No Game No Life, Vol. 3

by Yuu Kamiya

  But Chlammy, seemingly unintimidated, keenly points out a hole in the rules.

  “Then—what happens when you physically can’t continue?”

  They’d lose their senses, their very bodies, their memories of the game, etc.

  “For each of us… In my case, Shiro or one of the other two will play for me. For you, it’ll be that sweet little Elf girl. Therefore, everyone here is a participant —all of us together are going to start a game under Aschente.”

  But that still leaves a question unresolved—namely.

  “But, in the course of taking everything from the opponent, it is quite conceivable that all memories of oneself might be taken from one’s allies, so that’s when you really can’t continue. The game’s over. Whoever has the most pieces wins.

  “We’ll need an objective judge of victory, so we’ll have the game board itself do it. Yeah?”

  “Why, that’s quite so. I have, after all, woven the rite thus already.”

  “I, too, have confirmed this. Please be at ease, Master.”

  The Elf girl who is Chlammy’s partner and Jibril each nod. Jibril’s eyes deny the most threatening possibility—that there could be a trick. Mm, Sora nods and continues.

  “—But for everything to go back the way it was after the game is over…would be boring, wouldn’t it?”

  Yes, this is magic. But even with the massive power supplied by Jibril, it is not possible to make the results permanent. Reading Chlammy’s inner wish to wipe out Sora’s very existence, Sora smirks.

  “To make results persist after the game—there are two things we’re gonna bet.”

  Raising one finger, Sora went, first.

  “One is permanent setting of the game results —i.e., of the erasure, trading, and retention of the traces of each other’s existence we’ve transferred back and forth. And, apart from that, we’ll get one other demand.”

  Anticipating his intent, Chlammy continues.

  “…And that is your real demand, I take it?”

  “Indubitably. Without that, even if you managed to wipe out my existence, you couldn’t do anything about Shiro.”

  That is, after all, Chlammy’s goal as she aims to usurp the role of agent plenipotentiary of Immanity, he hints.

  “Likewise, I would be unable to get your Elf. It follows that our second demand—”

  “—is to take each other’s partner, I see.”

  In other words, if Chlammy wins, she’ll get Shiro with her memories of Sora lost—the agent plenipotentiary of Immanity. And, if Sora wins, he’ll get the greatest mage of Elven Gard.

  “But, you know, we’ll still say you can change your demand after you win.”

  At this, Chlammy smiled superciliously.

  “…Do you think I will take pity on you and allow you to exist?”

  “Ha-ha, that’s a good one; of course not.”

  Sora, smiling right back and dismissing the notion, peers into Chlammy’s eyes.

  “If I’m gone, even if you bind Shiro by the Covenants, she’ll probably be of no use. And I can assume the same about yours. So retention might not do it—we might need a covenant of suicide or personality change—ya know?”

  A tremor goes down the spines of everyone present except Shiro and Sora.

  “So, to sum things up—we’re gonna take from each other, betting each other’s existence and the right to kill our partners.”

  Yes—it’s a game of all or nothing, including even their partners. It’s insane—is Steph the only one thinking this? Shiro, who made part of the bet, perhaps isn’t even considering the scenario of her brother’s defeat. Or perhaps has been fully briefed on his strategy and understands it—in any case, her eyes are half open as usual.

  “Till the final move that renders one unable to continue, till one’s existence is taken in its entirety—by these rules, come now—has everyone steeled themselves to begin the game?”

  Upon Sora, clowning and looking around at everyone, their gazes collect. Sora, who thought up and laid out this game of dubious sanity. Before this man, somehow maintaining composure, Chlammy thinks. Yes, this—is a game Sora thought up. The rules look fair at a glance—and that’s just why Chlammy has to suspect them. For, in a game in which he was challenged, he had to set things up so as to be favorable to him. Somewhere there’s a loophole, or else—Chlammy shifts her gaze to the girl who is his partner. But the girl just shakes her head to the side.

