Kazamori is revealed as an AI, and Shinjurou and Inga sneak him out of the Sasa house to get more answers. Inga’s power won’t work on a program, so they have to earn its trust. He eventually leads him to his creator, Komamori, who has beeen alive all along. He faked his death in order to escape the oppression of the government, which had publically deemed GAI robots immoral and illegal for their use as fighters and sex slaves, but secretly wanted a monopoly on them for military use. They finally got a spy into the Sasa household, and he was burned by Kazamori. After Komamori surrenders, he destroys the doll Kazamori was in, but not before his program was transferred to a new female robot body.
We’re really glad this story lasted two episodes; even though the first part felt like a complete mystery, the second part dove even further into it, revealing even more twists and turns and surprising tidbits. Never mind also presenting with possibly the first case ever of a fridge being cuffed and taken in for questioning, which was gut-busting. Also, because the suspect in question wasn’t human, Inga can’t work her magic. But due to the GAI’s personality, the answers come anyway, and they come fast and furious. And so now we know who the yellow-eyed girl in the opening and ending is – Kazamori. We suspect she’ll show up again, much like Rinroku, Rie, Koyama and the like.
In addition to totally solving the case, this episode also opened up an entirely new can-o-worms in this postwar world: the now-outlawed GAI industry. Komamori felt it was better for society to take out its baser urges for sex and violence with GAIs, rather than war, which is why he disappeared himself. The fact that such a groundbreaking industry not only took place, it was all shut down before the events of Un-Go even started, really adds depth and richness to this world where everyone is “just living and falling”…and bureaucratic turf wars still run rampant.
Yokohama power player Hisako Osada’s corpse is found in a suitcase in front of her own mansion, and prosecutor Koyama enlists the aid of Kaishou. The intricate case is studded with false culprits apparently placed to confuddle the investigator, but Shinjurou and Inga eventually discover that Hisako’s daughter An is the murderer. Hisako forbade An to pursue her dream of singing, even after she contributed her voice to a popular idol group set up by Hisako to heighten morale during the war. An was the voice of Eri Anzai, the fourth member of the group believed to have been killed in a terrorist attack before their debut. Sinjurou has a computer-savvy acquaintence release the prohibited music out onto the web.
Whereas a series like Night Raid took place in an alternate version of the thirties when Japan occupied China, Un-Go takes literature from the period (by Sakaguchi Ango, hence the title Un-go) and sets it in the near future instead, after a similar war broke out. I like that choice, because history repeats itself, even when it comes to the type of wars countries tend to fight. There’s also an intense sense of decadence and uneasiness to this postwar Japan; it comes close to being dystopic, but very subtly so, since it sticks so close to reality. Unlike so many anime that are hastily produced from manga that aren’t even complete, there’s a sense of authenticity and richness to the cases, in addition to being well thought-out. It’s a flavor that comes from time-honored, finely-honed source material.
Whether Inga is an invention of the show’s producers, or an invention of Ango, we don’t know, but she’s definitely an interesting wild card. When her grown-up version is released, it’s just a matter of asking the right person the right question, and the case breaks open. But finding that person and having that question are the challenges Shinjurou faces. The series’ music is beyond reproach, particularly that of the idol group, which sounded almost throwback in its consturction yet more honest and robust because of that. The idea of the government using talented singers and then discarding them when their usefullness is at an end isn’t all that farfetched, either.