A/N: Hey guys, Happy New Year! Hope you all had a good holiday season. Here's the next chapter of our journey! Enjoy. Please comment and review.

Origins - Part 1

Kairi Ono

Ono Household

Her phone read 10:32 by the time Kairi got home and thanked the Ryder driver for his service. The older man had been kind, going so far as to offer her control of the radio. Passing through the security gate after punching the passcode into a keypad, she sloshed her way through the slurry of ice that had formed on the path leading to the house.

Though to call it a house would be a disservice to the beautiful mansion.

She jotted up the handful of steps that lead to the engawa and rapped a knuckle against the door. It was a habitual move, rather than actually trying to see if anyone was home. Her aunt and uncle weren't due for another couple of days, and her dad—well, she was sure he wasn't home either. His agent's text had said tomorrow morning during her school hours. Over twelve hours before she had to tell him about her failure. That would be more than enough to conjure a passable excuse.

Stifling a yawn, Kairi grabbed the mail and took a hidden key from the mailbox that she used to unlock the carmine-colored door. It creaked open and she carefully removed her kitten heels, carefully laying them in the shoe closet to the side of the genkan and placing her socked feet on the clean mat elevated above the dirty floor. Puffs of fog surrounded her as she padded softly toward her room. Scrolling through several apps, she selected one and the smart-home thermostat flared to life, blowing warm white noise, a welcome companion in the silence.

She arrived at her room and flicked on the light. In the white fluorescence, she looked like a kabuki singer. Her hair somehow had managed to stay intact, a miracle in its own right, but it did not hide the oily glint that she swore everyone noticed. She floofed her jacket a few times to get rid of the thin layer of snow and stripped. In a few minutes, she entered her tub to soak the day's stress away.

Inevitably, her mind wandered to her interaction with Sho in front of the storage cages at the back of the ballroom. While she bathed, she thought of his face. By no means was he a stellarly handsome man, she smirked mildly, but that jawline, the tanned, Vietnamese skin mixed with the lighter shade of the Japanese—that gave him an intense, roguish sort of attraction. Of course, it never really excused or lightened his behaviors.

Finished, she started to dry herself off and remembered his words.

You failed. What of it? I fail all the time.

Chuckling to herself, Kairi exited the bathroom in a gray robe with her hair nestled in a large towel. Leave it to Shoichi to make light of failure. As if he wasn't affected, she thought. The spaced look, the pensive expression. He was most certainly dealing with his own perceived failure against Ayato's success at solving the Minnow Problem. Yet—she mused while fishing around in her mini-fridge for an electrolyte booster—he'd ignored his own emotions to comfort her. She wasn't sure how she felt about that in particular, but she knew it was significant.

This was Sho she was thinking about.

She meandered to her bedside low-height nightstand where she hosted her ishigame, a Japanese stone turtle, Tin-Tin. With several quick taps, she dropped a dozen or two vet-approved dried shrimp into the large aquarium. "He's really something, isn't he?" she asked the sordid turtle resting on his turtle dock. He seemed to glare at her. "Oh, come on, babe. You know I've been busy. Eat up and I promise you I'll get you a new place soon, okay? An actual aquarium with some friends. How does that sound?"

Seemingly understanding her, Tin-Tin zipped into the water and rapidly gobbled a mouthful, pointedly chomping while giving her a withering stare. Kairi rolled her eyes at the grumpy turtle's antics. "Between you and Sho, I've had quite enough of death glares for the week." She stood and placed her hands on her hips. "But we don't have time to worry about that, do we Tin-Tin?" Grabbing the stack of mail, she sat cross-legged on the carpeted region at the base of the nightstand. She knew it was awfully sad, but she'd been doing this since childhood. It felt weird to stop now.

"So, the first piece of mail." Kairi waved the envelope for her pet to see. Tin-Tin swam to the glass curiously. "Looks like an ad for the conbini down the street. What do you think?" The lukewarm reaction she got from him confirmed her own feelings. "Yeah, you're right. What about this one?" And so she continued, each piece of mail discussed between her and the eighteen-year-old reptile. It was the second to last piece of mail that soured her mood.

