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[SP-F1] Passivity


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The familiar plaza. The plaza where she had stopped to admire the virtual world and its beautiful environment. The plaza where she had seen the smiles on everyone’s faces. The plaza where she had taken her first step in six months.
 
It was under a dome. The virtual world’s sky. It was a very pretty sky, she once thought. She’d never seen a sky so blue. Then the sky turned red. Red, like the color of blood. It divided into hexagonal shapes, all displaying an angry message before their sights.
 
<<SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT>>
 
Everyone was here. With the number of players crowding the plaza, no one could have been left behind. It was cramped and she couldn't see the way to the exit. She was starting to feel claustrophobic. But why were they all here? A welcoming event? It didn’t look very welcoming.
 
Blood seeped through the cracks. It pooled at a certain point in the sky. From the blood, a figure rose. A large, hooded figure. Clearly, they were this world’s king. The “King” stretched out their hands in a benevolent gesture and the players looked up at him in a mixture of fear and awe.
 
She couldn't move. She wasn't physically frozen in place. But somehow, she felt prompted to remain unmoving, looking up at the figure in the sky. She blinked and forcefully broke herself free from the trance and looked around, trying to find a familiar face in the large crowd of players.
 
Where was Roman?
 
“Players,” the figure cloaked in red declared. His voice was deep, and it resounded throughout the walls of the central plaza. “Rejoice, for I have granted your wish! From this day forward, none of you will return to the mediocrity of your ordinary lives.”
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The sky was blue again. 
 
She took a step back. Then another. The mirror clutched in her hands showed a familiar face. It was oddly quiet. She was right in the middle of the moment when everyone was still processing what had happened. Like when the eye of a storm passed over your head. Wherever you turned, wherever you went, you knew that once the moment passes and the storm moves, there will be nothing but chaos.
 
She opened her mouth, trying to muster some reassurance to the players next to her. But no words came out. There was nothing else to say. Kayaba had said it all. The evidence was right before their eyes. The log-out button wasn't there. Dying in the game meant dying in real life. And hey weren't leaving until they cleared the game. 
 
Another step back. She still didn't know where the exit was, but she wanted to leave
 
She bumped into someone but didn't apologize. 
 
The moment passed.
 
And then there were the godforsaken screams
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She covered her mouth with her hands and muffled her own. The mirror fell through her fingers and shattered on the ground. She recoiled at the sound. Then she decided she couldn't bear to be in this place anymore. Not here. Not where she could witness everyone's despair, cruel reminders that this was their new reality. Not where the area was so crowded with the sheer number of people it held that she couldn't see the even see the exit thereby making her feel even more trapped. Even with the number of players here, each having come to the game with expectations and having them trampled to the ground, it was hard not to feel alone.
 
In another world, her fond memories of this plaza - the place where she had taken her first few steps in months - would have remained untainted.
 
She turned and ran. She elbowed her way past players who were still stunned, frozen to their places, and nearly stepped on one who had curled up into a fetal position on the floor and was murmuring nonsense to themself.
 
She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be here. She wasn't even supposed to play this game in the first place, only did because she couldn't resist his persuasion - no, that wasn't his fault and neither was it hers - and now they were trapped until they cleared the game, and she hated it, hated him for being so convincing, hated herself for--
 
"Shiromi, wait!"
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She was pulled back and wrapped in a warm embrace. "There you are," a voice from behind her sighed in relief. "Shiromi, where were you?! You just disappeared and I couldn't find you anywhere, and when that... and when he brought up those incidents..." He didn't say any more. Neither of them even wanted to think of that possibility. 
 
"I... I'm just glad you're safe." He pulled her closer to him. Mishiro didn't have to look behind her to know. She'd recognize that voice, and that nickname he'd assigned to her, anywhere. She twisted around so she was hugging him back. She buried her face in his chest and closed her eyes. "Are you..." In response to his unfinished question, she let out a sob. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. What now? She came here to escape the pains of real life for just one day, but she didn't want this. She could finally walk every day, just as she'd been wishing for the past six months, but not like this. She already knew that wish was unreachable. She was already satisfied with where she was! Just a week ago, she and Roman found a school she could enroll at, one that accepted people with disabilities; and she figured out a course that did not require physical fitness like Criminology but was still related to law enforcement, something she had wanted to take ever since she'd heard of it; and she'd started to contact her old friends again, told them how she was doing, and made plans for them to meet up so they could talk and have fun like old times; and there were many other things she just learned about and wanted to do--
 
"I'm right here. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay. Shhh." His hand moved to the back of her head and he held her close until her tears subsided and she felt calmer. Then, with slight resistance from her, he pulled away and leaned down so they were eye-level with each other. Her vision, still blurred with tears, caught sight of a nice shade of green - sea green - the color of his eyes. "Let's get out of here, okay?"
 
