I'm really surprised Da Capo hasn't been taken yet for Kagepro… Anyway, I still don't really understand how the never-ending world works, but I tried to work with what I knew and what the anime gave us (which just made it more confusing tbh). So yeah sorry if you're confused about anything, I'm pretty confused too, haha...
"Playing God again, aren't you?"
"Oh, no, not at all. Why play God when I can toy with the queen?"
...
It's like watching a cliché soap opera. A timeless tale with tropes far too overused, done and done time and time again.
It all starts with the new world, the never-ending world that swallows up those who die in the longer days of summer and spits the children right back out. The children enjoy their short human lives, but therein lies the tragedy - it is not they who live, but their snakes.
The snakes gather around the queen, the queen gathers the snakes, and that's when the tragedy starts and endlessly repeats. There is nothing to change that. She knows it, and the snake knows it.
The snake, she thinks, almost hissing the word with distaste. The snake that tempted her in creating the new world, the snake that is pushing the tragedy along and tempting her granddaughter into repeating it all. The snake, the crafty, eloquent snake.
It laughs when it returns to the never-ending world, a laugh that finds far too much thrill in despair and bloodshed.
"Ah, my queen," its voice is almost melodious. "I've lost count of how many tragedies we've gone through, but it never gets old."
She ignores him, opting to watch the humans slowly vanishing from the never-ending world to return to the human one; the cast of the tragedy returning onstage for another show.
She watches her daughter, the snakes swirling and slithering through her long white locks. She longs for a day she can spend time with her again, even though she knows her selfish desire would lead only to despair. Her eyes then roam over the other sleeping humans - the fiery girl with burning red hair, the blonde mother and the brunet father, the girl with a pink dress stained a further scarlet. She begs for their forgiveness, though she knows it is impossible for them to give.
"None of this would be happening if I hadn't given the girl the queen snake," she says.
The snake only laughs at her.
...
Sometimes, she dreams.
She dreams of the endless days she spent alone, wandering the Earth before she found humans. Nature's beauty then was unparalleled. The lush forests with weaving branches and twisting vines that her snakes would often get caught in; the rivers that run their course and the seas that spread throughout the earth.
The blue, blue sky, clear as glass, and the sun that would shine through the clouds. Even looking at each raindrop was like looking into a clear lens.
They then distort into static, into a mess of red and black, and she sees the humans who changed all of those for their own selfish desires. She's suddenly dreaming about the way they treated her – a monster, they chant, terrible, dreadful, frightening monster – and she can feel each lick of the fire, each underwater breath she takes, each stab in the heart; and it's no longer dreams but a nightmare instead.
...
She watches the children die, and hears their wishes for the umpteenth time.
"I want to disappear," they carelessly cry. "I just want to know why they do this." "I want to hide these scars." The new world swallows them and the snakes possess them, granting their wish, and they cry more than they ever did.
She watches as they struggle to control their snakes, never realizing their snakes are most at peace when with their queen. They don't realize how many times they've had the same suffering, how many times they've lived the same tragedy.
The only ones who realize are the girl in pink and the boy who came to the big wide city with her. The girl dies a hundred different deaths, and the boy watches all of them, making one wish: to save her. When his wish is granted, it is his turn to die a hundred other different deaths, and the girl watches all of them, making the same wish, repeating the same cycle.
Their realization that it is just another August 15 makes their tragedy.
The snake laughs as it picks its new master. It possesses the man caring for three of the children with red eyes, and already the tragedy is working its way towards the climax. She is powerless to change anything; the snakes no longer listen to her, not without the queen snake, and she is just the audience.
There is also the girl who lets herself be swallowed by the never-ending world. Her red scarf blends with the red skies and her red eyes. Sometimes, the girl sits with her, and they watch the boy with the remembering snake, trying to forget.
"How much longer?" the girl asks. She isn't sure if the girl is asking her, or the boy, or simply musing to herself. "I just wanted everyone to be happy… If only he would remember-"
Then this tragedy would end, the words hang in the air and remain unspoken.
...
Other times, she remembers.
She remembers the boy who saved her from loneliness, clad in bright white that contrasted her red and black. She had long stopped trusting humans by that point – her snakes would hiss and become agitated each time one came nearby – but so had he. They were both alone, shunned by the world.
But he stayed with her, rain, hail, and shine. She found it annoying at first, how persistent one human could be; but over time, she grew fond of his company, grew fond of the boy himself. She did something she thought she wouldn't, couldn't ever do: start a family.
Those days had been her happiest. Each day was a blessing, and the world looked a lot less bleak with her family around. Though each week felt like a mere hour to her, she also realized her family was quickly growing up, growing old. She knew their short human lives would quickly run out.
She remembers the eloquent snake that found its chance, tempting her to create the never-ending world and to start the tragedy. If only she hadn't been so foolish.
But the memories feel distant, faded, long gone. Whatever she wants to change, she can no longer go back to those days and live them again.
"Again," the snake laughs. "The boy has met the queen in the forest yet again."
She remembers, she prays, but they're nothing more than unattainable dreams.
...
Nothing can grant her wish; nothing but the snakes. But to them, she is no longer their master – she is only a monster trapped in her own never-ending world, forced to watch the tragedy she allowed to play out.
...
"Haven't you had enough? This stupid tale, why would you keep repeating it?"
"Oh but my queen, that's the fun part. Watching their despairing faces over and over again..."
