me and live a regular life… I couldn't do it. Not after so many years as a swordsman. As… the Black Swordsman.”

The name had a lot of bitter memories attached to it. It was the name of the person he'd become, that hadn't been able to return to normal society. But he'd finally had to accept that it was who he was, and that he was never going to be Kirigaya Kazuto again.

“We talked about it one last time, a couple of years ago,” Kirito said softly, still staring into the swirling wine in his glass. “I'd been focusing more on trying to find my way here than on a 'normal' life for a while by then, and Dad finally put his foot down. He demanded I let it go, leave being 'Kirito' in the past, and live as a normal Japanese citizen. That time, I didn't apologize. I told him I couldn't do it. That I'd been a swordsman too long, done too many things that he'd never understand. It… got heated.” His lips quirked in a bitter smile. “I walked out. Leafa followed me a few minutes later. And we never went back.”

Kizmel's glass clinked as she set it on the balcony's railing, and then she was pulling him into a hug—gentler than before, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Oh, my friend,” she whispered, reaching up to brush her fingers through his hair, her other hand rubbing his back. “To have been through such trials, only to be rejected by your own family… I can scarcely imagine. Did your mother…?”

“She defended me,” he admitted quietly, leaning gratefully into her. “A little. But she always deferred to Dad, and she didn't say anything in the last fight.” He sighed, and breathed in the elf girl's pine scent. “I hope to see her again, sometime. But I can't go home. Not really.”

“You are home,” she said, quietly but fiercely. “I know you never saw yourself as a hero, but Aincrad remembers what you did, Kirito. Lyusula remembers. You will always have a home with us. Just as when you and Asuna took me in, while I was a fugitive from the priests.” She backed up to lean against the railing, pulling him with her. “This will be a home for you and your sister so long as Lyusula remembers your deeds—and you know my people have long memories.”

“Yeah. I do.” In that moment, Kirito suddenly realized another reason he'd felt like he was coming home. The elves, whose lives spanned centuries naturally, were possibly the only people who could understand what he'd been through in the Underworld.

Not that I really needed another reason. Kizmel's enough to make me want to be here. After all—

“This is one more thing I'm curious about,” Kizmel murmured, breaking into his thoughts. “You told the Viscount your reason was 'the same as the last time'. Now that I think about it, I never learned what you said to him the first time, to stir him from his isolation. What did you tell him, to rally to Yofel Castle's defense, and what would it have to do with your return?”

Kirito froze. The question cut to heart of why he'd returned specifically to Lyusulan territory, why he'd been aiming for it even before his final argument with his father. But—I wasn't going to actually talk about it! Not yet, anyway. Not until I had a better idea of how she feels—

“If you have something to say,” she whispered in his ear, “now is the time for you to do it, my friend.”

The same advice she'd given him a decade before. The advice that had given him the push he needed to convince Asuna not to completely burn her bridges with the guilds, at a time when he'd barely had the social skills to make their partnership work at all. Somehow, it seemed appropriate to hear them again, in this moment.

Taking a deep breath, Kirito pulled back, slipping out of Kizmel's embrace to look her in the eye. “Twelve years ago,” he said quietly, “seven, whatever. Viscount Yofilis asked me why I was helping Lyusula and not Kales'Oh. I told him that I didn't really have a reason at first. But by the time we fought at Yofel Castle, Asuna and I fought to protect your nation and people… because we loved you.”

For the first time in a very long time, he saw Kizmel at a loss for words. She only stared at him, wide-eyed.

He could've just left it at that. Brushed it off as purely familial love; Asuna had certainly made it clear enough over the years that she regarded Kizmel as a sister. But after so long away, after everything he'd been through—after all the time they'd been apart—Kirito forced himself to hold Kizmel's gaze, and give her the rest of the answer.

“That's why I came back to Lyusula now, Kizmel,” Kirito said, so softly only elven ears could hear. “Because I love you. It took me a long time to realize it, and I was just a kid back then, but… I love you.”