Tin-Tin recoiled and swam for his hideout in the side of a plastic pirate ship.

Kairi tore open the envelope to reveal the monthly bill for the house. Utilities and internet were the essentials for her survival, and although the numbers were lower than what she normally saw, she knew she didn't have the money to instantly pay it. Cursing lowly, she lay back on the carpet. The bill was due in a week. She had exams then, and combined with homework and college applications, she wouldn't be able to make enough. Her gaze traced the periodic table that was on her ceiling.

It reminded her of happier times. When she would happily rush home to throw her things on her bed then scramble to find her markers and felt pens. The massive table of elements was littered with diagrams of organic molecules that her nine-year-old self had found online and drawn. Back then, she was so energetic; the house as lively as it could be with her dad's rehabilitation. Tin-Tin must have seen every picture she had ever made.

It was the soft noise of creaking from the driveway that sent a spike of fear down her spine.

She cocked her head to the side and listened in case she had imagined it. There was another, a grind of rubber on ice. She recognized that crunch immediately and her hands moved in a flurry to gather the mail and stack them neatly at the corner of her desk. Her books were reorganized in an instant as she emptied them from her backpack.

A slanted pencil in her desk organizer caught her eye, and she swiftly turned it perpendicular.

Her kimono was the next thing to spring to life, almost like it held the same terror she did. The sash covering her hadajuban gave her difficulty, but she quickly conquered it with her shaky hands. Then came the kimono itself, a gray-blue piece of remarkably soft material that was roughly pulled to settle into place. It was wrinkled, but she ignored it, stretching her arms outward to ensure it was symmetric and wrapped it around her body. She finished assembling the outfit at the same time that her feet jammed themselves into her tabi and heard a key click the door to the house open.

There were several voices, one of which was slurred. She knew what that meant.

By the time her dad and his entourage reached her, Kairi was standing outside her door, head bowed, feet pressed together. Her muscles were already bunched with words of apology prepared, face filled with all the control she could manage to ward against the rancid alcoholic smell that emanated from her dad's lips. Eyes still averted, she greeted him. "Good evening father," she said demurely.

His response was a glance her way and a grunt as he sauntered past. In the gloom of the hallway, she could hardly see his face. His figure though was imposing: tall, slim, broad-shouldered. Just his passing had made the hairs on Kairi's neck stand on end. Self-consciously, she doubted whether she should've dried her hair more. She must've looked like a mess.

Three others followed her father closely. One was the agent who basically took care of anything remotely administrative. The second was his father's 'best' friend, a shrew-like man with the shifty eyes of a rat. When the man saw her, his ogling roved up and down her body appreciatively. She ground her teeth on her tongue—fricking pervert.

The last person was a woman, a supermodel by the name of Iha Yunosuba. Even if Kairi hadn't known from the billboards and television interviews, there was something inherent about the way the woman moved. How she glided with each step. How her relaxed motions looked as if she was naturally on the runway. She glowed in the darkness and Kairi was drawn to make eye contact.

Perfectly pale, smooth, clear skin, Kairi marveled. She was slim, hourglass-shaped and fitted into a shimmering emerald bandage dress, peep-toe stilettos, and just enough glittery lipstick to pop. She was beautiful, Kairi realized, but also woefully young. Way younger than her dad. A dark feeling bubbled in her stomach and the high school senior knew that Iha was hardly past her mid-twenties. Trying further to suppress that feeling, Kairi bowed to a now empty hallway. Hardly had she returned to her room when there was a short knock on her door.

Opening it, she saw that it was the agent. "Tetsu," she said curtly. "What do you want?"

The man widened fishy eyes and fixed the glasses that bridged his nose. "Well now, that will not do, will not do at all. You know how your father feels about etiquette, yes you do." He steepled his hands together by the fingertips. "Try again, please, Young Miss. I'd rather you not get yelled at today." His features softened sympathetically. "Chin up, chin up. Such beauty should not falter now."

Kairi couldn't help but smile at that. "At it again, huh, Tetsu. It's no big shock for why my sister fell for your son. It seems the compliments gene is inheritable." She sighed and checked the hallway to make sure her dad hadn't decided to come back. "What can I help you with? Does Bunko need homework help again?"

