| Hey, I am a bit confused about this part where Touko came back after being killed. I understand she used a puppet. Was the puppet the one killed or was it the second one coming back? I guess the one who was killed was a real Touko, so did her soul travel to the new puppet body or is she totally dead now? I mean like there's just a puppet programmed to act like Touko. I guess that's not it cause her consciousness must have transferred somehow since she knew all the stuff real Touko did. |
| Mankind’s greatest fear is Mankind itself. Gendo Ikari (Neon Genesis Evangelion) REAL LIFE Anime videos on my channel: http://www.youtube.com/channel/UCof9ppdHcniLAS_pFoRkqfw |
| Eh...technically both are fakes..sort of. This is why I always encourage people to read the novels. Everything is so nicely explained in them. Here is the chapter about the conversation between Touko and Alba (chapter 16 of vol 2): âSpare us the hackneyed lines of âbut you should be dead,â Cornelius. Youâre a mage. You know all about bodies. About containers. About the creation of life and the granting of sentience. Donât disappoint me,â TÅko Aozaki says with a bitter tenderness. Alba is silent and has his eyes affixed only on her. On his hands can be seen a faint trembling. TÅko drops her bag on the marble floor with an accompanying âThat should do it.â The bag is the only thing that proves to be different. Her face, her eyes, her hair, the smug smile she wears; all the same. Only the bag has changed. Yesterday it was just a smallish briefcase, but this one is far bigger. One youâd take on a trip, and where you could conceivably hide a small child in. âI came as fast I could,â TÅko says, âbut from the looks of things, I guess I didnât make it in time. I believe I made it clear that KokutÅ isnât my apprentice, but you just wouldnât listen. Never taught him a thing about the Art. And in case youâre wondering, nope, I havenât changed one iota.â âButâbut you should be dead! I snuffed the life out of you with my bare hands!â Alba shouts, seemingly oblivious to what TÅko is saying. He curls his hands into fists to stop himself from trembling. In his mind he is equal parts unbelieving, mad, and fearful, though he tries his best to hide it. TÅko is placid and continues to refuse meeting Albaâs bloodshot stare, choosing instead to retrieve a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. Alba watches her every move from where he is. The more the figure before him continues to act like the TÅko he knows, the chill in his spine grows ever worse. Unable to contain himself, he cries out to TÅko. âYou canât be here. Itâs a mistake. Yes! Some sort of mistake! Youâre lost on the way to your next life. The dead should not linger in this world. Begone, spectre!â He raises a blood-soaked hand, the same hand that Mikiya stabbed. His blood and the blood of TÅkoâs pulverized head are coming together in a mix of red for red. He swings this hand in a wide arc in front of him, splattering wet blood all around. As the scattered liquid flies through the air, they combust and burst into sizeable flames in flight like gasoline. All of his remaining malice, he hurls toward TÅko in that desperate weaving of the Art. The flames whip in arcs and try to wrap around TÅko, but in an instant, she moves her own hand, as if to pull the flames in. Sure enough, the fire is drawn to her hand, where it comes to a halt right before it. Palm open and the concentrted flame hovering above it, TÅko uses it to light the cigarette in her mouth, and by waving it away with a casual disdain, the flames are dispelled. âHey, Cornelius, if you donât want dead men and women in this building then I suggest you file a complaint with this apartmentâs owner. Knock the act off already, canât you tell Iâm the real deal? Pretty big difference between the dead and the living. Like cigarettes.â She takes in a satisfied puff, and frowns. âFor example, I can tell that this oneâs some bad stuff,â TÅko chuckles. The casualness with which he throws away her comments finally makes Alba realize that the person before him is indeed a living thing, unchanged from the original. But that only makes him repeat the same question, not in disbelief, but due to being unable to understand. So he repeats. âBut you should be dead,â he says, a note of dejection in his voice. The words force a frown on TÅkoâs face, leaving unsaid her displeasure in the trite line, allowing her amber eyes to make her point. âTechnically, Cornelius, I did die. Body virtually destroyed, soul severed from the flesh, the whole shebang.â âThen explain your being here!â She sighs. âI thought that would have been obvious. Iâm the replacement, fresh out of the package,â she says, no absurdity finding its way into her voice. The statement leaves the red-coated mage blank, mouth half open. âWhat do you mean a âreplacement?â Are you a puppet when you can be revived so easily? Or maybeââ Alba starts to think of other possibilities, other well-kept lore and arcana of the Art. The puppets that mages create can never match with the human façade. It can move as a man would, but it will expose itself soon enough, through speech, or action, or appearance; something that seems off or wrong in its creation, something that exposes its true nature. That, and the parts that make it tick are not truly alive, only clever mechanisms animated by the Art. A loss of limbâexposing blood and muscle sinewâwill reveal it. The Art cannot create an automaton that contains the spark of humanity. An old mage saying from the Middle Ages, passed down to become common knowledge. Eventually it became almost a rule. Yet despite this, the woman standing in front of Alba is certainly human. Certainly some kind of replica, but completely lacking the distinctive tell that gives away the fakery of all puppets. Which, to Alba, can only mean that this woman is the real TÅko Aozaki. âNow I see it! Then the one I killed is surely the fake!