by Yuu Kamiya
—Othello was a finite, zero-sum, two-player game with perfect information. Its patterns were simpler than those of shogi or chess, and perfect play had been clearly established. To win by normal methods, all Sora had to do was let Shiro play for him. Probably, why he hadn’t done that but made it Othello—was to make it easy for Shiro to read.
…Then, from the void, something independently placed a black piece. Hesitantly, waveringly… Yes—as Sora had specified, in this game, you couldn’t pass. The substitute—Shiro—had played a single move. That blocked off Chlammy completely, a move without a crack that Sora had prepared. This meant she’d have to place an important piece in vain—it was only natural that she’d hesitate.
…Awestruck by her brother’s strategy, she took in hand the piece labeled (II). Shiro knew by now. The concept governed by the piece in her hand, showing , and her brother’s true purpose.
—Therefore, feeling so much as sympathy for her opponent, she said.
“…No, one could…read something…like, this…Brother…you’re amazing.”
Shiro thus smiled and played her second move. The pieces that flipped over this time washed almost the entirety of the board white. Indistinctly, Chlammy and the Elf girl—and. The visage of the brother started to reappear to Jibril and Steph, who widened their eyes. All the while, Shiro fought back what was threatening to pour out of her own eyes. The game set up by her brother, who had disappeared from her phone, and from the memories of Immanity, and of Jibril. From this game could be read—the meanings of the three pieces that remained. They were—
[III]—How to win the game
[II]—His absolute trust in Shiro
And [I]—
“…All, of me, of Shiro… myself…”
These were the identities of the elements that constituted Sora as a person, more essentially than his very self. How could she be so sure? The answer was simple. Because, if their roles were reversed—Shiro was sure that hers would be the same. Without her brother, she wouldn’t be Shiro. That the things at risk—her brother himself, the possibility of defeat—would be more important than herself—was self-evident. Sora, understanding that, had known from the start that he would disappear and then Shiro would step in to turn the tables—with a trick like this, even if you saw through it, what could you possibly do? On the board turning white, shakily, uneasily…a black piece was placed.
“…Come on, Brother…”
And, as if it had been what she’d been waiting for.
“…Come, back—!”
Before Shiro’s eyes, once she slammed down the piece labeled on the board, Sora clearly reappeared.
—With a victory margin of just four pieces, the board emanated a voice that declared, “Winner: Sora.” The winner announced, Shiro leaped at the same time. The first thing Sora said was:
“Okay, Shiro, you can hit me now. I’m read—”
But Shiro, unhesitatingly burying her face in Sora’s chest, was just faster. Face hidden in her brother’s chest, leaking big tears, she only said:
“…I’m, sorry…I’m sor-ry…I should have—realized…!”
Jibril and Steph, unable to follow the situation, could only stare. But a voice came from an unexpected direction.
“Chlammy! Please, Chlammy! Can’t you hear mee?!”
Turning their eyes toward the voice, what they saw. The Elf girl calling Chlammy, over and over, her countenance desperate, and…
Steph involuntarily covered her mouth and gasped. At the shell—no, to all normal eyes the corpse of Chlammy, limp in the chair.
…Steph still did not know how Sora had won. But, at the end Sora would have met had he lost in this game he proposed. With just one wrong move…she visualized Sora’s fate, and her legs shook. Whatever she had lost—or perhaps having lost everything but her body. Now the entity, the personality known as Chlammy—was gone. (Wh-what kind of person could play this game with the intention of heavy sacrifice?!)
—Filled inside with dread at this game that broke so far beyond her understanding, Steph looked at Sora. The game whose atrocious results she couldn’t even have imagined before seeing them. At its results, Shiro still cried on as, drawing her close, Sora opened his mouth drily.
“—So, looks like we win. Time for my first demand, yeah?”
At his words, the Elf girl begged as if screaming.
“Wai—I’ll do anything! Don’t let Chlammy—please, anything but that!!”
But Sora looked back with eyes that had lost all temperature.
