Chapter 1_ Starting Signal Under the Blazing Sun_0

CHAPTER 1 Starting Signal Under the Blazing SunCommence_Hostilities. 1 St. George’s Cathedral in London. It seemed a little big to be a church yet a little small to be a cathedral. In a way, it seemed to make a point of not standing out. Inside, standing with an air of composure, was the archbishop Laura Stuart, who was for all intents and purposes the leader of the English Puritan Church. It would be around nine in the morning Japan time, but clocks in England, the standard for the world’s time, had just struck midnight. Despite being the capital of the nation, an almost solemn silence hung over the streets, marking the day’s end with the arrival of the night’s soft darkness and clear air. All the cathedral’s candles had been snuffed. Only Laura remained. She placed a chair in front of a lectern and sat in it. She wore a habit toned pure white, but it was adorned with black, red, green, purple, gold, and silver thread—every color approved for their official clothing. All the hues created a dazzling contrast. To top it all off, she wore over everything the decorative cloth used by high-ranking clergy. It was, so to speak, formal attire. Crossist society was not unique in this aspect—most cultures could say clothing denoted position and status. Such an explanation might sound rather formal and vague, but school uniforms and chef’s hat heights followed the same reasoning. Sisters like Laura, unlike the substantially more ordinary clergy, attended a variety of public events. They needed countless habits to match the season, time, place, ceremony, situation, and intention. One, for example, might be a purposely lower-ranking outfit for welcoming certain guests, and another might be a purposely higher-ranking outfit to display anger when attending a meeting or conference. The etiquette surrounding clothing was complex and frustrating on many levels. We are all equal as brothers and sisters, children of the Lord…and yet we still have this. The archbishop couldn’t help but sniff at the terms position and rank. Still, such minor matters of etiquette were but a trifle for Laura. Mere cloth scraps could not overshadow her physical splendor. The most striking thing about her was her long golden hair, which was two-and-a-half times her height in length. Normally she used silver hair clips to tie it together, but her hair was down at the moment. The innumerable strands hung loosely, flowing down from her shoulders to fan out in front of her. The loose ends crawled across the floor. On Laura’s lap were combs of gold and silver. Each had its own tooth length, thickness, and separation that she carefully considered as she picked one up. Then, as though carefully plucking the strings of a harp, she ran the comb meticulously through her long hair, one section at a time. Being that her hair was longer than she was tall, her arms were obviously too short to reach the ends of it. She would slowly pull her hair toward her, comb it, then return it to the floor. Her golden locks were like a seashore, waves breaking and receding. After she finished combing all her hair, she would use another comb, and then another one when she was done with that—a seemingly endless cycle of events, as though even the order of combs held some great meaning. The only light shining on her hair was the moonlight coming in from the stained glass windows… …and the light of the LCD monitor on the lectern. The monitor and communication setup had been stationed there temporarily by some agency or other that was pro–Academy City. Normally this would have been Stiyl’s job, but he wasn’t currently in England. Kaori Kanzaki was also learned enough to use a cell phone. Upon asking her about hooking up such a top-of-the-line device, though, she had frozen where she sat, engaging the manual in a staring contest. In the end, she just gave the archbishop a look like an abandoned puppy. “What exactly are you doing?” A grating voice came from the monitor. Laura couldn’t tell if it belonged to a man or a woman, to a child or an adult, to a saint or a sinner. She didn’t bother looking; it would just be that “human” hanging upside down in the image anyway. The “human” was Aleister, the chairman of the Academy City General Board. Laura, with her heaps of hair coming over her shoulders, spoke quietly. “Can you not tell? I am in the middle of doing my hair. I suppose that normally, a gentleman wouldn’t have the opportunity to see a lady caring for her body as I do now.” She giggled. “Among ladies in twelfth-century England, the utmost virtue was creating hair of sunshine by verily burning the sunlight or moonlight into it to change its color. Quite elegant when compared with crude hair dyes, yes, wouldn’t you agree?” Her voice was proud, but there was no reply from the monitor. She cocked her head a bit, though she still didn’t look at the LCD screen. “Pray tell, what may the problem be? Silence is no answer to a question, indeed?” she asked dubiously. Still, she received no answer. Finally, just when she thought things were getting suspicious, the heap of machinery opened its mouth to speak. “Well…I have been meaning to say this for quite some time now.” “Go on.” “Frankly speaking, the way you speak Japanese is…strange. Or else you are making fun of us. Which is it?” Laura’s movements froze. The comb trembled, caught in her magnificent hair. “I-I-I-I must protest, what dost thou mean by this?! I have no duty to afford courtesy to those who dost not believe in the Lord’s authority! Such a coarse way of speaking