Out...? She wiped at her face with her sleeve.
 
"Shiromi?"
 
"Mhm."
 
He took her hand and together, they walked towards the exit. 
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It was a picture that resembled a certain scene from back in the real world. Her, sitting unmoving on the bed with her gaze fixed on the view from her inn room's small window. It was night. Not everyone had managed to reserve an inn room - and some lacked the Col to - so there were a few wandering the streets, their expressions conveying nothing but loss and a sense of confusion. She turned her head to the side and now her attention rested on him, seated on a chair pulled up next to her bed with his head resting on his arms as he slept. Earlier, he had been comforting her but he must have been scared too... 
 
Slowly, she reached out and gently patted the top of his head. It slightly messed up his ponytail - he had dyed his hair pink of all colors, but she vaguely recalled him explaining to her that he had lost a bet - and she drew back her hand with a fond smile and continued looking out the window.
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It was difficult to recall, with the blurry haze that encapsulated most of her memories from between the time in the central plaza to this present moment, the whirlwind of events that had brought them here. But she could remember one thing clearly. The scene that resembled this. The day he stayed with her in the hospital six months ago, keeping her company when no one couldn't.
 
"Mn... Shiromi?"
 
"Did I wake you?"
 
"Not really." He lifted his head and his gaze followed hers, out to the view of the artificial night sky from the window. She looked back at him. The clock in the bottom left corner of her vision displayed 11:00 PM. She was used to sleeping at 12:00 AM. "It's late already. Why are you still awake?"
 
"I can't sleep."
 
"I'm sorry."
 
"My sleep schedule is not your problem."
 
"No, I meant..."
 
"Roman?"
 
"Sorry. It must be me. I don't want to disturb you, so I'll sleep in the other room."
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He moved to stand, but before he could, she reached out and took hold of his sleeve. Don't leave. Not yet. It was just the two of them now. No friends and family to rely on, but she supposed that was how it had been since the accident. Even so, she was scared that if he walked out the door...he would never come back and she would be alone in this unfamiliar world. Was it selfish of her to think that way? To make him stay even when he wanted to be left alone?
 
"Stay. I don't want to be alone."
 
He looked conflicted. For a few seconds, she thought he was still going to leave. That would have been fine. She would have forgiven him the next day. Everyone was still in shock, and people dealt with it in different ways. But then he nodded and moved to sit on the edge of her bed, freeing his hand momentarily from her grip on his sleeve to intertwine his fingers with hers.
 
The inn reservation for the other room was canceled.
 
The night was cold, and she was one world away from her home. 
 
But he was warm.
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November 7, 2022
 
Mishiro twisted the knob and quietly pushed the door open, peeking through the crack. She spotted him immediately. Outside their rented room, with an unfamiliar girl. He seemed to have woken up just a few minutes before her, with his general appearance still looking slightly disheveled and his long hair out of its usual ponytail, but he was already dressed in his combat armor - the starting light armor set which consisted of a long-sleeved dark blue shirt, a brown leather chest piece and a pair of trousers and boots of the same color. On a leather sheath strapped to his belt was the dagger they had bought with their funds yesterday.
 
"--it'll be fine," he was saying confidently. "If it ever comes down to it, I'll...uh, I'll heal you from the back or toss a potion at you!"

"That doesn't sound very reliable! Claude, you sissy. And here I thought you were gonna say something cool!" Clearly, they weren't having a very serious conversation. The girl who couldn't possibly be any older than 18 puffed her cheeks out and crossed her arms. Those gestures. That playful tone. Almost instantly, Mishiro recognized her. She was short, much shorter than the young woman she had appeared as yesterday. Her hair was longer, flowing in smooth, brown waves down to her elbows, and her eyes were blue, like the color of Aincrad's sky. She made her usual exaggerated hand gestures as she continued talking. "Like, maybe... 'I'll jump in and take all the hits for you like the real man I am, Arabelle!' or... 'I'll kill them all! All of them! None shall take the life of the precious cinnamon roll!' Ahahaha!"

