“So, Chlammy. Can you do—that thing?” He took out his phone. …But that was all he did. He didn’t even hold it out to her. However, Chlammy grinned imperiously, snatched it from his hand—and, without hesitation, with a once-in-a-century, shit-eating grin—placed the phone on top of her bust… “You see, my sister? Nothing has changed. Her confidence is as fake as her tits.” “Wh-whaaat?! The way I remember from your memory, if you ask someone with big boobs if they can do ‘it,’ you’re referring to this, right?!” Sora’s smirk and the snap of Shiro’s camera ripped off any and all pretense instantaneously. “Hfff… Listen well, Queen of Boards.” “—Heh… What is it now, little boy?” “Don’t react to that… You do know, don’t you…? Listen.” And as Chlammy scrambled to put her gilded pretense back on, Sora preached the truth. “Someone with big boobs doesn’t assume that ‘that thing’ is specifically something to do with her boobs!!!” “Gurgh!!” “I mean, all I did was take out my phone! You didn’t think I might be trying to take a picture or something?! I could have been asking for a sexy pose or any number of other things, right?! You didn’t even hesitate! You’re so desperate, I feel bad calling you out. Sorry, okay?!” “……I-I’m, sorry…! I kind of, feel like it’s…my fault…!” “Why are you two crying?! I mean—it—it’s not like that! A-ahem!” Sora’s apology broke the dam on the tears long held back. Shiro and Chlammy both started crying—and then. “—Huff. All right. With magnanimity as deep as my cleavage, I’ll accept your constructive criticism…” As Chlammy assumed the pretense once more, Sora and Shiro thought: I see. It would have been difficult for Fiel to sucker a Dwarf alone. But the two of them—Fiel and Chlammy together—shouldn’t have had any problem. “Before, I was flat-chested… You’re right, there’s no sense in denying the past…” After all, look at Chlammy—sticking out her chest, one hand on her hip, the other flaring out her hair, like a hot babe full of confidence. Just the way a comedian would play it. And she refused to even recognize this. Those discerning Dwarves would surely spot right away that her confidence was as devoid of reality as her chest. And for that very reason— “But a real woman doesn’t let her past drag her down… You see now, kid?” —Sora, watching as Chlammy desperately maintained the seductress act, became all the more sure. All Fiel had to do was make the Dwarves think their opponent was this weirdo to lower their guard and get them into the game. Then if the real player was Fiel—talk about a sucker punch. Sora and Shiro could see how Fiel could have captured swarms of Dwarves easily. “All right… I get it already. Let’s end this sad world where everyone just gets hurt.” “…I accept it… You have…big boobs… Okay?” “Would you stop it with those tender gazes?! What did you even come here for, anyway? God!!” As Chlammy’s tears reappeared from beneath the gilded veneer, Sora and Shiro left her with their sympathy. Looking back at the Elven girl still sitting on her chair, Sora asked: “Hey, Fiel, do you still think you can steal a march on us to beat Veig?” “Whaaat? …Why, how could you accuse me of such a thing…? I’m so hurrrt. ” Fiel professed her brokenheartedness with a smile so over the top you could practically feel the sarcasm oozing from it. She continued: “After alll I’ve done to help my friends succeed, my goodness.” “Fine, so you need to save face. Then, okay, if we win, we want to do something for you, as friends. What do you want?” Sora indirectly asked what Fiel wanted if she won. She must have been asked this by Chlammy many times already, from the uneasy way she listened. “Dooon’t worry. I’m done with seeking death and destruction.” Fiel seemed focused on reassuring Chlammy. “Why, that thing crossed three lines that should never be crossed…” However, her words that followed, with an evil smile, were not very reassuring at all. “I can’t kill him nowww. Why, I must keep him alive. ” “—By the way, what are those three lines?” “Being booorn…and touching two things he shouldn’t have. ” Things he shouldn’t have touched… Sora cast his eyes upon those two things, plump and heaving. It occurred to him that Fiel’s gaze spoke eloquently as to the manner in which she wished to win. —But Sora was surprised that she’d failed to notice that other thing for two whole days. He repeated what he’d said two days ago. “I mean, you have to cooperate with us to beat Veig, so I hope you’ll give this some thought.” “—Whaaat?” He clearly implied that Fiel could not beat Veig by herself. Fiel looked at him to ask what basis he had for his assertion. Sora answered cheerily. “Yeah, look—you’re already relying on Dwarves to build this for you, which proves you can’t do it yourself, right?” “.” That instantthe atmosphere froze hard enough to crack. “…? Huh, what? What are you talking about?” Chlammy looked quizzically as Fiel winced with displeasure. —Thunk. Fiel’s heel dug into the chair—and an argument began. “~~~~, ~~~, ~~~, ” “~~~~~!! ~~~~!! ~~~~?!” “…That’s Dwarven, right? Jibril, can you interpret?” Beside Sora, the trusty weapon supporting seven hundred languages bowed reverently and answered. “First, the long-ears demanded, ‘Tell me where Til is.’ The chair answered, ‘I really have no idea,’ pleading for its life… Oh, and the long-ears said, ‘Tell me even if you don’t know. I’ll be the judge of whether you have any idea.’ The chair’s will seems to have been broken. ” And so the elderly chair, pathetic tears about to fall, complied with the order to cough up anything and everything, mumbling this and that. “No one can find her now…even the chieftain, who was so fond of her.” Jibril transitioned to simultaneous interpretation, and Sora and Shiro listened sympathetically. “Way back when, she used to chase after the chieftain everywhere, sayin’ she’d surpass him and become his wife—” “…Hooooold up…!!” But Jibril was paused by a sudden cry. “…Jibril… Play back, that last part… More, detail…!” Shiro pounced with a horrifying glare, seeming to take even Jibril aback. The Dwarf, confused, replied: “Mm, mrg? The promise they’d marry if she built a better spirit arm than him?” Shiro thrust both her arms into the air. Without exceeding her usual whispery volume range, she shouted—Huzzahh!! Her pose was so epic you expected big letters to appear behind her. “…Brother, the route’s been set! Pairing is complete! …Childhood friends for the win!” Shiro looked like she was hearing UC music in her head. Sora grinned and nodded. “Yeah, even your brother can see that now… No going back from here, all right…” Thinking of those eyes of Til, together with Veig’s intent, they could only say, Oh, yeah… —A promise of marriage in their early days. After which one shrunk away for shame at low specs and failure. They were totally the one true pairing… If they were to say anything about it— “Hrrm. But, Shiro…is uncle x niece okay? ’Specially when the uncle’s a hairy old bastard and the niece looks like a kid… Kinda pushing it, don’t you think? Whether in terms of ethics or optics, it kinda looks like a situation where one would get the police involved, doesn’t it?” “…Brother? It’s not okay…to impose, our views, on other cultures…” “Well, fair enough! But a global commonwealth ought to have a certain amount of cultural exchange, don’t you think?!” “…I welcome…the uncle x niece tradition… It benefits me… We should adopt it.” “Oh, Masters. The Dwarf seems to be carrying on without you… What shall I do?” “—Huh? Oh, uh, sorry… Keep interpreting, please.” Sora and Shiro’s worries had slipped past the ending. Jibril bowed once more. “Errr… To summarize—they used to be very close, long ago—” Yeah, so they liked each other. To a pairing level. Sora and Shiro nodded, everything starting to make sense—only to be overturned. “But then it fled.” The cold words of the continuing Dwarf lowered the temperature of their gazes. “It threw away its passion, closed off its possibilities, and became that thing unable to become anything.” “Hmm? You’re quite a proud little thing to be judging others, aren’t ya?” That fluff-face, trembling on all fours under the weight of Fiel’s behind—pretty clever of him to manage to look down at his nose at anybody from that position, Sora thought snarkily. “It ain’t no shame.” The prostrate chair clarified. “It’s just a loss. Why should you be ashamed of the road to the ideal, when it ain’t even your destination? Why should you be afeard?” Free of doubt, the chair looked right at Sora and told him: “Dwarves live to forge. Every victory and every loss is just one more strike of the hammer.” He spoke of the Dwarf race, the way of being of the naturally strong, —Picture your ideal self. To the very limits of your imagination. Then forge it. Don’t be ashamed. Don’t get lost. Don’t break down. Not until you reach that ideal. Once you’re there—then it’s time to realize that those weren’t your limits after all. Time to picture a yet more ideal self and forge it! Without limit, without end!! Everything in this world exists to be forged—the self first among all. Keep pounding. Keep grinding. Keep refining. Keep creating the self you imagine—for ever and ever, till the day you die— “That tireless forging lifestyle is itself our one destination as Dwarf, children of the god of the forge.” The corners of the chair-man’s lips, buried in hair, drew up with pride. “It’s true, our chieftain creates things none of us can even imagine. It ain’t gonna be easy to catch up with him.” His eyes likewise buried in silver hair flashed coldly as he continued. “He’s got an unrivaled talent. Might be that, that thing aside, none of us will ever be able to catch up with the chieftain.” Then the Dwarf’s eyes lit up with anger as he spoke. “But it might be that someone can! The only thing that’s closed off that possibility—is that thing fleein’ by itself.” —Veig had reached a level of peerless talent no one could reach. But how could you conclude you couldn’t if you didn’t