Tetsu smirked mildly and recalled fondly what his son had told him on the phone. "Not today, Young Miss, not today. Victory has my dear boy all flustered. No, rather, this is for you." Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a stamped envelope. "The check, if you please. I took the liberty to add a little more." His soft-spoken voice dropped in volume at the latter and he leaned in so only she could hear, in case her dad really was around. "Don't thank me. You have earned it."

"Thanks, Tetsu." She stared at the check and that dark feeling became a simmer. "What's the catch?" She felt herself involuntarily clenching her muscles. Fight or flight—the response had somehow triggered simply from holding the envelope. "What do I have to do? My father never gives me a check for free." The last one she got she had to promise to appear in a mini-series on Flix-Net, showcasing just how fantastic life was as an Ono.

"No traditional catch," Tetsu said. He made an apologetic face. "Your father requests that you meet him in the family room and tell him about your day. I assume he wants to talk about the tournament is all." The agent smiled, and she could tell from his expression that he was honest. There was no malice this man. It was little wonder that Bunko was so innocent.

"I can't refuse, can I?" she dejectedly asked. Tetsu glanced to the side and she understood his meaning. Denying her father would be dangerous, the look said. Alcohol never mixed well with him. "Wait," a thought suddenly struck her, "are those two going to be there?" She was referring to Iha and the best friend. When the agent didn't answer, the tar pit in her gut boiled at the full implication of her father's request.

"Young Miss?" Tetsu questioned worriedly. He could sense the change in her mood and saw the color drain from her cheeks. "If you're not feeling decent, I can tell your father you are ill. You do not have to talk to him today." He diplomatically offered a solution. "Tomorrow, perhaps. I'm sure you'll feel right as rain, yes you will. We can schedule your talk then."

Kairi couldn't stop herself from snorting.

"Schedule my talk?" she barked acerbically. "I'm not the manager or the director. You don't need to stencil me in." She wryly grinned and faintly bowed, a brisk nod of her head and bob of her shoulders. "Thanks for telling me this." Her voice changed to the one she used in front of the reporters. "Please tell my father that I will arrive shortly. It would be undue of me to look unpresentable." Again she bowed, and Tetsu matched it with his own.

"Of course, Young Miss, of course. Please do take care."

He then left, leaving Kairi alone once more in that dreaded hallway. Taking a deep breath, the girl returned to her room and grabbed the bill. She stared at it for a few seconds and decided. "Wish me luck, Tin-Tin," she called to her turtle. The supportive boy peeked his head out from his hiding spot and waved a paw. She could've sworn he added a thumbs up.

Kairi smiled weakly and squared her shoulders. It was time to see what her father wanted.

Shoichi Shin

Floor 1

There was a great quote about suspicion from a famous actor. About how one could never truly know everything about their common man. How an open mind overrides mistrust and shapes bridges. Yet, Sho couldn't dash the feeling away. He thought he'd known the key points of Kairi's life: rough childhood, dead mom, douchebag dad, life in luxury. She was a highly intelligent girl with excellent manners and grace—was that not the Ono brand? Nowhere did it mention her abilities in Aincrad, much less in gaming.

So, clearly, he was wrong about her.

There she was, leading him confidently along a thin path, barely one-and-a-half person wide, identifying slippery spots that would have sent him tumbling into the abyss. He wanted to banish the foul thoughts from his mind but to no avail. They kept returning like the tide, careful licks that eroded his sense of reasoning. It wasn't just about Kairi either; he felt he was missing something. A crucial detail that would explain everything that had occurred. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

So they continued to walk in relative silence, broken only by the scuffing of their feet on the jagged path littered with pebbles and small stones. Occasionally, the woosh! of floating torches igniting when they passed would add another layer to the tension that settled between the two players. Every now and then, Kairi would call a pause in their walk, grab one of the stones, then throw it forward. Sho watched a set of fireballs soar from the depths below in a blazing arc. The heat warmed his skin, and he raised an incredulous eyebrow.

The implication was clear. Without Kairi, he'd have blindly fumbled his way into his death, not knowing the hidden mechanic. How someone was supposed to know that, he wasn't sure. Supposing she'd done this before, his mind reasoned, she must've died a couple of times in this spot. But that didn't make sense.