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"Ha ha ha. Don't be so assuming! With the way you act, you're hardly a cinnamon roll."
 
Arabelle gasped dramatically and her hand flew to her mouth. Fake tears filled the corners of her eyes. "That's horrible... really horrible, Claude." She looked up at him with that puppy-dog-eyed look. "How can you say that? Meanie! No wonder girls don't like you! You're gonna end up single at 30! Dummy!"
 
Roman backpedaled quickly. "Hey... come on, now." He bent down so they were eye-level and patted the smaller girl's head fondly. "You may not be a cinnamon roll, but you're still kind of cute!"
 
The small brunette went back to normal. She stopped (fake-)crying and smiled sweetly. "You're restating the obvious there, sugar, but I'll forgive you! Yes, it's nice hearing that sentence coming from you! Would you mind saying it again?"

"I take it back!" He stepped back, bringing his hands up to unsuccessfully cover his red face. "I take it all back, you little minx! You're not cute at all!"'
 
Arabelle's playful laugh, followed by Roman's. 
 
Mishiro closed the door with a soft click. They didn’t need her here.

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"First order of business for Team Arabelle!" declared the girl who named the team herself whilst standing on a dining table. It made her seem taller than she actually was, but from the horrified expression on the NPC bartender's face, not everyone appreciated it. "Let's find a player with a tank build and recruit them! It doesn't have to be permanent but maybe we could find someone who's interested in staying with us for the long run. If we do that, we'll end up with a balanced team of four. One single-target DPS, one AoE DPS, one tank, and one support... Oh, and since there's a limit, let's split the team for the beginner quest line. Also! There's no rules against two parties taking the same quest side-by-side, so we'll still be sticking together. Is everyone okay with that?"
 
Roman sipped from his black coffee. From Mishiro's angle, she could see that he wasn't really drinking from it. He was using the large coffee mug to cover part of his red face. He tilted his head up and offered his opinion. "Arabelle, get off the table. I can see up your skirt."
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The girl obediently hopped off the table without complaint and sat down on the chair reserved for her. "Wanna pair up for the quest line, Claude? I can wipe out an entire group with an SA so I don't really need a tank. Shiro-chan doesn't have her weapon skill yet and'll take much longer to clear mobs, so she'll need the tank to take hits for her while she's doing that."
 
"Well, true. Healing takes energy, and at my level, I don't think I can heal someone consistently. If their HP's lower than mine, I think I'll burn out after three." Roman turned to her. Now the conversation was turning more serious. "Not counting energy regens, though. Shiromi, are you okay with that? We'll find you a good tank, and I'll make sure Arabelle and I don't stray too far from you guys while you're taking the quest. And if I read the guide right... the first one only involves off-combat gathering. So, less risk."
 
Less risk. She'd have her allies beside her at all times. And they would help each other as they progress through the floors. But, but somehow... whenever she thought about leaving - that day, the man in the large red cloak, the words he said, those memories and along with it, her fear, it all came rushing back into her. Mishiro hesitated. She placed her fork down, beside her untouched breakfast. What she said next made the two pause from their planning.
 
"Please don't consider me in your plans."
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November 11, 2022

“Here’s your coffee.”

“Thank you.”

“Arabelle and I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“I know. Stay safe.”

He closed the door behind him as he left. She carefully set her mug of coffee down and pulled her chair closer to the wooden desk. Stacked on the side of her desk were three notebooks, fifty leaves each. She took the one on top, flipped to a blank page, and uncapped her pen. And the room was filled with no sound other than the scratching of pen on paper and the occasional noise from the hallway.

It’s been five days. She’d filled approximately 31 pages with what she remembered of her lecture notes, in messy handwriting only she could read. Meanwhile, Roman and Arabelle had finished the beginner questline yesterday and were now eyeing some of the higher-leveled quests. The level gap between her and the two was widening. They were constantly risking their lives, shooting for that one nigh unreachable possibility of clearing all 100 floors, alongside other players who were brave enough to do the same. And here she was, rewriting her lecture notes from memory to ensure that she was going to stay competitive even as she was trapped in this game. 

