Yuna glanced softly at Nautilus, who was fast asleep on the other side of the campfire. The flickering orange-yellow light danced across his face, casting gentle reflections on the familiar features she had memorized since childhood.
His eyes were shut tight, his breathing steady. The tension he carried throughout the day seemed to have melted away, leaving behind a rare look of peace he seldom showed.
She watched quietly, unaware of the faint smile blooming on her lips.
They had been friends since they were little, two kids growing up in the same neighborhood, sharing endless summer days and trivial mischiefs.
Back then, Nautilus had been a shy and hesitant boy, always trailing behind her whenever they went out to play, as if afraid that even a moment's distraction might make him lose sight of her in the crowd.
She remembered the days they climbed the grassy mound behind their neighborhood, scribbling on the pavement with colorful chalk, laughing uncontrollably when the wind blew the powdery dust into their faces.
The times they hid from the rain under the eaves of her house, listening to the patter on the roof, Nautilus would always clutch the edge of her sleeve, wide-eyed with cautious concern.
She had always been the one to lead, and he, despite his worries, had always followed.
But when they entered middle school, things began to change.
Yuna got into a prestigious all-girls school, while Nautilus chose a different one, far from the route they used to walk together every day.
They no longer stuck together as they once had. The afternoons spent wandering the neighborhood, the laughter that once made them forget time, all faded into memories, like the washed-out colors of chalk on the old concrete ground.
But… every day on her way to school, she would "coincidentally" run into Nautilus.
She would step out of her house, earbuds in, ready to cross the familiar street, and "suddenly," Nautilus would appear at the corner.
Sometimes he'd pretend to be tying his shoelaces, other times he'd be standing in front of a store window, idly gazing at the display.
And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, they'd walk together for a while, chatting about small things or simply enjoying the comforting silence that once came so effortlessly.
The funny part was… Nautilus's school was in the exact opposite direction.
The first time, she was genuinely surprised, even laughing and asking, "What a coincidence! You take this way too?" Nautilus just scratched his head and dodged her gaze with an awkward reply.
But as it kept happening, she understood.
And instead of questioning it, she simply pretended not to notice, quietly accepting those "coincidences" as a natural part of her mornings.
A gentle routine, unnamed and unspoken, but always there, just like how Nautilus had never truly left her, no matter how much time had passed.
If there was something Yuna truly regretted, it wasn't being trapped in this world. It wasn't the fear of facing monsters or the risk of dying in what was supposed to be just a game.
What truly weighed on her… was knowing that Nautilus believed he was the one who dragged her into all this, that he kept blaming himself in silence, carrying a guilt that was never his to bear.
Since they were young, Nautilus had always been like that, quietly following her, worrying about every little thing, but never saying a word.
Even when they went to different schools, he still took the long way every morning just to run into her, even though she knew his school was in the opposite direction.
He did those small things without ever needing anyone to notice, without needing anyone to thank him.
He probably thought she never realized, thought she simply accepted the "coincidences" as part of her day.
But Yuna had never taken it for granted. She just never knew how to respond.
And now, even when they were trapped in Aincrad, even when this world was no longer a safe place where he could keep taking the long way just to see her, Nautilus hadn't changed.
She didn't know how much he had struggled to muster the courage to reach out that day.
She didn't know how long he had hesitated before inviting her to play Sword Art Online.
But one thing she knew for sure, it wasn't just an invitation to a game. It meant something far more important.
That day, in his eyes, there wasn't just the excitement of wanting to share something he loved. There was also a flicker of hope, a hint of hesitation, like he was afraid she'd say no.
And she couldn't say no.
She entered this world, not for the game, not for the adventure, not for the battles.
Things like sword skills, monsters, or quests had never truly mattered to her. The only reason she agreed to wear the NerveGear, the only reason she stepped into this world… was because of Nautilus.