The knowledge was too precise.

"Let's go," Kairi said. It was the first thing she's said since her little greeting toward him when they entered the new room. "There's only four more traps. It's pretty safe after that."

Sho simply nodded, more occupied with his theory than anything else. It was just too clean, he determined, too correct. On the other hand, this was Kairi. He knew that she was extremely meticulous. Everyone knew that. But he'd noticed, as they walked, that she was mumbling something under her breath with each step. Her gait had changed, too. It was noticeably longer than usual.

He narrowed his eyes to carefully watch her, in case he'd been seeing things in the dimly lit space. There it was again. He was sure of it now; her step was definitely larger and the strain of her muscles to match the unnatural pace confirmed it. It was a strange step for a girl of her height. Well, as strange as one could get for being a one-point-six-eight meter Japanese woman.

Sho measured the distance of her step with his eyes again. A meter, he thought to himself. She was taking meter-long strides and counting under breath. That certainly isn't suspicious at all, he thought dryly. It was then that Sho realized how shapely Kairi's calves and thighs were. No, no, he definitely wasn't staring at those lean legs, how they looked like she'd been running every day, maybe with a squat day once or twice a week.

But a meter! his mind got back on track. She knew the distances down to the meter.

"That's kinda absurd," he muttered lowly.

"What?" Kairi said. Her head snapped over to him at the random vocalization. "What's absurd?"

His other eyebrow raised. Okay, so when did she have amazing hearing?

"Nothing," he said with his usual dryness. He met her eyes intently to signal the end of the conversation before it could fully start. Kairi sighed and shrugged, having had it so far with Sho's attitude.

"Fine," she said. "We're here anyway."

They arrived at that tennis court-sized platform he'd seen in the distance. Learning from his mistake with the blob monster, he knew it had to be for a boss fight. Typical game mechanics dictated this convention. "Why can't these fights ever be someplace cramped?" he said again quietly to himself. "Like a tiny cooler room or something."

For a brief moment, Sho thought he saw Kairi flash a glare at him. Then the moment was gone and there was nothing in her gray eyes but a strange sadness. She pointed toward a floating series of platforms that appeared when they reached the end of the path. Below was a sheer drop down treacherous cliffs.

"Follow my every move," Kairi commanded sternly. "I won't be able to save you on there."

When Sho didn't react, she turned fully to him. "I'm serious, Shoichi. These platforms require a highly specific sequence with various backtracking and jump confirms." She gestured to the small stone pieces, barely a large platter in diameter and looking incredibly smooth. "They were made to carry one person across at a time with a sixty-second lag before the platforms all drop. They won't reset for three hours after that."

"And we don't have three hours to spare," Kairi finished. The way that she said that was so matter-of-fact that Sho felt his suspicions swirl unexpectedly into a tornado. With her back to him, Kairi didn't notice the change in his body language. Had she known, she might not have said what came next.

"Given how long we've been down here, the next play is to advance to the southern plains and into the fens. There's a good spawn area there." Kairi twitched her lips to the side in thought, nodded, then turned around to face him. "It'll set us up to beat the curve everyone has since we've been stuck in this dungeon. Luckily, with the new weapons and armor rewarded at the end of this thing, we'll have a significant advantage."

There was a pause then she finished contemplatively with: "The double EXP event will also be a huge boost."

At that, Sho's eyebrows sprung upward, a stunned expression rapidly engulfing his face. Her words had struck such a chord that the staff-wielder staggered a step backward. A sprinkle of debris careened off the path and into the ravine, the only response Kairi achieved from the boy. So dumbfounded was his expression that Kairi herself was rendered confused. She recovered quickly, however, and figured another explanation would be helpful.

Unfortunately, that was not what the look meant, nor were her words what he wanted to hear. The tornado inside him spun menacingly, shaking the glass bottle it was trapped inside. Her "High rates," explanation combined with a detailed list of what kinds of mobs would appear—three 'elites' and two 'champions' every one-hundred and twenty-three seconds—shook the boy to the core. In an instant, his mind connected the vague dots that he'd been unable to connect, the paranoia now justified in his mind.

