No Game No Life - Volume 3 - Chapter 1

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 could, 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 malice , 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. 
Jibril closed her eyes and whispered. 
“…Master, why…must you win ?” 
Yes—a move trapping her opponent so deftly one couldn’t even laughing call it unbeatably . The voice that answered Jibril’s question was all too feeble. Yet with a force sufficient to push Jibril and Steph a step away from the door, it resounded: 
“…Blank…doesn’t—lose!” 
Shiro’s chest heaving in the dark, isolated room. Her face tear-stained as she clawed at her blankets, her only thoughts of her brother. His words to her that day she’d come home sobbing after her one and only day at school. 
—Hey, Shiro. They say people can change, but is that really true? If you wish with all your might to be able to fly, can you sprout wings? I don’t think so. Maybe what needs to change isn’t you , but your approach . You have to create it—a way to fly just as you are . You’ve got to come up with one. I guess you’re wondering what I’m talking about when I can’t fly myself, but let’s try to come up with some wings that’ll let you fly… We’ll take our time. I know I’m a no-good brother, but I’ll try to help you think of something, ’kay? 
—If she forgot this, how could she live? If she sealed away her memories of her brother—the very reason she could live in the first place—what else was there? If these were planted memories, what kind of brutal match had she accepted? ’Cause this—this—was too much! 
“…Brotherrr…nooo…I don’t want, to forget Brother—I’d much rather die!!” 
At that voice which sounded every bit as if it might tear out their master’s throat, neither Jibril nor Steph could do anything but gasp. 
…A proposal on pain of ten thousand deaths. Having had it rejected, there was now nothing Jibril could say. Stepping past the defeated Flügel, whose eyes were now fixed on the floor, Steph reluctantly opened her mouth. 
“U-um…I-I can’t claim to understand the situation well, but…” 
It wasn’t logic prompting Steph’s remarks. They were merely the articulation of her vague yet heartfelt desire—to console Shiro. 
“For you, Shiro…Sora definitely existed, right? So without him, you come to this. You have no room for doubt—so definitely.” 
—But Steph’s remarks… 
“If that’s the case, then this Sora person must have had a reason for creating this situation , right?” 
—Steph’s remarks shattered assumptions and brought in one ray of hope. Yet of the three collected there, she was the only one who didn’t realize it. As if time had stopped, both Jibril and Shiro’s eyes went wide, and they froze. 
“H-however, is it not true that this situation cannot be explained by erasure of memory by the Cove—” 
“Oh, that…I mean, that’s not—seee…” 
Steph’s next suggestion was the one that stole their breath. 
“—Could it be… the game has yet to conclude ?” 
Jibril’s eyes as round as glass beads. Unable to grasp the meaning behind her gaze, Steph stammered. 
“Y-you see—could it not be that what is rewriting our memories is not the Covenants, but the game itself . And if we assume Shiro is correct that hers are not the memories that have been rewritten, but ours …then, well…that could mean that this ‘Sora’ attained our consent for s-such a game, and it’s…still not…over…or something…” 
As Steph’s confidence failed and her words trailed off, Shiro raised her wet face. 
“—Wh-what basis do you have…?” 
Jibril wrung her hands as she wrestled with this hypothesis, which seemed to leap out of nowhere in absurd disregard for the evidence present. 
“B-basis…? I—I just feel it’s wrong .” 
No, Steph had no evidence— and that was why . Words elicited by emotion rather than intellect just spilled out of her. 
“ This person —could not conceivably lose.” 
This person —a neutral designation specifying neither Shiro nor Sora —made Jibril close her mouth. 
—Steph’s hypothesis was full of holes. It was unclear how such an alteration of reality could be possible without the Covenants. And what purpose would be served by leaving only the agent plenipotentiary—Shiro—with memories of this specific person while erasing them from everyone else? Should Steph’s supposition prove true, though, there was no question it would explain any number of the thornier issues now vexing them. 
—The monarch of Elkia, the monarch of Immanity, her own lord. Who had brought down a god, who had brought down a Flügel—who intended to swallow up the Eastern Union! For this person to lose ? The very notion felt… not right . 
What if Steph’s hypothesis was correct and this inscrutable situation had not been orchestrated by the enemy at all but was rather a scenario designed to achieve victory —? 
“In that case, there is a way in which we can confirm.” 
Jibril nodded her head and elaborated. 
