No Game No Life - Volume 8 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 
WHO ARE YOU? 
 
It couldn’t have lasted for more than a moment. But in that moment, Sora and Shiro were stormed with hundreds of millions of memories. Unfathomable time, beyond human understanding except as eternal. Foggy, like a dream, as if about to doze off—they saw it. 
 
Once upon a time, there was a girl who was all alone. It was an ancient, ancient time, before the world had taken shape, so long ago it would make your head spin. The girl was a god. But she didn’t know what a god was or why one should be born. And she had no one, nothing to answer her. 
The world still lacked any intelligence. The girl had been born to ask “why” on behalf of those who lacked consciousness. Doubting everything—even her ether—the girl took up her pen and kept asking: What is it to be? What is the world? Who was she who asked? Yet, however many questions she had, there was no one to ask. However many hypotheses she formed, there was nothing to respond. Amidst time perpetual, the lonely philosopher girl went on asking “why” about everything. And because she was alone in the world, she did not know just how lonely she was. 
She vaguely sought someone to talk to. She created five small mechanical cubes. There were units for observation, analysis, validation, and adaptation, and a fifth to oversee and command them. It was her attempt at creating intelligence in this yet insensible world. Independent agents of reason, her wish for someone to talk to—someone to answer her infinite questions. But the mechanical wits—asked their own questions in turn. 
—What am I? What art thou? What is a question? 
The machines had intelligence but lacked something the girl possessed. Something she did not even know she had, because she was alone. For this reason, in that primordial world, that girl who was the first to have a “heart” despaired. She neither knew what hope was, nor did she understand it. And so, at the end of the more than ageless silence, the girl at last thought of a single means—a method to answer those questions that bubbled up infinitely within her. The lonely god, having come to doubt the truth of her very existence, at last came— 
—to deny herself and gouge herself of her ether. 
At least she had found one answer: She had existed. She held that close to her, the answer obtained at the cost of her death. 
 
But that day, she was denied even that answer. 
On a remote hill in what would come to be called the Eastern Union. Its scarlet moon set as if on a stage, the sky wreathed in night. The girl’s question went unheeded by a young golden fox who seemed to be on her last breath. That fox doubted everything in the world: the Ten Covenants, the One True God, convention, destiny, all of it. The fox concluded that convention was unassailable and forced a despairing grin, to which the lonely girl who was supposed to die, her ether still dormant— 
—asked, Why? 
The dormant girl inferred that she’d failed to die. She’d denied herself, gouged her ether with all her might—and yet, it hadn’t disappeared but had only come loose. She’d merely rendered herself temporarily inert. Too lethargic to recognize her own despair, the girl asked again— 
“Answer me. How dost thou deem convention unassailable?” 
—as if blaming the one who had roused her from deep, dreamy sleep. 
When the golden fox answered that history itself was the basis for her conclusion, the girl then asked how she had determined that the fallacy of composition, the part implying the whole, was valid. 
When the golden fox replied that no basis was needed for something as self-explanatory as “the strong ravage the weak,” the girl then asked what weak meant and how the fox could prove that the supposed obvious needed no proof. 
The fruitless argument went on and on, until—for some reason—the moribund fox smiled. She boldly stood up and asked: 
“—This is all quite ridiculous. What’s your name?” 
The girl thought—and answered: Unknown. She explained that the “you” the fox referred to and the “self” who should respond were both open to question. She told of her ether, her infinite questioning, and her self-denial at its end—everything. And finally, she concluded that she’d never even given thought to a name. 
“Ah, so we’re comrades in namelessness. Never mind then. So—” 
The young golden fox’s smile deepened. The despair was gone. 
“—you want me to prove it?” 
All there was— 
“You want me to prove that conventions exist to be broken, that everyone, even the One True God, is assailable… That one can break convention after convention to infinity to change the world, remaking it with one’s own hands?” 
—was one rising fervently to reshape the world. But the girl didn’t care either way. She just wanted to sleep. Proof can always be disproved, the girl told her, but the golden fox looked mightily displeased. 
“You get me started and now that? You’re coming with me, whether you like it or not.” 
The girl tried to ask Why, but the fox boldly and arrogantly interrupted her with a grand declaration: 
She’d unite all the races and build a convention by which no one would be sacrificed, use it to vanquish the One True God—and take his throne. 