Her words triggered a swirl of powerful anger within him, and that's when Sho came alive, the tornado shattering its fragile cage.

His staff rose without warning, a fluid motion that came from his wrist and a slight raise of his forearm. Face layered with a snarl, eyes a fierce gleam—Sho thrust the end of his weapon against her throat and shoved himself through her personal bubble. He posed one question, a rather simple one at that, but it carried with it a malignant weight.

Lips hardly moving, his voice was chillingly still.

"Did you trap us in Sword Art Online?"

Kairi Ono

Ono Household

The family room was an odd feature in a relatively modern mansion. Whereas most of the building was made of alternating styles of travertine and manufactured stone, this room was entirely wooden, made primarily of cedar and cypress. Its addition marked a preserved tradition that the family insisted they cling onto, demonstrated further by the engawa that was at the front of their house.

She supposed it started with the fusuma. Her great-great-great-grandfather had commissioned upon the rectangular panels a beautiful scene of a sparrow in flight and had deemed it too good to be thrown away when the house expanded. Thus, the builders had to create the mansion around it, combining traditional Japanese home design where it did not belong.

The floors of the room were made of tatami and covered by a massive oriental rug. It was a dusty thing, she recalled, since the houseworkers had last cleaned it over a year ago. Small electronic lanterns were struck over two meters high above them and ringed the room. It had a sense of snugness that was mildly deserved. At its center stood a large chabudai table, zabutons arranged around them in spaced intervals. Kairi felt it unnatural to see the seven empty pillows, the other three occupied by her father and his guests.

Stepping through one of the sliding panels now, she bowed respectfully and gently settled onto her knees at the entrance, awaiting his formal invitation to enter. In another era, this might have been considered the norm. In the advancing 21st century, it was outright archaic.

After a voluminous silence, her father inclined his head. He had a severe look upon his face that Kairi only felt. Her eyes were still lowered to the floor. Bothered by her lack of attention, the older man shuffled hotly in his seat then gruffly said, "Get on in here. And close it tight behind you."

She nodded her thanks and did as she was told, sliding the screens shut. Raising her eyes to meet his, she saw what she expected: the man was inebriated, face flushed red, and already diving into that spiral that alcoholics found themselves in whenever there was liquor nearby. Iha poured him another hefty dose into his sake glass that he quickly drained.

She mutely settled her knees onto a zabuton, back erect, intent on showing no signs of weakness to the adults. Adult and one wannabe, she amended. Iha could hardly be considered an adult, especially how baby-faced and artificial she looked. The thought only served to set the dark feeling in her stomach bubbling violently.

What the hell was she doing here?

Was she his side piece? His new lover?

"Well," her father said sourly after another minute of her inactivity. "Don't you have anything to say? Spit it out, and let's get on with it." He beckoned for another refill, and Iha obliged. Kairi watched as the model's bosom brushed upon her father's arm in an obvious flirt.

Kairi frowned deeply at that. She fought against the feeling creeping up her throat.

"My apologies, father. What do you mean?"

And here Iha felt it proper to lean down to her father's ear and whispered something nearly inaudible. She caught the words "pretend" and "ignorant" from the woman's mouth and narrowed her eyes. In a fuller light now, Kairi noticed that Iha's cheeks were rosy, but she made no typical movements of a tipsy individual. Kairi figured it was part of her makeup then, given the empty glass in front of her seat.

"The tournament," her father grunted after his counsel. Kairi hurriedly masked her face now that his attention was back on hers. "You—you take me for a fool?" He swayed wildly and his right hand slipped awkwardly on the table. "D-Did you win, or did you… disgrace… our family? Again."

The last part he said with such disappointment that she slipped her gaze to the side.

He swallowed thickly and gestured a crooked finger to his friend. "I fucking—knew it. Pifu, hand me that kimchi. You know I can't drink this sake shit without some banchan." His hand groped wildly at Iha until she poured him another shot. Draining that one, he snarled at Kairi.

"Pathetic."

Kairi blanched at the comment and stupidly hoped either of the entourage would say something in her defense, but neither did. Pifu just nodded compliance, seeing no reason to disagree with his leader. After all, in his world, he dealt with celebrities and people with power, not loser high schoolers who couldn't win a trivia contest.