“It is true that, even using the Covenants, it would be impossible to erase from all memories and records in the world the fact that a specific object or individual existed. However, if we suppose—” 
The conditions demanded by this hypothetical scenario were quite severe. Accomplishing it without the power of the Covenants only deepened the mystery—and yet. 
“—that a person named Sora was Master’s brother and that he accepted a match as agent plenipotentiary of Immanity, then perhaps all memory of him could be erased from Immanity. And from myself—but even so…” 
Steph reacted to Jibril’s words with a gasp. 
“ Memories of him wouldn’t disappear from those who weren’t his property or constituents —so we could ask another race!” 
“Precisely. I shall at once shift to the embassy of the Eastern Union to confirm this—also…” 
Genuflecting before the door, lowering her head: 
“…Afterward, I shall accept any punishment for my unsightly misconduct in proceeding on the presumption that my master s had been defeated—but please allow me a bit of time before this.” 
Jibril dissolving into void no sooner than she’d made this declaration. Vanished, leaving only a faint breeze filling the space left following the transmigration of matter. Steph, left alone, found herself at a loss for what to do but for the time being called through the door: 
“Uh, er…Sh-Shiro…are you all right?” 
…But by then, Shiro’s mind was already elsewhere. 
—The definite possibility that her brother existed. Having touched on a piece of it, her thoughts, which had been frozen, reactivated rapidly. A revelation of her hope in Sora—her brother—and the evidence that would turn that hope into certainty. Peeling her heavy body from the bed, standing up, she made her way to the center of the room as if crawling. Her wet ruby eyes, always half closed. She opened them wide and surveyed the room, sweeping her gaze so as not to miss a speck of dust, her thoughts accelerating faster. 
(…If Brother, really…existed, then, why, did he…create, this situation?) Were she to accept Steph’s hypothesis, then this situation had been prepared by her brother . All she could do was unravel why he might have done it—what her brother was thinking…but. 
—Her brother’s thoughts, which offered up play styles that sneered at conventional wisdom as easily as breathing. To divine the machinations of whom she felt she could never catch up to in an eternity? 
…It was impossible. She hadn’t a prayer. However, her brother had left her definite clues and decisive information. 
“…There’s, no way…Brother—would lose…” 
—No, “  ” didn’t lose. Which would mean—she had agreed . Her brother had believed in her, and she had believed in him. She had known from the start that a situation as maddening as this one would be the result. Why—hadn’t she realized? Shiro tore at her hair. 
(—I’m so…dumb! I’m so, stupid!) How could she look her brother in the eye now as the sister he was so proud of? 
— Just because she had lost some memories. 
“…How, could I…have, doubted—Brother?” 
But now wasn’t the time; she checked herself. This game her brother had entrusted to her—she had to end it. 
Shiro forced her thought circuits to bend to her will—they could burn out for all she cared. Her little heart, responding to a scream from her brain that it needed more oxygen, beat out the fastest rhythm it could handle. Feeling her body heat rise precipitously, Shiro reviewed all of her memories. Pulling up every resource on Sora—every word, every move, like a silent movie. If the present in which she was floundering existed by her brother’s design, he would have left her a hint. Her last memory of her brother: the words surfaced, the meaning of which she’d been unable to fathom. 
—Shiro, we are always two in one. 
“…Two, in one…Brother, would…never…leave me, alone…” 
Why—why had she woken up in what was supposed to be Steph’s bedroom now ? Why hadn’t she thought about it? Why hadn’t she realized right away?! Shiro ground her teeth. This was exactly why she would never measure up to her brother. The answer was so simple—Sora, her brother—Brother— 
(… He is here —he’s always been here!) Shiro’s eyes—glaring piercingly through the royal bedchamber—had no more tears. 
 
Five moves remaining 
…I am…Sora…Age… Now I forget. 
…My darling sister—is Shiro, age eleven, a beauty with pretty white hair and red eyes. It’s okay; I still remember. 
“Shiro, are you there?” 
The sense of a nod. My awareness and body, my memories…they’re all a mishmash now. But I’m still just able to tell that the nod came from Shiro. 
“—Shiro, you’re still there, right?” 
Again, the sense of a nod. All that supports me now. Even with most of my memories lost, still I know this much. 
—That it’s far beyond what I’d imagined. I’ve long lost my sight. I’ve got no feeling in my limbs. I hear voices—but I can’t remember whose they are, where I am. I could never have imagined how terrifying it would be for everything to gradually fade away. 