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Movement from outside caught her attention. She set her pen down and stepped towards the window. She leaned forward, supporting herself against the windowsill with her arms and quietly watched the bright, colorful world outside her, one she had no intention of stepping out into. This wasn’t the real world. This was a game that lured players in with its beauty then trapped them within its walls and killed them. Yet, somehow--

Roman’s little quest partner skipped alongside him with her hands tucked behind her back and a smile playing on her lips. They stopped walking, as if engaged in a conversation too important for either of them to turn their attention to anything else, then the conversation ended and they went on their way.

--they were still smiling.

It was selfish and cowardly of her, to go on like this while her friends were fighting, but what was she supposed to do? She’d attempted to leave the inn a few times, follow them on one of their quests, but then quickly realized: she couldn’t bring herself to. Whenever she came close, she could think of nothing but that day and those words. 

“If you die in the game, you die in real life.”

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December 10, 2022
 
One floor boss defeated. One floor unlocked. Players began to feel hope. With the proper stats and strategy, the floor bosses could be defeated after all! The next few days marked a period where many players left the confines of their "safe space," deciding to risk it all because they knew they had a chance. And because they didn't want to let the others do everything for them. Mishiro stayed in her rented room. Aside from the four notebooks containing her notes from school, there was now a sketchpad on her desk, courtesy of Roman. The first picture she drew was a portrait of him.
 
That was a few days ago. Today-- He stood in front of her, grinning proudly. "I made a guild!"
 
"Congratulations. How big is it? If it's less than ten, you could hardly call it a guild. That would be more like a squad. Also, are you the guild leader?" Mishiro frowned, tapping her pen against the notepad. She rested her chin on her palm and propped an elbow on the desk. "Regardless, you should say it was 'Me and my teammates' or 'We.' Doing it otherwise would be claiming all the credit for yourself, which is very unfair for the others people who worked equally hard on it."
 
"Hey, at least let me be happy about it for a second, alright? I was never a part of a guild before, much more founded one!"
 
Mishiro looked back down at her notes. "I was kidding. Arabelle told me to act overly-serious at an inappropriate moment as a joke and see how you would react. Anyways, congrats again. That's certainly an achievement you could be proud of. Do you want me to draw you again?"
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January 1, 2023
 
"I found a good spot! Hurry!" From where she was standing on a building's roof, Arabelle waved the two of them over. Above her head, a firework exploded in the night sky, lighting the area with color. She grinned and tucked her hands behind her back as another firework illuminated the sky behind her. For a few moments, as the sparks from the firework seemingly dropped down onto the girl's head and as the wind blew through her lavender-colored hair and as her eyes sparkled in excitement - a sharp contrast to the dark background - Mishiro understood why Roman fell in love. "Heyyy! I know I'm pretty, but the fireworks are prettier! Well, only slightly. Ehehehe~. Anyways, come up here! Or are you afraid of heights? Sissies!"
 
Then Mishiro didn't understand.
 
She smiled to herself and then looked at him, tugging on his sleeve. "Let's go. She'll start throwing out more insults if we keep her waiting and that's a sight I would rather not see on New Year."
 
He snapped out of his trance. "Wha--oh, right. Climb up. Yeah. I was just about to do that. Do you - do you need help?" She didn't reply but he carried her up anyway. He set her down gently when they were safely on top of the building and moved over to sit beside Arabelle. Mishiro followed, sitting at his other side, and they watched the rest of the fireworks show together.
 
As the last firework lit up the sky and as the realization that it was now 2023 settled within her, she strengthened her resolve. It had been two months already. How sure was she that it wouldn't become a year? Or two? Or maybe even more. It had been too long. They couldn't rely on outside help anymore, and at the same time, she couldn't rely on Roman to do all the work for her. That was wrong. He never told her he was tired nor that he was growing sick of the endless grind, but she knew he couldn't keep going out like that without some pressure building up. He told her before, it was a matter of ideals and taking matters into your own hands. Well, it was time she took that advice. "Claude?"
 
He turned to her. Another firework, one neither of them expected, exploded in the sky with a resounding boom.
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