She knew he thought it was his fault. That if it weren't for him, she wouldn't be stuck here, wouldn't have to face dangers she was never meant to experience. But Yuna didn't want him to carry that burden alone.
She didn't want him to keep taking the long way around, didn't want him to keep caring for her in silence, never asking her to do the same.
Nautilus might think his greatest mistake was pulling her into this world. But to Yuna, his only mistake… was placing her in his world without ever letting her know he needed her there too.
Yuna's turn to keep watch had ended, but she had no intention of waking Nautilus.
He was still sound asleep on the other side of the campfire, his breathing steady, his face far more relaxed than during waking hours.
In the flickering firelight, the familiar lines of his features seemed softer somehow, no more constant vigilance, no weight of tension pressing on his shoulders.
His brow was faintly furrowed, lips slightly parted, eyes tightly shut as if lost in a deep dream. In that moment, he looked strangely at peace.
Yuna watched him quietly for a while, then smiled gently and turned her gaze toward the depths of the forest, swallowed in night.
She could keep going.
Sleepiness hovered nearby, but her will was still strong enough to stay awake.
The cold of the night crept up her shoulders as the wind threaded through the trees, carrying the breath of the deep woods. The rustling of dry leaves marked the passage of some small creature, or sometimes the rush of wind stirring the stillness.
In that moment, the world seemed to shrink down to just her, the fire, and the darkness waiting on the edge of vision.
But more importantly… she wanted to do this.
Because she remembered, last time, when she had fallen asleep during her watch, Nautilus hadn't woken her.
He had quietly stayed awake in her place, stretching his own shift even though he'd already been exhausted. Nautilus never said anything, never complained, he simply did what needed to be done.
Yuna remembered waking to find him still sitting there, back straight but shoulders trembling slightly, his hand gripping his weapon as if letting go for even a second would cause him to collapse.
His eyes back then, tired, yet unwavering, held a quiet kind of patience. A silent concern he never once put into words.
So this time, she wanted to do something for him.
Not because she felt indebted. Not because she believed it was her duty or obligation.
But simply because… she wanted to.
He might never even realize it. Even if he woke to find her still sitting there on guard, Nautilus probably wouldn't think much of it.
But that didn't matter. Just like he had once done, she only wanted to protect him, a little, even if it was just for a short night in this brutal world.
Yuna tightened her grip on her weapon, stretched, and fixed her eyes on the endless darkness ahead.
If Nautilus could stay awake a few more hours for her, then there was no reason she couldn't do the same for him.
Just this once.
Tonight, she would be the one to stay awake.
And he… could sleep in peace.
The next morning, pale sunlight filtered through the canopy above, but it barely reached the forest floor.
The weak rays of dawn were caught between thick layers of leaves, leaving only suspended beams of light lingering in the mist that had yet to fade.
The air still carried the chill of night, unnaturally quiet.
The fire from last night had long gone out, leaving only a few embers glowing faintly amid the gray ash.
A soft breeze stirred the remains, lifting dust into the air where it drifted momentarily before vanishing into nothingness.
Yuna rubbed her eyes, the ache of sleeplessness weighing heavy in every muscle. She gently rotated her wrists, trying to shake off the fatigue, then turned to her side, where Nautilus still lay curled in his cloak, breathing steadily, his face looking more at ease than she'd ever seen.
She blinked.
He still wasn't awake?
Usually, Nautilus was always the first to rise. By the time she opened her eyes, he would already be up, weapon checked, gear packed neatly.
He was always alert, always cautious, as if he'd never truly had a full night's rest.
But today, he slept on.
His breathing was slower now, calmer. The shadows under his eyes had faded slightly. And for the first time, Yuna realized, maybe this was the first truly peaceful sleep he'd had in a long while.
She pressed her lips together, an odd mix of emotions rising in her chest. A little relief. A little warmth. And maybe, a little pride.
She didn't wake him.
Instead, Yuna quietly stood, stretched to ease the stiffness in her limbs.