No Game No Life, Vol. 3

by Yuu Kamiya

  His announcement made Steph and even Jibril gasp. He was looking (however frivolously)—for a loophole in the absolute and immutable rules of the world set forth by the One True God.

  —That was Sora—the king of Immanity. The one Jibril had decided to serve. But it didn’t appear Sora himself was conscious of it. While Steph and Jibril stood stunned, it seemed only Shiro was used to it as “how her brother was.” To Shiro, as if he’d already moved on, Sora slowly introduced a different proposal.

  “All right, so we’ll say you can’t force anything, but Shiro—can you make me ‘Shiro’?”

  Shiro cocking her head.

  “…What, for?”

  “Well, I’ve always been curious about how you see the world.”

  “…You’ll, just, be…the, Shiro, you perceive…just like, with the other, two.”

  “Sure, but still, then I’ll have the binding power of the Covenants on my side. I just thought if I could max out this emulation to a level not normally achievable, maybe I’d see a little something new.”

  But her brother’s words made Shiro think.

  —Her brother was definitely not as dumb as he thought he was. In fact, he had beaten her any number of times with wily tricks she would never have thought of. Shiro could hardly imagine why her brother would call himself dumb. The one thing you could say…was that he was, well—kind of dense in some weird ways. What if the power of the Covenants enabled Sora to get over that denseness? Given that Sora had lived the same time the same way Shiro had ever since that day they met and that the two shared much the same memories. Would he still fail to notice? Her feelings.

  —The feelings hidden in her heart, for her brother, as more than a brother.

  Thinking this, what Shiro said was a move to block off her brother’s request completely. Divergent from her true motive; soft, yet closing the path with knockout force—an excuse.

  “…Brother…what, would you think…if I, became…you?”

  “—Oh. Yeah, that would suck. To find out how you really see me, in the worst-case scenario, could kill me.”

  —It did after all keep her brother from noticing. Though his sister’s cheeks went faintly red…the significance escaped his notice.

  “Hmm… Okay then, Jibril, wanna be Steph?”

  “I don’t mean to argue, Master, but I fail to see the purpose in increasing the number of comic relief characters.”

  “Who are you calling a comic relief character?!”

  —Shiro’s life, which had started in monochrome. Shiro now understood what had welled up in her heart that time, but she remained unused to expressing it. She smiled too subtly for most people to notice. But her brother couldn’t fail to see. Sora subtly smiled back, and the meaning in his eyes came through clearer than words.

  —“This is fun.” This world—this situation in which they could play games with a smile. Or the fact that Shiro was smiling. Not needing to clarify which, as her brother’s eyes told her that it was both, Shiro nodded subtly—

  —and then everything went black.

  Her eyelids were heavy. Her eyes, terribly dry as if she’d been crying in her sleep, were so heavy that they refused to open. No, maybe it was because they were dry… She was reminded of a nightmare she didn’t want to think about, didn’t even want to imagine. Don’t check whether it’s real or a nightmare, don’t open your eyes to see what lies before them—it felt to Shiro as though someone somewhere in her head was thus refusing. But, in order to deny this. In order to assert that it was impossible. She shut up the thoughts that demanded she stop, and with some actual pain, she narrowly opened her eyes. It was the royal bedchamber of the Elkia Royal Castle. Lying on a bed so huge one had to wonder just how many people were supposed to sleep there was Shiro alone. The room had countless games strewn about and a mountain of books—and that was all. No matter how many times she looked around, the one who should have been there…wasn’t. The one who would have greeted her with good morning and given her a reason to live today.

  —Sora wasn’t there—in the lonely room. The implication of that… Her thoughts trying to deny it seemed to whisper.

  —“I told you.”

  “…Please…if, this is a dreamend!”

  With a sound she rarely made, squeezed shrill and scratchy enough to hurt, she shrieked.

  —The empty room telling her that all these memories were but an illusion. She only choked back a sob and shrieked.

