No Game No Life, Vol. 8

by Yuu Kamiya

  His countenance was so serious, then suddenly…he broke into hysterics. Belly laughing, tears streaming from his eyes, Sora continued—making the Shrine Maiden wonder, Ah…

  “The hell kinda person says that?! A god-tier dumbass, that’s who!!”

  …Perhaps I got ahead of myself? She glared at the void above.

  “The hell, man? Is your head stuffed full o’ beans?! Flour and red beans?! Would you be better off living in a world where even a loaf of bread has it better?! Maybe you oughtta get yourself a new face and you’ll feel a hundred times better!!”

  You could practically see the snark emanating from Sora’s body. As the girl gently shook, a large crack emerged within the room, shattering the narrow, dusky space…

  Perhaps she’d lost the power to maintain that small, dark hideaway. Sora, Shiro, the Shrine Maiden, and that so-called god teetering on the edge of existence were flung into the open sky, leaving behind the shards of that dusky space. As they plunged toward the ground, seized by gravity’s pull, Sora and Shiro kept their hands interlocked. Both of them gazed beyond the horizon—to the giant chess pieces—and broke out into smiles.

  It was like their introduction to Disboard, the world of the Ten Covenants, the world some crazy son of a bitch had invented, where everything was decided by games. It reminded them of that day they’d arrived under similar circumstances.

  “What, you mad?! You real mad?! Pissed off?! Hya-haaaa!!”

  “…Brother, all this, just looks like…you’re picking on…a little girl…”

  Sora and Shiro did their best to distract themselves from the ever-popular cord-free bungee jump. This was the most basic of all gaming tactics—trolling.

  “—Silence…”

  “Whaaaaat?! Sorry, can’t hear you!! The wind’s super loud!!”

  “I said—silence—!!”

  At last, the girl screamed and cried, covering her ears.

  “Whuuut?! We ask you a question, and your answer is ‘silence’?! Where are your girlish feelings?! Are you fickle of heart?!”

  Sora continued rubbing it in, making the girl wail. Or rather, as she shook her head, screaming, her face seemed to shriek:

  What in the world is going on?

  What did I do? Why do I have to go through this? Answer me. If you won’t answer—at least let me die.

  …Sora couldn’t help but think she looked exactly like Jibril once had.

  It appeared the higher races, the Old Deus not least among them, each had their own problems. Perhaps that was because they were just far too superior? Perhaps they could see too much, know too much? It seemed they dealt with worries so elevated that lowly humans couldn’t dream of them. But honestly…for her to be so superior to the point that she was now—

  —bawling her eyes out like some lowly human child… Gimme a break—!!!

  “Hey, you!! Girl who’s so smart that she’s dumb!!”

  “Silence! Silence! Silence— Silence, I say…!”

  A concept that gained an identity constituted a god—an Old Deus? The concept of doubt obtained selfhood—and so doubted everything? Her ether gave her no choice but to keep doubting? So that, in the end, she’d doubt and deny herself?

  —The hell’s that—?!

  “So just what the hell are you?! I’m a total dumbass for even answering, but I will, so you’d better listen gratefully!!”

  Why were this girl and the Shrine Maiden getting so serious over something so stupid? Why couldn’t she understand something so simple? Sora howled in profound frustration. This girl was a god who could only doubt everything?

  —Bullshit!!

  “I’ll tell you one thing—you’re not a god of doubt!!”

  His shriek denied the very principle of their argument. The so-called god of doubt and the Shrine Maiden both opened their eyes wide, asking, And your proof? Their question was met only with a condescending cackle. Proof. Proof, you say? Don’t make me laugh.

  —Who the hell needs proof?!

  “If you doubt everything—then why are you looking for proof?!”

  “!!”

  If you’re gonna ask something…you must think—believe—that there’s an answer. If you’re really gonna doubt everything, you won’t even be able to ask.

  “If you doubt everything—then first, doubt that you doubt everything, duh!!!”

  Will you believe if there’s proof? Where’s your proof that the proof is valid? Will you believe if there’s proof of the proof? Where’s your proof of the proof of the proof?

