“Indeed. We are going to place this doll’s name within range as you practice your control of Untitled’s writing consumption. That should help you apply yourself more seriously.”
“No way! We are so not doing that! That’s my favorite doll!”
Fujinaka tried to snatch Sir Penny from Archive, who took advantage of her greater height to lift it out of reach.
“My point exactly. You will have to give this your best effort.”
“That’s not fair!” Fujinaka cried.
Karamori tilted his head. “Why would that work? It’s not like that doll is Sir Penny in the flesh. Eating the name ‘Sir Penny’ shouldn’t be enough for Untitled to make it disappear.”
“I looked up the doll’s product name. Its official name is ‘Sir Penny Standard PK1034,’” Archive said, writing that on the piece of paper on the desk.
A simple stuffed animal wasn’t likely to have its model number or official product name written on it anywhere. That was probably why it hadn’t disappeared when Fujinaka opened Untitled in her home.
Archive wrote ‘Shin Kalamari’ next to Sir Penny’s product name and turned toward Fujinaka.
“Now then, Ms. Fujinaka, order the book to eat only this second name.”
“Hey, wait,” Karamori said.
“What is it, Mr. Kalamari?”
“It’s Karamori. That’s a mean prank. If Untitled misreads your handwriting, I’m dead.”
“Relax. My handwriting is perfectly legible. And there is no precedent for Untitled making a person or object disappear when their name is misspelled.”
“I’m not comfortable with this, either!” Fujinaka said.
Faced with both of their disapproval, Archive erased ‘Kalamari’ and wrote a random name in its place.
“Now then. Go ahead,” she prompted.
Fujinaka turned toward Sir Penny, whose fate was suddenly in her hands.
“Hngh… W-well, I just have to prevent it from eating the whole product name…”
She closed her eyes. A moment later Untitled glowed and unleashed its power.
Sir Penny vanished.
“Noooooo!” Fujinaka cried in despair, falling to her knees. Despite her best effort, Untitled had eaten all of the characters. “You’re so mean, Archive! I hate you!”
“Simply summon it from the book again,” Archive said detachedly as Fujinaka cried and clung to her legs.
Fujinaka’s eyes went wide.
“Wait a second! You’re so right! And if I can summon him, then…”
She closed her eyes again, and Untitled lit up. A mass of text emerged from the book. The words gained shape and color and formed into a Sir Penny as tall as a person. And what’s more…
“Honk!”
Sir Penny cried and waved a flipper.
“Yaaaaay! I did it!” Fujinaka shouted, excitedly hugging Sir Penny. “Why didn’t I think of this? Untitled made all those crazy monsters at my house! There’s no reason I can’t summon whatever I want, too!”
She admired the huge penguin, smiling with pure bliss. Then Fujinaka snapped her eyes shut, making Untitled glow again and spit out a succession of round penguins. Each one was distinct—one wore a robe, one held a sword, and another carried a staff.
Her eyes shined even brighter.
“Penck! Penelope! Pengarde!” Fujinaka shouted. She started to play with the penguins, having completely forgotten her training.
“She really can make anything, can’t she?” mused Karamori. “Those round penguins make no sense as actual living creatures. She can summon any fictional being exactly as it’s written.”
“I do not believe that to be the case,” responded Archive. “Among the monsters you fought in Ms. Fujinaka’s house was a Gafma from Record of Dayron War. In the original novels, Gafma move faster than the human eye can perceive. The one you fought was not nearly that fast, however, so I do not think Untitled can recreate much beyond a fictional creature’s appearance.”
“…I feel like that could change as she improves her skill with the book, though.”
“Incidentally, in the manga, Sir Penny is so strong he can break down a castle wall with his bare flippers.”
“That feels like overkill.”
He doubted that was true of this Sir Penny.
Karamori’s expression darkened. Even if she couldn’t replicate it internally, Fujinaka could summon any fictional thing almost exactly as it was described. There was no reason that couldn’t extend that ability to include incredibly deadly weapons and monsters. Untitled’s power to consume writing already made it a threat—but if Fujinaka obtained mastery over the book, it would become unimaginably dangerous.
“This thing is way too powerful, even for a vanit.”
“Indeed,” Archive agreed. “Even ignoring its summoning ability, it can be used to instantly kill anyone you know the name of. I would guess that only half of our fellow Canaries could survive it.”
Fujinaka walked up to them, hand-in-flipper with two penguins.
“Hey, I just thought of something. The Canaries you guys are always going on about are Noary’s top investigators, right? Why are you given such an adorable name?”
“Huh? Adorable how? The name’s as literal as it gets. We’re just that: canaries.”
Fujinaka looked confused. “Canaries are the definition of adorable. Am I missing something?”
“Ah… Have you never heard of a canary in a coal mine?” Karamori asked.
“What’s that?”
“Canaries are frequent chirpers, so they were used to check for poisonous gases in coal mines. If the bird stopped chirping or died, miners would know the cave was unsafe.”
