1_Prologue_ Days Like Usual

PROLOGUE Days Like UsualThe_Beginning_of_the_End. They say you can tell someone’s personality by looking at their bookshelf. “…There’s nothing but comics here…” It was the eighth of August, and Touma Kamijou saw nothing but manga in his bookcase, much less anywhere else in the room. For appearances’ sake, he decided to go out to the Academy City station to buy a study guide. …That’s what he’d wanted to do, anyway. “Man, I didn’t think it would cost 3,600 yen…,” Kamijou grumbled to himself with all the enthusiasm of a straggler from a defeated army. On top of that, the clerk had informed him that just the day before, there’d been some kind of summer exam study fair. Study guides had apparently been half off. What rotten luck. What unbelievably rotten luck. Unfortunately, this was par for the course for Touma Kamijou. After all, he was a man prized by those who kept him close at hand as a lightning rod for their misfortune, all of which he would inevitably absorb. Still, he couldn’t just pack it in and leave after coming all that way. Whatever the cost, he had to tear the manga-exclusive fantasies, his scarlet letter, off his bookshelf. It was abnormal. He didn’t know if the notion of deducing someone’s personality by what was on their bookshelves was based on science or superstition, but normal people wouldn’t have put so much weight on such a trivial platitude. He, however, had serious cause to devote so much thought to the matter. Touma Kamijou had amnesia. It wasn’t as if he was completely clueless, though. Things like how to cross the road or how to use a cell phone weren’t subjects of confusion. The only thing he’d lost had been his memories. His knowledge was still alive and well. Even though he knew how to use a cell phone, he found himself wondering things like: Huh? Where’d I leave my cell? And when did I sign up for one in the first place? That was his predicament. A person’s knowledge is like a dictionary. For example, he understood that an apple came from a deciduous tree in the rose family that blooms in the spring and produces round fruit. But he didn’t know whether it was delicious or not unless he actually tasted one. This was because he had no photo diary–esque memory to tell him something like “on X day of X month, I ate a delicious apple.” The source of his quandary was that between his episodic memory, in charge of those experiences, and his semantic memory, which stored information, apparently only his episodic memory had been destroyed. But putting that aside for now… Regardless of the cause, Touma Kamijou wanted to know what sort of person he’d been before his amnesia. He was desperate enough to cling to the silly idea that looking at his bookshelf would provide that insight. However, he didn’t come across as frantic or as if he was at the end of his rope. He hadn’t been dropped into the middle of the world all alone and wasn’t caught in some intrigue where he was being hunted. For now, he had clothes, food, a roof over his head, and an acquaintance upon whom he felt he could rely. “Touma.” As he headed back home along the summer roads, ready to die from exhaustion at his unforeseen expense (in general, he considered any impulse buy over one thousand yen to be suicide), he heard her whine. He turned to look, and indeed, there stood a single girl giving him a sullen, pouting face. She looked around thirteen or fourteen years old, and he could tell she was a foreigner at a glance: Her waist-length hair was silver, her skin was white as snow, and her eyes were the color of emeralds. Above all, though, the thing that smelled most foreign about her was her outfit. It was a habit, the attire worn by sisters and nuns of Crossism. However, this habit was pure white with gold-laced embroidery here and there. It managed to possess the characteristic look of an ostentatious teacup. The girl’s name was Index. That wasn’t her actual name, of course, but everyone in the world seemed to be calling her that. They had met in the hospital. Actually, Kamijou thought they had become acquainted there, but apparently they’d known each other before he lost his memory. However much he struggled to remember the girl, he couldn’t recall anything about her. He wasn’t about to reveal that, though. The day he’d met her in that hospital room… As he lay in his bed, she’d looked at him, happy enough to burst into tears. Her expression now wasn’t directed at the Kamijou here, present in this moment, but rather at the Kamijou from before his memory loss. He couldn’t bring himself to break her heart. In order to protect her heart’s warmth, he needed to continue playing out the role of Touma Kamijou as if he still possessed his memories. It was a complicated feeling. It gave him the impression that there were two Touma Kamijous. So, without noticing what Kamijou was thinking (having her notice would cause problems), the girl with the false name, Index, looked up unhappily from a head shorter than him. “Touma, what could we have done with that 3,600 yen?” “…Don’t even go there.” “What could we have done with it?” she pried. Kamijou was about to repeat “Don’t even go there!” with more force before plugging his ears and shutting his eyes to escape from reality, when suddenly, he realized that she