  It’s an infinite regression. There is no answer. A god that doubts everything, huh? Let’s throw them a bone and suppose there really is such a thing. But even if you throw them two bones, ten bones—hell, let’s just throw them the whole skeleton—even so, that faint girl right before their very eyes…

  “Would she be crying herself ragged, all hurt and yelling and screaming?!”

  “! Oh… Oh…!”

  If we have to grant that she’s a girl, bewildered by this question, crying, then here’s your long-awaited answer: Are you for real? End of story.

  All right. So it seems she was the first entity in the world to have a “heart.” She was all alone, so there was no one to see her, and she couldn’t even see herself. If the “heart” was born from questioning and curiosity, then fine. But no heart’s gonna be born if you’re just gonna doubt everything! You wouldn’t even need one!!

  “, if that is so… Then what am I?” The transient girl now glimmered like a shimmering haze on a scorching hot day, close to disappearing. Her voice was plaintive, her eyes like those of Sora and Shiro when they were children, as she held out her hands—her entire self—to ask, “If it be doubted that I, this thing, am even a god of doubt… Then—”

  If even her minimum definition of herself had been wrong, then what could she trust? No…

  Then how would she live? No…

  Then, just—what should she do?

  The girl asked each question, begging for an answer. Sora tightened his grip on Shiro’s hand.

  He did his best to ignore the wind buffeting his body, the lethal ground inching closer and closer. He had to answer this girl asking what they themselves had asked. Sora related an undoubtedly true story as if it were a fairy tale.

  “Once upon a time— Well, not that long ago, actually. There was a lame-ass dumbass.”

  He was such a dumbass, he didn’t even know how to live. Such a dumbass that he thought it would be better just to give up—to live the way they wanted him to.

  “The dumbass randomly decided he was a puppet. And the next thing he knew, he ended up as one.”

  No happily ever after here. “On the other hand…,” he continued.

  “Once upon a time— And this actually was a really long time ago. There was a kick-ass dumbass.”

  He was such a dumbass, he wouldn’t be content living in despair in the Great War. His slightly overboard dumbass thoughts led him to think he could just create the world he wanted to live in.

  “The dumbass randomly decided the world was a game. And the next thing he knew, he made it one.”

  The end, happily ever after, et cetera— Except the story wasn’t over:

  “At the end of the day, the two dumbasses were both dumbasses. And they both made mistakes.”

  The former had been too weak, the latter too strong. They both failed. And regretted it.

  “—So in the end, they came to the same lame-ass resolution—that next time, they wouldn’t screw up.”

  I think, Sora added silently with a chuckle. He was reflecting on this someone of whom he’d recently become aware, who seemed too familiar to be a stranger, when—

  “…B-Brother… I—I know you’re busy, acting cool… But, look…!”

  Shiro pointed below them with a trembling finger.

  Sora was inclined to screech “Eek!” but managed to keep his screams at bay.

  “H-h-h-how— How ’bout I try not acting cool?!”

 
He panicked, his voice trembling in a way that was decidedly uncool, and quickly rambled to his conclusion.

  “Just admit it!! ‘I’m a dumbass!! I know nothing!’”

  And yet, even if she didn’t know anything…

  “Say, ‘All I can do is desperately fumble around, trying this, that, and the other!! I’m so freakin’ incompetent that no matter how much thought I put into it, the only answers I can come up with will be overturned tomorrow anyway!!’ You don’t have to be ashamed. It’s all good!!!”

  And even if she couldn’t understand anything…

  “Give it a try—you’ll sound lame as hell, but whatever!!”

  All you had to do was wishfully assume: It’s gotta be like this. Once you realized you were wrong, you’d just stick out your tongue and take it back. You’d say, Wow, can’t believe I said some stupid shit like that! You’d drink mud, eat sand, get drenched in shame—screw your pride!

  So how ’bout you go on and say that shit forever?!

  And if you didn’t like it… Yeah. Exactly. Say you thought the world was flat and discovered, to your chagrin, it was round. Try saying it’s a brane world instead!! Not too shabby, huh?! Someone managed to turn the world into a game. How hard could that be—?!

