by Yuu Kamiya
She inserted the latest command.
•Seventy-one hours, fifty-eight minutes.
By now, they didn’t have to look at the map to see that the enemy was coming. Besieged by the conviction that each of them would end the moment those guys took that last step into their Capital, Sora and Shiro still searched frantically for a way out—but their hands stopped.
Nineteen Units remaining. No Cities left but the Capital. No viable tactics. They couldn’t think of even a single effective move. Even so, the two accelerated their thoughts boundlessly in search of an opening. Sora saw his sister beside him, her face twisted in distress, tearing at her hair—and suddenly.
He felt he knew what the gamer who’d ended the Great War had been after. Somehow—as if it had been Sora himself.
…After all—no, all along—that gamer hadn’t cared about the world. It was merely of no interest to him…that’s it. He’d just chosen to live as he wanted. That had led to the end of the War—a magnificent means—
“…………!!!”
Seeing his sister Shiro’s face racked by frustration and panic as she bit her nails, Sora thought. That gamer had just wanted to see her smile. If he ran away from everything, let the world do as it pleased, she wouldn’t smile—
—he wanted…this someone—to—…
Sora’s thoughts accelerated unfettered.
Until.
…Are you gonna fail again?
Someone put this question to Sora as if standing right in front of him. He and Shiro both looked up, and when they saw who was there, they chuckled with a strange calm. Their racing thoughts, their flooded data, had fused into an image—a hallucination: two silhouettes, as dusky as shadow, faces indistinct…standing apart…
…Yeah, maybe we’ll fail.
Sora shouted—
“But we’re not gonna fail the way you did!!”
“…Mind, your own…business—!!”
Realized they’d released each other’s hands, Sora and Shiro grasped them firmly again. Ignoring their startled audience, they targeted a unit that flickered over the map. The gamer siblings grinned savagely and wrote a command, together, at the same time, on one sheet. Shiro selected the unit that had moved for an instant: the Ex Machina, whose movements were a mystery to Sora. But as she had no idea what to do with it, Sora instructed it in her stead. The two of them scribbled out a command they didn’t fully comprehend—and tossed it to Steph.
•Seventy-one hours, fifty-nine minutes, fifty-nine seconds.
Their thoughts had reached their limit; their vision, focused outside the Capital, lacked all color, and there was no sound.
Eight hours per second—it went by at almost thirty thousand times real speed—yet they felt they could see it. A Dragonia enormous even by Dragonia standards closed in on the Capital, all manner of rabble in tow. It had only to open its mouth, and a moment later, everything would pour into the Capital.
Countless flashbacks raced through Sora’s mind. Memories he didn’t want to remember but couldn’t allow himself to forget. Still—the firm feeling in his hand of his grip being returned—Shiro’s smile made him think. She’d held his hand when it was stained crimson—and still, he couldn’t do anything. He’d turned his back on that world to come here, to this world where everything was laid out for him.
This time. Here. If we can’t do it here, then— So they’d gone for it. The two of them wrote it all into their command—which Steph delivered—
And then.
“Ha-haaa!! Behold, Laputa’s thunder!!!”
“…Destroy them…—!!”
From the corpse of Avant Heim, their Capital, Sora and Shiro delivered the number-five and number-eight ranked lines they wanted to say in real life.
Then their shouts were blotted out by an unfaltering direct hit. A shock rumbled straight through their Capital as if they’d been bombarded from orbit, directly above them. An extraordinary flash of light pierced straight through the planet, enough to elicit a shriek from heaven and earth itself. The flash reduced the onrushing hordes, the Dragonia’s Far Cry, and everything with them to nothingness. If the player base hadn’t been isolated, not a particle would have remained, which elicited—
“…S-Sora, Shiro! Just what kind of instructions did you giiiive?!”
Just what, Steph wondered, had finally broken the planet, engulfing them in light? Sora and Shiro checked the time using the wonders of the smartphone before answering, unperturbed:
“…Dunno… But figured, it was what…Ex Machina…would do.”
“If Shiro says so, then it’s gotta be. So I dunno, either, but hey.”
Sora revealed the command they’d given the Immanity unit.
“We told Ex Machina the Capital’s coordinates—like, ‘Try and end this, why don’cha?’ ”
In other words—they just felt like it. Sora and Shiro’s admission was greeted by the sound of something cracking. The fissure raced through the planet before their very eyes—an impact far beyond even the force that had just pierced it.
•Seventy-two hours.
Then Sora and Shiro looked back at the vague silhouette and smiled.
“I promised… To never again let go of this hand—”
“…And I won’t accept…regret, and death…anymore…”
If you did what we can’t, then you don’t have to worry.
Next time—we’ll take on what you couldn’t.
The two shadows who spoke seemed to have a hint of a smile in their eyes, but it must have just been their imagination…
The space that had compressed a whole planet was released. The laws of physics that had been bent seemed to remember what they were. In the white void, as if gravity and time had stopped, the four drifted. Jibril listened to Sora and Shiro’s mumbling, the two of them holding each other’s hands and laughing.