“…If I had lost and Shiro had made the same request, would you guys have accepted?”
Yes—this was a game under mutual consent by Aschente. Just as Sora said, in the same position, she could hardly have given a second glance…but—
“I-I know I have no right to ask such a thing! B-but you were the one who specified that the demands be changeable! Y-you can do anything you want with me—just don’t…don’t leave Chlammy—!”
Sora replied with the sadistic smile of a devil, as if swinging down the executioner’s ax:
“Nnnope! I’ll have you fulfill my demands just as planned. So, here we go—”
“Nonooooooooooooooooooooo!!!”
“Demand One: All memories we have taken from each other shall persist—and all we have taken shall be returned.”
“—Huh…?”
At this statement, everyone made the same sound together.
“—Guh!—Hh…hh…”
At the same time, Chlammy came to as if she’d just remembered to breathe. But as Chlammy went on staring into space even after waking up, the girl ran to her.
“Chlammy! Chlammy, are you all right?! Do you know who you are?!”
At the girl’s desperate voice, still Chlammy remained blank, her eyes vacant. Then, shaken bodily many times, she eventually showed signs of awareness returning.
“Yes…Right, I am all right… Rather…”
—Chlammy held her shaking shoulders and looked at Sora like a nightmare.
“I was merely dazed, unable to comprehend why that man—Sora—is all right.”
—In an instant, at the execution of the covenant, the game board created by Jibril and the Elf made a boom. At this, the one who exuded the most cold sweat was, unexpectedly—Sora.
“O-oh, snap… Even with Jibril’s core, I guess this request was pushing it…”
—A covenant that was theoretically impossible could not be carried out. It seemed that executing Sora’s demand strained the capacity of the game board’s magical power. Seeing Sora thus, Jibril came forth quietly.
“…Master. Next time, please allow me, as your servant, the indulgence of stopping you from engaging in such a game.”
“Denied. When you think about the dudes we’re gonna have to face in the future, we should be happy to only go through this crazy shit.”
Still—went Sora. Stroking Shiro’s head as she buried her face in his chest and cried, he said.
“Yeah, all right, I’ll be a little more thoughtful how I do things. Honestly—it went beyond what I imagined.”
“—It went beyond what you imagined? That’s my line.”
Chlammy, having had Sora’s memories set fast in her, still could hardly believe them. Mere humans had really overcome a god and taken down a Flügel—but worse than any of that was what had come before. Touching upon Sora and Shiro’s past, she had to say it. The many memories she had taken from Sora, set fast in her by the covenant. Twisting her face in fear with every flashback, Chlammy screamed.
“How—after experiencing all this, were you able to keep your head on straight?”
What elicited this shriek from Chlammy? If even Sora’s psyche during the game had been taken at the end, she must have seen it. It could be that, or also—it could be something even Shiro didn’t know. But the only one who would have an idea about it all, Sora, asked everyone as if surprised.
“Huh? Do I look like I have my head on straight?”
—No.
Everyone there shook their heads.
A relationship of mutual trust going beyond normal bounds?—No. To put another person at the top of the list of elements that constitute oneself is not what is called trust. At that point, it was a condition for existence. These two, all metaphor and hyperbole aside, were truly—two in one. Warped. Broken. But, when you put them together, they joined as if so designed into a complete one. It defied comprehension. But, having touched upon Sora’s past, Chlammy knew. Now she knew. Fate—these memories were too heavy for such a facile word, and yet none other arose. For these two—if they hadn’t met—
“…Now, Demand Number Two.”
Indeed, of the demands afforded by the covenant—there was still one remaining. The Elf girl braced herself, but Chlammy, having learned Sora’s intent, checked her. “It’s all right.”
“Elf over there—‘Fiel.’ I receive the right to alter one of your memories. These days when you talk not with your fists but with games, you get it, right, Chlammy?”
Chlammy sighed and nodded.
“…Yes, I know what you mean—you want us to be double agents, correct?”
Sora smiled at the surprise of all around him. Chlammy spoke, chagrined.
