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Faraway, somewhere remote, the grainy black and white film selfishly rolled on and on to a lonely audience of one. The red theater seats were comfortable to the touch with thick plush padding, and the theatre was equipped with the ultimate sound system: the state-of-the-art Stampede ∞ Series. The hotel manager, Edo Macalister, was a bit of a devil in that regard - there was no real reason to connect the Power Theater sound system directly to every room in the hotel. No reason except for one anyway: to announce the results of each game by way of Tonight Tonight. (Edo Macalister tried for a few showings replacing cult favorite Tonight Tonight with experimental featurette, 1979, but that quickly got uncomfortable for everyone involved as the residents of Lospass Island were not nearly as appreciative of art house cinema as Edo.)
Fragmented silver refractions projected onto the screen a man in a sharp black suit awkwardly looking back and forth slowly, repeatedly between the two aliens of paradise. But the plot twist is that the man in the suit is the alien all along, an outsider, and the aliens are him as well - a bizarre love triangle indeed...! Sundance Shot hated the movie, but for some reason, at the end of each island he always found himself back at the Hotel Flower, Sun, and Rain to watch it anyway. At this point, his utter contempt of the movie felt somewhat reassuring - comforting, even.
Faintly silenced rumbling echoed hard, and vibrated low throughout the cinema hall. The distinctive and unmistakable sound of the Power Theater doors pushed open - a flag Sundance Shot recognized immediately and had in fact been waiting for. So without even a glance he called out to her, "Girl, your savior left, and you won our bet. So why do you remain on Lospass Island?"
Familiar sentimentality radiated from the smile of the girl in the doorway, filling the hall with a sudden warmth that came naturally from her convictions alone. Toriko took her time as she cheerfully trotted down the aisle towards the on-going screening, not at all surprised at the singular man who sat dead center in the front row. Like Sundance Shot, she also was not particularly fond of the film, but unlike Sundance Shot, she at least wasn’t outwardly contemptuous of it - plus she thought the aliens were kind of cute.
"Mr. Sundance Shot, I’m still on vacation! And it’s only because of you that I won!" Sundance Shot looked away from the screen and towards Toriko as she sank down into the seat directly besides him, smiling wide and kicking her legs in the chair that was just a bit too tall for her current form. While Sundance Shot didn’t smile back, the corners of his lips turned upward in a barely noticeable fashion. He couldn’t deny that he was just the tiniest bit pleased that Toriko appreciated the artistry, after all, round after R-00und, the residents and puzzles were crafted for her as much as they were for her savior.
"I guess you found me out, but it wasn’t entirely intentional. The size of the explosion last night was spectacular - the biggest one during our entire vacation. But from somewhere recessed deep within himself, our precious Sumio made his own choice to walk forward. And for that reason alone, you won this round."
Former serenity receded from her expression, and Toriko grimaced at their collective memory of the fireworks suddenly recounted, "Mr. Sundance Shot, that wasn’t very nice of you. To the point of vomiting blood and collapsing? You know that they were barely able to get him to the nurse-"
Finger steadfastly raised over his lips with a whispered shush, Sundance Shot sternly glared at the other self, "Ms. Toriko, please remember the rules of our game. You do not speak of those worlds out loud."
"Ah! I’m sorry! It’s just - you felt it too, didn't you? When Sumio finally took that Step, despite everything you put him through, despite everything he has gone through, he hasn’t lost yet," she stammered excitedly and affectionately placed her hand on Sundance Shot’s shoulder, and he allowed it. They were not so different that he could not understand her feelings. After all, the ideologies of the two swords were born from the same origin point. Not that she had needed a sword this time.
Feeling slightly reticent about admitting it aside, Sundance Shot often wished that he had more time to talk to her outside the end of each island. Despite being on two facing sides, respectfully, they still had the same goal - just two different methods of achieving a fundamentally synonymous result. Sundance Shot’s entire reason for being was to negate, to kill Sumio, but he could not deny that the times in when Sumio chose to walk forward, beyond each fall, trip, and Step, brought a deeper sense of satisfaction that grew with the end of each island. Yet he couldn’t even begin to fathom why that would even be. Things seemed to be ever slowly starting to come into view, which at the exact same time made his purpose less and less clear.