“Shiro…it’s about time, I think…so you’ll—” 
The sense of a third nod with the feeling of desperate forbearance. 
—I, know…, said a little voice. To these words, Sora says wryly, as if pleading: 
“Will you do me a favor? My hand…well, it’s got no more feeling…ha-ha.” 
With a laugh generously seasoned with despair, he continues. 
“Anywhere. Just, hold me somewhere I can feel—so I don’t go crazy.” 
His shoulder gripped tightly, Sora, slightly relieved, sighs. Ahh. And places the piece in his mouth on the board. 
 
Shiro’s heart rate as she glared into the void rose further. 
—Organize all the information. Her brother’s reminder: we’re two in one. So she had also been a part of the game—no, it wasn’t over—so she was still in the game. Her brother’s conviction: We are always victorious before the game starts. So all of this was playing out as expected, exactly as intended. Her brother’s assertion: We aren’t the main character in a boys’ manga. The main character in a boys’ manga— grows . If this were a boys’ manga, this would be Shiro’s cue to grow as a person. She’d realize she could get along even without Sora, something like that—but her brother had denied that unequivocally. Her brother’s faith: We are bound by a promise. The two of them…were two in one. Two comprised a finished product. 
(…A, finished…product—doesn’t, need…to grow!) Though her little head throbbed and started protesting in pain, Shiro ignored it and drove herself harder: Think more, think more—! Why was creating this situation necessary ? Her brother had said: Let’s go grab the last piece. He’d accepted a match in order to win a piece that would give them more of an edge over the Eastern Union in their game— 
(…Then—who…is the enemy?) Her last memory with her brother. Her brother who had left behind cryptic words. At the time, he’d been looking from his throne at, talking to someone—But no matter how many times Shiro reviewed her memory—invisible. Why invisible? Why visible only to her brother? Someone using invisibility magic who—maybe Jibril would—in her memories—something—only—so— 
(…Think more…think more, more, think more!!) Shiro’s pulse, her thoughts—accelerated to a speed that by comparison stopped the hands of the clock on the wall. 
—This would never be sufficient to retrace her brother’s thoughts. Her brother’s actions always had two or three—sometimes ten or twenty—meanings. He created strategies calculating backward from the results, using methods she couldn’t even imagine. She wasn’t capable of that creativity, that way of thinking beyond convention, that knack for shortcuts. (Then…I, just…have to, do this…my own, way!) Her body heat rising still more, the pain as if her head were being clamped in a vise making her sweat. 
—It was an extremely inefficient, shall we say even brutal , way of thinking. The remaining memories, elements of the situation, clues, scenarios, information. Thousands, millions of possibilities. From each of these, she played out the billions, trillions of logical consequences. 
—And verified each one by brute force . A method of deduction like a computer’s, using the extremes of power. Shiro’s little head which made it all possible broke into a cold sweat, throbbing as if it would split. 
Finally—in roughly the time it took the clock’s second hand to tick twice in what felt to Shiro like hours—in the back of her mind…someone—an answer emerged. All too fragmentary in her memory, that someone —whose face, looks, voice…even she couldn’t remember. But hazily, an impression. 
“…The one…we, played…to become monarch…” 
The one who for the sake of Immanity—had even tried to use Elven Gard. What if someone like that heard that her brother had bet the Immanity Piece ? 
—Eastern Union, unbeatable piece, support of Elf— spectators . 
“…Chla…mmy…!” 
Just as she pronounced the name of her brother’s opponent and felt everything come into place. As if an overrevved gear had flown off its axle—Shiro fainted. 
 
Eight moves remaining 
Let’s run through this… I’m Sora. Shiro’s brother, eighteen, virgin, socially incompetent, game vegetable. From another world ? wait. I played a game with a god, won, and came to this world with Shiro…and then? 
—I see, it looks like my memories since I came to this world have been taken. But the real issue lies ahead…what is the goal of this game? If that’s taken—it’s all over. 
…— 
—It’s okay. I can remember… it’s still mine. Looks like its importance was just as I expected. 
“…Just what are you after?” 
A girlish voice asks keenly. My vision is gone. So I can’t see her—but I’ve heard her voice. Her name is…Chlammy Zell. An informant for the country of Elves—Elven Gard. In this game, my opponent . 
“Hmm, in what?” 
Good, seems I can still talk, too. 
“Don’t play dumb. You’re—playing to lose, aren’t you?” 