  CHAPTER 1

  SKY WALK

  DISSOCIATION

  Three moves remain

  —I have no awareness or memory or senses. Where am I. Who am I. Such questions no longer arise. I don’t feel anything. What do I ask when the very definition of myself has become unclear? I can’t ask anything. I have no basis to ask anything. At best I suppose I can ask what to ask. My consciousness dims, near void, but that consciousness feebly, powerfully asserts. Without any evidence, just: “Everything is all right.” Its assertion that all I have to do is wait here for victory is all that connects me to what remains of my sanity.

  —Victory? At what?

  —I don’t know… I don’t know anything.

  “…How…is she?”

  In front of the royal bedchamber, Steph put the question to Jibril. But Jibril only sighed again and shook her head.

  “—Nothing. She refuses to admit me; I am at a loss.”

  “She still only repeats ‘Sora’ endlessly?”

  “Yes…and what about you?”

  “I asked whomever I could find among the staff within the castle. They all gave the same answer—”

  “That they know no one named Sora; the only monarch of Elkia is Master—I suppose?”

  “Yes…what does it mean?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” sighed Jibril once more.

  “The most natural conclusion would be that Master’s memories have been rewritten, but…”

  “But that—”

  “Yes. It would mean that Master—lost.”

  —Something felt so very not right. Shiro having suddenly lost herself and calling for some unknown person named Sora over and over, in a stupor. The situation itself was more than perplexing, but it was something even more not right that made them frown.

  —Perhaps she had heard their conversation. A thin, flat object slid under the door.

  “…? Is this…?”

  “Yes, it is Master’s tablet.”

  Picking it up from the floor, Jibril and Steph looked at the screen together.

  “It is in the language of Master’s old world—it reads, ‘Questions.’”

  Pwok, a noise went. A new message appeared.

  “I see. This is a window into, not an exchange of letters, but a chat.”

  The vast store of knowledge her master had brought from another world. Even Jibril had not yet been able to grasp it in its entirety, but she got the point.

  “What does it say now?”

  Steph, peering into the screen but in the end being unable to make heads or tails of it.

  “—‘1. What is the name of the person who played against Jibril?’”

  “…It’s…Shiro, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed. So…how do we—?”

  Though Jibril failed to understand how to operate the technology, another pwok came straightaway.

  “I see, so we may answer orally—‘2. Who demanded that Steph fall in love?’”

  “I-it’s Shiro, I say.”

  Immediately, the next message came.

  “…Well, it says…‘3. An eleven-year-old girl demanded that you fall in love with her?’”

  “Y-yes… I-isn’t that why I have been excoriating you as a pervert and a monster…?”

  Her strained answer and the following message arrived at the same time.

  “—It says…‘4. How did you lose, in detail?’”

  Steph said that, considering Shiro’s situation, she couldn’t give a glib answer. Trying to remember in as much detail as she cou
ld, she placed her fingers on her forehead and thought hard.

  “Umm, it was rock-paper-scissors. You challenged me to a psychological standoff, going for a draw. But the key point was the demands; you gave vague conditions in the case of a draw and took advantage. I protested that that was fraud, but you ignored me and told me…to fall in love with you.”

  At the same time as Steph finished, the next message arrived.

  “—‘5. Why did I demand that you fall in love with me instead of becoming my possession?’”

  “S-so I would fall at your feet. But then you realized you made a mistake and were moaning and groaning about it—Shiro.”

  This time it was a while before the next message popped up.

  “—‘6. Who uncovered the game of the Eastern Union?’”

  On this point, both Steph and Jibril concurred.

  “It was you, Shiro, with the legacy of my grandfather.”

  “That matches my recollection.”

  …And then the next message did not come. Steph and Jibril, with no option but to wait silently, remained standing in front of the royal bedchamber. Perhaps few minutes later. But no longer even a question—a statement. More precisely…a plea, a declaration seemingly devoid of conviction.

  Your memories must have been erased.

  To this message, Jibril replied.

  “Master, if I may, the holder of rights to memories is the one who possesses them. This ‘Sora’ could have played a game for his own memories, but it would be impossible to erase someone else’s.”