try? the Dwarf asked. Sora thought: —Yeah, his argument’s sound. So sound it’s annoying. “Perhaps you can’t catch up to him. Could be all your forging will never get you there… But if you run and do nothing, of course you’ll never get there.” This indeed, this was why Dwarf was a monster of sensibility. “Whatcha gonna get from runnin’, lookin’ for a reason you can’t get there? You ain’t gonna find victory. You ain’t even gonna find defeat.” In his eyes were the downcast eyes of the black-and-white siblings. “You should be ashamed to run! At that rate, that thing’s only goin’ one place—the dump.” The chair had been consistently referring to Til as a thing. “It’s not even alive anymore… It’s just a—” “Hey, douchebag chair!! Sorry to interrupt, but what do you think of this?!” Sora wasn’t about to let him finish. “Huh?! Uh—wha—what?!” Chlammy’s eyes filled with rage as Sora grabbed her arm and thrust her forward. Quite abruptly interrupted indeed, the old Dwarf instantly opened his eyes wide, and— “…Nmm. That’s the chieftain’s work, all right—it’s perfect. One of the reasons I’m here lettin’ myself be used as a chair, ain’t it? Gotta say, I’m gettin’ sold on the merits of big—” “Is that so?! Then I dismiss everything else you have to say!! Have fun as a chair!!” Sora cut down the Dwarf’s reply with one mighty swing and turned away. “The hell. Race of sensibility, my ass. Veig and this guy, hopeless!!” …Yeah, he’d actually realized a long time ago. Look, in the first place, their “Big Papa” had the sense as cataclysmic as Ragnarok to create hairy, bearded girls, you know?! What did you expect from his kids? More like nonsense, amirite?! “Perfect?! If that’s the kind of perfection you’re after, forget the chest; just make her whole body into one big ball. You got it, asshat?!” Sora gave the chair a good glare and launched his final barb. “It’s ’cos you’re satisfied with mere perfection that this is where you’re still stuck!!” Silence. Everyone looked at him to ask what he meant. But, taking no note, Sora tromped off. Shiro scrambled to follow, as did one other. “Jibril, fix the dictionary! Dwarves are the perfect example of the opposite of sensibility!! If one of these assholes ever tells you that the world is round, take another look!! It’s one hundred percent not round!!” The logic? It should go without saying. If they were a race that never erred— —If they were also never right, then that made their opinions ideal for reference, didn’t it? “Y-yes, Master! I—I shall amend it at once!!” Jibril followed Sora, scribbling in her book, as they left the plant. I’ll give you one proof to start, Sora thought as he sneered. —They said there’s no place for Til, and no one could find her, right? See? They were wrong!! “Jibril, I know where Til is now. Take us into the air right above the capital!!” “Y-yes, Master!! I—I shall prepare—p-please wait just a moment!!” As he waited as Jibril busily shut her book and prepared a shift— “Hey, Chair. Try using your brain for thinking once in a while, okay? In exchange, I’ll give you a bit of industrial knowledge from another world.” —Sora addressed the dumbstruck Dwarf as if he had a whole bouquet of sarcasm to give him. Grinding? Forging? Ha! He called bullshit on their claim to be a race skilled in manufacturing. “It was very amusing listening to your description of a so-called life based on nothing but effort. There’s also welding—” And you might want to know—Sora continued, as he and Shiro left only the afterimage of their middle fingers— “—there’s also casting, which you do after you melt everything down. Bet you’ve never heard of that, huh?!” —as with Jibril they vanished from the space. All that remained there was Chlammy, Fiel, and silence. Even the chair had been tastefully removed, once it had been found out that he was ecstatic to be sat on. Surrounded by the sonic void of the room they two inhabited alone, Chlammy went on thinking about many things: …About what the chair had said, and about boobs. …About the cryptic words of Sora, and about boobs. About the universe, and about boobs… In short, she agonized predominantly about boobs. Yes, about those who had stormed in to deny her boobs— “Fi…I have big boobs, don’t I?! They’re real; this is the real me, right?!” —and about her identity, now as wobbly as her chest. What do you mean, “mere perfection”? Perfection is good!! She had big boobs. Conceptually big boobs. If they were big boobs by definition, then how could you say they were not big boobs?! She cried out to her big-boobed friend for help, who smiled placidly in response— “No matter what you look like, you’re the real Chlammy, the Chlammy I love.” —But Fiel wasn’t the Fiel Chlammy loved… With a smile she didn’t know—had never seen—stained with tears and despair— “Hey—…F-Fi?!” —Fiel buried her face in Chlammy’s chest, rubbing her cheeks against it and breathing heavily. She was an erof. Chlammy was bewildered to see her bosom buddy taking in her bosom—but even more— “…Why, just