â âJust keep lying to yourself, Cornelius. That also means that the mage that bested you yesterday was nothing more than a pale imitation of me, correct?â âHmph. Fine, then that was the real thing. But here we have a paradox. Youâre saying both are real. How do you explain this inconsistency away?!â Alba cries out to TÅko. But from the look on his face after he says it, it seems he solved the answer by himself. He shakes his head rapidly, still doubting, still thinking it impossible. But how else can he explain it? Can it be possible? âAozaki, donât tell me youâreââ âDing ding. Both the one you fought yesterday, and the me standing before you today, are fakes. I donât even know the point that the real became the fake. I donât even know if it matters anymore.â The mage in the orange trench coat dons a cruel grin. âThen what are you? Not an original? Was there even an original? But you call yourself TÅko Aozaki, donât you? With a soul to work the Art, and granted sentience! But all the puppets granted fleeting sentience up to this point have been unable to grasp the existential dilemma of their artificial nature, and end up terminating themselves. How do you break the rules? How do you continue to function?!â âEverything before me was but second rate sentience, Iâd say. I really donât see the need for how scared you are right now, Cornelius. You call me fake, yet thereâs only one TÅko Aozaki. As a parting gift, Iâll even tell you how that came to be. Maybe itâll be a good learning experience.â Losing a bit of her calm façade, she finally meets Albaâs eye to eye. âListen, Cornelius. The me youâre seeing right now is something I kept in my sanctum. It activated itself once you killed TÅko Aozaki. Only been an hour since. I am a mage that traffics in pawns and puppets, so I experiment on them as well. In one of these experiments, I crafted my foremost creation: a perfect puppet imitation of me. No more, and no less than myself. I looked on it, and allowed my thoughts to wander. I thought that having created such a thing, maybe there is no longer any need for me.â As the puppeteer relates the story to her like a layperson to a priest, Alba gulps. He canât believe his ears. Heresy to the laws of the Ordo Magi, pure and simple. Why would she not be happy that she achieved this, instead of throwing away her existence? âRidiculous,â Alba spits out. âIn the end, what you created couldnât be anything more than an automaton. Assuming you could even make such a thing as you described in the first place. And if you have indeed performed it, then why does it notâ¦why do you not seek ascension? Why do you not aim higher? Mages are never satisfied by the status quo. We seek, manipulate, create, and destroy only for the final step in that ladder.â âHey, youâre looking at the state of the art of the Art here, and even when I was gone, it still went on doing the same thing I did. How does that give any puppeteer hope for ascension?â âBut itâs all just supposed to be theory! I wouldnât allow myself to be cast aside for something new, yet similar to me. Even if it was an achievement that would make my name ring throughout the history of the Art, it is not enough. I must be there to observe it, or else there is no meaning!â Alba screams incoherently as he wraps his arms around himself as if it would protect him from something he didnât quite yet know. Anyone can discern the difference now between the two mages; between the one who preoccupied himself on the matters of revenge, and the mage that threw herself away for the path of gnosis. But Alba refuses to acknowledge it. âCall it a difference of opinion and philosophy, Alba. Still, no need to blame yourself. To tell you the truth, Iâm sort of jealous of you, actually. I donât know when I became the way I am. I donât even know which of me was real anymore. I just woke up when the previous me died. The soul remembers everything, and itâs all there in my head, everything I know. Determinism and entropy kinda says that I take the same action as my predecessor would. After all this, maybe Iâll make another puppet to convince myself that Iâm the real thing. The real thing might be the one you killed. It might already be dead. But itâs all the same thing, isnât it? No way to distinguish us. Itâs a quantum superposition like that cat in the box problem. No oneâs ever gonna know. But I think whatâs important right now for you and me is the fact that Iâm here, and that for now, for all intents and purposes, Iâm TÅko Aozaki, and if it brings you any measure of comfort, you can think of the one you killed as the fake. We clear? Good! Now we can get down to real business.â She reaches down for the bag sheâd placed on the floor. Alba stares at her opponent, more terrified of her revelation than if she had woven a dozen curses at him. âThatâs right,â he says in a low voice. âThatâs why Alaya kept you alive. As long as you remained alive, the next iteration of you wouldnât trigger and come alive.â TÅko keeps her silence now, only maintaining her harsh glance at the red-coated mage. Alba had long since stopped trying to hold back his trembling. For him, the cold grows stronger as he looks into TÅkoâs sterile eyes. He sees no warmth in that amber color, only an efficient intent to kill buried inside them. He never knew TÅko to look like the way she did now. Not even in their time in the Collegium did she show anything as bloodthirsty as she is at this moment. 