“……”
She thought about what she should say—but couldn’t think of anything. Look what she’d forced upon her lords. A thousand deaths could not atone for such an affront… No, the very consideration of it was an insult like no other, she realized… An apology was out of the question. Feelings she’d only known as words until she’d met them raged within: self-hatred, remorse, inadequacy, neglect. In that case—how in the world might she face them?
“…Siiiiiiiiiiiiigh… O-kay…”
A sigh escaped from Sora’s lips that practically took his soul along with it.
“Mm… Yeah. That was pretty fun. I’ll say you pass, Jibril.”
His expression soured, and he forced himself to smile.
“…You got us into a game where we had no choice but to lose. And then—we got annihilated.”
“……It was, fun…but, next time…we’ll win…”
Shiro showed no inclination to blame or castigate her, either.
“—It’s no small feat to give Blank their first failure—but watch it.”
It was just— Yes…
“Your ass is goin’ down a hundred, a thousand—ten thousand times, and don’t think we’ll stop there!”
Their faces bespoke only an infinite chagrin at losing. Seeing her masters talk bigger than ever before as they flaunted their wounds, Jibril—was baffled…bemused.
“Annihilated”? “Failure”? Whatever were they saying? The game was supposed to have been the last…the worst. They hadn’t let it be the last, and they had turned it into the best… And then—to her—they’d said, Let’s do it again. Was that what they were saying?
They’d achieved a loss beyond all victory. Yet they bemoaned the loss as a loss. Jibril finally caught on to what she should have said sooner, how she should have faced them from the start.
“…Thank you, Masters. How little I deserve your words…!” she mumbled, her feelings welling up inside her. Then she remembered.
“If you’re enjoying all this, then how ’bout you give us a li’l something—two dice. ”
For when they lost the dice for failing to fulfill the T
ask, two of the three of them would disappear—that must have been his meaning. A li’l something? How meager, thought Jibril as she plucked the dice from her chest.
Seventy-two hours have passed. The Task is deemed unfulfilled.
She heard the voice…but it didn’t mean anything to her anymore…
?
“…Goodness! Where am I?”
As a breeze brushed her cheek, Jibril tilted her head in a daze and muttered. All of a sudden, she was alone on a sea of grass that rippled in the wind. There was one white cube by her chest, and surrounding her was an unfamiliar landmass whirling in a spiral. Entirely ignorant of where she was and why—
“…Oh my.”
—she moved to stand and noticed a journal neatly placed on her lap.
Every time you lose your memory, read page 3205 is what the cover had read. This had been sloppily crossed out, though, and under it…was this:
The back cover’s good enough for chumps like you.
…Hmm, I should identify who wrote this and kill them! She thought carefully for zero seconds, then flipped it over.
“…Is this…the Immanity tongue? What a quaint choice of language…”
It was clearly not her handwriting and not a language she saw often. Two lines.
It’s all good. Wait.
Jibril, sit.
Such mysterious words scrawled there. Who had written them, and what did they mean? She didn’t know, but…
Something slid down her cheek. She opened her eyes wide.
“…What?! Wh-what is this?!”
She cried out in surprise, but she knew what it was. If she remembered correctly, they were called tears. A liquid eye protectant generated by some organisms. A handful of living things were also said to excrete them with emotion. A Flügel certainly needed no eye protectant, and such emotion—
“…Hm… Mmm, well, I don’t quite understand it, but…”
—should have been foreign to them—
“…it seems…something very fun has occurred. ”
It wasn’t unpleasant, so she decided not to do anything about it. She broke out into a big smile in spite of herself as big tears slid down her cheeks. Still, she hadn’t the faintest inkling what was going on but had a feeling she might as well obey those words, whoever had written them. It was all good. If she just sat and waited patiently on her best behavior…then surely…
…something much, much more fun awaited. Without rhyme or reason, Jibril clutched the book lovingly and laughed, as if bursting into song.
And—on the 308th space. Several adorable small birds were perched atop a little girl’s head and shoulders. It was a peaceful sight as she gently swayed her large tail and the birds whistled their song…but.
“…You bitches are welcome, please.”
Izuna, too, had dropped to one die after failing to complete her Task in seventy-two hours. Despite her even smaller than usual size, she caught the birds in an instant, announcing as drool spilled out of her mouth:
“Guess who’s on the menu now.”
“Ngom-ngom… Pisses me off, please… Time to scarf some grub and hit the sack, please!”
Izuna looked extremely sullen as she wolfed down her prey. The Old Deus who until just recently had been sitting there self-importantly—was gone. She’d made another complicated expression just before she left, which was rather curious, but…
……Gurrrrrgle…
“…Shit, I can’t win anyway, please! I’m eating this shit, please!”
Izuna opened her bag and dug out her provisions since her stomach insisted the birds hadn’t been enough. She was down to one die… She could not advance. And anyway, if winning meant the Old Deus would die, then she was trapped. She took out her frustrations by plowing through her food.
…To put it bluntly, Izuna was stress eating.