is more than enough to give to the likes of you” “I see…Well, if such a…unique way of speaking is by your own design, then I will leave it at that. I only thought to let you take a Japanese course if you were sincerely worried about it. I govern a city of scholars, after all.” “Mgh! I am not worried at all! What foolishness is this— Why should I be required to worry so for such an inconvenient language only spoken by a single country in the Far East?!” Scritch-scritch cried her comb as she quickly ran it through her hair. With no response from the monitor, the empty cathedral was filled with only the sounds of hair being combed. After a little while, Aleister spoke, as if to change the subject. “Still, I do wonder why you’re combing your hair in front of a guest. Normally, such a thing should be finished before going to talk to someone.” Laura’s tone and attitude gradually regained some of its calm—either she liked talking about hair or was just relieved to be off the previous subject. “It all has to do with timing. Normally, a lady would be doing her hair in her bedroom at this late hour of the night. I would thank you to overlook a mere hair-brushing.” “Hmm, and I suppose the fruits of your labors would be that hair of sunshine, as you so eloquently stated earlier. The moonlight bit may be mere superstition, but ultraviolet sunlight can have decolorizing effects. Perhaps you have already seen the hints from the appearance of old books, but I shall give you a warning…You’ll go bald.” “…That truly was a disgraceful thing to say during diplomatic relations.” Laura turned. Her hair was covering the floor like a carpet, glittering in reflected light from the LCD monitor. It had already taken on a gold and silver sheen after being carefully combed, and now it bore rich reds and blues among it. “Disgraceful,” she said a second time under her breath. “In any event, I do believe you are cognizant of why I might contact you at such an hour, but I would just like to be positive. I do thank you for taking my request at such a poor time.” “Do not concern yourself with the time difference. I have already started my job by this time.” “I’m trying to say that it was disgraceful of me to interrupt your work hours!” Laura stared at the light reflected in her own hair. “There is a ceremony happening where you are, nay? As the leader, I would expect you to mayhap give a greeting onstage.” “…Do you think I could go in front of people like this?” “Heh-heh. Yes, indeed. Your appearance knows not the meaning of courtesy.” For the first time, Laura looked at the monitor on the lectern. It showed a cylindrical tube filled with red liquid and a person floating upside down in it. The person wore green surgical clothing—certainly not an image to show to others in public, no matter how you thought about it. And above all, the person would retain this form over another millennium (apparently, anyway—Laura didn’t understand the finer details). People would obviously start to think it strange if Aleister were to continue appearing in the public eye like that. Of course, there were likely plenty of methods to change one’s name or face if desired. Similarly, Laura Stuart was not of the age her appearance let on. Still, she was more the type to burst out laughing at someone’s shortcomings than to fix her own. “Then allow me to continue. Well, I don’t have all the time in the world here, so some things I will need to be quick and to the point with.” The face in the monitor exhaled. “The intruder is in Academy City, correct?” “Indeed.” Laura nodded. “I am aware you are currently inviting in general attendees—and that you must loosen your security to do so.” Laura had experience with the same thing. If one were to create a truly impenetrable security system aimed at absolutely protecting VIPs, then during large-scale congregations such as parades or Christmas, mass transit would slow to a crawl, which would have negative effects on the operational schedule itself. They needed a little “play” in the security net so that they wouldn’t hold back the entire flow of people. “A sorcerer has slipped through the gaps and made a move on you. Our information sources have confirmed but two. A high executive in the Roman Orthodox Church and a smuggler in her employ.” “A smuggler…Just to be sure—that means this isn’t an operative trying to create conflict or destruction?” “Yes. The smuggler’s name is Oriana Thomson, and her employer is Lidvia Lorenzetti. Their objective, in essence, is a transaction of a certain item.” She picked up a paper document next to the monitor on the lectern and waved it pointlessly in front of the camera lens. The letters on it were relatively small, but she was talking to one representing Academy City, user of all kinds of unknown technology. She couldn’t say for sure that Aleister was unable to read it. “First, we have Oriana Thomson. As her name would verily imply, she was born in England and is—or should be—a citizen of Italy. She is the foremost smuggler of the sorcery world, known by the name Route Disturber. Not only can she elude the eyes of would-be-pursuers, she can shake them off even if she’s found out.” More precisely, Oriana would do anything to get someone off her trail. Because of that, her movements were entirely random, and even if you laid down a plan from information ahead of time, you’d easily lose sight of her. Oriana Thomson would drop bridges, create oceans of fire, and lay countless traps, setting them up as parting gifts, breaking away from one pursuer after another. The sorcerer had a