June 11, 2012. 06:12 hours — Hamamatsu Air Base, Shizuoka Prefecture

  The sun was just slipping over the horizon when JASDF lieutenant Ryo Fukuda walked through the main gate of the base. The morning air carried that particular mix of metal and fuel he had always associated with home. At this hour, the place was already buzzing: mechanics pushing tool carts, fuel trucks moving between hangars, engines starting to wake up.

  Ryo walked with steady steps, uniform immaculate, helmet under one arm. He never raised his voice or sought attention, but the calm he radiated made him impossible to overlook. At twenty-five, he still carried the label of "promising rookie," which in practice meant working twice as hard to prove he no longer was one.

  He stopped in front of Hangar 3. His F-15J was waiting there, gleaming under the artificial lights, still beaded with dew. It was a sight he never got tired of.

  — Fukuda —called the chief mechanic—. It'll be ready for pre-flight in fifteen minutes.

  — Perfect. Thanks, Saitō-san.

  While he walked his inspection along the fuselage, he heard light footsteps approaching. When he turned, he saw a young woman with brown hair tied back, gray uniform from admin staff, and a clipboard pressed to her chest. She was frowning at a stack of crates.

  — This doesn't match the supply order... —she muttered.

  Ryo approached with that natural ease that never intruded, but always accompanied.

  — Trouble?

  She looked up. Soft brown eyes, surprised, but not intimidated.

  — Ah, sorry. Are you the pilot assigned to the F-15J in Hangar 3?

  — That's right. Ryo Fukuda.

  — Rin Haruno —she introduced herself with a small bow—. Logistics. These crates are supposed to be electrical parts, but someone filled them with maintenance manuals from 2001. If you're missing something in pre-flight... you know who did it.

  The touch of humor softened the frustration in her voice.

  Ryo allowed himself a small, sincere smile.

  — As long as no one tries to fly with manuals, we'll be fine.

  Rin laughed, clear and light.

  — I'll do my best to prevent that. Have a good flight.

  She walked off between the containers, and Ryo watched her for one second longer than usual. For him, that already meant a lot.

  He climbed into the cockpit and, as the displays lit up, a thought drifted through his mind with the same calm as his breathing.

  "Rin Haruno."

  And he smiled.

  * * * * *

  June 15, 2012. 13:28 hours — Hamamatsu Air Base, Shizuoka Prefecture

  After a training flight, Ryo walked into the cafeteria in search of hot coffee. Rin Haruno was there, going through paperwork while absently nudging a cup of tea.

  — Good afternoon, Lieutenant Fukuda —she greeted him without raising her voice much.

  — Good afternoon, Haruno-san.

  They chatted about trivial things: terrible coffee from another section, a transport truck that had gotten stuck on the taxiway, rumors about a commander who apparently hated motorcycles. Nothing deep, nothing forced. A strange kind of comfort between two people who barely knew each other.

  When Rin stood to leave, she hesitated.

  — Will you be coming by the logistics building tomorrow? I need to go over a form with you.

  — Yes. I'll stop by after the briefing.

  — Perfect. Have a good day.

  That was the turning point. From then on, they began to seek each other out without realizing it.

  * * * * *

  Over the following weeks, a quiet routine took shape between them. Sometimes they bumped into each other in the mess hall; other times Ryo had to bring reports; occasionally Rin showed up at the hangar to check inventory.

  They never had grand conversations. But they were constant.

  And in military life, constancy is its own language.

  One afternoon, they ended up walking out together with no plan at all.

  — Today was chaos —Rin commented.

  — Because of the truck —Ryo agreed.

  — Half the section chiefs yelling at the other half... and you, as calm as ever.

  — I wasn't the one driving the truck.

  She let out a soft laugh.

  Before they parted at the gate, Ryo spoke.

  — If you ever want to have lunch off-base... let me know. Sometimes the mess hall takes years off my life.

  Rin raised an eyebrow, amused.

  — Are you saying eating with me is therapeutic?

  — I'm willing to test that theory.

  She smiled.

  — I'll think about it, Lieutenant.

  * * * * *

  September 7, 2013. 07:02 hours — Hamamatsu Air Base

  The smell of coffee filled the small on-base apartment. Ryo was flipping toast. Rin came out of the bathroom with damp hair and sat down across from him, visibly nervous.

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  — You feeling okay? —he asked.

  — Yeah. Well... a little nervous.

  She laced her fingers together, drew a breath.

  — I went to the hospital this morning. I already have the results. I'm pregnant.

  Silence followed. Warm. Steady.

  Ryo smiled with a calm that completely disarmed her.

  — How many weeks?

  — Seven. Everything's fine.

  He walked around the table and hugged her, holding her while she exhaled all the tension she'd been carrying.

  — I'm glad —he whispered—. Really glad.

  — Aren't you scared?

  — Of course I am. But I'm happy. And I'm with you. That changes everything.

  She laughed through tears.

  — I was afraid you'd feel pressured.

  — We've been in this together for a long time already —he said—. This just expands who we are.

  She hugged him tight.

  — You're an idiot —she murmured, smiling.

  — Yeah. But I'll be a good dad. I promise.

  And she believed him.

  * * * * *

  April 12, 2014. 21:55 hours — Hamamatsu Air Base

  The rush to the maternity ward was a blur. Ryo walked beside the gurney, holding Rin's hand without saying a word: he was not the type to fill silence, just to share it.