As ever, Izuna didn’t get all the complicated stuff. Why this Task kept appearing, why she’d win if she chose to sacrifice. Why, even if she chose to forget about that and win—it would then require the Old Deus to die. What should she do? Of course, Izuna didn’t know—but.
“I know those assholes must know, please! Please!! Please!!!”
Izuna was happy, yet also somehow unbearably angry. She flopped back on the ground and beat her arms and legs, shrieking.
“Sora, Shiro. I’m not—gonna lose to you, please…?” Izuna had boasted so confidently.
Those two had answered: “You’d better think again” “We’re the ones…who are gonna win.”
Anyone could win, but only those two actually would—was not what they’d meant. Even if Izuna went for it, she probably still couldn’t win. That was because the game was set up so you couldn’t unless you accepted someone’s sacrifice.
Unless you were Sora and Shiro. They would win without a single sacrifice, without letting anyone die. They’d put their own lives on the line to show that Jibril was no exception. They understood what Izuna didn’t: how to win this game.
“…………Pisses me off, please.”
She said it again. Because seriously. The point was—
“It was all—just as they planned, wasn’t it, please? ”
It pissed her off—yet had somehow also become entertaining, so she smiled.
Strangely, losing to Sora and Shiro didn’t make her feel so bad. Must be ’cos no one would die or suffer. Maybe the answers to everything were simpler than expected… Maybe that was all there was to it. After all, this world—was just a game.
“Ngghh! Then I shoulda played! I shoulda taken Sora and Shiro on, please!”
…What a waste. It pained her from the bottom of her heart.
“Ngmhhha, I’m so damn full, please. Time to hit the sack! Please!”
She’d gotten her ass kicked, ate her feelings, and now she was going to sleep. Without further ado, Izuna hugged her tail and assumed the passing-out position.
“……?”
But as her awareness faded, suddenly…Izuna realized something. She realized why Sora and Shiro were only kind of like Riku and Schwi. Sora deceived people, but—
Riku had deceived himself. Riku’s “strength” had been his ability to deceive even himself in order to win. Just as Jibril had intended to destroy herself—perhaps his strength had been his downfall, the reason things had ended in a draw.
Perhaps he’d told a lie he never should have…and that was why he’d failed.
“…Mm…Sora and Shiro smell good, those assholes, please.”
A liar who would never lie to himself. Remembering their scent, Izuna giggled and felt her consciousness wash away.
“What is it to believe?”
This game’s destination must be the answer, Izuna vaguely reflected. Those two back then hadn’t made it there—to the ending.
Everyone would smile as they finished the game…and started again in the ending. That must have been…where the answer was……
Meanwhile—on the 297th space, at about the same time. Sora and Shiro had been asked by Jibril to command her first to give them two dice, and then to hand over the rest but one. Thus, they’d rolled a total of eleven dice. It was their sixth move. They’d advanced one space, the wind brushed against their bodies pleasantly, and they were smiling.
“…Brother… Can I…cross the finish line?”
“Yeah… Go ahead and lie down… It’s time, we found, peace…”
Their faces spoke of readiness to become ash, carried aloft by the thousand winds. Their pleasant smiles—welcomed the ending of this life.
Just one space after their epic game with Jibril, stuck between loading screens, the two had looked up to the heavens—and at last remembered. Their game with Jibril—had only been a Task. There they’d been, whisking off in triumph from a mere mini-game. Just what did they think they’d accomplished? Now here they were, lying flat on the ground, smiling at the evanescence of life. It was back to the survival game from here on out, the painful reality. Perhaps it was time to look into some new
parts for their brains, which had conveniently forgotten them.
“You really had forgotten…”
Unable to bear Steph’s eyes bearing down on them, the duo averted their own.
“Yeah… Frankly, I was all ready to go straight back home…”
“…I could see…my futon…in front of me…”
They’d been immersed in an impossible game sans food, drink, rest, or sleep, in which one wrong move would spell death. A game where they had children’s bodies and needed to maintain extreme alertness and concentration—for seventy-two hours. Anyone would fall apart under these conditions, and on top of that—
they’d lost. Yes, “ ” had just tasted their first defeat. They’d put on a brave face but lacked even the energy to throw a tantrum over it. They’d rather have gone home, passed out, and plotted their comeback once they recovered. Sora and Shiro had already laid it all out between them silently—but what was this?
Present number of dice: Sora, three. Shiro, Steph, two each. Current roll: eleven.
The goal was a good hundred kilometers away.
They’d exhausted their provisions and still lacked any effective means of transport. It would be time for them once more to return to the wild, except that their loss had drained them not only of the willpower to survive but, in fact, to move at all.
“—So hungry… God, how many days has it been since we ate?”
“…I’m tired… When’s the last time…we slept?”
“…Uh, uh, er, um— Ah! L-look! It’s eckgrass!”
Steph whispered hoarsely, perhaps realizing they really were going to die at this rate and conscious of being the only one who’d slept, albeit only for four hours. Though she went and gathered the mysterious herb—
“…Grass…? At least…get us some protein or carbohydrates…”
“…I want…phenylalanine, tryptophan…lysine, and glucose…”