“Yet while some believed all the world was ranged against them,” Kayaba went on, “others refused to despair. They sought allies, even in the unlikeliest of forms….”
Another forest clearing, shadows stretching black with sunset. Kirito stood ready, long black coat blowing in a leaf-rustling wind, sword drawn but held low. Fuurinkazan was a loose, red-and-black armored diamond behind him, with the wary tension Janet had seen in Marines hoping that things weren’t about to turn bloody. And Argo was a cloaked curl of narrowed eyes and war-claws strapped to gloved hands, guarding Kirito’s off side as lion-green eyes glared at them out of the shadows. -If you’ve got a card up your sleeve,- the young woman muttered, -now’s the time to play it.-
“What the-?” Daniel muttered under his breath. “That sounds like-”
-Just one.- The teenager smiled, a little wry. -Let’s hope I pronounce this right.- <<My name is Kirito. We want to talk.>>
Janet almost dropped her pen. The script of the translation at the bottom was completely different; a stark, Gothic lettering, as opposed to the normal clear script. And as for the words….
Klein’s eyes slid to Kirito for a moment, obviously startled. The rest of Fuurinkazan was a little less than perfectly calm, stealing glances at the black-coated swordsman that said next thing they knew, trees would be talking.
Obviously aware of the looks, Kirito scratched his head, trying to seem cool, calm, and as if he didn’t care if the rest of the group trusted him. Really.
Janet so wanted to feed him a cookie.
-What the heck did you just-?- Argo almost clapped a hand to her face, claws and all. -Ki-bou. Only you would make friends with mobs.-
Surprisingly, it wasn’t Klein who shrugged first. One of the other fighters beat him to it; a stocky young man in heavier armor, with a white rope serving as a headband for bushy dark hair. –Hey, I’m just a tank. You guys find the target, I pull it in, you kill it.–
–No one’s getting killed today, Kunimittz,- Kirito breathed. –I hope.-
Daniel hit pause, blue eyes utterly stunned. “That was-”
“Goa’uld,” Jack said tightly. “Joy.”
“No. More than that,” Daniel objected. “Timestamp, where’s… damn it, Year Two Aincrad doesn’t help, it’s not specific enough….” He grimaced. “They’re not speaking Japanese anymore.”
“Goa’uld,” Jack repeated. “Noticed.”
“It is more than that, O’Neill.” Teal’c studied the players frozen on the screen. “Even when they are speaking to each other, they are not speaking Japanese. They are speaking whatever language was created within the game, from both Japanese and Abydonian.”
“And I’m beginning to think created in the game is right.” Daniel’s gaze dropped, obviously thinking hard. “Kirito isn’t speaking Goa’uld. Not the way a Goa’uld does. He’s speaking it with an accent. He must have tried learning it….” He slapped his palm against his forehead. “Oh. Obvious, why’d I miss it… it’s a creole.”
Jack arched a wry brow. “It’s a Louisiana chef?”