“Oh…”
Fujinaka looked disgusted. Not only was that horribly cruel to the canaries, it wasn’t hard to see the implication that name had for a group of people who did such a life-threatening job.
“That’s a crazy name. Who’d want to be called that?”
“See?” Karamori said. “Now you get it.”
Archive brushed her hair behind her ears. “I like the name.”
“Huh? Why?” Karamori asked.
“You can try to deny it, but it is the unvarnished truth that we risk our lives to verify the danger of unpredictable vanits. The name ‘Canary’ also implies that people will follow us. I think it concisely conveys our organization’s purpose and credo.”
“…You’re taking that name too favorably.”
“Am I? I think that an organization full of people so strong they are practically immortal being named after such a delicate bird must sound incredibly ironic to the enemy forces and vanits we fight.”
“Ah… Yeah, you might have a point there,” Karamori said, somewhat convinced by her answer.
Fujinaka, meanwhile, stood there in shock, hung up on Archive’s claim that Canaries were “practically immortal.”
They resumed their tests and training exercises, stopping only when night fell. After discussing the results, the investigators determined that Fujinaka’s level of control over Untitled wouldn’t present any issues for this experiment and decided to go ahead with the mission that night.
It was one in the morning. Karamori, Archive, and Fujinaka once again approached the Duplicator Tree, this time accompanied by two investigators.
The buildings had been dazzlingly bright just a few hours ago when the night was still young, but now, their lights had been turned off, and they stood in the silent slumber of night. It wasn’t until now that Karamori noticed how few streetlights there were. Once the gaudy signs on the buildings were shut off, the street became unsettlingly dark.
Compared to the liveliness of the day, the buildings actually looked less like they were sleeping and more as if they were dead.
The area around the Duplicator Tree had been illuminated by lights prepared by a different group of investigators, leaving that spot alone as bright as day.
“The street in the real Yokohama has been evacuated. No matter what happens here, no one will get hurt.”
The plan was exceedingly simple: Write the name “Duplicator Tree” on a piece of paper and feed it to Untitled. If that erased the Duplicator Tree and the second Yokohama, the mission would be complete. If that didn’t work, they would feed the book the name “Yokohama No. 2”—the designation assigned to this street—and see if it could make the whole street vanish.
“This mission is doubling as a test of Untitled,” Archive continued. “The ‘Duplicator Tree’ name was given to this vanit by a Noary appellator six months ago. If this works, it will prove that Untitled can make something vanish by consuming an arbitrarily assigned name.”
They didn’t tell this to Fujinaka, but if it was proven that Untitled could be made to consume things by feeding it names that someone invented on the spot, Noary would raise its danger level. Thorough testing would be required in the future to determine how specific or well-known the words fed to the book had to be to make something disappear.
“We will observe from close by and respond immediately if anything goes wrong. Please be at ease,” Archive said to Fujinaka, her words followed by a loud slurping sound.
“Why are you eating instant ramen?” Karamori asked, standing next to her.
“I was fated to eat Biggie Bowl Hakata Ramen at this time.”
“You liar.”
Shortly before they set out to come here, Karamori had seen Archive pour boiling water into the cup, then see the instructions on the lid and let out an “Oh.” It said to wait for seven minutes after adding the water, which was apparently longer than she’d expected.
“Well, I guess it’s pretty common to get hungry late at night,” he said.
Archive noisily slurped up more noodles, choosing not to respond. Karamori decided to do her the favor of not asking why she’d wanted to eat right before leaving camp.
“You know, if she fails to control Untitled, that ramen’ll disappear.”
The slurping intensified as Archive started to wolf down the ramen. Soup splashed into her blond hair, but she clearly didn’t care.
Karamori sighed, feeling exhausted. “You already know the result of this experiment, don’t you?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I only know the actions I will take, which is not the same thing as seeing the future. This does, however, allow me to infer the outcome of future events.”
“We might be able to change things if you share what you know.”
“I will not do that. I see no meaning in doing so.”
“Figured as much.”
Archive was essentially a product of whatever happened to Oka Sakura. She had the intelligence to communicate, but it was unclear if she thought like a human or was even self-aware.
Fujinaka, who had been performing some final checks with the investigators, turned toward Karamori and Archive.
“I’m gonna start now!”
“Got it!” Karamori replied.
Fujinaka was holding a piece of paper with “Duplicator Tree” written on it. Their first attempt involved feeding those words to Untitled. Karamori doubted they were in any danger, but he rested his hands on Tyrfing and carefully watched their surroundings.
Fujinaka took a deep breath and stroked Untitled’s cover. The green book flipped itself open in her hands and started glowing. Writing streamed into the book from all around, including from the note in her hands.
Untitled slammed shut, the sound echoing down the quiet street.
“…”
Silence returned as they waited for something to happen. But no matter how long they stood there, the Chinatown street appeared no different than it had before.
Fujinaka turned toward Karamori and Archive, looking disappointed.