“So—let’s: Aschente.” 
 
Though the fox raised her hand, the girl responded with only silence. She had been quasi-inactive through everything, through the end of the War and the binding of the Ten Covenants. Even now, she denied herself, so this could not be more than a shallow, transitory reactivation. She would likely return to quasi-inactivity any moment now and certainly had no power to speak of as an Old Deus. She dozed, the past and future—even the present—obscure to her… 
“Say it after me. We’re going to play a little game.” 
Nevertheless, the fox continued. 
“You beat me, you get this body. I’ll be your host till I die.” 
And then, once all of the fox’s grand schemes reached fruition, the frail creature remarked she wouldn’t need it, so— 
“—Once I have the throne of the One True God, I’ll pass it to you, so help yourself.” 
Her words astonished the girl, still entirely unaware of things. The throne of the One True God… Did she mean the Suniaster? Somewhere in the midst of those hazy memories of hers, had that Great War truly concluded? 
The Suniaster: the omniscient, omnipotent conceptual device. Were it true, if she had that, even these infinite questions of hers could be— 
 
Afterward: 
“Nggghh, you! Thou, thou, host! Hast thou not deceived me?!” 
“Eh-ha-ha! The one who’s fooled is at fault. Everyone shall know that!” 
Yes, if the girl won, the fox’s body would serve as her host until the fox died. And so, the victorious girl found her ether bound inside the fox. Until the fox died or— 
“Now you’ll be in me till you get the One True God’s throne. ?” 
The girl’s mind raged, but the fox just kept laughing merrily. 
The girl didn’t even realize: She was showing emotion for the first time. The god of doubt, who wasn’t even sure she existed, had unintentionally given the fox courage, the will to take on the world—and they became each other’s first friends. For as long as they shared a body, by the Covenants, they could never be apart. 
“…Be at ease. I know well I’ve lost. I’ll keep my promise.” 
By trickery unheard of in any age, the fox had made a friend who could never leave her. She looked keenly out at the giant chess pieces beyond the horizon. 
“Keep asking your questions. I’ll listen and do everything I can.” 
Strangely, the girl didn’t find that she minded. 
“Until I get the Suniaster and you quit denying yourself, just stay put and watch.” 
But the experience of talking to someone did make the girl feel something… Something. 
Thus, the Eastern Union was born. Not from the girl’s power as an Old Deus; it wasn’t needed. Every time the fox said No, the girl asked Why. That was all. 
We cannot defeat another race. 
Why can ye not? 
We are nothing without magic. 
Why hath magic import? 
We can never change reality. 
Why would thou deem that so? 
The girl asked Why, inspiring the fox—to create a country in the blink of an eye. 
The blink of an eye to the god, mind you. To the fox, however, it was sixty years… 
 
And it ended just as suddenly. 
“…My time is up. Sorry, love. It’s time you got out of me.” 
The golden fox, once young, broached the subject the night they took the city of Siren. She flicked the Werebeast Piece up with her finger as she broke the news to the girl inside her. Of course, the girl didn’t know what she meant…but she could guess. 
“Is it they? The Immanities?” 
The fox had apologized to her before when she’d expressed uncertainty that she’d be able to obtain the Suniaster before she died. 
Unable to find what she called “the end of the conventions,” the fox told the girl she’d “entrust the game to someone.” The girl hadn’t minded particularly or even understood why the fox felt she needed to apologize. Certainly, the fox could never have been serious about uniting all the races and defeating the One True God. 
But the fox had changed ever since those Immanities appeared, the girl thought. Or had she only reverted to the way she once was? It seemed the fox truly intended to obtain the Suniaster. 
“Really, though. There’s no sense in us living together forever.” The fox flicked the Piece, smiling. “In essence, with you and I both as the agent plenipotentiary of Werebeast, there’s no betting the Race Piece.” Her next words took the girl aback: 
“…Betting my life alone should be enough, so next time, I’ll leave it to you.” 
“……” 
Had the fox really intended to give the Suniaster to the girl? She was saying, If I can’t do it in my lifetime, I’ll let someone else. But she’d sworn to the girl, I’ll be your host till I die. Neither the fox nor the girl had the right to revoke that. But what if the fox reached the end of her lifespan…? 