For a long moment, he was afraid he'd ruined everything. He was human, however changed he was as a Swordmaster, while she was a Dark Elf. As a knight—a commander of knights—she was even technically nobility, while he was just a wandering swordsman, however much he'd done for Lyusula. Looking into Kizmel's wide, shocked eyes, Kirito's heart raced, fearing he might've crossed a line he should never have touched.

“You fool,” she finally whispered, eyes shimmering—and then she was tackling him, almost toppling him over the railing. “You reckless fool. My fool.” Before he could react, she seized the back of his head, and pulled him into a kiss.

Kirito lost track of time, space, and pretty much everything else for uncounted moments, caught up in the feel of Kizmel's mouth against his. The elf girl was thorough, almost devouring him, and all he could sense was her pine scent and the taste of moontear wine on her lips.

When she finally broke the kiss, both of them needing air, she pulled back only far enough to lean her forehead against his. “I have been waiting five years to hear those words,” she whispered. “You and Asuna saved my life and my soul. You saved my people. You were there for me, when my own people thought me a traitor. When I realized you thought my world was fake, and yet you still did everything you could for us, for me… you stole my heart, even as you saved it.”

Kirito's own heart skipped a beat at those words. Almost unnecessary, after her actions, yet hearing her feelings stated outright seemed to seal it. Made it real.

“Then you vanished. Gone back to your world, before I ever told you how I felt. Before I was ever sure how you felt.” Her breath ghosted over his lips, deep and shuddering. “You never said anything. I suspected, I hoped, but in all our travels, you never said those words.”

“I was just a kid back then,” he said roughly, reaching up to touch one long, pointed ear. “At first, I didn't think this world was even real, and after that… I was only sixteen when we defeated Kayaba. A kid who was nothing outside of the game.”

“You were never a child in my eyes,” Kizmel said, leaning into his touch. “You were a swordsman, standing strong, fighting to survive and to help my people. By any honest measure, you were certainly a man by the time we parted.” Her lips quirked in crooked smile. “Truthfully, I thought you and Asuna might become lovers, after we parted. I would never have begrudged her, but I admit, the idea did give me a pang.”

Kirito gave a breathless laugh. “Honestly, I'm not sure what we are to each other,” he admitted. “More than friends, after everything we've been through. But we've never been in that kind of relationship, Kizmel. Asuna was even the one who pushed me to find you, and tell you… how I really felt.”

“Then I'll have to thank her properly, as soon as she joins us here.” She suddenly tightened her embrace, squeezing the breath out of him. “I recall your people have a strong gift-giving tradition this time of year, as ours do, Kirito. You have given me the greatest gift I could ever have asked for.” She nuzzled into his neck. “…I love you, Kirito.”

He swallowed, throat suddenly feeling thick. “You… sure there won't be any problems? You're a knight-commander, and I'm just a wandering swordsman.”

“If anyone has complaints, I will answer them on the dueling field,” Kizmel said firmly. “You were never 'just' anything, Kirito.”

Kirito couldn't help a choked laugh at that. “You'd do it, too. But that reminds me… don't I need Her Majesty's permission?”

“To marry me? Yes.” Smirking, she finally pulled him from the balcony, leading him back inside—not to his bedroom, but to hers. “We do have to respect certain limits until we've gone through the formalities. But my status now allows me to bend the rules a little, and court you within those limits.”

Inside Kizmel's room, she gently but firmly pushed him down on the bed, before climbing in after him. Taking the hint, Kirito pulled the covers over them both, and opened his arms for her to snuggle in close. She pressed herself firmly into his chest, resting her head on his shoulder.

“As soon as Asuna has joined us here,” she murmured, “we will make for the Royal Capital, to make our petition and one I wish for Asuna. After everything the two of you have done for Lyusula, I expect to have no trouble on either front. For tonight… cuddling is perfectly acceptable.” She pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Welcome home, my wandering swordsman.”

“My” wandering swordsman. Kirito's chest warmed at her possessive statement, and he felt himself finally, truly relaxing, for the first time in more years than he could remember. “Yeah,” he breathed, feeling sleep taking hold. “I'm home, Kizmel.”