  —Can’t read anything. Can’t grasp the meaning. But she said there was no trick in the game. The Elf girl who wove the game rite herself said she could not build a trick into the game. But conversely that it was inconceivable Jibril could have built in a trick.

  “—…Very well.”

  Then her only choice is to expose his true intent within the game. Whatever Sora’s intent is, it is of no consequence, for on her side is the power of Elf, she decides. Shiro, Steph, Jibril, and Sora. And Chlammy, and the Elf girl, lightly raise their hands up—and speak.

  “—Aschente !”

  Shiro held a piece white on one side, black on the other, [III] engraved on each. Staring at empty space—no, at a board that was there but just could not be seen. This must be a game of Othello in which one’s existence, memories, were split into thirty-two pieces, and you took them from each other. The pieces they were left with all had small numbers—which probably meant they were important. That they were pieces that might end the game in the same move if they were taken, and therefore had been left. But the one who had laid out these rules—was the party challenged, that is, her brother. Which meant that there was a meaning in playing this game, and even in disappearing. Then it must be—Shiro closed her eyes and thought.

  —It was puzzling why her brother had left her alone. However, once the answer came into view, it was clear as day. The first reason was very simple. His intent to give her his memories intentionally while temporarily getting his ass kicked.

  (…I, could…never do, that.) Imagining it, Shiro laughed sadly to herself and came to this conclusion. If she had tried to do what her brother had done…she could not imagine staying sane. Just finding him no longer by her side had been enough to make her for a time doubt her brother’s very existence.

  —To be forgotten would be one thing.

  —But to forget him—she was confident she’d never stay sane. Shiro stared at the invisible board, the board she couldn’t even perceive by touch. Indeed, she could not see the board. However—Her brother hated sunlight. He wouldn’t sit by the window. Her brother when they slept—even when they sat together—picked the side that put Shiro by the wall. Her brother understood that open places felt lonely and always blocked her from the open space. She couldn’t see the board. But all her memories of her brother, his quirks, his mannerisms, his kindness. Exposed the location of the chair in which he sat, even the spot he gave to her, as if she could see it.

  (…Brother…is…here…) In void, yet for sure, she sensed where her brother was. Feeling the corners of her eyes getting hot, still Shiro held it back and went on thinking.

  (…And, this…is the second…and…the, biggest…reason!) Shiro took the piece labeled [III], turned its white side up, and sandwiched it between her fingers. There was no room for doubt. Whether her brother was white or black. If he’d left the final moves to Shiro—that answered it. The match she still couldn’t see, couldn’t even perceive. The board state she didn’t remember even in its early stages. Much less know midgame. The moves her brother had made to lose intentionally, and then to let Shiro win. The moves that had brought the opponent right into his trap, that her brother had led the opponent to make. And all the positions her brother had taken for her so that she could turn the tables.

  She read them all—and would turn the tables in just three moves.

  This…only Shiro could do! With conviction, Shiro lowered her hand—click, an inaudible sound hit the earlobes of the three.

  The next moment.

  “Uh—gh—!”
>
  “Ow—…wh-what is this!”

  Shiro, and Jibril and Steph, held their heads at the ache that attacked. As if in response to the move Shiro had laid down, noise ran through their heads. The Othello board they’d not been able to perceive appeared, and, flip, flip, the black board turned white. And—their lost memories of a day and a half—surged back—

  The nineteenth: Daytime……

  It was, unmistakably, the throne room where she had been playing with her brother.

  “Oh, you’re finally here. You ever heard of timeliness?”

  Where her brother was looking, there were two girls. The black-haired girl with the black veil, Chlammy. And, apparently not even trying to hide the two long Elfin ears peeking through her hair, an Elf girl.

  “…You speak as if you knew we would come, do you—then, of course…”

  To Chlammy, Sora replied with a smile.

