3_Chapter 2_ The Miracle Worker Grants Death

CHAPTER 2 The Miracle Worker Grants DeathThe_7th-Edge. 1 It was night. The sirens of fire trucks and police cars blared through the main road before passing on. The student dormitory had apparently been close to empty, but setting off the alarms and sprinklers had quickly drawn a large crowd of fire trucks and curious bystanders alike to the scene. After disabling the hood transmitter in his apartment, Kamijou carried it out. He could have left it functional and thrown it somewhere random to try and throw off her pursuers, but she stubbornly insisted on keeping it. He came to an alley and let out a tsk. He still cradled the blood-soaked Index in his arms. The ground was dirty, and he couldn’t let it come in contact with her open wound. He also couldn’t call an ambulance for her. Generally speaking, Academy City disliked outsiders. It was for this reason that the city was surrounded by a wall and under constant surveillance by three dedicated satellites. Even a truck attempting to park behind a convenience store needed a specific ID or it would be denied access. Index had no identification. If she was hospitalized here, news of her presence would spread like wildfire. They were up against an entire organization, after all. If they were attacked in a hospital, it would only mean more victims. In the worst-case scenario, she could be attacked in the middle of surgery with no means of defending herself. “…But I can’t just leave you here like this.” “I’m…fine…okay? If I can just…stop the bleeding…” Index’s voice was weak and devoid of the mechanical tone it bore during her rune lesson. Even Kamijou knew she was lying. Her wound went way beyond bandages. After fights, he usually performed first aid on himself so he wouldn’t have to tell anyone about them, but even he didn’t know what to do when faced with this kind of trauma. At this point, there was only one hope. He couldn’t believe it, but he had no choice but to. “Hey, hey! Can you hear me?” He lightly slapped Index’s cheek. “Isn’t there some kinda magic healing spell in those 103,000 books of yours?” Magic, in his mind, was just a bunch of attack and healing spells like in RPGs. Index herself lacked magical power, so she couldn’t wield it. But if Kamijou, who used an abnormal power, had her walk him through it, maybe… Her breathing was shallow, likely more a result of blood loss than pain. Her pale lips moved in reply. “…There is, but…” He experienced a moment’s elation, right up to the “but.” “You wouldn’t…be able to.” She exhaled a little. “Even if I taught you the technique…and you performed it perfectly…” She groaned. “Your…power would get in the way.” Kamijou looked at his right hand, speechless. The Imagine Breaker…It had completely dispelled Stiyl’s flames, so it might end up nullifying the healing magic, too. “D-damn it! Not again…This stupid hand…!!” He had to call someone, then. Maybe Blue Hair, or maybe that biri biri girl, Mikoto Misaka. A few faces came to mind, tough ones who could handle trouble like this. “…?” Index was silent for a moment. “Ah no…That’s not what I meant.” “?” “It’s not your right hand…it’s because you’re an esper,” she explained, her body shivering despite the sweltering heat, as if she was on a wintry mountain. “Magic…isn’t meant to be used by espers like you…Magic…Its techniques and rituals are for those without gifts…who still want to achieve what…those blessed with talent can.” He fought the urge to shout, Why are you lecturing me now?! “Do you understand…? The circuits in those who have talent…and those who don’t…are different. Someone with abilities can’t…use a system created for…those without it…” “Wha…?” He was at a loss. Espers like him acquired their supernatural endowments by forcing their irregular brain circuits to open using drugs and electrical stimulation. Their bodies actually were fundamentally different. But he couldn’t believe it. No, he didn’t want to believe it. There were 2.3 million people living in Academy City, and every single one of them was taking a Curriculum for developing their powers. Even if a person didn’t look like one, and even if he or she couldn’t bend a spoon despite straining his or her brain to the point of aneurism, that only meant that the person was a useless esper and was still built differently than normal people. In other words, there wasn’t a single person in the city capable of applying the magic she could teach him or her. There was a way to save this girl but nobody to help her. “God…damn it…” Kamijou gritted his teeth like a beast. “This is insane. There’s no way! What the hell is this?! Why is this happening…?!” Index was shaking badly. The thought that plagued him the most was that she was about to pay the price for his own powerlessness. “What is this talent good for?” he spat. It couldn’t even save an isolated, suffering girl. But it wasn’t like he could think of anything else. None of the 2,300,000 students living in this city could use magic—it was a fundamental incompatibility. “…?” Lamenting this, Kamijou suddenly realized he was looking at it wrong. Students? “Hey, you said that a normal person with ‘no talent’ could use magic, right?” “…Huh? Yeah.” “And there’s no catch, like you have to have magical talent specifically, right?” “No, it’s fine…If you can prepare the method, then…I think even a middle schooler would be capable…” Index thought for a moment. “…Though of course, if you mess up the steps, your brain circuits and nerves will all get fried…But I’m Index, so it’s okay. There’s no problem.” He grinned. Like a wolf preparing to howl, he looked up at the moon. It was true that the 2.3 million students living in Academy City were all undergoing Development for their supernatural abilities. But, on the other hand, the ones who were developing those powers—the teachers—should just be normal humans. “…That teacher can’t be sleeping yet.” One teacher’s face floated into Touma Kamijou’s mind. His homeroom teacher: a single, 135-centimeter-tall instructor who, though she was an adult, looked good in an elementary school backpack. Komoe Tsukuyomi. He used a public phone to call Blue Hair to ask where Miss Komoe lived. (His phone, of course, having been ruined this morning. Why Blue Hair would have a clue where their teacher lived? Unknown. Likely stalker.) Afterward, he set off, hoisting the limp Index on his back. “Here we are…” It was about a fifteen-minute walk from the alley. How should I put it? Despite Miss Komoe looking like a twelve-year-old, her place was a wooden two-story wreck of an apartment that looked so old it could have survived the bombings of Tokyo. After he noticed the washing machine outside next to the road, he figured there wouldn’t be any indoor showers or baths. Normally, Kamijou would have been able to crack jokes about this place for ten minutes, but at the moment, he wasn’t in the mood for levity. He ascended the terribly rickety metal stairwell and checked the nameplates on the doors one by one. He walked to the farthest entrance on the second floor and finally found the name TSUKUYOMI KOMOE written in hiragana. Ding-dong, ding-dong. He rang the doorbell twice, then tried with all his might to kick the door in. Slam! Kamijou’s foot collided with the doorframe, producing a tremendous noise. However, the entry didn’t budge, not even a little. His big toe cried out in protest. “~~~!!” His faithful rotten luck was still right by his side. “Yes, yes, the door is tough to defend against newspaper salesmen! I’m opening it now, okay?” I should have just waited patiently, he thought, tears in his eyes. The ingress opened, and Miss Komoe, clad in baggy green pajamas, poked her head out. Her face was relaxed. She probably couldn’t see the wound on Index’s back from there. “Wow, hello, Kami! Did you start a paper route?” “Where on earth do paperboys carry nuns on their backs when they go out soliciting?” Kamijou demanded angrily. “I’ve got a bit of a problem here, so I’m coming in. Excuse me!” “W-wait wait wait wait!” He tried to squeeze past Miss Komoe, but she frantically blocked his path. “I, umm, would like you to stay out. Well, I mean, it’s not like it’s a huge mess or that there’re empty beer cans on the floor or a mountain of cigarette butts or anything like that!” “Miss!” “What is it?” “…Try telling that joke again after you see what I’m carrying on my back.” “I-it wasn’t a joke…Wait, gyaah!!” “You just realized now?!” “I couldn’t see her injury because you’re so big, Kami!” Miss Komoe was rattled, flustered by the unexpected sight of blood. Kamijou pushed past her and made his way into the apartment. The room looked as if an old man addicted to horse racing lived there. A ton of overturned beer cans lay scattered all over the old tatami flooring, and a mountain of cigarette butts was piled in a silver ashtray. He didn’t know what kind of joke this was, but in the middle of the room sat a tea table that an angry drunk would love to upend. “…What can I say…You weren’t joking after all, were you?” “It might seem strange for me to ask, but do you dislike women who smoke?” That isn’t the issue here! Kamijou thought, sizing up his homeroom teacher, who looked all of twelve. He kicked some of the random beer cans on the floor to one side and cleared a space. There was no time to get out a futon to spread over the battered tatami, though he had reservations about putting Index on it. He rested Index facedown so her open wound wouldn’t touch the filthy floor. The torn fabric made it difficult to see the laceration directly, but a deep red seeped from it like crude oil. “Sh-shouldn’t we call an ambulance? Th-there’s a phone right over there, you know?” Trembling terribly, Miss Komoe pointed to a corner of the room. For some reason, it was a black rotary-dial phone. “…My life force…my mana…is ebbing away with the blood loss.” Startled, Kamijou and Miss Komoe looked at Index. She was still on the floor, her limbs sprawled across the tatami. Her face rested on its side. But her eyes were open, not unlike a broken doll’s. They were colder than pale blue moonlight, quieter than a clock’s gears. Her gaze was perfectly calm, calmer than any human eyes should have been. “…Warning. Reading from chapter two, verse six. Mana drainage via blood loss has reached critical levels. Forcing awakening by the Automatic Clerk, John’s Pen…If the current state continues, calculated using international standard time displayed as per Big Ben in London, my body’s mana levels will fall below required minimum in approximately fifteen minutes, and I will die. Please follow the instructions I am about to give and take appropriate measures.” Miss Komoe, her heart in her throat, looked at Index’s face. It’s only