"You got it, Big Bro," he said obediently. Filling her father's plate with the pickled cabbage dish, he added, "You want me to get you another bottle? There's some American beer if you'd like. Anything for you, big man." He nodded excitedly, ever the suck up to her father.

"Forget it," her father dismissed with a hand. He loudly picked at the kimchi and crunched on the food, redirecting his gaze back to Kairi. "Well?" he repeated again. "What's the excuse this time? You were too emotional you couldn't think?" He swallowed another shot then thought otherwise and upended the rest of the bottle. Seemingly blind to the alcoholic truck about to hit him, he gestured to her with a gaunt hand.

"Give me my medal, girl. That's my taxpayer money at work."

Kairi gritted her teeth and fought the feelings encroaching on her. Anger, disgust, sadness. All these mixed into a tar-like soup that she suppressed, knowing any reaction would mean terrible retaliation. Worse, she still didn't know why he really wanted her in this room. It couldn't just be because he wanted to denigrate her. Without consciously thinking about it, her eyes drew their way toward a single picture frame on the far wall. It was the only piece of decoration hanging off the walls.

"I lost," she said carefully to keep any tone of hostility or bitterness from her voice. It would only serve as fodder for her father to feed off of. "So there was no medal. It was my fault. I had not prepared properly." Though she thought dryly, she doubted any preparation would have done her any good. After all, it wasn't a problem you could anticipate. That was why they were intellectual competitions after all. You didn't win by just being prepared.

"And you call yourself my daughter," her dad sneered. Iha was handing him another shot before he could say more, and the man sputtered a few times trying to gulp down the dark amber liquid. Rum. Iha was playing a dangerous but increasingly obvious game. "Let me," her father slurred, "tell you shumthingsh. That… boy. Vietnam… one. He's got you all riled up." He shook his hands around his head to signify her clear craziness.

"Shtay… away from him. He's nuthin' but trouble." He emphasized the third to the last word with the skill of a toddler testing out his first sounds.

"Nuthin' but trouble."

Kairi struggled to hide a grimace. She could already feel the situation devolving.

There was no way she could favorably defend the boy without risking her dad drunkenly lashing out. Worse, the other two were still in the room, so there was no way she could try being reasonable with her father. Iha had even looped her right arm under her father's left elbow, leaning into him like they were on a romantic date. She patted his arm as if she seriously wanted him to calm down and whispered once more into his ear. The man's eyes darkened.

Instantly, the alarms in her head madly rung

Her father abruptly stood, rearing himself to his full one hundred and eighty-seven-centimeter height. His figure towered over the kneeling girl and she felt like she was back in the third grade where her father, after being forcibly called into the principal's office, had to shamefully walk her home. All the way to the car, he had said nothing. She remembered clambering into the backseat and locking her seatbelt into place, only to see his eyes in the rearview mirror.

They were a deep hickory color, expressive and radiant, pulling her into his comforting gaze. She felt safe then, unaware until too late that the hickory had vanished to be replaced by an inky umber. He was smiling at her, her childish mind determined, which meant that things were okay. When Dad smiled, everything was okay. That was the mantra she had followed ever since she was born. But now, when she caught his emotionless visage in the mirror, she wasn't so sure. The smile never reached his eyes.

"You are a severe disappointment," he said.

And Kairi was pulled from the memory and back into the present where those same words echoed in the pin-drop silence of the family room. Unlike before, however, the man was hammered to high hell with no inhibitions to hold him back. He had been urged by the sensual young lady that clutched onto him and the fanatical adoration of his friend. He was unstoppable, and his stupid wench of a daughter looked way too smug on her seat.

What his alcohol addled brain didn't know was that Kairi was frightened out of her goddamn mind.

"I'm so sorry, father," Kairi said shakily. "Please forgive me."

But he heard not her apology and mistook her pained expression for a grotesque, mocking smile. That infuriated the drunkard and he swayed again. This time, however, he hadn't done it out of a need for balance. Instead, his right foot raised and Kairi clenched her eyes shut. The ball and sharp nails of his toes smashed into the side of her face, and the girl cried out in pain. She bounced off the floor and skid till she crashed into the wall. Tears sprung into her eyes.