Without my sight, I was playing by the sound of the pieces on the board. But it seems I didn’t go wrong… Everything is going fine. 
“No? This is a move to win.” 
…Well, I think. Whatever underlay my conviction has become so slight. If you asked for proof, I couldn’t give you a solid answer. 
“—I see, so your goal was for me to take your memory .” 
Yes—that was the kind of game it was. What you lose goes to your opponent. Since I no longer have my memories beyond coming to this world, that means Chlammy has them. 
“…You’re no country’s spy— yes, that much I understand now.” 
I don’t really know what this is about, but apparently she’s understood me. The girl went on. 
“—At this rate, you’ll lose. Your existence will be taken, and even the fact that you existed will disappear. What intention do you have beyond that ?” 
…That I can’t tell her. For that is my true goal in this game . 
“Why do you ask? All you have to do is take it from me.” 
Yes—because that’s the kind of game this is. 
“…Very well. Then I shall fulfill your wish and take everything from you.” 
Chlammy makes a clack on the board. Using the sound to play back the move mentally—I quietly form a grin. 
“ ? Wha…what is this?!” 
With a shrill — no — almost shrieking voice, Chlammy stiffens. 
—At the same time, something floods out of me and disappears. 
“Wh-what…in the world…are you?!” 
What she’s asking me is exactly what she’d just screeched ? who are you? 
—Okay, let’s run it over one more time. I’m…Sora. Shiro’s brother and………and what? 
“ ? ?!” 
An indescribable chill, a feeling that threatens to freeze and shatter my whole body, overwhelms me. Who am I? Where am I? Where did I come from? Where have I been?! Unbecoming myself—a fear that can’t be described. Unable to take it, my teeth chatter, I shake, and I know this through senses that are but a husk of what has been taken away. Somewhere in my head, shouting: You knew this! It’s as planned. It’s all right. 
—This fear as I gradually vanish is as planned ? Bullshit! If I planned on this terror, who did I think I was?! Did I think I was capable of staying sane through this—? 
“…Brother…” 
But. The aching chill of absolute zero. 
“…I’m, here…for you.” 
With these few words, the frost melted too readily to fathom and receded. 
“—Yeah…you are, aren’cha?” 
I’m…Sora. Proud brother of my darling sister Shiro. Now I’m—playing a game. Losing for now, but ultimately to win. That’s all. As long as I know that, that’s plenty. There’s no problem at all. Whispering this in my heart, I clench my chattering teeth firmly to shut them up. To pick up the next piece—I slowly open my mouth. 
 
—… 
“Master?!” 
“Shiro!! Are you all right?!” 
At the sounds of Jibril and Steph’s voices calling her worriedly, Shiro’s consciousness rose back to the surface. 
—Apparently she had collapsed. Finding herself in Steph’s arms, assessing the situation— 
“…!” 
—finding her brother nowhere in her line of sight wherever she fixed her gaze, she almost leaped out of herself again. But somehow she managed to anchor herself with her thoughts. 
—Her brother was in this room . Which meant—there was nothing more to fear. 
“It’s, o…kay…” 
As Shiro, holding her throbbing head, tried to raise her sweat-drenched body, Steph held her back. 
“It is not okay! Suddenly going silent and then collapsing like that—do you know how worried I was?!” 
Noticing that Steph’s eyes as she shouted were faintly red. 
“…Sor-ry…” 
Shiro mumbled quietly. Meanwhile, Jibril, who had been keeping an unnatural distance from Shiro, said as if having made up her mind— 
“Master, I have something to tell you. I went to check about Sora— Master …” 
As Jibril tried to give her confirmation report from the embassy of the Eastern Union— 
“…Never, mind…” 
Shiro interrupted her. 
“…Brother… exists …” 
“—Yes, just as you say. Please mete out any punishment—” 
Poking at the embassy of the Eastern Union—at Ino Hatsuse—Jibril had been able to confirm definitively that “Sora” existed. For her, one who had doubted the assertions of her lord and lady, to have even entertained the notion of her lord and lady’s defeat— 
“…Okay…a, command.” 
“Yes, Master, speak the word.” 
Jibril, ready to comply without hesitation if her lady demanded her life then and there. But Shiro’s reply was soft with only with a somewhat rushed edge. 