natural, thought Kamijou. This was the second time for him, but he certainly wasn’t used to that voice. “Now, then…” He studied his teacher’s face, lost in thought. If he suddenly asked her something like, Please use magic! in this situation, she would answer, Kamijou, this is an emergency. We can’t make believe we’re magical girls! Teacher is too old for this! How on earth should he explain the situation, then? “Hmm. Teacher, Teacher, I’ll keep this short because it’s an emergency. I need to tell you a secret, so come over here.” “Okay.” Kamijou gestured that she should come as if he was calling a puppy. She drew closer, utterly earnest. I’m sorry, Kamijou mouthed in apology to Index. With one swift motion, he unveiled the horrendous wound concealed beneath her shredded clothing. “Eek!!” Miss Komoe’s body quaked. That was to be expected, too. Despite being the one pulling off the fabric, even he was shocked by the severity of the injury. It was a surgical line starting near her waist, as precise as if someone had used a straightedge and a box cutter. Beneath the sanguine fluid, pink muscle and yellow fat had been exposed, and still deeper, Kamijou thought he saw something hard and white—her backbone. The “lips” around the mouth of the wound were turning a pale blue, not unlike a person’s actual lips after too long in a pool. Ugh…Steadying himself from a bout of dizziness, he slowly replaced the sopping fabric. When the cloth made contact with the lesion, Index was unfazed. Her eyes were like ice. “Teacher.” “Huh? What is it?!” “I’m going to go call an ambulance now. While I’m doing that, I need you to listen to what this kid has to say and do whatever she asks. Just definitely don’t let her fall unconscious. As you can see, this girl is part of a religious order. I’ll leave things in your hands.” Telling Miss Komoe was what she needed—it would prevent her from denying magic altogether. In any case, what was important wasn’t that his teacher treat the injuries properly anymore, it was to keep Index talking no matter what. Miss Komoe’s face was still pale, and she nodded with grave seriousness. …The one problem was how Kamijou would waste time outside. If he called an ambulance before the ritual was complete, the treatment would be interrupted. This meant he couldn’t call for paramedics. But that left him without a reason to excuse himself. He could always use the black phone in the room, dial 117, and pretend to ask the automated voice for an ambulance. That wasn’t the problem. “Hey, Index,” Kamijou prompted softly. “Is there, uh, anything I can do?” “…Not possible. The best course of action in this situation is for you to evacuate the area.” He involuntarily clenched his right hand into a fist, to the point that it hurt, at her completely transparent, straightforward answer. There was nothing he could do. His mere presence was enough to nullify the healing spell. “…Okay, Teacher. I’m gonna go run to a public phone.” “Uh…what? Kami, there’s a phone right over—” He ignored her and left the room. He bit down on his teeth, frustrated with himself for being unable to help. Kamijou sprinted through the darkened streets. Despite being the man who could kill even God, his right hand couldn’t protect a single person. “…What is the current Japanese Standard Time? I would also like to know the date.” “It’s July twentieth, eight thirty in the evening, but why?” Index paused. “…You do not appear to have checked a clock, so are you certain that is the correct time?” “There isn’t a clock in here in the first place. Teacher’s internal clock has a second hand, so there’s no problem!” “…” “There’s nothing to be skeptical about. In fact, I hear horse jockeys have their internal clocks fine-tuned down to a tenth of a second. If you can regulate your eating and exercise habits exactly, you can manage it,” Miss Komoe explained matter-of-factly. Even though she wasn’t an esper, she was certainly a resident of Academy City. Everyone here had a unique understanding of science and medicine compared to the outside world. Index, still facedown on the floor, moved only her eyes and looked out the window. “…Judging by the stars’ position and the angle of the moon…the location of Sirius matches your time with a margin of error of 0.038. I will now confirm. The current Japanese Standard Time is July twentieth at eight thirty PM, correct?” “Yes. More precisely, it’s fifty-three seconds after that…Hey, wait, you shouldn’t get up!!” Index rose, compromising her shattered body even further. Miss Komoe, panic-stricken, tried to push her back to the floor, but one glance from Index stopped her in her tracks. The gaze was neither scary nor sharp. It was as if her eyes had flipped a switch. Gone was any trace of emotion. They were completely devoid of life. It was as if her soul had departed her body. “It does not matter. Regeneration is possible.” Index headed for the tea table in the center of the room. “…We are in the end of Cancer for half the night, from eight o’clock to midnight. Cardinal direction is west. Under Undine’s protection, the angel’s role shall be Hailwime…” “Eek!” Komoe caught her breath, startled. Her quiet cry echoed throughout the room. Index had begun drawing a diagram of some sort on the tea table with her blood-soaked finger. Even if Miss Komoe didn’t know what a magic circle was, she could tell it was something religious. She was fainthearted, unable to utter even a sound. She stared at the sigil, feeling overwhelmed. Inside the circle of blood, which took up the entire tea table, was a pentagram. However, it was bordered by tightly packed words in a language that belonged to another country. They were likely the same words Index was currently muttering to herself. She had asked for the current constellation and time because the characters that needed to be inscribed were dependent on the time and season. Her movements as she conjured this magic betrayed none of the frailty of a person suffering grievous injury. Her concentration seemed to have sequestered her sensation of pain for the time being. The quiet sound of blood dripping from her back sent a chill down Miss Komoe’s spine. “Wh-wh-wha-what is that?” “Magic,” Index replied hollowly. “From this point, I will borrow your hands and body. If you do as I direct, no one will need to deal with any misfortune, and you will avoid any malice.” “Wh-what are you talking about?! Just lie back down on the floor and wait for an ambulance! Uhh, bandages! Where are the bandages? With a laceration this severe, we should stop the flow of blood by binding the area near the arteries—” “It is impossible to wholly arrest my blood loss with that degree of treatment. I do not quite understand the meaning of the word ambulance, but can that completely stanch this wound within fifteen minutes and further replenish my body with the requisite amount of mana?” “…” She was right. If Komoe was to call an ambulance now, it would take ten minutes to get here. Bringing her back to the hospital would take twice that, and it wasn’t as if she would be healed the moment they arrived. She didn’t really understand what the girl meant by the occult term mana, but there was no doubt that just closing the gash wouldn’t replenish her stamina. Even if she immediately sutured the trauma with a needle and thread, the pallid thing would lose all her strength and die before she could recover her vitality, wouldn’t she? “Now, please.” Index issued her instruction, her eyes inscrutable. A thin line of saliva tinged with fresh blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Though her tone had been neither commanding nor ghastly, her very sedate composure made the girl all the more terrifying. It was like watching a broken machine moving, wholly unaware that it had been destroyed. She couldn’t help but feel as if Index’s wound grew more severe with every action she took. …It looks like if I resist, she’ll get a lot worse…Miss Komoe heaved a sigh. Her eyes still weren’t expecting to see magic, of course. But Kamijou had made it absolutely clear that she should keep the girl talking and awake. The only thing she could do now was to try not to excite her in any way and hope that Kamijou returned with an ambulance as soon as possible, followed by a miraculous bit of triage by trained medical professionals promptly thereafter. “So what should I do? Teacher isn’t a magical girl, you know?” “I thank you for your cooperation. First, give me that, that…What is that black thing?” “? Oh, that’s a video game memory card!” “???…All right, that will do. Anyway, please place that black thing in the center of the coffee table.” “It’s more like a tea table, but okay.” As directed, Miss Komoe positioned the memory card in the center of the tea table. After that, she surrounded it with a mechanical pencil lead case, an empty box of chocolates, and two small books on their ends. Finally, she lined up a pair of little toy figurines. What is this? wondered Miss Komoe. But Index was the picture of seriousness, although she still looked poised to collapse at any moment. “What is this? You said magic, but…aren’t we just playing with dolls?” When Miss Komoe considered the configuration more closely, it appeared to be a miniature diorama of that very room. The memory card was the tea table, the two books standing on their ends were her bookshelf and closet, and the two figurines were positioned precisely where she and the injured girl stood in the room. Glass beads later scattered around the tea table perfectly mirrored the beer cans on the floor. “Ingredients are inconsequential. A magnifying glass can be composed of glass or plastic, but either material will facilitate closer observation…If an object’s shape and function are approximate, the ceremony may proceed.” Index spoke in little more than a whisper, sweating profusely. “In any case, I request that you carry out my instructions in exacting detail. Should you fail to maintain the proper order, your nerves and brain circuits may burn out.” “???” “I mean that in the event of failure, your body will be minced and you will die. Please be careful.” Miss Komoe coughed in surprise. Index ignored her and continued. “I shall call down an angel and create a temple. Please chant after me.” What came out of her mouth next were sounds, not words. Miss Komoe attempted to imitate the pitch as if humming a tune, without dwelling on its meaning. And then… “Eek?!” All of a sudden, the figurines on the tea table began “singing” as well. One of them even mimicked her “eek” in real time. The figure vibrated; its vibration replicated her voice in the little effigy as if it were being transmitted along a string to a paper cup. The only reason Miss Komoe didn’t completely lose