  But a counterargument came without pause.

  “All consented to the wager.”

  “—In such a case, it would be difficult to explain why only you, Master, still kept your memories.”

  …Once more, no response forthcoming. Beyond the door sat Shiro, phone in hand, face buried in her lap, unable to answer.

  —She knew. Would her brother have played a game without her? A game with a potential outcome like this, and on top of that lost—

  “Uh, oh, yes. Your service is appreciated… No, it’s no great matter.”

  From outside the door came Steph’s voice faintly.

  “…Shiro, this is difficult to say, but the messenger I sent just returned. Protests have been going on about your single-handed wager of the Immanity Piece, and we weren’t able to hear what they were saying from within the castle, but apparently the target of the crowd’s rebuke—does not include the name Sora.”

  Shiro feeling at this report her vision dimming once again. Gritting her teeth so as not to let go of her consciousness, she thought: There should be. Some contradiction in their memories. There had to be. Since, after all—

  —if that were not the case, it would mean that all her memories were false. (Im-possible…it’s not…ac-ceptable!) Shiro, insisting to herself, shaking her head desperately in denial. She’d lost in a game, and false memories had been planted in her—hypothetically, hypothetically, let’s suppose that. But could someone from this world have managed to fabricate all those memories of the world she used to live in? That was too much; no one should have been able to do that. She tried to convince herself, but still Shiro knew—it was debatable. This world had Covenants and magic. It could be that they hadn’t altered her memories specifically, but for example… Split all her memories in two, perhaps.

  —No, to be more precise. Given that now she had no proof whatsoever of her brother’s existence. Who was to say that she was sane? Considering just how convenient it was for her for this Sora to exist… This possibility—this most unacceptable of possibilities—came into fearfully persuasive relief. That is—that Sora was just a convenient fiction she had dreamed up. (—I, won’t…accept, that…I, can’t accept that!) There was no way she could accept it. If she did, everything about her—from the very foundation—

  The tablet completely ceased to respond. Shiro’s low state was palpable through the door, and Steph and Jibril looked at each other.

  “Wh-what does it mean? What should we do?!”

  “…Let’s collect our thoughts.”

  Jibril spoke as if to calm herself.

  “Right now, on the eve of a game with the Eastern Union betting the Immanity Piece—wagering for all of Immanity’s rights—who stands to gain the most from incapacitating Master?”

  “Even I can see that—the culprit is the Eastern Union, is it not?!”

  —Indeed: That the Eastern Union, having had its game exposed, had challenged Shiro in secret before the official match, rendered her irrecoverable and wiped memories—that was the most natural conclusion. But looking at the log of the messages from Shiro, Jibril considered.

  –6. Who uncovered the game of the Eastern Union?

  “…If it was the Eastern Union, they should have erased this memory first.”

  The Eastern Union, for many years, had concealed their game by demanding the erasure of memories pertaining to it. It was because their secret was uncovered that they were forced to take up the match—to say nothing of the fact that:

  “Master would have had no reason to accept the challenge.”

  The Ten Covenants: The party challenged shall have the right to determine the game. Of course, that included whether to accept a challenge at all. It was hard to think of a reason to accept a match proposed by the Eastern Union…

  “—Alas, it is a dead end… We simply have not nearly enough information to explain this situation.”

  Jibril, shaking her head, sighed with an expression dark with distress. From inside the room came only Shiro’s sobs, as if about to cough blood. Before her liege lady who could only keep calling for her brother—a man named Sora—Jibril was compelled to act.

  —Certainly she could not doubt her lady. Should her lady say that crows were white, it would be her duty to travel three thousand worlds coloring every crow thusly. Therefore, if her lord said that a person named Sora existed, he existed without a doubt. But the voice audible beyond the door—

  “C-can’t we do anything?! At this rate, Shiro isn’t going to last!”

  It was enough to make Steph dig her nails into the door in vexation and scream.