“You’ve assumed that if you handed your memories to me, you could get me on your side without using the Covenants; how naive of you.”
But her face was like that of a child who’d been inspired by a fascinating puzzle, and she smiled.
“—Fine. I’ll play along; it is quite interesting—this plan of yours.”
Seeing her, Fiel’s understanding caught up. Sora’s intent—to share all his memories, to peek into Chlammy’s memories, and to set these fast. Without any binding force from the Covenants, to leave himself just one—to alter her memory when the time came… Considering the match with the Eastern Union—and, further on, everything else that would come into play—Having reached the conclusion, the Elf girl could only say this:
“I see… Well, I’ll be honest—why, you’ve defeated us utterly.”
Jibril and Steph could only stare blankly as ever. Shiro alone arrived at the meaning of these words, and she opened her eyes wide and mumbled.
“…Brother…you’re amazing…”
“I know, right? You can praise your cool brother some more, you know.”
With her face still buried snugly in Sora’s chest, increasing the force in her hugging hands, Shiro replied to Sora’s teasing.
“…Mm… My, cool…brother…”
“Mmnph—When you say it without sarcasm, it makes your brother embarrassed…whooph.”
The moment’s tension dispelled, Sora slumped to the floor, overcome by his fierce fatigue, Shiro still clinging to him. Stopping Steph and Jibril with his hand as they rushed forward in concern, Sora spoke.
“—Shiro…I can say it now, right?”
“…Mm, standing, by…ready, when you are.”
And Chlammy also, holding the hand of the Elf girl—Fiel.
“Sorry, Fi…but do you mind if I also…?”
“Um, oh, why, certainly, please say what you like!”
Sora, Shiro, and Chlammy all drew in a deep breath together.
“Auughh, that was sooo scaryyy, I’m never gonna pull this shit agaiiiiin! Sorry, Shirooo!”
“Mm-mmghhh…H-hic…Hmghh…”
“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I can’t belieeeve this man! What’s wrooong with him?!”
Ignoring their flabbergasted companions, the three poured out all their inner feelings like children, and they kept crying and crying until they fell asleep from exhaustion—
CHAPTER 2
BLUE ROSE
ORIENTATION
The next day—in a little conference room at the edge of the Elkia Royal Castle. There were Sora and Shiro, Steph and Jibril, and Chlammy and Fiel the Elf. Sora with an ironic grin, Shiro with half-open eyes as usual, and Chlammy, her gaze serene. These three, the previous day having bawled their heads off and then collapsed like logs, now showing no sign of this. If you looked closely, they all had slightly red eyes, but they had gotten their groove back.
“…So, why are we all here?”
The question everyone seemed to be waiting for someone to ask was taken up by Steph. As if he’d also been waiting, Sora answered.
“I have a certain understanding with Chlammy now through memory, but we’re gonna fight together. We need to introduce ourselves, don’t we?”
—Fighting together: what Chlammy had mentioned the previous day—being double agents against Elven Gard. At an exchange that hinted at something even beyond that, Jibril and Steph watched Chlammy and Fiel. Chlammy—with her dark eyes and black hair, peering with a sharp gaze full of intellect, said straight:
“—I’m Chlammy Zell. Nice to meet you.”
……As it seemed that was it. Sora had to go on.
“Uhh, same age as me, eighteen, height 158 centimeters, bust—”
“H-hey, you?! That’s cowardly!”
Flusteredly stopping Sora as he slowly divulged her personal information, Chlammy shrieked.
“And she wears padded bras, but really—”
“F-fine, then! Fine, stop, I’ll do it, all riiight!”
It was apparent to everyone but Chlammy that she had subtly broken into weeping, but anyway.
“B-but before that—Fi needs to be introduced before I can explain anything…”
Chlammy glancing over, the Elf girl called Fi opened her mouth.
“Hellooo, I am Fiel Nirvalen!”
From blond hair gently curled so as to look soft to the touch, the distinctive long ears of Elf pointing out—the girl who looked as if she were in her midteens introduced herself in a disarming voice.