it and dash out of the room was because she was a resident of Academy City, renowned home to more than 2.3 million espers. Co-habitating with more than 2.3 million espers in this city would have driven any normal person mad by this point. “Link established,” came Index’s voice in stereo, both from her own mouth and from the figure on the tea table. “The temple created on the table has been linked with this room. Essentially, anything that transpires inside this room will do so on the table, and anything that transpires on the table will do so in this room.” Index pressed lightly on one of the legs of the tea table. Concurrently, the entire apartment trembled with a loud creak, the impact shaking Miss Komoe’s legs. It was then that she noticed that the stagnant air inside her apartment was becoming as clean and crisp as a forest morning. She didn’t see anything resembling an angel anywhere, though. She could only sense some sort of invisible presence. Her skin broke out in goose bumps all over. She felt as if thousands of eyes were observing her from every angle. All of a sudden, Index shouted, “Now, imagine a golden angel with the body of a child! A beautiful angel possessed of a pair of wings!” Defining the active field was a crucial element of magic. For example, if one throws a pebble into the ocean, it doesn’t create a very big ripple. However, if one drops a pebble into a bucket of water, it causes large and powerful rings. Magic was similar. First, a specific field had to be defined in order to isolate the area the magic was to distort. A Guardian is a temporary deity placed within this small, predesignated world. If they could visualize a concrete Guardian, stabilize it, and control it the way they wanted, mysterious manipulations would be easier to perform within the field. But Index skipped the explanations. Miss Komoe found herself unable to envision an angel. The words golden angel only brought to mind the chocolate brand where you search for the silver or gold angel on the box for a prize. As if aligning itself with Miss Komoe’s fuzzy vision, the presence surrounding them steadily began losing its form. A revolting sense that she was sinking in fetid mud at the bottom of the swamp came over her. “Anyway, picture it! We are not calling an actual angel. It is only a gathering of mana, an invisible power. Its form is dictated by your will!” Index’s voice, which had been calm and mechanical before, was now as pointed as icicles. Maybe she’d reached the end of her patience. Miss Komoe shut her eyes in surprise at Index’s sudden one-eighty and, rattled, chanted to herself: “…A cute angel, a cute angel, a cute angel…” Desperately, she vaguely visualized a female angel from a girls’ manga she’d read long ago. Suddenly, it felt as if…the invisible, muddy thing floating around the room started to coalesce, as if it were being blown into a human-shaped balloon. Miss Komoe nervously opened her eyes a bit. …Wait, we’re not calling an actual angel, are we? The very moment she doubted it… Bang! The human-shaped mud ball burst, sending it spewing through the room. “Kyaah!” “…Form stabilization has failed.” Index looked around with pointed, observant eyes. “…If we can at least guard this temple with the azure water Undine, there will be no problem…Now proceeding.” Her words were optimistic, but her eyes weren’t smiling at all. Miss Komoe couldn’t help but tremble. She felt like a child who had hidden a test on which she’d performed poorly, only to be found out by her parents. “Chant after me. One last phrase, and it will be over.” Index’s command was sharp so as to allow no time for the teacher to panic, although her concentration was on the verge of breaking. Index, Miss Komoe, and the two figurines standing on the tea table sang. Within the diorama, the back of Index’s effigy liquefied with an amorphous gurgle. It sounded like rubber being melted by a lighter. As the toy’s back lost its integrity, the lines and curves vanished, becoming smooth, before ultimately cooling and reassuming their form. Miss Komoe’s heart froze in fear. Index sat facing her on the opposite side of the tea table. The diminutive teacher lacked the fortitude to dare stand and examine her back. The frightening girl’s pallid blue face dripped with greasy sweat. Miss Komoe couldn’t glean any pain or suffering from her glassy eyes. “…Confirmed replenishment of mana and avoidance of life-threatening crisis. Returning John’s Pen to dormancy.” Soft light suddenly returned to Index’s gaze as if a switch had been flipped. A warm atmosphere enveloped the room as if a cold hearth had been kindled. That was how gentle and warm Index’s eyes were, the eyes of just a simple girl. “Now…we’ll return the descended Guardian, destroy the temple, and it will be over.” Index almost smiled, but her lingering pain seemed to get in the way. “That’s all magic is. Just like how dog and canine have the same meaning…Even without relying on glass, we have transparent plastic umbrellas these days! Tarot cards are the same. You can even use the free prizes that come with shoujo manga to tell fortunes, as long as the pictures and number of cards are right.” Index was still sweating heavily. However, Miss Komoe grew even more frightened, worried that she had somehow worsened Index’s condition. “I’m fine…” Index looked as if she might collapse at any moment. “This is basically a cold. I just need to rest and regain some stamina, and I’ll heal right up. The actual wound is already closed, so don’t worry.” The moment she finished speaking, her body wavered and fell to one side. The figurine on the tea table fell over as well. The tea table shook a tiny bit, consequently rocking the entirety of the linked room with a powerful tremor. Miss Komoe was about to rush to the other side of the little table when Index started to sing. The teacher imitated her as before, and after they had finished, the peculiar atmosphere of her apartment reassumed its familiar air. Just to make sure, Miss Komoe tried wobbling one of the table legs a little. Nothing happened. “Thank goodness,” Index mumbled, closing her eyes in relief. Anyone would feel some relief at having survived such a close brush with death, right? thought Miss Komoe. However, the nun went on: “Thank goodness he didn’t have to bear that cross…” Startled, she looked at Index. “…If I’d died here, he probably would have had to bear it for the rest of his life.” Index stopped speaking and closed her eyes as if enjoying a dream. Passed out in the wake of a brutal assault and even during that enigmatic ceremony, she had never worried for herself. The wounded girl had only been thinking about the boy who’d carried her all this way. Miss Komoe was incapable of that kind of selflessness. She didn’t have anyone to think about that way. So she wanted to ask just one thing. Index was already asleep, and so she was certain the girl wouldn’t hear her question. That’s why she asked. But eyes still closed, the girl answered her nonetheless: “I don’t know. “I’ve never thought about anybody in that way before, so I don’t know what that feels like. But when he fought for me with no regard for his own life while facing the sorcerer, I thought that even if I had to crawl, I needed to get him away from there. But after Innocentius chased him off…when he came back for me, I was so happy I almost cried. “I don’t get it at all, but when we’re together, nothing ever goes the way I think it will. “But that unpredictability is so fun and makes me happy. “I don’t understand what kind of emotion that is, though.” She smiled with her lids comfortably lowered, as if enjoying a merry dream, and this time, Index fell asleep. 2 The following morning, she really did develop flu-like symptoms. Index sprawled on the floor beset by a fever and headache. It wasn’t a virus, since her nose wasn’t running and her throat didn’t hurt. She was just recovering her life force. So in other words, no matter how much cold medicine she took to bolster her immunity, it wouldn’t do jack. “…So? Why aren’t you wearing pants exactly?” Index, a moist towel on her forehead, thrust one leg out from under her futon toward Kamijou, unable to bear the heat. Even though above she wore light green pajamas, he could see her thigh almost up to her waist. Her skin was brilliant, eye piercing, and pink from her fever. Miss Komoe dunked the now-lukewarm towel from Index’s forehead into a washbowl and glared at Kamijou. “…Kami, Teacher thought that those clothes were just a bit too much.” “Those clothes” meaning Index’s safety pin–bespotted white habit. Kamijou was in full agreement with her on that point, but Index had grown accustomed to wearing the habit. When they’d taken it away, she’d looked like an annoyed cat. “…So, wait. Why does a beer-guzzling, chain-smoking adult have pajamas that fit Index perfectly? Just how much of an age difference is there between you two?” Miss Komoe (age unknown) was flabbergasted, and Index butted in as if to cover for her. “…Don’t belittle me. I think these pajamas are a little tight around the chest, even for me.” “Wha…? Impossible! You’re bugging me! You’re making fun of me too much. I won’t take that!” “Wait, you have a chest for pajamas to be tight around?!” “…” The two ladies glared at him. Kamijou defensively fell back on his soul-crushing, head-to-floor bowing pose. “That’s what I thought. By the way, Kami, how are you and this girl related?” “She’s my younger sister.” “That’s an obvious lie! She’s a silver-haired, blue-eyed foreigner!” “It’s not by blood.” “…Are you a pervert?” “It was a joke! I get it! I know that dating an in-law is improper, but real is illegal! Aw, jeez!” “Kami,” she prompted, adopting her educator’s tone. He shut his mouth. Well, of course Miss Komoe would want to know what’s going on here. After all, he’d carried a complete stranger into her apartment—one with a more than slightly suspicious sword wound in her back—after which she’d been forced to take part in some weird magic hokum that she didn’t understand. It was probably too much to ask for her to turn a blind eye to it all. “Teacher, can I ask a question?” “What is it?” “Are you asking because you want to report it to the police or the board of directors of Academy City?” “Yep,” Miss Komoe answered promptly, nodding. She hadn’t hesitated a second to inform a student she would sell him out. “I don’t know what kind of trouble you two have gotten yourselves into”—Miss Komoe smiled—“but if it’s something that happened in Academy City, the responsibility of dealing with it falls on us teachers. It’s an adult’s duty to see to the welfare of children. Now that she knows you two were endangered, Teacher will not keep quiet about it!” Such was Komoe Tsukuyomi’s