“…Help, me…find…Brother…” 
Jibril received these words as though they were divine revelation. And as if to say, Now it’s really okay , Shiro gently let go of Steph’s arm and stood on unsteady feet. The glint in her eyes once again normal, Shiro cast her gaze upon her servants and asked: 
“—You, two…what, were you, doing…yesterday?” 
As if she already knew their responses ahead of time, it was more of a confirmation than a question. Looking at each other, Steph and Jibril answered. 
“Yesterday—I had my hands full with the protests, but in the corner of my eye, I saw you playing games on the throne.” 
“Yes, and I was with her.” 
—But Shiro authoritatively declared that this was wrong. 
“…That was…the day, before yesterday…the nineteenth …” 
While the two of them exchanged glances, Shiro pressed on. 
“…Different question…where…were you…that, night?” 
Having this put to them pointedly, Steph and Jibril searched their memories. But. 
“ ? ……” 
They couldn’t remember a thing. Noting Shiro’s expression which seemed to imply that this was only natural, Jibril inquired— 
“Master, do you mean that you remember last…no, the night before last?” 
“…No, so… that’s, fine .” 
—She was confirming the fact that the memories that had been erased from all of them . In other words— 
“Then you mean— the game ran from the night before last through yesterday ?” 
Spurred by her oath to help, Jibril spun her brain at full speed to keep up, and Shiro nodded. 
“Excuse me, but what do you mean?” 
Steph looked puzzed, as if she didn’t get it after all, prompting Jibril to explain. 
“Lord Shiro had memories that we did not, and we had memories that Lord Shiro did not. This caused confusion —however, if there are memories that have disappeared from all of us, that changes things.” 
Steph looking all the more confused. Jibril distilled it further— 
“It is proof that all of us are participating in the game and that the player is the only one with influence over all of Immanity—the agent plenipotentiary.” 
—Yes. And now all that remained— 
“…Next…Steph…let’s check.” 
“Y-yes, Your Majesty, please tell me your will.” 
Shiro staring at her with an expression more serious than Steph remembered ever having seen before. Bowled over by an eleven-year-old girl, Steph’s reply had been quite solemn, her voice cracking as she prepared herself. 
—It took her a few seconds to grasp the situation. 
“………Ex-excuse me…what are you doing?” 
If Steph wasn’t misunderstanding or hallucinating, she was watching Shiro—still wearing that same severe mien—as her two little hands…those hands groping her— 
“…I’m…squeezing…your, breasts…” 
Shiro carried on unabated with gestures befitting such cute onomatopoeia as: squish squish, boing boing . 
“—…Uhh, um, how am I supposed to react to this?” 
Utterly unfazed by her question, Shiro merely nodded once, asking quizzically: 

 

“…Doesn’t, it, turn you on ?” 
“Of—of course it doesn’t! If it did, that would disqualify me as human in so many ways!” 
As if having received the verification she required, Shiro let go. 
“…Even though…I told, you…to fall, in love with me?” 
“ ? Oh…” 
…It was true. If Shiro had been the one with whom she’d been required by the Covenants to fall in love, Steph should have felt something. In other words, it meant that the one who’d demanded she fall in love with him was Sora… As Steph finally wrapped her brain around it, Jibril interjected apologetically. 
“Master, may I ask… it was not necessary to confirm that, correct?” 
“…Right…” 
Shiro nodded dismissively without any apparent interest. 
“—Pardon?” 
“…Since, I, already, know…Brother’s, here…” 
“…Then may I ask for what purpose you fondled me?” 
Steph, looked broken, as if to say, After I worried about you so much, Shiro—! 
“…As thanks.” 
“How does that constitute thanks?! What do I gain from having my breasts—” 
But what Shiro said next stopped her rant short. 
“…Because…without you…I wouldn’t, have realized—” 
Then—just as Shiro was about to utter her next words—it occurred to her. Had she ever spoken them to anyone but her brother? She considered. 
— No was her conclusion. Perhaps for this reason, Shiro awkwardly, ineptly, averted her gaze and blushed before articulating… 
“…Thank, you…Steph…” 

Her words and the sincerity of her expression left Steph breathless. Though for the next few days she would be clutching her head, Shiro wouldn’t notice Steph’s turmoil as to whether or not having her heart skip a beat for an eleven-year-old girl was something abnormal. Ignoring Steph’s conundrum, Jibril asked quietly. 
“With that, Master…may I assume that the situation is fully grasped ?” 
“…Mm.” 