Final scenarios raced towards the very last scene, the climax, the payoff - it was the final line of the film, and as with all things on Lospass Island, was perfectly timed. The ending was the same, as always. No matter how many times he watched it, a part of Sundance Shot quietly hoped for some reveal of a different ending, for some plot twist he had not yet seen.
The credits roll.
Fleeting,
Shapeless,
Recursive.
The end of the reel.
Toriko and Sundance Shot’s eyes bore intently into the film projection as the final credits faded back into obsidian and the final sustained note faded into obscurity.
Eight seconds pass.
Firmly transfixed, the two continued to stare into the same spot, awaiting the results, breaths bated.
Fast-forward.
Softly floated from the deep within the black noise of the screen and theater room, the sustained note reverberated once again, low, melancholic, signifying both end and beginning and all cycles in between.
Stop.
Rematch stipulations for each new game included that all players be reset, the two of them included, as if they were all a part of a scripted scene - a journey that never ends. an eternal day. It was only in these last precious moments at the end of eternity where they ever remembered. Although sometimes it felt like there was someone else unseen playing the game, each time getting closer to the singular truth. Is that what Toriko meant by Kamui?
Rewind.
"Mr. Sundance Shot, so it is time for our dreaming to end." Both Sundance Shot and Toriko turned from the projection towards each other with the same matched somber expression.
Farewells sorrowfully realized across their faces as the 35mm reel of Tonight Tonight starts anew by itself on this island where time continues to loop and weave unknown to the passage of time on the outside world. The joy of eternal day is short lived. The joy of eternal day nears its end. The joy of eternal day is thorough.
"How tragic, I really thought this round may have been the end." Toriko’s voice sounded faraway, soft, resigned, and as worn as the expression on her face. A marked change from her animated self only moments ago.
"As is our custom, please take my parting gift to you." Sundance Shot held out his hand, on which materialized from the nothingness, a deck of cards in a perfect delicate balance. All things in this world were predetermined, but if Sundance Shot were ever able to exist outside of this time, place, and person, he had decided that he would like to become a fortune teller reading that fate back - possibly in Romania. Toriko placed her hand on top of the deck and channeled all her thoughts and hopes into the cards, and when she finally felt ready, she flipped over the top card towards herself.
The World in Reverse.
Fortunes simply recorded the things that are and the thing that be – the strong-held belief that Sundance Shot always lived by in order to ignore the forced reality of his situation. He murmured in a low voice in Italian, a memory of loops both past and future, "La vita continua."
"What does that mean, Mr. Sundance Shot?"
"It means that you always flip the wrong way." Sundance Shot reversed the card so that it sat in the upright position, and he repeated the words on the card, both question and answer.
"Il Mondo...問答." Sundance Shot smiled at her a bit mysteriously, and even without an explanation, she understood from the expression and the feelings that he emanated.
Face stern, reflecting the seriousness and briefness of the passing moment, Toriko locked eyes with Sundance Shot, and her words were swift and quick before the reset completed. "Your goal, no, both of our goals are still beyond these bounds. It's time to wake up."
Feeling suddenly restricted and powerless by the Flower, Sun, and Rain Hotel around him, Sundance Shot envisioned the FSR Hotel literally and figuratively seeping rapidly through all their words and actions and thoughts – or more specifically, controlling them. Every part of his body, every ounce of his fiber screamed, ricocheting through the corresponding building, firmly shaking roots and foundation alike until the fragile balance shifted and rotated ever so slightly as to almost not be noticeable.
Forcibly resigned, Sundance Shot accepted a fate without words and understood the staged limitations and boundaries of his existence: there was no real escape, not for him, a being born from someone’s regret.
Finding a second of respite, he remembered the tail end of a query that he had not yet grasped. As he looked upon the card in his hand, it suddenly dawned upon Sundance Shot, the question that he should have asked islands ago; the question he should have already known the answer from several rounds ago, "Before Tonight Tonight starts anew, Girl, tell me who are you exactly? You’re similar to me but you not a-"
"I’ll see you in the next round, Mr. Sundance Shot. Please pull the trigger to tomorrow."
Faraway, somewhere remote, Sumio Mondo stands alone in the empty theater, his right hand still outstretched, palm up. He looks at his hand.
A SIG Sauer P229.
He closes his hand around it.
Elsewhere on the island, a plane explodes, and at that exact same moment, a baby blue Toyota Celica comes roaring down Lost Highway at 300 kilometers per hour.