  “Yeah, I know why you’re here. I’m ready anytime, of course.”

  “Then hurry. It is imperative that you disappear before the Immanity Piece is surrendered.”

  “Shiro, listen closely.”

  “…Mnn?”

  “I believe in you.”

  The nineteenth: Evening……

  “—So that’s the idea, but, Jibril, can you make it?”

  To these game specifications that could hardly be the product of a sound mind, still Jibril confessed.

  “—I sincerely apologize, but it is beyond my abilities. Such drastic game remodeling—”

  “I didn’t say you have to do it by yourself. You and that Elf Chlammy brought make it together, okay?”

  To the Elf girl who would never volunteer her name, Sora turned.

  “…Create a spell with a Flügel, together? Sir, I’m afraid I must decline. ”

  “What a rare coincidence. I, too, could hardly be pressed to accept. ”

  To the two, sparks flying between their eyes, Sora disinterestedly insisted.

  “Oh, yeah, then I’m not playing. You guys pack up and go home, okay?”

  As Sora tersely dismissed them, still Chlammy said to the Elf girl.

  “…I thought you said you were going to help me.”

  “Well, of course, but to work with that devil…nghh… All right, fiine.”

  “…Brother.”

  Having heard the rules Sora specified, Shiro looked up at Sora worriedly.

  “Shiro, we are always two in one.”

  The nineteenth: Night……

  With the “core” of Jibril’s Materialization Shiritori board in her hand, the Elf girl muttered:

  “Why, to use spirits in such an explosive manner that could destroy one’s very spirit corridors, it’s simply madness.”

  “My apologies. It appears that, in merely scooping from the stream which feeds spirit circuits, I have created the false impression of a bomb to those who merely have long ears. In the future, I shall think to attach a note that explains, ‘NOT FOR DIMWITS.’”

  “You guys… Seriously, is there anyone you can get along with?”

  “But, like, there was this one Flügel, during the War, and when I think of just how many of us were sacrificed with that one strike…Always acting so superior, and then it’s a Heavenly Smite, why, it’s just so childish.”

  “If you’d only known your place and refrained from casting an antiflight spell in the sky, I would not have so much as taken notice of you, so I must say, you got what you deserved. You made me fall and get a bump on my head. Who can blame me for getting carried away and slaughtering you all?”

  “Look, whatever, just shut up and build it, both of you! The date’s gonna change!!”

  The twentieth: Day……

  “…Now, the date has changed, if you’ll observe.”

  Sora, squinting coolly at Jibril. And Chlammy, likewise squinting, looked at their partners.

  “I-I deeply apologize. This pointy-ear kept bringing the circuit to the brink of runaway, you see.”

  “A-and every time you tried to stop runaway by force, I had to recompile the rite from scratch, you knoww?”

  With a deep sigh, Sora, cheek in hand, muttered.

  “Okay, whatever, ahem—So, shall we go over the rules one more time?”

  “…Brother.”

  “Shiro, your brother’s grateful that you worry about him, but relax. You know, don’t you?

  “Shiro, we are bound by a promise.

  “Shiro, we are always victorious before the game starts.

  “—Let’s go grab the last piece we need to swallow up the Eastern Union.”

  “…Mm!”

  Shiro nodding firmly, Sora stroked her head and said.

  “Come, let the game begin!”

  The twentieth: Night……

  “……”

  Shiro’s right hand gripping Sora’s shoulder tightly. Her left hand, gripping with even more force, too much, dug in her nails and drew blood. Before her eyes, her brother’s memory, arms, legs, senses being taken, all she could do was watch.

  —That was to believe her brother. To repay her brother’s words when he said that he would believe in her. For now, she could only bear it. Her countenance was such as to even make Steph hesitate as to whether to stop the game, but, perhaps unable to watch any longer, she covered her face with her hands and groaned as if about to cry. And Jibril, likewise, no longer could say anything in the face of the resolve of her two lords. Only watch their every movement with both eyes wide.