as Mr. Sora says—I cannot win this game.” —Chlammy gaped to hear her admit she couldn’t win. She’d never before seen her friend give up. “It’s a seal-rites-only game…a game made for Dwarves… Of course I cannot win.” “Well, yes—but Sora and Shiro accepted it… There should be a chance for us, too, don’t you think?” Indeed—Veig seemed to have this game in the bag however you looked at it. But if Sora and Shiro accepted it, there must be a way to win. Which meant that the win condition wasn’t to build a better spirit arm than Veig, since Fiel couldn’t build such a thing—no one could. In that case—what was this path to victory Sora and Shiro were counting on? There could be only one thing. It was that over which Sora and Shiro had been questioned—their souls. Sora and Shiro could be questioned about and answer whatever; it was irrelevant as far as snatching their victory went. The point was, what they had to do was bash Veig’s soul and smash his core. That’s all there was to it. So, what they had was Fiel’s soul, her resolute will to reject Dwarf in its every aspect. They just had to build a decent frame, even if it didn’t compete with Veig’s, and bash him with it. That was the idea…presumably, but— “Heh… Effort? Why, it is the idle prattle of mere moles, simply the self-delusion of pitiful beasts…” —as Fiel played with Chlammy’s breasts, she dismissed Dwarf’s philosophy in one breath. “No matter how you try…you can never overcome the difference in natural talent…” —You can never do what you can’t do… It was a self-evident truth Immanity knew better than anyone. After all— —no matter how they tried, Immanity couldn’t use magic… But then, as it finally sank into her bones, Fiel bellowed. “No matter how you struggle! You—you can never overcome…the difference in gifts…!!” Listening as her breasts were squeezed, clutched, and swung, Chlammy looked down—and thought. “…All right… Yes. I understand that it must have hurt…but…Fi?” …Only Dwarves could process the materials required for spirit arms. But Fiel had asserted that there was no need to rely on Dwarves as long as they had the tools and the Holy Forge. Why, we’ll see who’s better, won’t we? So she’d asked Chlammy, and she lifted a giant hammer she needed to multi-cast to be able to lift at all. “You shattered your bone. Is that really a matter of gifts? As opposed to you just being clumsy.” “Why, the race of Elves is not one who uses tools! …Oh, how it hurrrt…” Chlammy had almost fainted when she’d seen the outcome of Fiel’s literally crushing failure. At any rate, Fi insisted that it was a matter of her race and not a personal flub. “W-well, that’s why we got the Dwarves to do it. How do you conclude from that that we can’t—” Healing magic had made it good as new, but at this rate, someone was going to die before the game began. That was why Chlammy had assisted on the condition that there be no exchange of lives—but now Chlammy halted midsentence, widened her eyes, and gasped. …How could I have missed such a thing?! Finally she grasped Sora’s words: You’re already relying on Dwarves to build this for you, which proves you can’t do it yourself. —Given all this, how was Fi supposed to pilot the thing?!! …You could go off all you wanted about how it wasn’t about the machine’s performance, but a “battle of souls.” But you had to bash him with your soul—which meant you had to hit him. …Or else you’d just get pummeled until the game was over… Oh, what a ridiculous oversight; it’s not like you, Fi—no, such blame could not be given. For Chlammy herself, even with Sora’s memories, had overlooked it; it was impossible in this world. For this was a physical fight… And “ ” had accepted the game—that was the evidence for assuming they could win. But, in that case…could Sora beat Veig in a fight? No. He’d fold unconditionally in the face of violence… That was who he was, and their conditions were the same…… . In the silence that fell, there was only one sound: the boiiing, boiiing of Fiel playing with Chlammy’s breasts as she sobbed with her face nestled between them. Chlammy condemned herself for allowing their hopes to crumble over such a ridiculous oversight—such a misreading. She was left at the mercy of Fi, whose heart had been broken by the nightmare of being panted over by the Dwarven chair. “…B-but, then…just how does Sora plan to win…?” At last, Chlammy was really running out of ideas—when there came a flash and an ache in her head, in which a male voice answered: Me? Of course I can’t win. “—!! —Ah…!” “…? Chlammy…?” Chlammy clutched her throbbing head, her newly tangled thoughts, as she answered herself. —Sora? …Of course he can’t win. Indeed…if this game wasn’t about the machine’s performance, but a “battle of souls”— —then all the more it should be fatally impossible for Sora and Shiro to win… Besides, they wouldn’t be able to answer Veig’s questioning, Veig’s soul. —Of course they wouldn’t… They could never…settle up—with this flashing…memory—this