  “Anyway, we’re running outta time! Let’s move on to the answer!!”

  Their faces stiff, bodies shaking like leaves, Sora and Shiro joined hands.

  Question: What am I?

  “—Thus, it all comes full circle—!!”

  Just as suspicion leads to conviction, and overconfidence reverts to misgiving; just as insurrection leads to collaboration, and solidarity reverts to resistance. As the weak overcome the strong, and as the wise are also foolish; as all exists only to be qualified, and all exists in contradiction. As antonyms like black and white are only a matter of picking which shade of gray is closest for convenience! Like a god, when exalted too high…

  …is brought to tears by a human like Sora…

  “No matter who you are! You go far enough in one direction, you’ll end up on the other side!!”

  As they spoke, Sora and Shiro reached out their free hands—the ones not in the other’s grip—to the girl whose eyes sought what they, “ ”, had once sought.

  That girl was lonely and hollow, wise to the point of foolishness…and lacked even a name. The girl who might not even be the god of doubt, who questioned her ether. The girl who still begged for an answer, hoping and wishing and longing and praying for a paradoxical doubt—

  “If you’ll take our hands, we’ll tell you you’re the once-lonely god of wisdom—”

  “…And we’ll call you…Holou… That’ll be…our answer.”

  Sora and Shiro granted her the echo of their own name—from the word hollow. The question’s answer was another question.

  Question: What am I?

  “If you’re gonna play us again, answer that you’re Holou, the up-and-coming god-tier babe gamer!”

  “…If tomorrow, you’re gonna question again…answer that you’re, a different gamer, Holou.”

  Answer: What do you want to be?

  The indecisive girl vacillated for a few seconds. Then—as if afraid, as if, despite being a god, she were praying—slowly extending her unsteady, flickering hand, the girl— No.

  The god— No…

  “Holou……”

  …Holou…spoke.

  ……

  Then, the Shrine Maiden came to rest on a rock the girl…no, Holou, as the god had declared herself…had awkwardly constructed in midair. Holou’s once-flickering form now grew solid and tangible.

  “…Sh-Shiro… How ’bout it? Your brother figures we’re alive.”

  “…I—I…agree… Hi—c…”

  Holou’s gaze was on Sora and Shiro as they fell over the rock, hugging each other, verifying that they were alive, and crying. She wordlessly stepped toward the two as the platform she’d built crumbled bit by bit, descending gently. She’d called herself Holou—chosen to be Holou—stopped denying herself. But even so, the Shrine Maiden, knowing that ether was the power of the gathering of concepts, of ideas—

  “…However many hypotheses Holou formeth… She will nonetheless doubt.”

  —she knew the reason why Holou averted her gaze in fear, why she looked even more ephemeral than ever. Holou’s divinity had stopped just before quasi-inactivity. It probably wasn’t even up to the base. She no longer had the power to create a landmass that spiraled through the heavens. She couldn’t even maintain this one rock. In fact—

  “…Even ye…must doubt thine own words…”

  Yes, even if, just as Sora said, everything went full circle—still, it was equivalent, synonymous, binary. Doubt required belief, strength contained weakness, and wisdom coexisted with folly. Whether you called Holou’s ether doubt or faith, its nature was the same. And if it conformed to this hypothesis she’d begged for, hoped for, chosen—this hypothesis of wisdom… If the words she was now forming as the weakest of all Old Deus could never conclude anything, but merely list off one hypothesis after another… Holou wondered, her head drooping.

  “Yet, still—is there meaning in your taking Holou’s hand?!”

  “All riiiiiight! I finally got it—the low-angle shot!”

  …It was a serious question, and yet, just as one would suspect, Sora interrupted her. Sora, the one suspected of being afflicted with a disease that would kill him if he got serious. He leaped up with unbelievable speed, the snapshot he’d taken from Holou’s lower-right in hand.