“That being the case, we must make a new covenant to supersede the old. We must play another game.” 
The fox made a proposal: Before she died and the girl disappeared with her, the girl must play a game with another and pass on the covenant. However, the girl refused. You were the one who promised to see things through, she’d insisted— 
“—Therefore, I’ll just cut my life short here.” 
. 
“…The one thing I won’t do is to let you die…,” muttered the fox, casting her eyes downward, but the girl mused silently. 
She was a god but also a helpless girl, existing within the fox and doing nothing more. For her ether to be passed on, the covenant required the fox’s death. Were the fox to die, were the chain of the Covenant to be severed, the girl would deny herself and enter quasi-inactivity. But perhaps, in the brief time after she was released from the Covenant, she could use her power as an Old Deus to seize the fox’s soul, grant her perpetual life, and put her soul back where it belonged. In that case, all she had to do was play the fox’s game—and win—and once again use the Covenants to place her ether within the fox. 
“…I consent… O Host… But not to thy death.” 
It was for that reason the girl announced that she would consent to the game and apply all her power. What she failed to mention, though, was that she had no intention of passing her ether to anyone but the fox? 
 
And the girl was, in fact, unbound from the Covenant. But once she descended—once the fox’s death released her divine power—while the Immanities, Dhampir, and foxes all made up rules to suit their own needs, she realized something. 
Now that the Covenant had concluded and she held the fox’s life, she no longer had the option to withdraw even from a game that put her at a disadvantage. She now understood. 
The fox had never intended to die. Neither had she meant to pass the girl’s ether to someone else. Her goal had simply been to be rid of the girl. 
She’d been betrayed again. 
All the girl could do was ensure that whoever won would do so at the cost of her ether’s destruction. She’d have them bet as many Race Pieces as they had players and take hold of their souls… 
“…Sorry, love. In spite of it all, I trust you.” 
“Having betrayed and deceived me, will thou manipulate me to trust in thee?” 
And she’d twist the rules to protect the fox whether she won or lost. That was all she could do. 
The girl still could not fathom why this was necessary, but… 
“I’ll manipulate you, sure… ’Tis time you stood on your own two feet.” 
Yes, this game would prove it. In other words— 
“’Tis time you realized… Trust the traitor. Faith and doubt are one and the same.” 
If they could send the traitor to the goal, she wouldn’t destroy her ether. But one way or the other, she was sure she’d disappear. 
Thus, the game began with those who longed to kill her. Or was it…? She watched them placidly and reflected. 
She wondered what she had done wrong, but she didn’t ask. 
The Suniaster—the omniscient vessel one might obtain by collecting all the Race Pieces and defeating the One True God. 
It was perfect. She would begin by obtaining the Pieces of these five races. She would ascend to the throne of the One True God and gain the answers to all her questions… And then. And…then— 
…I shall learn…why she abandoned me… 
So the girl thought, but she didn’t know what they meant—her trembling hands, her downcast eyes, these swirling emotions… 
What is it to believe? It can never be proven. 
If you say it can, if you insist there is an answer… 
After making me feel this way, give me a good answer. 
If you can prove it, then do so… 
Such were her thoughts, but she didn’t know what it meant. 
 
And so, as if waking from a daydream, Sora and Shiro took in their surroundings, their thoughts still cloudy. Both they and the Shrine Maiden beside them saw the same thing. The grandeur of the land that had been swirling in the air was gone. It was a black room. Narrow, dim, cold, stark—a space that rejected the world in its entirety. In its center was a nameless girl, an Old Deus, all alone and clutching her knees. It was…a place they knew, a sight they recognized. It was back there—their old world. This room was just like the one where they’d locked themselves away, turning their backs on everything. It felt the same. The world was closed. The girl opened her mouth. 
“What is it to believe? Thou so boastfully claim it is ‘to doubt’…” 
Her voice wavered, scared, far removed from her divine dignity. But Sora and Shiro…knew. 
They knew this was the girl’s original form. 
Having seen the memory— No, even before that. Sora and Shiro had known ever since the game began, since they first met the Old Deus. 
Sora and Shiro recognized her eyes ever so slightly peeking through. 
Those eyes had a familiarity unbefitting of a higher race, a god. 