wasn’t looking at him. “?” He followed her upturned eyes, which led him to notice the signboard of an ice-cream shop, spinning around and around. …Well, after all, it is August eighth, we are walking around under the blazing afternoon sun, there are evil-looking mirages seeping up from the asphalt, and Index is wearing long sleeves, but… “…I get it, but you can’t possibly eat 3,600 yen’s worth of ice cream. Normally, anyway.” “Mgh.” Index returned her gaze to Kamijou, frustrated. “Touma, I haven’t uttered a single word of complaint that I’m hot or tired or weary, okay? Furthermore, I don’t remember thinking about using someone else’s money, and in conclusion, I wasn’t considering eating any ice cream, even a little bit.” “…Okay, I get that you aren’t allowed to lie, since you’re a nun, so stop making abandoned puppy eyes at me while you’re all covered in sweat. You should really just say you want to go in a store with air-conditioning and eat some ice cream. If you keep wearing that totally out-of-season, ostentatious habit in this ridiculous heat, you’re gonna collapse.” Touma Kamijou made this assertion as if he had enough cash to spare, but that didn’t change the amount of money in his wallet. Well, just getting some ice cream wouldn’t cost too much, but it would decimate the train fare they needed to get back home. Academy City was so big that it occupied a third of Tokyo. The journey would be too far for Kamijou, who was still convalescing, and Index, who was a girl. Some people would probably feel that the “girl” part was discriminatory, but if she did trek straight across a third of Tokyo under the boiling-hot afternoon sun in the middle of summer without batting an eyelash—well, that wouldn’t have been quite in line with Kamijou’s image of “feminine appeal.” In the meantime, Index’s frown was deepening with her discomfort. “Touma, these clothes are the visualization of the Lord’s protection. I would never, ever consider them too hot and stuffy or complain that they make no distinction between a summer outfit or a winter outfit, okay?!” “…Uhh.” Wow, honesty and kindness are two totally different things, huh? reflected Kamijou in a bit of an adult-level epiphany. And one more thing. Why are a bunch of safety pins stuck in that ridiculous habit? “Moreover, despite these clothes, I’m still in training. Alcohol and tobacco go without saying, but all other indulgences, like coffee, tea, and fruit-flavored dessert icicle pops are forbidden, too.” “Huh. I see. I figured feasting on ice cream right about now would feel really good and be a totally in-season way to deal with this sweltering heat…” People can’t say anything when they’re told something is for religious reasons. He looked back at the ice-cream store’s signboard one last time. “Then let’s not. I won’t force you to eat—” —anything. He’d been about to finish when his shoulders were grabbed at supersonic speed. Unable to endure the viselike grip of her fingers, Kamijou turned around to face Index. “I-it’s true that, based on the fact that I’m still in training, ingesting any kind of indulgence is restricted…” “Then you can’t, right?” “But I am still in training after all, so there are still easy times and hard times to act like a perfect saint, you know! Therefore, there is a possibility in this case, albeit a small one, that ice cream could be placed in my mouth by mistake, Touma!” “…” He was about to make a witty retort, but her fingers dug into his shoulders even harder. Apparently, she didn’t want him to say anything. What she didn’t seem to grasp was that sometimes maintaining silence is more exhausting for everybody than allowing a comeback. It spoke to her inexperience. Just then… “Heya, looks like you’re havin’ a pretty nice conversation there, dude, and by the way, who’s the kid, Kami?” He detected a weird voice, speaking in a fake Kansai accent. When he turned, he saw something even more suspect: a man standing 180 centimeters tall, sporting blue hair and an earring. Well, he was an unusual person, but even for a weirdo, he was far too strange. Was I really friends with this guy before my amnesia, though? Kamijou wondered. His people-related memories were entirely eradicated, so he had no clue. But anyway, your taste in friends sucks, Touma Kamijou! He cursed at himself as if he were a different person. “Eh? What’s the matter, Kami? You’re spacin’ out, dude. Why ya actin’ all distant toward me? The summer so hot it wiped your memories or somethin’?” “Wha—?!” Kamijou froze in fear, but Blue Hair waved a hand around. “Yeah, yeah, just kiddin’. Amnesia’s that thing mysterious crazy girls get, right?” Blue Hair looped his arm around Kamijou’s shoulders (making him hotter in the process). “So, Kami, seriously, whozzat? How do you know such a tiny little thing? She your cousin?