He didn’t know whether the man had done it because he and his wife couldn’t conceive or simply on a whim, but the fact was that the girl’s form was wavering just like the monsters.
“No way…”
Karamori’s hand fell limp.
In other words, if he destroyed Untitled…Hitsugi Fujinaka would die.
“No… Why…? I… I’m not… Make it stop…”
Fujinaka’s face went pale as she looked at the writing within her hand. Text was visible throughout her entire body, even appearing and disappearing under the tips of her pink nails.
Learning this tragic truth left Karamori at a loss.
What…? What should I do…?!
His shock left him wide open, and the attacking monsters caught up to Karamori. One of them swung at him with sharp claws bigger than a person’s head, catching him off guard. He had no time to react. The sharp points were about to puncture his skull when—
“MAKE IT STOP!”
At Fujinaka’s desperate cry, the monsters all froze.
“Huh…?”
Karamori was bewildered, but Fujinaka herself looked just as stunned.
“Uh… What…?”
Karamori cautiously dropped his guard. The monsters didn’t react at all.
In the middle of the shocked group, only Archive remained calm. “Hmm… Ms. Fujinaka, try giving that book an order.”
“Um… Then I guess, erase those monsters…”
The monsters dropped to the floor like puppets with their strings cut. They didn’t disappear but were clearly incapacitated. Maybe Untitled was unable to erase the things it created.
“So my theory was correct,” Archive said. “There was one question that had been bothering me. I was able to infer that Asahi Fujinaka used Untitled to produce many of his possessions; however, I could not figure out how he managed to control the book. I did not know the method, yet it was clear he had one.”
“But all Fujinaka did was tell it to stop,” Karamori said.
“It must only listen to the words of its owner, or something along those lines. Asahi Fujinaka is a man who used Untitled to achieve great success. I think it’s likely that he would have figured out how to bestow his daughter with the ability to control it when he created her.”
The man had written out his ideal daughter, fed that to Untitled, and had it create her. The process was so mechanical, so coldhearted, that Karamori couldn’t help but grimace.
The seemingly fictional girl put her hands to her chest, and her face contorted in pain. She had just learned the truth of her birth and her father’s cruelty. No one could imagine the despair she must be feeling.
“Ms. Fujinaka, I wish to conduct a test,” Archive said casually. “Order it to stop eating writing.”
Fujinaka said in a monotone, “Don’t eat writing,” and the green light around Untitled disappeared.
Archive took out a notebook, wrote something in it, and showed it to the others. It said “Shin Karamori.”
“Hmm. Nothing happened. It certainly seems to have stopped.”
“Hey, what if that had worked?” Karamori asked, affronted.
Out of any immediate danger, Karamori sheathed Tyrfing and took a breath.
But a moment later, Fujinaka spoke up.
“Destroy it… Now…”
She was shaking pitifully, and her voice was weak and riddled with despair.
“Wh-what are you saying? If I do that, you’ll—”
“I don’t care! That book can’t be allowed to exist! It killed Mom and my friends!”
“As long as you are alive, they can return,” Archive said dispassionately.
“But…”
Archive had no idea how cruel those words were. Untitled would probably obey Fujinaka and return the people it had made vanish, but there was one problem: They would be inhuman recreations just like her. Archive hadn’t considered whether she would want that.
“I’m not destroying it. The target’s neutralized, and we know we can control it. We’re taking both you and the book into custody.” Karamori did his best to give her a kind smile and put a hand on the crying girl’s shoulder.
He also had personal reasons for wanting to investigate the book rather than destroy it.
However…
“Our mission is to eliminate the target. That goes against our orders,” Archive said, looking at her partner with emotionless eyes.
Karamori returned her gaze with a dangerous look. The air in the room tensed.
“So you think we should kill her?” he said.
“I do not think anything. At the very least, I have not decided that is what we should do yet. I am simply reminding you of our orders.”
Archive gently closed her eyes and stopped talking.
Karamori furrowed his brow and let out a long breath.
However, Fujinaka shook her head.
“…Ms. Archive is right. Please destroy it. This is wrong… I—I’m not even really alive… I don’t want to exist anymore…”
Karamori’s eyebrows twitched in irritation.
“It’s my fault all those people disappeared… How can I possibly live a normal life after that…? I don’t deserve to—”
“Stop acting like a child.”
Fujinaka jumped and looked at Karamori. His kind expression had quickly turned to anger.
“The people who disappeared won’t come back. No matter how unfair it is, it won’t change the fact that you were the one who caused this tragedy.” He looked the girl in the eyes. “I won’t deny that book is dangerous. You’re not wrong for thinking we should destroy it. But you’re only saying that because you want to run away from reality.”
“But…!”
“I won’t kill you. You need to live, even if it means you have to carry this pain with you.”
A bloody memory surfaced in Karamori’s mind.
Mutilated corpses lying face down in a pool of blood. Him standing in the center of it all. People who were kind to him, people who attacked him, all dead by Karamori’s own hand… Regardless of his own intentions.
“…Otherwise, your family and friends will have died for no reason.”
“…!” Fujinaka let out a gasp.
“You can live a good life. Unlike us, your fate is not yet decided.”
The girl sank to her knees and wept.
With that, the Untitled incident came to a close.
Hitsugi Fujinaka was to be taken into custody along with Untitled. She would be moved to a protected zone owned by the Noary Group, the company behind the Canaries. Her fate was now in her own hands.
Certain procedures had to be taken care of before the move, however, so Karamori and Archive stayed at Fujinaka’s house that night. They were both sitting on a couch facing a television in the luxurious living room. Archive was writing a report on a laptop, her body sinking into the supportive material of the sofa, while Karamori spoke into a mobile device he was holding to his ear.
“…Yeah. So can I leave you to take care of the rest of the paperwork?”
“I guess. I still can’t believe you actually found a reason not to destroy the book.”
“…It was a total coincidence.”
“Oh, was it? Those words sound tragic coming from you. I’ll take care of it; desk work is what we bosses do.”
“…Thank you, Mr. Nanba. And…sorry for always giving you so much trouble.”
“What’re you acting all meek for all of a sudden? Don’t worry about it. Just make sure you give Fujinaka all the support she needs.”
His boss hung up, and Karamori let out a deep sigh as he leaned back onto the couch.
“You look tired,” Archive said, stretching. “How much did your suffering today satisfy Tyrfing?”
“…”
Karamori pulled back his right sleeve, along with the bodysuit below it. The flame-like mark that had extended up to his palm earlier in the day had receded, stopping between his elbow and wrist. It was about the size of a child’s fist.
“It seems pretty content. I’m sure it delighted in my struggle over whether we should destroy Untitled.”
“The sword has some nerve taking pleasure in a fate it forced on you itself.”
“You got that right.”
Karamori gave the flashy sword beside him an unpleasant look.
“…Oh yeah,” he said, just remembering something. “Didn’t a bunch of people not disappear, including one of her friends? How’d they survive?”
“Good question. I was curious about that as well and realized the answer after seeing the surviving books in the house.”
“Huh? Really?”
“Yes. It appears there is certain text Untitled does not consume. The names of the people who did not vanish all contain at least one of the kanji characters for ‘wisteria,’ ‘middle,’ ‘morning,’ or ‘day.’”
“Why those kanji?”
“They are the four characters that make up Asahi Fujinaka’s name.”
“…You’re kidding.”
Asahi Fujinaka—who had used Untitled to build himself a vast fortune—was a man it seemed even the vanit had been unable to eat.