  “Gaaaah, how your looks have tortured me! For forty-two days, I have been unable to sleep, wondering what delights may lie beyond that slit by your thigh! And now, at last, I shall be at peace…”

  It seemed he’d manage to capture what he’d been aiming for ever since the game began. He held his nose and, grinning in everlasting bliss, closed his eyes as if ready to sleep for all eternity.

  “…Brother… That’s not just…18+, it’s…illegal—”

  “Heh, I thought better of you, my sister! What law do you suppose may govern the photographing of a female who is millions—billions—of years old?!”

  “…It’s secret photography, with indecent intent… A misdemeanor, under the, Minor Offenses Act… And an infringement on her, rights to use of her likeness…”

  “Heh-ha-ha-ha, how naive of you, my sister, how naive!”

  Sora shouted with such verve, it was a wonder that mere moments ago he’d looked to be on the verge of death.

  “Those laws are all written for people—homo sapiens! So—!!”

  “…! If she’s, a god… We can do anything, we want…to her…?”

  —Exactly!

  At Sora’s cry, they both leaped at Holou, and—

  ……

  “……O ye… Ye… Immanities… Homo sapiens… Mmph?!”

  Sora stroked Holou’s head as Shiro rubbed her face cheek-to-cheek against her own.

  “……Common names: Sora and Shiro.”

  “Yup. Hey! Don’t say ‘common name’!”

  Having finally grasped that one did not answer unless called upon by name—

  “Holou. She was once an Old Deus. Dost thou not remember? …Ye must answer my—”

  She spoke bashfully, seemingly unsure how she ought to respond. Her face turned beet red before, suddenly…

  “—Don’t look so worried. It’s not about whether it has meaning.”

  “…If you…just, call…yourself…Holou… That’s enough.”

  Hollow. Empty, ready to be filled.

  “We gave you part of our pride. Don’t worry about that shit—”

  “…Worry about, what you’ll do…if you disgrace…our name…”

  Looking at their childish smiles, Holou finally realized they meant to provoke her. Or perhaps she hypothesized.

  “O ye of Ixseed Rank Sixteen—the lowest race.” She shook them off, likely unaware of the chagrin on her face. “Though it be but an analogical inference from fac
ts presumptive, though it be a hypothesis likely to be overturned tomorrow—”

  Despite this disclaimer, Holou made a bold declaration. If she presumed Sora’s assertion that everything comes full circle to be true (though it seemed to the Shrine Maiden that Holou was simply vexed by how the pair smirked at her):

  “Hypothesis: As hers is the highest race—and if transcendence doth travel far enough—then next time, Holou will defeat you.”

  Sora and Shiro laughed in satisfaction.

  “…Bring it, on… We’re, ready.”

  “Yeah, good luck. We’ll take all the questions and challenges you’ve got. ”

  Perfect. She seemed to recognize her own name, so Sora and Shiro gallantly turned on their heels—

  —However.

  Holou grabbed Sora firmly by the sleeve.

  “Are thine words true? If so—”

  Just as Sora began getting a bad feeling from the hole Holou’s dazzling eyes were boring into him— Whomp.

  She unfurled a vast scroll that wrapped around the heavens, inscribed with the questions she’d been compiling for millions, billions of years…

  “Thou shalt answer them all.”

  Her eyes prodded Sora in anticipation.

  “Uh… O-one at a time, okay…?”

  Soon, almost half an hour had passed. Only the Shrine Maiden noticed that the final piece of descending rock had stopped.

  “—Look, I’m telling you! You’re Holou! What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is clear. Holou asketh how she shall define herself as Holou.”

  “You call yourself Holou, don’t you?!”

  “No. Holou hypothesized that what ye called Holou was Holou. The scope of the self is another—”

  “I’m looking at you! Touching you! Talking to you! I even have this awesome picture I took of you, which, by the way, thanks very much for that!! This you is you! Holou! Any objections?!”

  “Yea. These eyes thou viewest, this body thou hast touched—” She paused seriously, as if to emphasize this important point. “This immature nether region thou hast visually recorded and gone so far as to express thine gratitude for… Those all existeth outside the definition of self.”