  Before they reached the delivery room, a nurse stopped him.

  — You'll have to wait out here for a few minutes.

  Ryo squeezed Rin's hand one last time.

  — I'll be right here when you come out.

  She managed a tired smile.

  The minutes stretched on. Thirty. Forty.

  Finally:

  — Fukuda-san. You can come in.

  Ryo stepped into the room. Rin was exhausted, but smiling. In her arms, wrapped in a pale blue blanket, was a baby girl.

  — Come... —she whispered—. Come meet Shiori.

  Ryo looked at her. So small. So perfect.

  And something inside him clicked into place with painful precision.

  — Hi, Shiori. I'm your dad.

  The baby moved her tiny hand, as if acknowledging the greeting.

  Rin watched him with shining eyes.

  — Do you want to hold her?

  He nodded. He took the baby in his arms with a confidence that surprised even the nurse.

  — I'm more afraid of diapers than missiles —he confessed.

  Rin laughed, sinking back against the pillow.

  — Thanks for being here with me.

  — There's nowhere else I could be.

  And in that cold room, lit by harsh white lights, the Fukuda family began.

  * * * * *

  April 21, 2019. 18:42 hours — Hamamatsu, Shizuoka

  Ryo opened the front door and was greeted by laughter, the smell of curry, and the sound of little feet racing toward him.

  — Dad! —Shiori shouted, crashing into him.

  He scooped her up, pretending to strain.

  — You're getting so heavy I'll start using you for training.

  — I'm not heavy! I'm growing!

  Ryo smiled, setting her down as Rin peeked out from the kitchen.

  — Welcome home, Ryo. Go wash your hands... our daughter tried to "help" me today.

  The home was full of small voices, warm smells, and a peace he didn't find anywhere else.

  Shiori showed him a drawing: a huge airplane, three stick figures, and him with wings.

  — Why do I have wings?

  — Because you fly, Dad —she answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  During dinner, life flowed in simple normalcy: chatter, laughter, little stories. Rin smiled from across the table with the quiet happiness of someone who loves a man who knows how to love back.

  At the end, Shiori curled up in his lap.

  — Dad... when I grow up, I want to be like you.

  He stroked her hair.

  — I want you to be everything you want to be. That's enough.

  The girl hugged him tight.

  And Ryo held her, unaware that soon that hug would exist only as memory.

  * * * * *

  November 6, 2022. 11:58 hours — Hamamatsu, Shizuoka

  Minutes before the official launch of SAO

  Shiori lay on her bed, NerveGear already in place, legs kicking with excitement.

  The door opened.

  — I see someone is very confident —Ryo said in that half-stern, half-fond tone of his.

  The girl froze.

  — D-Dad...

  — What did we say yesterday? —he asked, gently removing the helmet—. I go in first. I make sure the game is adequate for you. If everything checks out, then you play.

  Shiori puffed out her cheeks, defeated.

  — You're the worst...

  Ryo lay down beside her, setting the helmet between them.

  — I can stay with you while you log in —she murmured, already calmer.

  — Of course.

  The girl watched him as he put on the NerveGear.

  — Dad...

  — Hm?

  — When you're done checking everything... will you come back here?

  He ruffled her hair.

  — Yeah. I won't be long.

  Shiori smiled. A smile of pure, absolute trust.

  — Then I'll wait for you here... until you come back.

  Ryo felt a strange knot in his chest. He didn't know why.

  — Don't fall asleep —he said, trying to lighten the mood.

  — I won't... —she whispered, closing her eyes immediately.

  Ryo chuckled softly.

  He rested a hand on her sleeping head.

  And he spoke with the steady certainty of a man who still has no idea his world is about to be torn in two.

  — See you in a bit, Shiori.

  LINK START.

  * * * * *

  November 8, 2022. 16:09 hours — Western Forests, Floor 1

  Dappled light filtered through the canopy as Veget marched at the front of the party. Miwa, Ryuho, and two other players followed behind. The wolves on Floor 1 weren't much of a challenge... unless you ignored orders.

  — Positions —Veget instructed.

  Everyone obeyed.

  Except one.

  A new player spotted a lone wolf and smirked.

  — It's just one. I've got it.

  — Wait —said Veget, without even turning.

  The kid charged anyway.

  The wolf growled.

  Two more emerged from the flanks.

  — Fall back! —Veget ordered.

  Too late.

  Chaos erupted. Bites, fangs, HP bars dropping. Ryuho shielded Miwa. Veget locked down the third wolf, turning with precise, small movements.

  Thirty seconds.

  Thirty seconds that had almost gotten them killed.

  When the last wolf burst into pixels, Veget turned to the reckless player. He didn't shout.

  — You're out of the party.

  The kid went pale.

  — What? But we won!

  — Your mistake almost killed five people —Veget replied with a calm that cut deeper than a yell—. There are no retries here. You're not just a risk to yourself.

  You're a risk to everyone.

  The system window popped up:

  [Player removed from party]

  The kid stepped back with his head down and disappeared among the trees.

  Veget closed his eyes for a moment.

  In the darkness behind them, he saw Shiori.

  Eight years old.

  Looking at him from her bed.

  NerveGear over her head.

  "I'll wait for you here... until you come back."

  If he weren't trapped here...

  She would be in his place.

  Veget tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.

  He opened his eyes. His voice returned, steady and unshakable.

  — Formation. We move on.

  And no one dared argue.