Sora and Shiro knew those eyes…long ago… 
They were the same…the eyes they’d seen staring back at them in the mirror. 
Not the eyes of a god or a human. The eyes of someone betrayed, hurt, struggling. A child who did not yet know what she could do, how she could live. That was why… 
“—What am I…?” 
She could only ask. Begging. Pleading. Blaming. 
Born knowing nothing, wishing nothing. Knowing nothing, yet pressed to question infinity. Knowing nothing, yet living, trying to know, and dying. Knowing nothing, yet roused, used, fooled, cheated, and betrayed… And finally, of all things—To doubt is to trust? Were that the case… What meaning had she as a god of doubt…? As she studied this joyful lot and put forward her question laced with loathing… 
“Uhhh… Hey, Shiro. Actually, I guess I should ask you, Shrine Maiden.” 
…Sora couldn’t take it, so he turned to his sister—and then to the Shrine Maiden. 
“I know it’s a bit late, but—let me confess. There’s one thing I never got, all this time.” 
Sora sneered at the Shrine Maiden, his gaze reproachful. Sure, he’d managed to figure out this game’s real victory conditions. While there were things he’d failed to predict or straight-up flubbed—he’d even suffered a loss—despite all that, he’d more or less gotten it. But even so— 
“What’s the point of the Old Deus playing? I never got that part.” 
Well really, you didn’t need a point to play a game, he thought. You didn’t even need a purpose. Prizes and awards? Those were just bonus achievements. You played because you wanted to—no more, no less. So if he had a chance to play with a literal god-tier gamer, he’d instead ask what point, what purpose, there was in not playing. Sora had begun to consider, though, that it seemed this was not the prevailing view (a revelation that fueled in him the proud belief that these days he was becoming more and more mature). Despite his own filter, he realized the Shrine Maiden had bamboozled the Old Deus into participating. 
But what had made the Old Deus play? He just didn’t get the point. Why had she gone to such lengths to create this practically cosmic-scale game—? 
“…Now, this is crazy, but let me check…” 
Sora took a breath. 
“Could it be that your friend betrayed you, all, like, I still believe in you, love, pompous as all get out, and you were, like, The hell is that?! You hurt me so bad, and you’re saying you trust me?! Whaddaya mean, trust?! What do you think I can trust? You’d better bet your life on it if you want to prove it to me!! If you’re not gonna, I’m gonna become omniscient and omnipotent and get the answer myseeelf!!” He adopted a convincing impression of a female lead, right down to the dramatic gestures, then switched back. “Right. So don’t tell me that’s all it was, was it?” 
“Huh-heh-heh… See? She’s a troublesome one.” 
Sora and Shiro shot icy glares at the Shrine Maiden as she cackled. 
Sora’d asked the question but already knew the answer. The game was now over, and he’d gotten back his memories collected at the start. His memories indeed verified that, before the game, he’d been asked, What is it to believe? 
Baffled as to the question’s meaning, he’d answered, as a matter of course, To doubt. Doubt and faith were synonyms, yet, of all things—she’d demanded he prove it. Figuring she must have been setting them up to smash each other all “prisoner’s dilemma” style, he’d proposed: 
How ’bout, if we get the traitor to the goal, your ether stays intact? 
It was a game that assumed everyone would betray one another. He’d sarcastically made mention of all kinds of conundrums like the prisoner’s dilemma, but could it be…? Had the detective’s plan, the Old Deus’s plan, been nothing more than a test of the prisoners’—Sora and Shiro’s—faith?!! Come on! 
Sora heaved a sigh, his eyes glossed over like a dead fish’s. 
“…Grown-ups sure are geniuses at complicating things, huh?” 
“Aren’t they? It truly boggles the mind… Huh-heh-heh-heh-heh!” 
“What are you laughing about?! You did it to us, didn’t you?!” 
“…The root…of all, this evil…was the Shrine Maiden…” 
The Shrine Maiden looked away and laughed self-deprecatingly as Sora and Shiro flung accusations at her. 
“…You said it. I went and snarled it up. Stupid ol’ me.” 
The dusky room creaked in response to her self-mockery. They noticed that with every creak, the room’s master—the girl cowering on her knees—flickered in and out like a candle about fade away. 
“…Right, then. Didn’t I say this is where it gets real?” 