Neither Iha or Pifu moved.

"You're just like your mother, always so smug."

Kairi curled her arms and legs into her chest, hand clutching the left side of her face. Daggers of pain danced around her cheek. She bit her tongue to stop herself from choking out a cry, knowing that her father would use it as an excuse to strike again. She knew in this scenario that taking on the look of weakness and submission was the only way out.

"Please, father," she implored in a whimper. "Forgive me."

Immediately, she regretted even trying to speak. Stars flashed in her vision, and mirthlessly, she wondered if she had enough makeup left to cover the bruising. A handful of sick days and absences remained, so it wasn't like she could take a vacation and recover. Another stab of agony rippled through her and she let her mind wander again, back to the past. Anything to ignore the present that was in front of her.

Her father's voice was coming out in lucid sentences now, but the pauses in between them underlined his inebriation. His once dazzlingly handsome face was mutated by anger, cheekbones bare without meat, concealed immensely by the product he used. "Forgive you?" he hissed. "You shouldn't have been born! But your coward mother kept you, and now I'm stuck—" He brandished his hands outward like he wanted her to see every mistake that she made for merely existing. "Stuck having to beg for scraps while my useless daughter can't even win a fucking trivia contest."

Iha was now next to him and handing him yet another swig of rum. Kairi dug her nails into the palm of her free hand. God, her face hurt so much, but a stubborn part of her refused to surrender. The thought of Iha looking upon her with glee forced energy into her limbs, and Kairi pushed herself slowly upright back into a kneeling, submissive position. The disgusting blueish-purple bruise on her cheek protested the movements. She kept her gaze on the floor.

"Please," she said softly, "do not talk about Mom that way."

Those umber eyes widened at the audacity of the girl. Just like the mother, he thought bitterly. Always defiant. The odious poison of liberal thought and feminism. The idea that women had a say in this society was laughable and filthy. "Your mother was a tramp," he growled vilely. "She couldn't wait to open her legs at any chance she got—" his voice increased in volume and became steadier and steadier, as if he was sobering through pure rage alone, "—but the least she could do was get an ABORTION!"

He howled the last word into her face.

"Father… please."

"You know that's what killed your mother, don't you?" His rancid breath soaked into her nostrils as he stood over hers. A noxious perfume smell embraced the alcoholic smells, Iha apparently now a permanent feature on his arm. "Your mother died because of you. The moment she had you, she was sick. Diseased. She lost her beauty, her job. You reduced a woman to rags and bones. Does that make you happy?"

She didn't say anything. This time, she couldn't meet his eyes for a host of reasons.

The forefront of which was guilt.

"You should've never been born."

Kairi squeezed her eyes closed to stop the tears from leaking through.

"Get out of my sight," the man dismissed after a couple of seconds. He couldn't bear to look at the deplorable girl that was supposed to be his daughter. Staggering back to his seat, he sunk down into it and scanned the table for more booze. Iha hurriedly gestured to Pifu to hand her another bottle.

Kairi nodded and hurried to leave. Her mind was in a haze; her heart felt like lead, and her face was in terrible pain. So this was what her father wanted for her: to humiliate her in front of his new escort and puff himself up for his friend. She should've known, she thought morosely. Anything to maintain his image of waning power.

Her hand fell on the sliding panel doors when, unfortunately, she decided to turn back toward her father. A part of her hoped that he was still watching, perhaps with some anguish in his eyes.

That was when she saw him holding the picture frame. Saw his other hand on Iha's behind and saw the gold-digging girl latch on to her dad like a leech. The picture frame flew toward the floor from his vicious throw and shattered, glass spraying everywhere.

A lamenting cry of pain tore from her throat, and Kairi hurled herself from the family room and realized what the catch was for her check. Iha's giggle and the sound of something tearing confirmed her suspicions. Now the tears followed freely down her face. It was from instinct that she managed to arrive at her room and dive into her bed.

In exchange for money, Kairi lost the last remaining piece of memory she had of her mother.

Please comment and review! Thank you!