202 ⢠KINOKO NASU And Alba comes to the idea that, for him, the TÅko he had known until now was the only real one. Not this cold, standing figure that hides so many secrets even from herself. No, not this side of her that is the ruthless mage that is peer to none. And as he entertains such thoughts, he finds what reason for revenge he holds start to become less significant, less pressing. For he didnât know what monster he had aligned himself against, or if he really hated it. Because, at the very least, the TÅko Aozaki he knew was very much different. âAre you real?â he whispers one last time like a confession. TÅko snickers. âNow what meaning does that question have on something like me?â she hisses, her face a portrait of sweetly ringing malice. TÅko brings the cigarette held between her fingers back to her mouth. âNow, letâs return to our more pressing problems,â she says as she puffs out gray smoke from her mouth. âYou hurt my friend pretty badly with your teasing. Probably didnât even notice the hour go by.â Alba, for his part, does indeed remember TÅko saying that it took her an hour to get here. He looks at the boy collapsed at the foot of the stairs. The wounds in his knees remain unchanged. But mysteriously, the wounds in his head and the blood that those wounds are supposed to have spawned are gone. âWhatâwhat manner of sorcery have you done, Aozaki?â Alba asks feebly. All the bluster of his earlier displays have left him, and whatever will he had left to attack TÅko is gone in the face of her greater proficiency. âTsk tsk. We mages shouldnât use that word so lightly. Remember: this is the third time Iâve been in this lobby. The first time I was here, I placed my own spell. On a delayed trigger, if you will. A little trick I placed in advance that I could play in tonightâs party. Think back to the time of your surprise when our boy KokutÅ here lunged at you with the knife.â âThat was the trick?â Alba moans in regret, remembering that exact time. There is a void in his memory, something missing that connects what happened before and after the boyâs attack on him. A momentary lapse? Some illusion the puppet master had set up beforehand that manipulated his perception? He laughs in futility. âSo I was playing right into your hands from the very start, you witch. You must have enjoyed yourself immensely, Aozaki. Though I am loathe to admit it, I must have seemed quite the fool.â âOh, donât blame yourself overmuch. After all, I never thought Iâd end up / CHAPTER 16 ⢠203 dying. Rest easy, though. I didnât come here again to pay back that particular act, but for something else. That you and KokutÅ happened to be here is a mere convenience.â TÅko gives a slight nudge to the bag placed beside her feet and makes it fall to the ground. Or roll over, more like. Its shape is approximately that of a cube, and its size intimidatingly large. âIf you are not here for revenge, then what is your purpose?â Alba asks. âTo stop Alayaâs mad attempts at experimenting with the Art, no doubt.â âNot by a long shot. Why should I when that thing takes care of itself? No, Alba. My business is with you alone.â As though heâd arrived at the same conclusion, Alba nods. But, he wonders, why him if TÅko says she bears him no ill will, or any intent to interfere in Alayaâs experiments? Why does she look so tensed and prepared on spilling blood? âWhy? Iâve done nothing else to you,â he says in protest. âNothing much more than a trifle. I mean, Iâve pretty much gotten over your irrational hatred of me. To tell you the truth, I rather preferred it that way ever since our time in the Collegium together. It was proof that I was always better.â âThen why?!â âStill donât remember? Itâs a very simple reason: you called me by a moniker far too old to be funny.â The sound of TÅkoâs suitcase opening rings out in the lobby, and within it Alba can only see a dark mass which somehow remains untouched by all the light. And within that there are two thingsâ âCome now, recall those words in the Collegium,â TÅko declares. âRecall the name âWild Red.â Recall how I swore to destroy anyone who said it. And how I did.â âtwo lightsâ or two eyes. And upon seeing it, Alba finally understands. He chastises himself belatedly for not realizing it sooner. This is a box for sealing magical familiars inside, similar to what TÅko used before, only larger. And the creature in it now, whatever it is, emerges from the seemingly infinite depths of the box with baffling speed to capture Cornelius Alba with thorn-lined tendrils. He feels a thousand tiny mouths chewing and consuming him in small portions as he is dragged into the box, being eaten alive. When only his head and neck remain visible, Alba and the puppetmasterâs eyes meet for the last time before he is completely consumed. Her eyes are eyes of laughter. And he finally realizes his foolishness in ever thinking that he could rival such a monster. He remembers Alayaâs last words to him. Perhaps he should have seen this coming after all. The last thoughts in the mind of a mage slowly being eaten.'' |
Kagami_Hiiragi said: Idc if you think its weird, I have a life and friends and an income of money. |
skyzblue said: Eh...technically both are fakes..sort of... Many thanks for this. It's much more clearer. Kinda mind-blowing but clearer :D |
| Mankind’s greatest fear is Mankind itself. Gendo Ikari (Neon Genesis Evangelion) REAL LIFE Anime videos on my channel: http://www.youtube.com/channel/UCof9ppdHcniLAS_pFoRkqfw |
| She is basically tricking the world. It works similar to how Ciel's immortal existence came to be. Touko dies ---> Touko's soul leaves her destroyed body ---> switch in new body activates new body ---> Oh, the world sees Touko's body is alive (since they are identical) ---> world puts Touko's soul back into Touko's body to correct that paradox. Soul contains memories and stuff ---> Touko is basically alive again. Only one Aozaki Touko exists, whether it's fake or real doesn't matter, the end result is the same. Edit: After KnK: |
CapsuleCoreJun 28, 2014 9:38 AM
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