Her brother figured that if he bet the Immanity Piece, Chlammy—Elven Gard—would come to him… Her brother, having summoned Chlammy thusly, must have been trying to win her to his side. 
“…Just, one…more thing.” 
Only one question remained, but it was the crux. It was—the game itself. But even for this, almost all the answers had already coalesced in Shiro’s thoughts. 
—Her brother knew he would be challenged. And that his opponent would be Chlammy, and by extension Elf, Elven Gard. But considering their memories were being rewritten before the covenant was sealed, there had to be magic involved. A game prepared by Elf?—No. Taking on Rank Seven, Elf, her brother had to have anticipated the involvement of magic. 
“…Brother, accepted…with a game, made…by, Jibril.” 
Without a doubt, he had answered with a game with the power to resist cheating by means of Elven magic. There was only one—among them —who could achieve that. 
“—By me, you say?” 
Yes, the Rank Six. Jibril the Flügel, capable of building an entire virtual world. 
“…Jibril…could you, build it? A game, that erases, memories… ” 
Having been asked, Jibril thought deeply. If her master told her now to build such a game…? 
“I could build a virtual world like that of Materialization Shiritori…but this is the real world…” 
“…What about—with Elf, together ?” 
“T-together—?! With those woodland rubes ?!” 
Heartfelt dismay colored her voice. Such an idea had probably never even entered her imagination. But with Shiro’s eyes fixed on her, Jibril gave the matter serious consideration and concluded: 
“—It would depend on the skill of the Elf mage… But it might be possible. In terms of the absolute quantity of power available, we of Rank Six are superior. However, when it comes to weaving a complex rite…Rank Seven, Elf—is our better by a wide margin.” 
Jibril, from whom an admission lowering her own position was unheard-of. But now, having committed such an atrocity as to doubt her lord…being scrutinized by her master’s gaze…what pretense could she uphold? 
“For instance—if I provided the core of the Materialization Shiritori board, and an Elf mage wove the game around it…then it might be possible to weave a space-time distortion spell of this scale.” 
But there was still something missing. There was still a necessary component, surmised Shiro. 
“…Also…they can’t, build in…cheats. Can you, be sure?” 
“Yes.” 
Shiro’s concern was dismissed by Jibril forthright. 
“To enact a rite inducing space-time distortion of this magnitude, a quantity of spirit far exceeding the limits of any Elf would be required. In the end, it would be I who would launch the game. Were there an impropriety in the rite, I would detect it thereupon.” 
“…Positive?” 
“Yes, if this series of events has been brought about by magic, I have a feel for the amount of power that would be required.” 
Jibril, looking around, went on. 
“Frankly speaking—it is on the level of the Heavenly Smite I unleashed upon the capital of Elf in the Great War.” 
Smoothly, she continued as if relating a trifle. 
“I remember that, as I let loose a single blow with the intent of wiping all trace of the city from the land , the Elves attempted to block it with a spell that took the spirit-corridor-connected nerves of three thousand Elf mages and their lives to deploy, and still they were unable to stop it.” 
Shiro , deciding it pointless to be surprised at anything Jibril said by now, carried on with her musing. But Steph, unable to take it, let out a jab at the decisive weapon before her. 
“Y-you…just what were you doing?!” 
“Elf has developed their magical arts since the war, but the absolute quantity they can handle has not changed. If we assume that this space-time distortion is part of the game, under the direction of my masters, then the one who launched it is me. I could not possibly overlook an impropriety.” 
Jibril continued unfazed, her conviction absolute. 
—In other words, the answer had been in this room all along . Somewhere in this living space littered with countless games was the base . The ongoing game’s— board . But looking around, no such item presented itself. Then— 
“…Jibril…in this room…there, should be…a magic, response…” 
Her brother was in the room—but had been rendered imperceptible. This could mean that the game board itself, also , was excluded from Shiro’s perception. 
“…The day and a half we lost…our memories from the game…then, we can’t…perceive, the game, either…” 
But even if it was excluded from their perception, if the game was ongoing , then there had to be magic in use— 
“…Let me investigate.” 
The Flügel could sense no magic there. But—unwilling to doubt her master again, Jibril spread her wings and opened her amber eyes. 
“Eek—what…is this?” 
Even Shiro and Steph, who weren’t supposed to be able to detect any magic, were all but flattened by the pressure. Jibril had moved an obscene quantity of spirits—the source of the magic. Her halo spun wildly over her head, and there was an illusion as if the room itself was swaying— 
“—I have located it.” 