declaration. Even though she had no strange powers, no physical strength, and no authority… She spoke with such directness, such correctness, as if she were a blade of integrity speeding directly for its target. I’m no match for her, confessed Kamijou to himself. Although he was on the back half of two decades’ worth of life experience, he couldn’t think of anyone else quite like this teacher. There weren’t even characters like her in movies or TV dramas anymore. “Miss Komoe, if you were a complete stranger, I’d involve you as much as necessary, but since I owe you for the magic, I don’t want to involve you any further.” Kamijou decided to be straight with her. He didn’t want to watch another person shielding without expecting anything in return, only to see her get hurt. Miss Komoe paused briefly. “Hmm. Teacher won’t stand for such meaningless posturing, okay?” “…? Wait, Teacher, why are you getting up? Where are you going…?” “I’m granting you a stay of execution. Teacher is going to the supermarket to buy breakfast. Until I get back, Kami, figure out what you want to tell me and how to explain it clearly, okay? And…” “And?” “Your teacher might get wrapped up in her shopping and completely forget about it. When I get back, make sure you initiate the conversation yourself like an adult, okay?” Kamijou thought she was smiling. The door slammed shut, leaving Kamijou and Index alone. …Maybe she did that for us. For some reason, when he pictured her childlike, plotting face, he got the feeling she might actually forget everything by the time she returned. Still, if he ever needed her advice later, she’d probably jump down his throat, shouting something along the lines of Why didn’t you tell me before?! I had completely forgotten! before gladly hearing him out. He sighed and turned back to Index, still resting on the futon. “…Sorry. I know this isn’t the time to be worrying about being cool.” “No, you were right.” Index shook her head slightly. “We shouldn’t involve her any further…Besides, she can’t use magic anymore.” “?” Kamijou frowned. “Grimoires are dangerous, you know. The uncommon sense written with them breaks the laws of nature. They’re from a different world. It’s not that they’re good or evil, but that they’re poisonous to this world.” Index explained that just gleaning knowledge from the other world could destroy someone’s mind. Maybe it’s something like trying to force a program to run on an operating system it’s not designed for, Kamijou wondered, trying to come up with an analogy he could understand. “…My mind is protected by the Church’s defenses. Sorcerers strive to exceed their human limitations—and common sense itself—to reach their goal, which drives them mad. But since Japan is so unindoctrinated in terms of religion, if a Japanese person…If she recited that incantation one more time, she’d be done for.” “H-huh…” He tried to not let his shock show on his face. “That’s kind of a shame. I thought we could just make Teacher into an alchemist or something. I know about alchemists. They can turn lead into gold, right?” Secretly, his source for this factoid was an item-oriented RPG whose main character was an alchemist. “…They can perform Ars Magna, but…if you gathered the necessary ingredients and tools these days, in terms of Japanese currency…it would cost around, umm, seven trillion yen.” “……………………………………………………………………………………………Well, that’s completely pointless,” Kamijou grumbled, as if his soul had left his body. Index smiled. “…Yep, it is. The only people who’d be happy you did it would be nobles.” “But, hmm. When you really think about alchemy, what is it even? What’s the principle behind it? To convert lead into gold, wouldn’t you have to rebuild its atomic structure from Pb to Au or something?” “I’m not really sure, but it’s just fourteenth-century technology, you know?” “That’s cra—Wait, what? You mean rearranging atomic structure?! Am I right? Doesn’t that mean you could destroy protons without an accelerator and generate nuclear fusion without a stupidly huge reactor?! Wait a second, I don’t know if even the seven Level Five espers in Academy City could do that!” “???” “Wait, what’s with the puzzled expression?! Err, umm, ahh, in terms of how amazing that would be…you could make an atomic robot or a mobile suit like it was nothing!” “What are those?” His fanboy fantasy was cut off at the knees. Kamijou slumped, and Index thought she’d somehow said something very bad. “A-anyway, even if you tried to substitute a holy sword, or magic scepter, or something like that with things from the modern world in the ceremony, there’s a limit to that, you know?…In particular, the Lance of Longinus, or the Book of Joseph, or the rood—many holy relics related to God are still apparently irreplaceable, even after a thousand years, but…ow…” She groaned after attempting to sit up too quickly in her excitement and started massaging her temples as if she were hungover. As she settled back on the futon, Touma Kamijou looked at Index’s face. Reading just one of those 103,000 books would drive a person insane, so cramming every sentence, every letter, precisely into your memory…How much suffering did she have to endure? But she had never once complained. “Would you like to know?” she asked Kamijou, as if by way of apology despite her own pain. Index’s quiet voice, in contrast with her normally cheerful disposition, revealed her determination. Stupid Teacher, thought Kamijou. For his part, Index’s specific situation didn’t matter. Regardless of her circumstances, he wasn’t going to abandon her. If he could just defeat the enemy and secure her safety, there was no need to dig into her old scars. But she still asked. “Do you really want to know what I carry?” she inquired again. Kamijou made up his mind and answered, “Heh, it kind of seems like I’m the priest, doesn’t it? Heh, it really does…I’m just like a priest listening to a sinner’s confession. “Why do you suppose it is,” Index began rhetorically, “that even though Crossism has a singular original, you have Catholicism, Protestantism, Russian Catholic, Roman Orthodox, English Puritanism, Nestorianism, Arianism, Gnosticism…? Why do you think it fractured into so many different groups?” “Well…” Kamijou had at least skimmed a history textbook, so he felt like he kind of understood why. But he hesitated to say anything in front of Index since she was the real deal. “No, that’s right.” Instead, Index smiled. “It’s because people mixed religion with politics. It began to fragment, oppose one another, and even started wars. Eventually, people who believed in the same God became enemies. Even though we worship the same Heavenly Father, we started to walk completely separate paths.” Of course, there were many different perspectives. Some thought they could earn money through the word of God, and others found that unforgivable. Some thought they were God’s chosen people on earth, and others found that wholly unacceptable. “…After we stopped exchanging ideas, we evolved in isolation and acquired ‘individuality.’ We all changed in response to a variety of factors, like the state of the nation in which one worshipped or what the climate was like.” She breathed a quiet sigh. “Roman Orthodoxism believed in managing and administering the world; Russian Catholicy believed in the censorship and destruction of the occult; and English Puritanism, the order to which I belong…” Index faltered for a moment, struggled to get out her next words. “England is the land of magic, so…” She seemed as if she was remembering something painful. “…England focused on hunting down witches and heretics, and the Inquisition…the anti-magic culture and technology thrived. “Even now, in the capital, London, there are public corporations that call themselves ‘magic societies,’ and ten times their number existed only on paper. Those organizations were originally founded to protect the citizenry from evil magicians lurking in the city but eventually devolved into a culture of slaughter and execution. “English Puritanism has a unique sect,” said Index softly, almost as if confessing her own sins. “To slay sorcerers, they needed to come up with countermeasures, and they did so by researching the magic their enemies employed. The order charged with this task was Necessarius, the Church of Necessary Evils.” She spoke like a nun. “If you do not know your enemy, you cannot safeguard yourself against his attacks. But understanding his corrupt soul would inevitably lead to your own soul’s corruption. Touching the diseased body of your enemy would result in your own body’s infection. The Church of Necessary Evils was established to combat that corruption all on its own. And their greatest achievement was…” “The 103,000 grimoires.” “Yeah.” Index nodded once. “Magic is like a mathematical equation. You can neutralize your opponent’s attacks as long as you do a good job reverse engineering it. So the 103,000 books were stuffed inside me…Because if we understand the world’s magic, we should be able to neutralize all the magic in the world.” Kamijou looked at his right hand. His right hand, which he had thought useless. His right hand, which he had rejected since it couldn’t take down a single delinquent, or raise his test scores, or make him popular with girls. But she had seen hell itself in order to arrive at this. “But if grimoires are so terrible, can’t you just burn them without reading them? As long as there are people who learn things from them, won’t magicians just keep appearing?” “…The important thing isn’t the book, it’s what’s inside. Even if you got rid of the original, if a sorcerer who already knew what was inside passed it down to a disciple, there would be no point. “Though that person wouldn’t be called a sorcerer, but rather a wizard,” she added. So it’s like data flowing through the Internet, Kamijou thought. Even if you erased the data at their source, they would still exist, being copied infinitely. “On top of all that, grimoires are, at their core, just textbooks,” Index explained painfully. “…Just reading one doesn’t make someone a sorcerer. A sorcerer is someone who inserts his own arrangements and gives birth to new spells.” So instead of just data, it’s more like a computer virus, always being modified. In order to completely stamp out a virus, you need to analyze it first and then constantly come up with new vaccines. “…Also, I said this before, but grimoires are dangerous.” Index’s eyes narrowed. “Just destroying a single copy requires that practiced Inquisitors sew their eyes shut to protect against the corruption of their minds. Even then, unless they regularly baptize themselves for five years, they won’t escape its poison. It’s impossible for a human soul to