  “—Come now, it’s about over.”

  Chlammy said this with a piece in her hand. She herself could hardly be called intact. Everyone there had lost some memories, and she had had enough shaved away that she could tell. But the board was clearly dominated by black—by Chlammy, overwhelmingly.

  “…You do have quite the interesting set of memories. But still, as ever, I cannot grasp your intent.”

  Though she must have already taken almost all of Sora’s memories. She still couldn’t grasp his true aim. Wincing at Sora’s memories—at the flashbacks, Chlammy said.

  “You have only three pieces remaining. That your memories of your true aim would stand among the principal concepts constituting you, I must tip my hat…but just what do you mean to do—with this.”

  Snap, Chlammy played her piece.

  “I think that’s it.”

  As if in response to her words, Sora vanished before their eyes. And the three who, until just now, had been watching the match with emotions unguarded. Now, like dolls, with eyes devoid of sentience or light. Ambled, as if they couldn’t see Chlammy, or even the game, out of the room. They, the participants, must have lost memories that included the fact that the game had even taken place. And Shiro alone went straight to bed and began the quiet breath of sleep.

  “…Now no one will play for him. Sora is gone. Cannot continue—I suppose I win.”

  To the end, she had been unable to read Sora’s true intent. He’d dumped on her any number of sickening memories, but what—

  “Chlammy…something’s funny.”

  The game board was supposed to declare victory.

  —But there was no sign of the end of the game.

  “What is this? I thought you said there was no trick!”

  “Th-there isn’t, I’m sure! Why, I was the one who wove the riite?”

  “Then how you explain this—do you mean to say they can still continue?!”

  Flashing before Chlammy’s eyes, Sora’s three remaining pieces. The most important pieces constituting him, labeled (I), (II), and (III).

  “—Wait. If his existence has already vanished, then what in the world are these three pieces?”

  Could it be—could it be that even his own existence. Was not as important to him as his strategy for winning the game? That was absurd—but, if true, it would explain why she had been unable to take that memory—

  “Chlammy, what will you do?”

  “What can I do?!”

  If anyone was capable of force-quitting
this game, it could only be that Flügel.

  “What is there to do but sit here with our memories hacked up—and wait!”

  As if raging at the game board that apparently still hadn’t judged them unable to continue, Chlammy bemoaned:

  “…What is this? what did he do, that man—?!”

  The man who’d just lost unceremoniously and disappeared. Yet his memories having been taken almost entirely by Chlammy, in the void, she saw. Him smirking in victory, in her imagination—and was unable to keep her legs from shaking.

  ……Yes, Sora had indeed incorporated a “trick.” Just as Chlammy had suspected, this game was made from the start to favor Sora. But—its methodology…could not be fathomed by anyone. Even the one who had made the game, using Elf magic—could not reveal it. For this trick was a cheat that worked without any cheating.

  —For, in this game, the importance of the pieces was determined as a reflection of the unconscious. And, under normal circumstances, the most significant concepts constituting oneself were known to no one.

  —Yes.

  “…Except, Brother…and, me.”

  Shiro grinned faintly and stared at the board that had shown itself. So this was it—the true form of the trick her brother had planted.

  “I remember now. Even allowing that the game’s rules dictated it, to forget my master…”

  Even allowing that it was inevitable by the design of the game to which she had consented. Jibril hung her head at her worthlessness in doubting her lord and attempting to wipe away his existence.

  “B-but why did Sora disappear; it was intentional, was it not?!”

  Steph, likewise having gotten back most of her lost memories, raised her voice. But even so, even Shiro had no memory that would suggest Sora’s true purpose.

  —No, probably she’d never had any such memory to begin with. Her brother must not have told her his true purpose, Shiro thought. Because if that memory was taken, the whole plot would be ruined. But it didn’t matter—because now Shiro knew.