This phrase was enough to make Shiro and Steph’s faces spontaneously relax, but Jibril pointed to a corner of the room. 
“…However, I must apologize. The best I can do is to sense that, over there, a field is deployed that blocks perception . If, as my master infers, this is an Elf rite using a game-board core provided by myself, then I suspect that overcoming this barrier to perception—is impossible.” 
“…!” 
Biting her nails, Shiro groaned. 
—One more step. The answer was lying right there before them, and yet— 
“A-around here? I’ll see if I can find anything.” 
Steph walked around the area Jibril indicated, lowering her eyes to the floor—but, suddenly, as if she had tripped on something, Steph fell spectacularly and did a face-plant. 
“…Dora, I feel that falling when there is nothing to trip on is laying it on a bit thick for your character.” 
But Steph’s gaze as she got up and turned back was blank. 
“…What? I fell ? I fell?” 
At these words, Shiro and Jibril realized at the same time. 
“…!” 
“Even if it is not perceptible, it is there . It simply eludes awareness even on touch, I suppose?” 
Nodding at Jibril’s words, Shiro walked forward. Even if you couldn’t perceive it, it was there—you could touch it. Completely invisible, imperceptible even to the sense of touch, a game board was there. Then Shiro noticed something near where Steph fell. A little box of pieces—white on one side, black on the other—engraved with Chinese numerals . And another box with similar pieces, engraved with Elf numerals . Surmising the true nature of these pieces was very simple. 
“…Othello…pieces.” 
“Whatever might this mean? Are these the pieces for the game?” 
To Jibril, wondering why they would be able to see the pieces but not the board, Shiro responded. 
“…Be-cause…they, haven’t been used .” 
The pieces that hadn’t been used, which they could still perceive. A game that took away their memories and their very perception of the game— a game that was not yet over . Shiro connected it all in her mind by a single thread. The rules were probably— 
“A game, where you split…your, memories …and existence …among the pieces…and take them, from each other.” 
Jibril was first to react to Shiro’s whisper followed after a beat by Steph. 
“M-Master, if I may be so bold…” 
“Wh-what kind of lunatic would play that?!” 
Yes—if Shiro’s conjecture was correct, it was, with no room for doubt, a game of madness . But if the rules were as surmised, then, after all— 
“…Brother, you’re…so, amazing…” 
Shiro felt a trickle of cold sweat at the realization that at last—she had arrived at her brother’s intent. 
 
Before the first move 
“—Come, then, let’s review the game’s rules.” 
Sora speaks to Chlammy, sitting in the chair across the table from him. And behind him, Shiro, Steph, and Jibril. And, behind Chlammy, the Elf girl. 
“We shall split the concepts that constitute us into thirty-two pieces each—and play Othello.” 
Playing in his hand with a piece with white on one side, black on the other, with a numeral engraved, Sora continues. 
“The pieces have numbers engraved, lower numbers for more important concepts. Like your memories, personality, body, and stuff, I guess? Otherwise it’s just normal Othello. You flip over the opponent’s pieces— and take the opponent’s existence .” 
The game Sora had thought of, Jibril had provided the power source for, and the Elf girl had woven. Though Sora explained the rules casually, they were by no means ordinary, and everyone swallowed audibly from the tension. 
“Also note that importance is judged by the game’s magic according to their importance in your unconscious . Which would mean that you can’t tell yourself what pieces govern what.” 
Sora seemed quite happy, but— 
“…You don’t know what you’re gonna lose given which pieces are taken—is that a rush or what?” 
To Sora, stirring up madness in his eyes—Chlammy responds with eyes calm and cold. 
“I want to expose your true identity and backers. You want to expose as much as possible of Elven Gard’s hand. It does seem a game in which our interests would be aligned.” 
“Correct. And then, the winner gets back everything that was theirs— and the loser gets back nothing .” 
At the meaning of these words, a chill jolts down Steph’s spine. 
“—If you lose your personality and then lose the game—ha-ha, now that’ll be something, won’t it? 
“Oh, and one more thing. Unlike normal Othello, you don’t get to pass . Even if there’s no place you can play your piece to capture, you still have to play it. I’m sure you can imagine the endgame in such a situation, in which you have to place the pieces with low numbers…right?” 
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 . 
—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—” 
“No ? nooooooooooooooooooooo!!!” 
“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—