Having seen the girl’s memory, Sora and Shiro knew what was happening. Now that her covenant with the Shrine Maiden had been severed, she was starting to deny herself. Her finite divine power had been released just for a bit and was now attenuating without end. 
“I gave her back the ether I chained by the Covenants. Yet—” 
At this rate, she’d disappear again…becoming a sacrifice. That’s why the Shrine Maiden calmly threatened Sora and Shiro, her face bent into a twisted grin. 
“If you don’t pull apart this mess we’ve made—you lose. ?” 
“—Not that I’m one to talk, but you’re actually an awful person, Shrine Maiden…” 
“I’m certainly no better than some gamer… Still—” 
In a sudden reversal, the Shrine Maiden dropped her voice and looked downcast as she continued, “I was wrong… But even now, I don’t know what I should have done.” 
Of course. As long as she was in the Shrine Maiden, the Old Deus wouldn’t disappear. But in the end, all that meant was that she was hanging by the Covenants. She lacked any awareness or perception or answers to her questions—and as soon as the shackles of the Covenants were removed, look what happened. They’d been two in one. Just like Shiro and Sora themselves, the siblings thought. But—there was one critical difference. 
“—I still want to help her; I do.” The Shrine Maiden no longer knew if she deserved to call herself a friend, but… “Even if mine were the hand she ultimately reached out for…I still want her to choose whose to grab. But if I don’t know how to get her to do that, and if I can’t—” 
Finally, in that splintering room, the Shrine Maiden admitted, “—then I’ll use someone who can, even if it means getting you two mixed up into it.” 
Even if, in the end, it isn’t my hand she’s holding… 
“She’s too troublesome, too much of a child to even be tossed aside… Say something, will you?” 
Even if the girl berated, scorned her, the Shrine Maiden still had something she couldn’t concede. And if she was sure there was someone who could hold that girl’s hand, then she wouldn’t care what anyone thought of her. 
Sora and Shiro smirked at the Shrine Maiden. 
“Very well, then. I’ll say it as many times as I want: Don’t screw with us. We got this.” 
“…Props…for not…tossing her, aside…this time!” 
Sora and Shiro never intended to let the Old Deus die. The Shrine Maiden didn’t have to beg or threaten them. In fact… 
“This is some real casual shit to end with. Goddamn anticlimactic.” 
Groaning in condescension, Sora and Shiro approached the girl… 
 
The Shrine Maiden watched with slight apprehension as the two of them stepped forward, brimming with confidence. Was it really as simple as they thought? An Old Deus’s very being, their time scale, the depth of their definition of the world—these were all fundamentally different from “living things” such as herself. The polar opposite, even. 
That was why, way back then…the Shrine Maiden had been unable to say anything to the girl struggling with questions. She’d bound them together with a complex promise, a winding covenant, that only became further entangled with each exchange they shared, twisted in the chains… And thus was born their bizarre symbiosis, this complicated relationship. She wanted her friend—or, at least, the girl she considered her friend—to laugh, even cry now and then, of her own volition, without the constrictions of the covenant binding her. The Shrine Maiden wanted the girl to have fun in spite of it all. That was why she’d severed that chain—just for that. 
She’d had no choice but to make things so complicated. 
And yet, the Shrine Maiden still had no idea what she could do after unlocking the shackles. All she could do was to dig her nails into her palms, tighten her fists, and watch as her friend cried pathetically, disappearing. They’d been through the worst together, their lives on the line so many times—for over half a century—and still… 
The one thing she knew was that this would be the biggest gamble of her life, perhaps her last. As she stared at Sora and Shiro, the two on whom she’d bet it all, practically praying— 
“…Uhhh. So you were asking what a god is—what you are, right? Simply put—” Sora let out a slow sigh, then crouched down near the girl. “Why were you born? What’s your purpose in life? —Pffft!! ” 
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 facts 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.” 
“—Hey, you’re making me sound like some nasty-ass criminal sicko…” 
……And you claim you’re not? the Shrine Maiden quietly wondered at the objection of this unsightly lolicon, who could hardly excuse himself now. She distantly regarded his futile impasse with Holou. Holou was right. Her present form was not her true self. 
“Holou’s ether lieth here.” 
“……Uh. You mean…that thing you’ve been sitting on? The inkpot?” 