deal with the originals. The 103,000 grimoires spread around the world are so dangerous that there was no other option but to seal them away.” It was almost like handling decommissioned nuclear weapons. No, actually, it was probably exactly like that. It was also more than likely beyond the predictions of the people who originally made them. “Crap. But even so, magic is something that any normal person, aside from us espers, can use, isn’t it? So wouldn’t it have just spread across the world in no time?” Kamijou recalled Stiyl’s flames. If the world had turned into a place where everyone was able to use that kind of power…the world’s foundation—common sense based on science—would collapse. “That’s…not something to worry about. Not even sorcerers’ societies would bring grimoires out into the open recklessly.” “? Why not? Wouldn’t they want more allies, so they’d be stronger?” “That’s exactly why. If all gun owners were friends, there wouldn’t be any wars, right?” “…” Even if you knew about magic, that wouldn’t make everyone else who did your buddy. It was quite the opposite. They’d know all your trump cards. Magicians didn’t want to create enemy sorcerers unnecessarily. Same reason you’d want to keep the blueprints for a brand-new weapon locked up. “Hmm. I think I got most of that.” Kamijou chewed on her words. “In other words, it’s like…they want the bomb inside your head.” The original 103,000 grimoires were scattered across the globe—she was a library full of perfect copies. Getting your hands on them would mean acquiring all the magic ever created. “…Yeah.” She sounded like someone sitting on death row. “If you used all 103,000 books, you could twist the entire world to your will. We call those people demon gods.” Not the gods of the demon world… …but rather, people who had delved too deeply into magic, too far into God’s domain… …A real-life demon. …That’s insane. Kamijou had been gritting his teeth without knowing it. He could tell just from looking at her that Index hadn’t had the 103,000 grimoires imprinted on her brain because she wanted them. He thought about Stiyl’s flames again. Index lived to prevent as many casualties as possible. He didn’t like those sorcerers who used those feelings against her, but he also didn’t like the Church for calling her “corrupted.” Every single side was treating her like an object, and Index had spent her whole life surrounded by people like that. But the main thing he didn’t like was how, regardless, she continued to put everyone else first. “…I’m sorry.” Even Kamijou didn’t fully understand what he was so angry about. But her apology set him off. He flicked Index’s forehead lightly. “…Would you quit this nonsense already? Why the hell’d you keep quiet about all this important stuff until now?” Index completely froze under his glare. He was baring his teeth at her. Her eyes widened as if she’d made some sort of huge mistake, and her lips worked frantically. “But…I didn’t think you’d believe me, and I didn’t want to scare you, and, umm…” Looking as if she was about to cry, Index’s voice grew quieter and quieter, to the point that Kamijou could barely hear the last part. He just barely managed to make out: “Because I didn’t want you to hate me.” “That’s…the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!!” Something inside him snapped. “You’re looking down on me, assigning me a value! Stop doing that! Church secrets? One hundred and three thousand grimoires? Yeah, I guess they’re amazing, and crazy, and they’re so absurd I can hardly believe any of it now. “However!” Kamijou paused for a moment. “That’s all it is, right?” Somehow Index managed to open her eyes even wider. Her little mouth struggled desperately to produce words, but nothing came out. “Don’t underestimate me. What, you were thinking just because you memorized 103,000 books that you were creepy or something?! Did you think that just because some sorcerers came along that I’d abandon you and run away? That’s bullshit. If I wasn’t prepared for that, I wouldn’t have picked you up in the first place!” As he berated her, he finally understood why he was so mad. All he wanted was to be able to help Index somehow. He didn’t want to see her hurt anymore. That was all. But she’d always been the one trying to shield him from harm; not once had she asked him to protect her. He hadn’t heard her say “Help me” so much as once. It was mortifying. It was really, really mortifying. “…Trust me a bit. Don’t try to pigeonhole me; you don’t know me.” That was all it was. There was no reason for him to leave, even if he’d been powerless, even if he was just a normal guy. Of course there wasn’t. Index looked up at Kamijou for a while, absorbed, but… Sob. Suddenly, tears filled her eyes. It was like the ice had melted. Her lips impatiently quivered, having trouble holding back the emotions she’d pent up. She pulled the futon up to her mouth and bit it. Had she not done that, her tears had gotten so big that he was sure she would have started wailing hysterically like a kindergartner. It probably wasn’t just what he’d said. Kamijou wasn’t that full of himself. He didn’t think his words alone could have moved her so much. It was more likely that he’d triggered something else in her, something that she’d held inside for a long time. In spite of the painful realization that no one had likely said any kind words like that to her for a long time, he was still a little happy he finally got to see Index being weak. But he wasn’t some pervert who got off on girls crying. In fact, he was completely embarrassed by himself. If Miss Komoe walked in on them right now without any sort of context, she’d probably tell him to go jump off a cliff. “Ah, uhh, okay. Look, I’ve got my right hand, so sorcerers don’t stand a chance!” “…But,” she sobbed, “you said you had makeup classes.” “…Did I?” “You most certainly did.” The girl’s memory seemed perfect. Well, she could memorize every letter in 103,000 books, after all. “Don’t you dare start apologizing for interfering with my life or something. I don’t give a damn about makeup classes. The school doesn’t want to create more dropouts. If I cut makeup classes, I’ll just have to go to makeup makeup classes. I can put it off as long as I want.” Miss Komoe probably would have given him hell for saying that, but he pushed the thought aside. “…” Index, still teary eyed, silently searched Kamijou’s expression. “…Then why did you say you had to hurry and go to makeup classes?” “……………………………………………………………………………………………Uhh.” Now he remembered. It had been right after he’d destroyed her habit, the Walking Church, with his Imagine Breaker, rendering her completely naked. The silent tension in the room had been worse than in an elevator, and then… “…Uh, I, uhh…” “So you felt uncomfortable because of my presence.” “…” “You did.” After she said it a second time, tears in her eyes, he realized it was utterly impossible to evade this. “I’b sowwy!” Kamijou shouted, shoving his face into the floor, having instinctively dropped into his apologetic bow again. Index sat up from the futon slowly, like a sick person would, and grabbed Kamijou’s ears with both hands. Then, as if taking a bite out of a giant rice ball, she chomped onto the top of his head with all her might. Six hundred meters away, on the roof of an office building, Stiyl took his eyes from his binoculars. “We’ve found the location of the boy with Index…How is she?” Without turning to face the lady approaching behind him, Stiyl reported: “She’s alive…but since she’s alive, they must have a magic user as well.” The woman was silent. She seemed pleased no one had died, as opposed to concerned about the prospect of another enemy. Though the woman was eighteen, she stood a full head shorter than the fourteen-year-old Stiyl. Of course, Stiyl was more than two meters tall, which still made her taller than the average Japanese. Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail that reached down to her hips, and a katana more than two meters long, called the Command Sword, rested in a sheath at her side; it was the kind used for Shinto rain prayers. However, the label Japanese beauty didn’t seem to quite fit. She wore worn jeans and a short-sleeved white T-shirt. For some reason, the left leg of her jeans had been cut off to reveal her thigh, and the bottom of her T-shirt was tied across her stomach, exposing her navel. Her boots reached up to her knees, and the sheath housing her katana hung from a belt like a handgun in a holster. It dangled there as if she was the sheriff in a Western, but with a katana instead of a gun. Neither that nor her priest robes smelling of sweet perfume could be called proper attire. “So, Kanzaki, just what is that?” “Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to get much information on the boy. At the very least, that probably means he’s neither a sorcerer nor an anomaly.” “What, are you gonna tell me he’s just some kid in high school?” Stiyl ignited the cigarette in his mouth with a glance. “…Don’t joke. I’m actually a sorcerer who created six powerful new characters as an addendum to the twenty-four existing runic symbols. A powerless amateur couldn’t have escaped Innocentius’s clutches. The world isn’t that nice.” No matter how much advice he’d gotten from Index, the speed at which the kid had come up with a tactic to deal with him on the fly…Not to mention his unclassified right hand…If that passed for “normal,” then Japan really was a land of mystery. “You’re right.” Kaori Kanzaki narrowed her eyes. “…The real problem is the fact that someone with such high combat skills is just considered another rowdy, moronic student.” Academy City’s dirty little secret was its mass esper-production system. Although Stiyl and Kanzaki had contacted and received permission from the organization known as the Five Elements Society to enter the city, they’d kept the details about Index to themselves. Even though they were part of the world’s greatest conclave of sorcerers, both in name and power, the group had decided it would be impossible for them to remain hidden in enemy territory. “I suppose they’re…blockading the information. What’s more, we know Index’s wound was healed using magic. Kanzaki, is there another sorcerer’s cabal here in the Far East?” At this point, they were convinced that the boy was affiliated with an organization other than the Five Elements Society. They mistakenly assumed that another group had been aggressively going around erasing all information related to Kamijou. “…Just about everyone should be well documented within the Five Elements Society’s information net, but…” Kanzaki closed her eyes. “We’re dealing with an unknown enemy, and we have no reinforcements. This is a problem.” That