…Nah, can’t be, since there’s no way Kami genes are mixed in with that silver hair.” Well, I guess one of his negative qualities is that his voice is so loud that everyone can hear him when he whispers, thought Kamijou. The “tiny little thing” bit gave him a slight start. Uneasily, he pondered if the girl next to him would overreact and throw a fit at that phrase…but she didn’t look as if she would. “…Okay, anyway, real talk here. You givin’ a lost, scared kid directions? Must be pretty tiring for you, what with your English grades sucking so much you’re not allowed to leave the country…Wait, does she even come from somewhere they speak English?” Kamijou didn’t really know, but maybe Index was used to being called small. She was listening relatively calmly. Actually, she glared up at the sun flinging killer heat down on them. She looked too hot to want to feel like talking. “…Well, Kami, I dunno where the heck you found that girl, but it’s too soon to relax! I mean, we’ve been the proven and trusted unpopular loser squad for sixteen years now. Don’t tell me you don’t know how big a contradiction it would be to trigger a ‘meeting with a normal girl’ event, aight? Look, it’s in romantic comedies and stuff. ‘The person you liked was actually a married woman with a baby face! Aha-ha-ha, your dreams have been crushed!’ Y’know, that kind of ending. Same thing, dude!” Well, thank goodness it didn’t turn out like some overused rom-com plot, Kamijou reflected, sighing with relief. “Is it gonna be one of those endings where she’s actually a boy dressed up like a girl? I mean, look at her. She’s totally flat.” Criiick. That moment, Kamijou could swear he heard the blood vessels in the girl’s head throbbing madly. Aagh?! He desperately bit down on the shriek that was halfway up his throat. She apparently tolerated people referring to her as “little” or “young,” but it didn’t look like she had any patience for someone mistaking her for a boy. She maintained her smile and ground her back teeth together loudly enough for him to hear it. What rotten luck! Kamijou wanted to hold his head in his hands. “What? But Kami, there’s no way we—members of the proven and trusted unpopular loser squad—would ever meet a real-life, three-dimensional girl! So there’s gotta be a crazy ending in store for ya! Ahh, I can see it, I can see your future! It’s the eighteen-plus scene you’ve been waiting so long for. You remove her last piece of clothing, your hands quivering. Suddenly, you realize the truth, and you fall right out of the bed in complete surprise! I can see it!” “…You’re joking, right? You actually understand, and that’s why you’re joking, right?” “Huh? So it really is a girl? What a bore,” Blue Hair answered, though he still had a playful grin on his face. “Then your meeting wasn’t normal, huh? Look, Kami, even though you’re part of the proven and trusted unpopular loser squad, you can’t go around kidnapping little girls, y’know? It don’t take much for your barbaric bravery to race all over the Internet!” “Wha…Shut up! That would be insane!” Kamijou didn’t actually remember how he met her. “She’s just a freeloader, sir! Everything has been mutually agreed upon, Sergeant!” “A freeloader? A freeloader?! Did you call a girl just a freeloader, Kami?! What are you, an elementary schooler who’s eaten so much candy he no longer appreciates the value of rice?!” “Shut up already! She isn’t anything else, so of course, I called her just a freeloader! No one is just sporadically firing random rom-com events here! Do you have any idea what the Kamijou residence’s wallet looks like because of her?! It would have been better off if a zashiki-warashi or something had rolled into my house inste—” And then, after shouting 80 percent of that at the top of his lungs, he suddenly realized something. Index, walking next to him, could obviously hear the whole conversation. “……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………Uh.” He looked at her. With much trepidation, he glanced to his side. She was smiling. She was beaming so warmly her smile could have been that of the Virgin Mary herself. All the while, blue veins popped out of her face, reminiscent of a cantaloupe. This wasn’t good. He wondered if the old Touma Kamijou possessed the talent to coax Index into a good mood even when she was like this. If he had, then he seriously thought he had lost an important memory. “Touma,” said Index, wearing the most beguiling smile he’d ever seen. It’s over, he thought. He responded anyway. “What is it, O Great Sister?” “I am a nun of the English Puritan Church. If you have anything for which to repent, don’t hesitate to tell me now, okay?” The holy girl crossed herself and folded her hands. Her smile was perfect, which let him know it was feigned. He wanted to hold his head in his hands. She’s a bomb. No, she’s a dud; she hasn’t exploded yet. If I mess with it any more, my story will end right here, right now! he instinctively deduced. What do I do, what do I do?! Ah, that’s right! Ice cream! I should get out of this with ice cream! His mind at the very pinnacle of panic, Kamijou pointed stiffly at the automatic door at the entrance to the ice-cream shop, as if he had forgotten how to speak. “Hm?” Index followed his finger, puzzled, and then stopped abruptly. “Hmm…,” he heard her mumble. I dodged it…, Kamijou thought with relief. Then, in his relief, he saw it. There was some sort of piece of paper hanging on the door to the ice-cream store. This was what it conveyed: “To all customers. “We will be temporarily closed for renovations. We greatly apologize for the inconvenience.” Scrape. With a premonition of an ultimate “bad end,” Kamijou slowly turned to the girl beside him. Her smile immediately disintegrated. He didn’t even have time to cry out, “What rotten luck!” before he was set upon by Index the raging beast girl. They ended up compromising on milk shakes at a cheap-looking fast-food restaurant. Of course, Index wasn’t satisfied with just that. Thus, Kamijou thought to throw in some relaxation time in a place with an air conditioner as a bonus to sate her, but… …it was afternoon, and the restaurant had no empty seats. “……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………” She was completely silent. In her hands was a tray, upon which were three milk shakes—one vanilla, one chocolate, and one strawberry. He wanted to make a jab at her—did you really want ice cream that much?