“—Nay. That, too, is incorrect. The appearance of an inkpot is an illusion borne of the extent of thine understanding of my divinity. An Old Deus properly hath no physical form. This humanoid form, likewise, is but an illusion for the purpose of—” 
“HA-HAAA! OKAY, ENOUGH ALREADY! ? WATAAAH!!” 
“……O thou? Thou. Thou. Why hast thou karate chopped Holou’s head?” 
“Your head! You admitted it!! So this and that are all you, Holou, right?!” 
Holou gasped. As she muttered at the apparent revelation, Sora figured it was their chance and started inching away. The Shrine Maiden snickered as she watched complacently. 
Long ago, a certain fox…had made a terrible mistake. She’d thought that the god of doubt, born to doubt everything, questioning eternity—her first friend—wanted evidence to support herself as she went on doubting. Having made this mistake, the fox could hardly call herself the girl’s friend. What the god had actually wanted was just someone she could trust, who would believe in her— 
—and now, that someone strode up to the Shrine Maiden and whispered: 
“So I’d say we win, wouldn’t you, Shrine Maiden?” 
Holou had ceased denying herself and stood on her own. Sora had sailed right over the Shrine Maiden’s trap. 
“Heh-heh! Watch yourself, lad. Grown-ups have their own way of winning.” She chuckled. That’s right. I’m a grown-up. I ended up an adult. The Shrine Maiden smirked. She’d turned into one of those boring folks complicating the world, the ones who’d given up on so much— But still. “…You accomplished what I couldn’t…” Yes. She’d bet that they could free Holou. He’d made the gamble of her lifetime—and won. “From the very beginning, I bet on my loss… So wouldn’t you say I win? ?” 
She let herself be a sore loser to see what would happen. 
“…Shrine Maiden… If you bet…on your own loss…” 
“That’s where you lost—so we win, d00d.” 
“……?” 
“A word to the wise: You’ve got something you’ve gotta say before you start on the details, right?” 
Sora and Shiro laughed at this rather ominous remark and waved at the Shrine Maiden with a flourish. She eyed them suspiciously as they headed toward the edge of the rock that was just about to arrive on solid ground. 
“O Host, O Host!” 
Holou had scrawled something with her brush, then suddenly cried out and ran for the Shrine Maiden. 
“Holou—is Holou! Hast thou any objections?” 
………… 
“What sort of expression is that?! Dost thou not understand?!” 
Holou was like a philosopher who’d just made a great discovery only to be confounded by the ignorance of the masses. 
But that wasn’t the case. 
“I propose that the present condition in which an observer which defineth Holou’s self perceiveth and addresseth Holou as Holou implieth that Holou can be provisionally confirmed to exist as Holou—and thus that Holou may call herself Holou!” 
The reason the Shrine Maiden looked so dazed was that Holou had run to her—and confidently taken her hand. 
Has she forgiven me? Is it appropriate for mine to be the hand she holds of her own volition? In the end, I couldn’t do anything. Am I really good enough—? 
“You’ve got something you’ve gotta say before you start on the details!” 

“…Sorry, love, I tricked you… Will you forgive me…?” 
“Holou cannot forgive you,” Holou shot back doubtfully. 
The Shrine Maiden averted her gaze, but Holou continued. 
“For Holou hath yet to hypothesize what it is to forgive.” 
. 
“However, thy deception hath wrought what thou didst say would come. It hath changed the ending, changed the conclusion, yea, changed Holou herself.” Holou thought for a bit as if checking something and nodded several times. “And it doth seem that this change be not particularly unpleasant.” 
Holou smiled subtly, probably unaware of it herself. 
—Gong… A slight swaying. 
They had landed—in the Garden of the Shrine, greeted by the smiles of Steph, Jibril…and Izuna. The three of them looked at Holou’s, the Shrine Maiden’s, Sora’s, and Shiro’s faces one by one. 
“We’re back—I suppose one should say.” 
Steph was beaming more radiantly than anyone. Sora and Shiro gave her a thumbs-up. 
“Sure thing, Steph… And sorry to bring the bad news…” 
“…But, Steph… Now…it’s good-bye…” 
Weighed upon by fatigue, tension, and hunger, among many other things, Sora and Shiro fainted.