was clearly an erroneous conclusion. As long as Kamijou’s Imagine Breaker wasn’t pitted against an “abnormal power,” it had zero effect. In short, it meant that even the machines used in Academy City’s physical examinations were unable to find anything extraordinary about him. Consequently, this resulted in Kamijou’s unfortunate circumstance of possessing the right hand of the strongest class but being treated like a powerless Level Zero. “Let’s assume the worst-case scenario and that this devolves into an inter-cabal magic battle. Stiyl, I hear a fatal weakness was identified, what with your runes not being waterproof?” “I’ve already made up for that. I laminated the runes. I won’t let him use the same trick again.” Deftly performing a bit of sleight of hand as if he was a stage magician, he produced a fresh batch of runes that looked like trading cards. “This time, I won’t stop at just the building; I’ll inscribe a barrier inside a two-kilometer radius…I’ll use 164,000 runes. The arrangements should be complete in about sixty hours.” In reality, magic isn’t as simple as chanting a single incantation. Even if it looks that way on the surface, considerable preparations must be made beforehand. The source of Stiyl’s fire, for example, probably necessitated something along the lines of “soaking a silver wolf’s fangs in moonlight for a decade,” and even this could be considered master-level speed. In other words, magical warfare is a battle to see through the opponents’ strategies. Sorcerers assume from the outset that they’ve already been snared in the enemy’s trap, so they read the technique and counter it. Meanwhile, the attacker predicts counterattack and adjusts his approach accordingly. This is in contrast to simple hand-to-hand melee. When considered as necessitating that one read one hundred or two hundred steps ahead of his nemesis in an ever-changing situation, magical engagement could not have been further removed from the barbaric term combat. It was more akin to a monumental showdown of wits. So for any sorcerer preparing to enter into a conflict, not knowing the numbers or strength of the enemy was a severe handicap. “…They look like they’re having fun.” The rune sorcerer’s observation was made while staring six hundred meters ahead without the use of his binoculars. “Yup, it really does look like fun. That child lives as if she’s always enjoying herself.” Then, as if spitting out something thick and viscous, he asked, “I wonder…just how much longer do we need to keep tearing it apart?” Kanzaki, behind Stiyl, followed his gaze six hundred meters into the distance. Even without using magic or binoculars, her vision—which was eight times better than the average—could make them out vividly. She saw the girl, furious about something, latching her teeth onto the boy’s head while he flailed about violently. “It must be a strange feeling, don’t you think?” Kanzaki asked mechanically. “For someone who was in the same place once before.” “…It’s the usual,” the flame magician replied. Just as usual. 3 “Bath time. Bath time ,” Index sang, carrying a water bucket with both hands and walking beside Kamijou. She had changed from out of her pajamas, back into her safety pin–patched habit, as if she’d simply quit being sick, just like that. Just what kind of magic did they use? Her blood-covered habit was spotless. And that pincushion of a habit…If she put it in a washing machine, it’d be ripped apart in five seconds, Kamijou thought. Was it possible she’d taken it apart and washed it piece by piece? “What, was it bothering you that much? To be honest, I’m not worried about how you smell.” “Does that mean you like sweaty girls?” “That isn’t what I meant!!” Three days had passed since her ritual, and her first request once she was finally capable of moving around freely was to take a bath. It’s worth pointing out that there wasn’t a bath per se in Miss Komoe’s apartment. The choice before them was to either borrow the one in the landlord’s place or to go to the run-down public bath near the apartments. After several days of various happenstances, the young boy and his companion now found themselves walking down the road, carrying their bathing supplies. …I wonder in which century this bathing culture started in Japan. Laughing, Miss Komoe had explained about the public bath system here. She was still letting the two of them stay in her apartment without asking questions. Kamijou couldn’t exactly go back to his dorm since it was marked by the enemy, so he was living the life of a freeloader. “Touma, Touma,” said Index, her voice slightly muffled as she was occupied biting the sleeve of his upper arm. The girl had a bad habit of gnawing on things, and she seemed to intend it as a gesture to draw his attention. “…What?” Kamijou couldn’t hide his annoyance. That morning, Index had announced, “Now that I think of it, I don’t know your name!” Since he’d formally introduced himself, she’d cheekily used his first name about sixty thousand times. “Nothing. I just thought’d be funny to say your name even though I don’t want anything.” Thinking herself terribly witty, she wore the expression of a child visiting an amusement park for the first time. The way Index had attached herself to him was abnormal. It was probably a result of the incident three days earlier. Rather than simply leaving it there and enjoying it, though, Kamijou was struggling with complicated feelings about the fact that apparently nobody had said a kind word to this girl. “I heard from Komoe that Japanese public baths have coffee milk. What’s coffee milk? Is that like a cappuccino?” “…There’s nothing that fancy. It’s just a public bath,” replied Kamijou. Don’t go getting her hopes up like that, Kamijou thought. “Hmm…but a huge bathhouse bath might be a bit of a shock for you. In England, doesn’t everyone have a cramped little bathroom like the ones in hotels?” “Hmm?…Well, I don’t really know about that.” Index tilted her head slightly, as if she really had no idea. “As early as I can remember, I was in Japan. I don’t really know much about how things work over there.” “…Huh. No wonder you speak Japanese fluently. If you’ve been here since you were a kid, doesn’t that pretty much make you Japanese?” If that was the case, things started to get a little sketchy when it came to her running for sanctuary to a church in England. He thought for sure she was heading back to wherever she used to live, but she was actually trying to get to a foreign country she’d never seen before. “Ah no, that’s not what I meant.” Index shook her head in clarification, her silver hair swinging from side to side. “I was supposedly born and raised in London, in St. George’s Cathedral. Apparently, I came here about a year ago.” “Apparently?” Kamijou couldn’t help but frown at the ambiguity. “Yeah, ’cause I can’t remember anything past a year ago.” Index smiled. It was again the expression of a girl taking her first spin on a carousel. Her smile was perfect, but Kamijou nevertheless sensed frustration and pain behind it. “When I first opened my eyes, it was in an alley. I didn’t know anything about myself. I only knew I had to run away. Even though I couldn’t remember what I’d had for dinner the night before, words like sorcerers and Index and Necessarius were all flying around in my head. I was really scared…” “…So you don’t know why you lost all your memories?” “Nope,” she answered. Kamijou was clueless about psychology, but the cause of amnesia in video games and TV shows was almost always one of two things. Either she’d suffered some kind of head injury, or her brain had sealed away her memories because they were too much for her to handle. “Damn it…,” complained Kamijou into the night despite himself. He was livid at the magicians who’d do something like this to her, but although it accomplished nothing, he felt a recognition of his own powerlessness sweeping over him. He realized now why Index had gone out of her way to defend and had grown so close to Kamijou. She’d been thrown into the world not knowing anyone or anything, and the first acquaintance she finally made just happened to be Kamijou. He didn’t think it was anything to be happy about. He didn’t know why, but that kind of answer immediately put him on edge. “Huh? Touma, are you mad?” “I’m not mad,” Kamijou lied, startled. “If I offended you, then I’m sorry, I guess. Touma, how come you’re mad? Is it because of puberty?” “…Wow, I really don’t want to hear about puberty from somebody with the body of a little kid.” “Mgh. What did you say? You seem mad. Or are you doing that thing where you pretend you’re mad just to confuse me? I don’t think I like that side of Touma.” “Wait, you didn’t like me in the first place, so quit it. I’m not hoping for something out of a romantic comedy to happen here.” “…” “Er, what?…Why are you giving me the puppy dog eyes, princess?” “…” He tried to spin the situation as a joke, but Index wasn’t buying it. Weird. This is strange. Why’s Index folding her arms over her chest? Why’s she tearing up and looking all hurt? And why’s she biting her lower lip like that? “Touma.” “Yes?” Kamijou replied at hearing his name yet again. A distinct sense of ill fortune washed over him. “I hate you.” An instant later, he had the rare experience of a girl biting the whole top of his head. 4 Index ended up scurrying off to the public bath by herself. Down the street, Kamijou was similarly trudging alone to their mutual destination. He’d tried chasing her, but the bitter whitewashed nun just darted away from him like a stray. After he’d walked a bit farther, Index would eventually come back into view, as if waiting for him. And then she’d take off again. Repeat. She was seriously acting like a fickle stray. Well, we’re both headed to the same place—the public bath—so we’ll meet up at some point, he ultimately concluded, abandoning his pursuit. Honestly, he was also afraid that someone’d see him lurking through the dark streets after an obviously frail European nun. With his rotten luck, he’d end up getting arrested, no questions asked. “A European nun, huh…” Kamijou played out the thought lazily as he meandered the dimly lit street alone. I get it. If I brought Index to an English church here in Japan, she’d fly out to the Church’s headquarters in London soon afterward. He wouldn’t have any say in the matter. In the end, she’d undoubtedly say something like, It was short, but thank you. I won’t forget about you, since I’ve got, like, perfect recall and everything. An arrow sunk into his chest at the thought—at least that’s what it felt like, but it wasn’t like he had any better ideas. If he couldn’t return Index to the Church’s protection, sorcerers would hound her for the rest of