—but had a premonition that doing so would mean certain death for him, so he couldn’t mess with her carelessly. What rotten luck, he thought earnestly. With three milk shakes all to herself, her mood was steadily improving to some extent, but it was an afternoon during summer break, so every seat was taken. However, anyone going back outside right now was out of the question. He didn’t think a soul would be inclined to leave his or her long-desired oasis of air-conditioning to wander back into the desert roads under the blazing sun. He started overhearing the lazy gossip of a few high school girls, who were completely ignorant of his despair. “Yo, yo. By the way, are those rumors about Anzai using mind reading during finals true, yo?” “I did hear that a faculty meeting got called about it, and that the odds are ten to one it’s true. But apparently they all unanimously agreed that since powers are part of what’s taught in class, it didn’t constitute cheating.” “Urk. How dirty, LOL! If I knew that, I’d’ve used my power during the test, yo?” “…Don’t you specialize in combustion?” “Yeah, I’d light some fire behind the teacher and get him to tell me all the answers, yo!” …This may not have sounded the faintest bit like normal gossip, but that’s how life in Academy City was. This was a single, large Ability Development organization, where all 2.3 million residents of the city were awakening some kind of supernatural ability within them. Kamijou was one of those same espers. He possessed a right hand that could nullify any abnormal powers, even divine miracles, the Imagine Breaker. “…Touma, I would like to sit down and take a rest by any means necessary,” stated Index. Her voice was absolutely devoid of emotion for some reason. He was scared—scared of the nun’s eyes, which told him that she would bite him if he didn’t listen. “Right away!!” he exclaimed, dashing over to an employee who was sweeping the floor. “I see. I guess you’re going to have to share a booth with someone else, then, huh?” With a businesslike, almost cruel smile, the employee pointed toward a corner near a window. Share a booth? Kamijou’s gaze followed along to the spot indicated by the employee’s finger. “Urk?!” Despite the restaurant being as full as a train station at rush hour, there was a single four-person table with free seats, like a black hole gaping wide in the crowd of people. And there… …at the table… …was a shrine maiden. A shrine maiden was sleeping with her face down on the table. Her long black hair was spread out like the tentacles of a beached jellyfish and completely hid her face. What… What the hell is that?! Kamijou screamed to himself. It was strange. It was too strange. His bad luck sense was tingling: Don’t get involved with that. If you get involved, it will bring you misfortune for sure. Losing your memories has got nothing on this. Touma Kamijou was an unfortunate person, but he wasn’t playful enough to jump into misfortune of his own accord. He closed his eyes once and made up his mind. …Okay, let’s go home. I’ll take Index biting me over getting mixed up with that any day, he concluded. But when he turned back, he noticed that the other two weren’t anywhere to be found. “…?” He looked around the place. “…Geh!” A different employee had suggested that Index share a table, and she was indeed already sitting directly across from the unfamiliar shrine maiden. Does she have no sense of danger? Or is she just that philanthropic? I don’t even care, but seriously, Blue Hair, I’d like to ask, is the combination of a nun and a shrine maiden really amazing enough to make your eyes sparkle like that? I want to run away. But he couldn’t. If he turned his back on Index here, she’d kill him and eat him like a lion, and it was too dangerous to leave the starry-eyed Blue Hair with the two girls. But above all… Index, sipping from her strawberry shake, was beckoning him over with a fantastically happy expression. Somehow that face seems like the one thing I absolutely can’t ruin, thought Kamijou. That said, there was still an unknown priestess asleep on the table. When Kamijou fearfully approached, the shrine maiden’s shoulders twitched. “Ai—” Her mouth moved. The shrine maiden’s mouth moved. Kamijou got a bad feeling about this. He got an extremely bad feeling about this. I wonder why? As an amnesiac, he shouldn’t have had any memories of anything from before his accident, but for some reason, he couldn’t help but get the sense that this wasn’t the first time this sort of thing had happened. He gulped audibly and waited for the priestess to speak. And she did. “—I binged.”