  —Ixseed Rank Six, Flügel: a war race with vast spirit—magical power. Their very essence was a kind of “complete magic” woven by gods, and as a result, they were unable to use complex magic. Furthermore, they lacked complex emotions so as to be able to fully grasp the subtleties of the heart of Immanity. But.

  “…That does…seem…to be the case.”

  —Even without using the likes of magic, it was plain that her lady’s psyche was one step away from collapse. Certainly she could not doubt her lady. Doing so would deserve ten thousand deaths. Yet—

  “—Master. Let us play a game.”

  “…Huh?”

  Steph was startled by Jibril’s suggestion—as was Shiro behind the door.

  “Will you play an Aschente game with me? And—I am aware this is most impertinent, but—will you please lose?”

  —The sobs didn’t stop. But sensing that Shiro was groping for her intent, Jibril elaborated.

  “I shall demand that all your memories concerning Sora be sealed.”

  At the Flügel’s pronouncement, Steph’s eyes bulged. The meaning of her gaze was clear even to Jibril. She must have had the same sense that something was not right. Jibril had the vague impression that it was not right to cut down Shiro’s assertions—but.

  “At this rate, Master will—break down.”

  That had to be avoided above all, even if it meant accepting ten thousand deaths. Under normal circumstances, what they should have done was figure out the covenant that had been exchanged and act to disable it. But it was self-evident that should they take time for such measures, Shiro would break first. They would seal her memories first, then calm her and track down the culprit, and then—I swear I shall chop off their heads on the spot and mince them to dust. As Jibril lost all traces of her usual mild smile and came to exude only a piercing, weighty mali
ce, Steph, all but petrified, tried feebly to chastise her.

  “Ji-Jibril, p-please calm—”

  But Jibril’s aura allowed no further discussion.

  —The Ten Covenants forbade violence…so what? She could just track down the culprits, challenge them to a game, force them to grant her permission to kill them, and subsequently murder them with her own hands. After that, she could bow her head to any kind of punishment for doubting her lord. Booop, chimed an alert as an app started up on the tablet in Jibril’s hands. Shiro, from her phone, had remotely launched—a shogi app. A finite, zero-sum, two-player game with perfect information, the sort in which Shiro had not a chance in a million of losing. Therefore—had she the intention of losing, she could do so with certainty. A paper-thin voice discernable between sobs reached Jibril’s ears.

  “…A-sche…n…te…”

  With a deep bow, the Flügel responded.

  “I thank you, my master…Aschente.”

  Four moves remain

  —I have no memory; I don’t even know who I am. My arms have already lost all feeling. I hear voices, but I don’t know whose they are. Who in the world am I, and why am I here? Why am I playing this game? Everything is hazy, but even so… If everything else falls into oblivion, one core precept still prods me forward. I absolutely cannot lose. Given the situation with my arms, I pick up a piece with my mouth. Deciphering the numerals on the pieces with my tongue, I select one. Don’t think about what it means. It doesn’t matter what it means. We don’t lose. That’s right—…doesn’t lose.

  —Who doesn’t lose?

  …No, don’t think about it; it doesn’t matter! On my shoulder—the warmth of someone’s hand. Don’t doubt the little feeling remaining that says this is the answer to everything. As my mind starts to go, sweeping away the madness—or perhaps entrusting myself to it—I place the piece in my mouth on the board.

  —Pure, straightforward shogi. A game Shiro could easily bring to victory…or likewise to defeat. Indeed, it was simple. All she had to do was let Jibril take her gold general now, and that would be the end. That would mean her unceremonious defeat, and all of it would be sealed away. All the memories she’d shared with her brother. Her time with him, the first person who made her feel alive. Who told her she looked cute when she put on her uniform for the first time. Who held and cried with her after she got home from the entrance ceremony at the school she would never attend again. The one who took a girl incapable of doing anything by herself and gently led her by the hand. Her brother… Brother, who was more important to her than anyone—With a single move, it would be as if their time together had never happened. —…! The memories, the words of a brother who might have been a fabrication, cascaded through her mind. Without even thinking, Shiro moved her hand.