her life. And Kamijou following her to England seemed similarly unrealistic. The worlds they inhabited, their respective situations, and the dimensions in which they existed—they were different in every way. Kamijou lived in a scientific world of espers, and Index lived in a magical world of the occult. The two were as distinct as land and sea and would never coexist. That was all there was to it. Indeed, that was all there was to it…but for some reason, Kamijou was growing irritated, as if a fish bone had gotten caught in his thro— “Huh?” Suddenly, his racing thoughts went dark. Something was…strange. He looked at the clock on the neon sign outside a department store. It was only eight o’clock in the evening. People wouldn’t generally have been asleep at this hour, but for some reason, the city around him had grown exceedingly quiet. It felt as if he was standing in a forest at night. Kamijou had a bad feeling. Come to think of it, when I was walking with Index, we didn’t pass anybody… He kept moving forward, trying to work out what was going on. When he stepped out onto a six-lane thoroughfare, though, that vague sense of something being out of place he’d had immediately crystallized into a clear sense that something was wrong. There was no one there. No customers were coming or going from the big department stores that lined the avenue like so many juice boxes displayed on a convenience store shelf. This road always felt crowded to him, but now it looked deserted. Not a single vehicle drove along the wide highway that now bore a striking resemblance to an airport runway. The cars parked along the street were all empty and abandoned. It was as if he was looking down a farm road at the distant countryside. “Don’t worry. Stiyl has just inscribed Opila runes to keep people away.” Kamijou’s breath caught as if he’d been stabbed through the face by a katana. The voice belonged to a woman. He hadn’t even seen her. That isn’t to say she’d been hiding in the shadows or had somehow snuck up on him. She stood ten meters straight ahead, smack-dab in the middle of the wide, runway-ish, six-lane highway, as if to obstruct his path. He hadn’t just missed her because it was dark—this was on a completely different level. She hadn’t been there a moment ago. However, when he blinked, there she was. “It just discourages attention from the area by making people feel like they shouldn’t come. Most of the people are inside the buildings. There is no need to worry.” His body, unconsciously and illogically, pumped all the blood in his body to his right hand. There was a stinging pain in it, like his wrist had been tied with rope, which instinctively told Kamijou that this person was dangerous. She wore a T-shirt and jeans—one of the legs of which was very boldly cut—which, by itself, was still in the realm of normal clothing. However, a katana more than two meters long hung from her waist as if holstered, swaying with cold, murderous intent in the breeze. The body of the blade was sheathed, so he couldn’t see it, but the jet-black sheath, with history carved into it like a pillar in an old Japanese house, lent credence to its authenticity. “Touma of Kamijou…the magic slayer of God’s cleansing…the kanji. It is a good, true name.” For all that, she didn’t show any signs of nervousness. She was as relaxed as someone making small talk. And that made her all the scarier. “…And you’re…” “I am called Kaori Kanzaki…If at all possible, I would prefer not to give my other name.” “Your other name?” “My magic name.” Kamijou took a step backward automatically, even though he’d expected the reply. Her magic name— When Stiyl had used magic to attack Kamijou, he’d called it his “killer name.” “…So I guess that means you’re with the same sorcerers’ society as Stiyl.” “…?” Kanzaki frowned suspiciously for a moment. “Ah, you heard that from Index, correct?” He offered no answer. A sorcerers’ society was hunting Index because it wanted the 103,000 grimoires. It was a group attempting to achieve the level of demon god, said to be capable of twisting the fabric of the world askew. “To be frank,” Kanzaki continued, closing an eye, “I would like to secure the girl before I have to give my magic name.” Kamijou shuddered. He had his own ace—his right hand—but still he felt a chill run down his spine when sizing up this enemy. “…And if I said no?” he asked anyway. He had zero reason to back down. “Then I will have no choice.” Kanzaki shut her other eye. “I will simply collect the girl after revealing my name.” Wham! A shock rocked Kamijou’s feet like an earthquake. It was as if a bomb had gone off. In his peripheral vision, the distant horizon, which should have been a blanket of bluish darkness, was tinged with orange flames. Somewhere far away. Some hundreds of meters at the extent of his vision, he saw a conflagration. “In…dex…!!” His enemy was an organization. And Kamijou knew the name of the flame sorcerer. In that moment of his distraction, Kaori Kanzaki unleashed her sword. Ten meters separated Kamijou and Kanzaki. The sword she carried was more than two meters in length. With her slim arms, it looked impossible that she could even draw the sword from its sheath. …It should have been. An instant later, as if she had swept the area with a giant laser, the air above Kamijou’s head was sliced wide open. He froze in astonishment. A wind turbine behind him to his right was cleft diagonally in two as easily as slicing butter and every bit as soundlessly. “Please, stop.” The voice came from ten meters ahead of him. “If you divert your attention from me, the only thing that awaits you is death.” Kanzaki had already resheathed her two-meter-long sword. It was too fast. Kamijou couldn’t even see the blade touch the air. He couldn’t move. The only reason he was even still standing was because Kanzaki had purposely missed. That was all his brain could manage. Even that didn’t seem real. This opponent was too terror inspiring for a mind to quickly comprehend. The bisected windmill propeller behind Kamijou struck the ground with a loud clank. Even though the blade’s fragments crashed down immediately to his side, he still couldn’t move. “…!” Kamijou unconsciously gritted his teeth at the realization of how insanely sharp her blade must have been. “I will ask once more.” Kanzaki opened a single eyelid. “I would like to secure the girl before I have to give my magic name.” Her voice was unwavering. Her tone was cold, as if she were suggesting that it was far too soon yet to be surprised. “…Wh-what…are you…talking about?” His feet were glued to the ground. He couldn’t even take a step back, much less advance. Kamijou felt his legs trembling wildly and his stamina quickly failing, as if he had just completed a marathon. “There’s no reason for me to surrender…to someone like you—” “I will ask as many times as necessary.” Reminiscent of some sort of computer glitch, Kanzaki’s right hand blurred, momentarily disappearing. With a blast of wind, something accelerated toward him at horrifying speed. “?!” He had that same mental image from before of giant laser cannons swinging in his direction. It was a massive whirlwind created by a blade traveling fast enough to leave a vacuum in its wake. With Touma Kamijou at the center of the typhoon, the asphalt, streetlights, and trees lining the thoroughfare at regular intervals were all vivisected as if being demolished by a construction-grade hydraulic cutter. A stray bit of concrete the size of a fist struck Kamijou’s right shoulder, and that was all it took to send him flying and threaten to make him pass out. He looked around, clutching his throbbing right shoulder, without moving his neck. One. Two, three four five six seven…Seven linear incisions ran along the even asphalt at a distance of more than ten meters. The sword cuts, which had assailed Kamijou from random and varying directions, had gouged the street in such a way that they gave the impression of claw marks carved into a steel door by bare fingernails with such force as to tear them off. He heard the sword ease back into its sheath. “I would like to secure the girl before I have to give my magic name.” Kanzaki, right hand still poised on her blade’s hilt, spoke in a tone unburdened by hatred or malice. It was just a voice. Seven times. Kamijou hadn’t even seen one strike, but in less than a second, she’d executed seven iai attacks. Had she been so inclined, she could have easily vivisected his body with those seven slashes. The seven slashes that meant certain death. It was likely the abnormal power of magic. She must have possessed some sort of sorcery that both augmented her swordsmanship and extended her range some ten meters. Not to mention that she’d completed seven strikes while drawing her blade only once. “My Seven Heavens Sword weaves these ‘Seven Glints’ into its attack. At this speed, it can easily slay a man seven times over in the span of a single moment. People would call it instantaneous, but certain death would be similarly accurate.” Kamijou, speechless, clenched his right hand with crushing force. With its speed, power, and range, her slash attack had to employ some kind of supernatural force like magic. That being the case, if he could somehow just manage to touch the blade… “Fantasy.” His speculations were cut short. “I’ve received Stiyl’s report. For some reason, your right hand can dispel magic. However, that is impossible if your right hand can’t make direct contact, correct?” …She was right. If he couldn’t touch it, his right hand was useless. It wasn’t just about speed. Stubbornly (and stupidly), Mikoto Misaka always insisted on challenging him head-on with her sparky attack and her Railgun, but Kamijou couldn’t even read the motion or direction of Kaori Kanzaki’s phantasmagoric Seven Glints. If he tried busting out the Imagine Breaker, the seven strikes would doubtlessly slice his arm into neat, round pieces. “I will ask however many times I need to.” Kanzaki’s right hand quietly touched the hilt of the Seven Heavens Sword at her waist. A cold sweat trickled down Kamijou’s cheek. If she decided to stop fooling around and actually moved in for the kill, there was no question he’d be hacked into eight pieces. She had a range of more than ten meters and enough destructive force to carve the trees along the road into nice, thin slices. For that reason alone, running or trying to shield himself would be tantamount to suicide. He gauged the distance between the two of them. It was about ten meters. If he sprinted with muscle-rending force, he could reach her in four steps. …Move. Kamijou desperately commanded his feet, which felt like they were covered in superglue. “Would you please allow me to secure the girl before I have