past!! “Chlammy?! Chlammy! Answer me! Chlammy?!” Fiel’s voice, even the feeling of her body being shaken seemed somehow far away… But Chlammy thought, certain there was something in there she ought to hold on to, struggling to reel it in. …In that case, did Sora accept a challenge he couldn’t overcome? That couldn’t be the case. “Ya got me good. The game’s over. I lose.” …That’s right. He never played a game he couldn’t win. Just as in those memories, in which he ran from one challenge after the other. He’d never lost…but, in exchange, he’d never won either. “Some fockin’ losers who skipped out on the tab from their old world…” …That’s right. If he’d accepted the game despite it calling into question his past, with which he could never settle—that meant he could win. The way he always did—yes…definitely. Just the way he always did. On a high-risk tightrope, like a cotton string stretched across a valley. One wrong step and it was straight to the bottom. Which left only the option not to make a wrong step… That…was how he’d win— “If you can do that much—why’d ya pansies run from your world?” Be quiet… I’m not thinking about why he wanted to play this game, only how he intended— “But it might be that someone can! The only thing that’s closed off that possibility—” Be quiet. Be quiet, be quiet!! Don’t look at me like you understand. Don’t talk to me like you know!! “You should be ashamed to run! At that rate, that thing’s only goin’ one place—” Then what about you? Aren’t you running from your own shame?!! An enraged voice boomed inside her. She wasn’t even sure whose emotion it was. But something felt like it linked up—and with that, Chlammy was out like a light… . —And the next thing she knew…she was in darkness. She could see the sky, in a world with no sky. She could feel someone’s hand in hers, in a world with no one. —Pop… Just a bit of the sky appeared, like a spotlight. Lit by the blue sky, a red-haired girl came into view. Then, again. The blue sky opened further, and she saw a girl with wings and a halo. Three, four… As the sky opened, she saw a girl with long ears and a tail, and a bewitching fox-lady. Five, six, and so on—as the sky opened, she saw someone new each time. A Dhampir, a Flügel, Sirens, an Old Deus—and Ex Machinas… As they all looked up to the blue sky, she thought, Ah… The blue sky had opened above her head, too, and it illuminated her. Realizing that the hand she held was that of her warmly smiling best friend, Chlammy also smiled. Oh…these were those whom Sora and Shiro had beaten—including her. Then, that lone figure still looking up at the blind darkness… She could only glimpse the silhouette of the man and the white-haired girl huddled together in the shadow. —Yes, they alone…could still not see the sky. They, more than anyone else, admired the superior. They, more than anyone else, took pride in being inferior. There was no place for them—so they hoped to create one. They spoke with confidence—in their utter helplessness. Eyes wavering nervously—afraid—fragile—but. —Always watching the black sky, dreaming of the blue… The girl…with pale blue eyes … ………? ………Pale…blue eyes…? No. It was supposed to be a girl with red eyes and a man with dark ones… Chlammy raised her gaze from them—the two figures seeming to overlap—and took a look up at what everyone else was looking at… —And she chuckled to see why everything felt as if it had connected. Oh—why didn’t I realize… I see, no wonder Shiro is desperate to ship them. They look just like them…these guys… …… “……mmy……lammy!” A voice called to her. Chlammy’s consciousness floated upward like a bubble seeking the water’s surface as she thought. —Ah… Those weren’t the people Sora and Shiro had beaten—they were the very factors by which Sora and Shiro had won… It was simple. When, after all, had Sora and Shiro ever won through their own power…? All these people, including herself, had always just…gone and lost on their own. Her best friend called her, tears marring her blanched face. Chlammy answered with a smile, remembering the blue sky that had been gradually pried open, and the white bird. Chlammy told Fi where Sora and Shiro’s chance lay…by murmuring this: “…Basically, all they have to do…is win as usual.” Yes, as usual…that is, with fraud and bluster… They were in a cramped little hole deep in the dark ground, the clanging of metal the only sound that filled the air. The hole was crowded with pieces of metal, but it was more than spacious enough for a little figure swinging a hammer alone. Suddenly the sound stopped, and through the hole now full of silence a vacant voice intoned: “…How did you know to find me here?” The little figure—Til—uttered a dry inquiry as she turned. The young man pointed to the ceiling of the dim, narrow cave—a hole through which a little of the blue sky could be seen, and through which sunlight flowed in. It was Sora, with his sister and their servant. His eyes were like that sky as he answered with a smile.
Chapter 155
22 min read