“But everyone except that devil over there can just call me Fiii!”
This might have been what it meant for a smile to be like the sun. At Fi with her soft and gentle aura, yet having been called a devil, Jibril cocked her head as if to say, Oh really, and said.
“Well, then, you certainly have taken a dislike to me. I wonder why? It puzzles me.”
—Was that supposed to be a joke, perhaps? As everyone looked coolly at Jibril, Sora, cheek in hand, muttered.
“Those are some words from someone who says she unleashed a ‘Heavenly Smite’ or some shit on their capital.”
But, as if Sora’s point had taken her entirely by surprise…
“What? As I have explained to you previously, clearly I had no culpability in—”
“Yes, you did! A bump on the head versus the obliteration of a city? Seriously, how do you even compare?!”
To Sora’s commonsense observation, Fi piled on with a merry smile.
“If I may also add, at that time she made off with the whole stockpile of our grimoires. Why, it took us over eight hundred yeaars to reestablish the schemes of magic that were lost then, you know!”
Sora, drumming his fingers like hammers on the desk, spoke.
“—Ms. Jibril, your defense.”
“Defense? Well, I never… Sir, Elf heads are only Rarity 2, and when you consider I used up all my power in that Heavenly Smite, don’t you think that was a bit much? Even for me, it took about five years to recover?”
Who knew what a “Heavenly Smite” actually was, but anyway, it was apparently some attack that could annihilate an entire city. Finding that to draw on this much power had a price even for Flügel, the humans sighed with relief inside.
…Whether or not five years was an appropriate price.
“Thus, I availed myself of the books I observed, so that I would at least gain something from the battle. Now, in the age of the Ten Covenants—eh-heh-heh, when I look back, it was a good catch, geh-heh, eh-heh-heh-hehh!”
“The defendant, Jibril, is found—guilty.”
“Why?!”
As Jibril pulled a face that suggested an immediate appeal, Sora ignored her. Worrying how in the world he could convince one whose brethren had been massacred to forgive the perpetrator
.
“Uhh, well, I can call you Fi?”
“Why, of course!”
“If we’re going to fight together, I want to get rid of grudges. How can I get you to forgive Jibril?”
As Sora got right to the point, Fi put her finger to her cheek, thinking in her spacy voice.
“Hmmm, why, that’s hard to say.”
But Chlammy spoke also, with her eyes closed and arms folded.
“Fi, we need her power for Sora’s plan. I ask you as well.”
Nghh… Sighing reluctantly, Fi made a proposal.
“All riiight, why, if you only lick my feet and say, ‘Please forgive me, Fiel, Your Ladyship,’ then I’ll forgive youu. ”
“Oh, dear, dear, the conceit of this forest mongrel with her pretentious long ears has just crossed the heavens!”
As the two beamed at each other with black smiles. Yet, disinterestedly messing with a mobile game on Sora’s lap, Shiro mumbled.
“…Jib-ril…guilty… Punishment.”
“Whaaaat, s-surely you don’t intend to actually tell me to lick the feet of this ani—”
“…Punishment.”
“Ngh, nghhhh…I do not grasp your reasoning, Master, but if you command…”
And Jibril crawled to Fiel’s feet.
Lick, lick…
“—(flatly) Ohh, please forgive me, Fiel, Your Ladyship.”
“Whyy, then, I forgive youu!”
Just like that, Fi put her hands together and smiled as if she’d really forgiven the Flügel.
—Was that it? Sora wondered if this chick actually didn’t even care about the past and had just wanted to pick on Jibril, but putting that aside for now.
“Ma-Ma-Ma—Master, d-do you have a moment?!”
Interrupting his thoughts, Jibril ran to him with her eyes gleaming over a major discovery.
“I-it is the depth of disgrace to have to lick the feet of such a base animal and apologize to her, but, how could it be?! I feel—when I think that it is a command at the behest of my masters, somehow…I get these shivers! Do you have any notion as to the true nature of this great—”