to give my magic name?” …Mo…ve!! Kamijou tore his foot off of the ground, inching it slightly forward. Before Kanzaki’s eyebrow could twitch, he exploded into a full step like a bullet. “Whoaaahhh…aahhhhhh!!” And then another step. If he couldn’t run away from her, dodge to either side, or use anything as a shield, there was only one option left—to create a path for himself by pushing forward. “I do not know what drives you to go this far, but…” Kanzaki heaved a sigh tinged with a hint of sadness rather than shock, and… Seven Glints. Then shattered asphalt and shrapnel from trees swept over him like a cloud of dust. “Ahh…ooohhh!!” If he touched it with his right hand, he could erase it…Even if his brain understood that, though, his body opted not to take the risk. He threw his head forward and crouched. The seven-pronged onslaught whipping overhead made his heart stop. He had no strategy or hope of winning. He’d only dodged it because he got a little lucky. He took one more step forward—the third of four—with full force. However enigmatic the Seven Glints attack was, it was fundamentally an iai strike, an ancient slashing technique in which the user unsheathes his or her sword, strikes, and then quickly resheathes it. A one-hit, certain-death attack. However, this meant that while the blade was free, its user was nothing more than a defenseless corpse. If I can get close enough with the next step…I can win. Kamijou’s sliver of wiggle room was eradicated by the quiet ching of the sword reuniting with its sheath. Then the tiny, incredibly fast sound of the sheathed blade. Seven Glints. Roar! At point-blank range… The seven strikes stabbed directly for Kamijou’s eyes before his reflexes to dodge could kick in. “Damn it…ahhhhhhhhh!!” Rather than advancing his attack or backpedaling as if to catch a ball aimed at his face, he stuck out his right fist in the path of the oncoming blade. Kamijou’s right hand could short out all preternatural phenomena, be they the powers of a vampire or even God. The seven strikes seemed to all be bundled into a single blade this time, perhaps because he was so close. They rocketed toward him. Kamijou would blow the lot of them at once if he could just land a light touch with his Imagine Breaker. The katanas, shining blue under the moonlight, gently caressed the skin on Kamijou’s fingers… …and continued to sink in. “Wha—?!” They didn’t disappear. Even though he was using the Imagine Breaker, the absurd blades didn’t disappear. He immediately tried to pull his hand back, but it was too late. After all, he’d already used his bare hand as a shield against a katana. The blade had already made contact with his right hand. Kanzaki looked at him and narrowed her eyes slightly. The next moment, a watery, sopping noise of flesh being sliced open resonated in the area. Cradling his blood-soaked right hand with his left, Kamijou crumpled to his knees on the spot. Surprisingly enough, his five fingers hadn’t been dismembered. They were all still attached. Of course, that wasn’t because Kamijou’s fingers were unusually strong or because his assailant’s skill had dulled. The fact that he hadn’t had part of his body severed was simply another mercy Kanzaki had granted him. That was all. Kneeling, he looked up. Kanzaki’s eyes were fixed on the perfectly circular blue moon, in front of which Kamijou could make out something like a red thread. It looked like the silk of a spider’s web, a spider’s web drenched with fresh blood instead of dew. At last, he could see them: seven metal wires. “I don’t…believe it…” He bit down. “…You were never a sorcerer in the first place…were you?” Her absurdly long sword was nothing but decoration. Of course, he hadn’t seen the moment she drew her sword. Kanzaki had never drawn it in the first place. She’d only slightly shifted the blade inside its sheath, then let it resettle. The movement obfuscated her hand while she manipulated the seven metal wires. Kamijou’s hand had only been spared because she’d loosened the cords just before his fingers were lopped off. “I already said this. I heard about you from Stiyl,” said Kanzaki, bored. “Do you understand now? This isn’t a question of brute strength but finesse. Take rock-paper-scissors, for example. If you were to use rock for a hundred years, it wouldn’t beat my paper in a thousand.” “…” Kamijou clenched his blood-soaked fist. “You seem to misapprehend something.” Kanzaki regarded him now, her eyes full of pity. “I am not faking my true power with a cheap trick. The Seven Heavens Sword is no decoration. Even if you managed to pierce the Seven Glints, all that awaits you is the genuine Single Glint.” “…” He clenched…his blood-soaked fist. “Moreover…I have not even given my magic name.” “…” …He clenched it. “Please do not force me to say my name, young man.” Kanzaki bit her lip. “I don’t want to use that name ever again.” Kamijou’s straining fist shuddered. This lady was clearly different from Stiyl. She was no one-trick pony. At the most basic level, the most fundamental level, the very ground level, she was made up of something completely different from Kamijou. “…Like I would…surrender.” However, he didn’t relax his grip. He continued squeezing the hand he could no longer feel. Index hadn’t surrendered. She’d taken that gash in the back to save Kamijou. “What was that?…I didn’t hear you.” “I’m saying to shut the hell up, you stupid robot!!” Kamijou tried throwing his bloodstained fist into the face of the woman standing over him. But before he could, the tip of Kanzaki’s boot jabbed his solar plexus. The air in his lungs spilled out in a rush, and at the same time, the black sheath of the Seven Heavens Sword came down against the side of his head like a baseball bat, knocking him off his feet. His body whirled like a dervish, and he landed on the ground on his shoulder. Before he could cry out in pain, he spotted the sole of the boot attempting to crush his head. He immediately rolled aside to dodge, but… “Seven Glints.” With the voice came the seven strikes that pulverized the asphalt around him into dust. The explosion rained shrapnel down on him like bullets, pelting his entire body in a vicious downpour. “Gh…agh…?!” The pain was equivalent to having five or six people ganging up on him at once, and Kamijou writhed. Seeing him like this, Kanzaki drew closer, stomping the ground with the soles of her boots. “Is that enough?” she asked, her tone soft and rather distressed. “There’s no reason for you to go this far for her. Managing to survive more than thirty seconds against one of the top ten sorcerers in London is amazing. Having done this much, she won’t blame you for it at all.” “…” With what remained of his hazy consciousness, he thought back. She was right. Index wouldn’t blame him for anything. But still, thought Kamijou. It was for that very reason—because she continued to endure everything by herself, never blaming anyone—that Kamijou didn’t want to give up. He wanted to save her, the girl who smiled perfectly despite her suffering. Looking as if he were an insect on its last legs, he compelled his right hand into a fist once more. His body was still willing to move for him. It was still moving. “…Wh-why?” Kamijou sputtered, still curled up on the ground. “You…seem awfully bored. You’re…different from that Stiyl guy. You’re…hesitating to finish off an enemy. If you really wanted to, you could have killed me for sure, but you couldn’t…You’ve still got enough humanity left in you to hesitate, don’t you?” Kanzaki had told him over and over. She wanted to end this before she was forced to give her magic name. The rune sorcerer called Stiyl Magnus hadn’t demonstrated even a fraction of a second’s hesitation to do so. “…” Kanzaki fell silent. Kamijou didn’t notice, given that he was about to pass out from the extreme pain. “Then you get it, don’t you? You all ganged up on her, ran her down until she collapsed from hunger; you carved open her back with a sword…You get that it’s wrong, don’t you?” Kanzaki could do nothing but listen to the words spewing from his lips as if he were vomiting blood. “Do you even know?! She doesn’t have any memory of her life from before a year ago because of you. What in the world did you do to her to make her life this horrible?” He didn’t get an answer. Kamijou didn’t understand. Had it been for the sake of an incurably sick child or for a loved one who’d died…If they were targeting Index for some sort of “hope,” if they wanted to obtain the 103,000 grimoires and upend the order of the world and become a demon god for that, then he could understand. But this woman was different. This person was part of an organization. She was told to do this. It was her job to do this. She was ordered to do this. It was asinine that she could hunt down a little girl and stab her in the back for such simplistic reasons. “Wh…y?” Kamijou asked again through gritted teeth. “I’m a loser. Here I am, putting my life on the line, fighting like I’m about to die…but I can’t even protect a single girl. I’m a weakling who can’t do anything but watch you take her away while I grovel.” Like he was about to cry, like a child. “But you’re different, aren’t you?” He didn’t know what he was saying. “With that much strength, you could protect anyone and anything; you could save anyone from anything…” He didn’t even know who he was talking to. “…Why the hell are you doing something like this?” He said it. He was frustrated. If he’d had that much strength, he could protect anything he wanted to, until the end. He was frustrated. This person was so overwhelmingly powerful, yet she squandered her strength with nothing better to do than follow around a little girl. That was frustrating. Because it was as if he was even lower than that. It was so frustrating that he thought he was going to cry. “…” Silence piled upon silence. Had Kamijou been fully conscious, he would certainly have been surprised. “…It’s not like I…” The one who’d been cornered was Kanzaki. With just Kamijou’s words, one of the top ten sorcerers in London had been ensnared. “It’s not like I actually planned on cutting her…I thought the barrier on her habit, the Walking Church, was still working, so…I thought it would be absolutely harmless, so I just slashed a bit, but…” He couldn’t wrap his brain around Kanzaki’s words. “It’s not like I’m doing this because I want to.” She went on. “But if I don’t do this, she can’t keep living…She’ll…Otherwise, she’ll die.” Kaori Kanzaki spoke as if she were a child on the verge of tears. “The name of the organization I belong to is the same as hers…Necessarius, of the Church of England.” She spat out the words as if she was coughing up blood. “She’s my colleague…and a dear and important friend.”