Her Mission To Save Them All || Sword Art Online Fanfic

Chapter 52

I know I'm really late for this month. I'm sorry.

Anyway, on a brighter note, in January, we'll be hitting HMTSTA's 2 year anniversary which is just, let's face it, insane! So, I wanted to do something to celebrate this milestone. This is where, hopefully, you come in. Send me some questions you want me to answer either in the comments or in pms and I'll try my best to answer them!

POV: Yuha

There's a total of 15 steps between one walled side of my room to the other. My feet trace familiar footsteps; a stray thought occurs to me as I count up the multiples of numbers each time I press my palm against the wall.

There are three things I know for certain about each day in this room.

One: the sun will rise in the direction of the singular, grated window, sending the four faces of each wall alight in sunlight: soft and warm towards the beginning and strong and intense towards the peak of the day.

It will then fade, and although the chamber only darkens, that square of glass will remain alight in the beautiful blend of the sunset until the sun sets beyond the walls of the city.

Two: each day will start with the same meal pushed through the carved section of the door and I'll eat the slop off the dented spoon without complaint. Three meals a day around the same time, though I have a hard time detecting said timing. But from the angle of the shadows and a trick my dad once taught me where you line up your hand with the horizon, I can estimate the timings well enough.

Breakfast is when there's two hands between the distance, lunch is when there's three and dinner when there's only one.

Three: sometime between lunch and dinner, the door will open. It will be the same person every time, broad shoulders, deep voice and a violent scar retreating into the SOMETHING of his hood. Never once have I seen his eyes but I wonder if they hold the same promise of violence as the bend of his limbs as he sits.

He will always beckon for me to join him, the action sharp and tugging. I used to obey it. Now, I don't. This is where the certainty of the day will start to slip.

Some times, he will sit there in silence, waiting for me to break. On those days, I'll button my lips up; it's easy not to speak a word now. I'll try and meet the eyes underneath the hood but I'm never sure where their gaze lies. Whether there is even a gaze at all.

Other times, he will ask me the question straight up, like he doesn't have the time to play games. I hate this more than the other times because I know that I'll flinch as he shouts. But still, I won't break. There's this voice inside my head that tells me that,

"He will win if you give in."

So, I'll keep my back straight and hold the tears in with a hard clench of my fist against the meat of my palm. I don't let him see me break.

It's different after he leaves. I'll be unable to hold back the warmth in my cheeks, the lump in my throat. I hate the noises that I'll squeak as I cry because it reminds me that I am nothing more than a mouse in a cage.

And all the while, I'll feel my hands trace the same commands over my arm so often that I feel the ghosts of my fingertips as I sleep. Transmitting the same message and wondering whether anyone will hear. Whether she will hear.

I tell myself that she will.

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POV: Kayoko