huge variety of means at her disposal. She was also pretty, a fact she would use every now and then to manipulate emotions. As one might imagine, considering her place of birth, Oriana had clashed with the English Puritan Church on countless occasions while operating in London. On those occasions, the organization Necessarius tried to track her, but they would frequently find themselves blocked off by what she called her “little friend,” which had nothing to do with magic. She wasn’t just battle-crazed; she used human walls made of civilians to easily blend in to crowds, too. “And now on to Lidvia Lorenzetti. An eccentric even within the Roman Orthodox Church, she is also known as the Mardi Gras—in its original sense of Shrove Tuesday, of course. She specializes in missionary work to those society has trouble accepting: a veritable maiden of repentance.” Unlike Oriana, Lidvia was a genuine Roman Orthodox believer, having come straight from the Holy See. Though she held a fairly high position there, people said she lived to spread the teachings of God to those all over the world, and thus she never sought out an actual “seat” for herself. She, too, was a woman who would do anything—if it were for proselytizing. She had once been given silk garments and a platinum staff directly from the pope’s hands as a reward for her excellent service, and she hadn’t wasted a second in pawning them off and using the money for her travels. Lidvia gathered many talented people to “save” them or “spread the Word further,” and they were all geniuses the likes of which the world had never seen. The most striking fact about Lidvia was that they were all people with problems in human societies, like the perpetrators of atrocious crimes and fanatical cultists. They were the sorts of people you would think would be executed long before being scouted like this. Her ability to sniff out these people was nothing to make light of. It also meant she was proficient in regulating and controlling these firebrands and loose cannons. The Roman Orthodox Church was known for putting sinners to death and burning heretics at the stake, but they couldn’t attack people who had been officially acknowledged as having turned over a new leaf. For certain higher-ups who hated nonconformists, Lidvia’s actions were a thorn in their side. And Laura, archbishop of the English Puritan Church, found her difficult to deal with as well. Laura could present open opposition if Oriana were clearly training sorcerers, but if she were seen only praying and giving Bibles to the unfortunate, any attempts to obstruct her would just reflect badly on the accuser. “So in your world, they’re quite a pair, then. I wouldn’t understand, of course. Who are they attempting to make this transaction with?” “Unconfirmed, really. At this point, the most suspicious would be Nikolai Tolstoj of the Russian Catholic Church. The person would likely be ranked bishop.” Nikolai didn’t have the aggressiveness of the Roman Orthodox Church’s pagan-eliminating ways, but he was known for his cunning; he was the type to quietly benefit when two other groups were fighting. “Well then, as for the item the smugglers in question are transporting…Is there some obstacle to telling us what it is?” “Well, I need to tell you its name and describe its shape, at least, or you will have no way of pursuing it, will you?” Laura took her eyes from the monitor on the lectern and heaved an object on the floor up into her hands, never leaving her seat. “A sword?” “A replica. I borrowed it from the British Museum. It’s just a look-alike—it has no magical properties.” In Laura’s hands was a marble sword. It was around a meter and a half in length, and in width…or, rather, its guard was thirty-five centimeters on either side, for a total of seventy centimeters. It was about ten centimeters thick, and, of course, it didn’t have an edge on it. Only its tip had been roughly sharpened, as though it were a pencil. “It’s called the Stab Sword. I may not be able to fully explain its properties, but it is said to be able to pierce even dragons and pin them to the earth. Its magical value and effects are both enormous. If it were wielded against us, we would all find ourselves in a dilemma. It could embroil all of the United Kingdom in war.” The Stab Sword was a Soul Arm capable of destroying certain “pillars” of the various denominations of the Church with a single stroke. If one aimed for a specific denomination and their “pillars” were destroyed, nearby enemy factions would see the weakened denomination and might attack all at once. Those “pillars” were the so-called “saints” in the Crossist Church. Well-known among the Crossist community, their combat strength rivaled nuclear weapons. And the Stab Sword could erase their very existence. “Hmm. I suppose it would be like a tactical weapon in your world.” Aleister stared at the sword in question from across the camera. “Could you explain what sort of crisis we might face should it be used in Academy City? Depending on the situation, we may have to redirect or evacuate the civilians in attendance.” “You needn’t worry. This weapon can be used only in the world of sorcerers. It won’t have any effect if used in your world.” “I see. We might have been able to plan a countermeasure with a more detailed explanation of its mechanisms.” “Oh, it surprises me that those in the world of science could plan against sorcery. I don’t suppose you’re sheltering any sorcerers on the inside, are you?” “…” “…” Both of them fell silent. Slender, sharp strings of tension stretched all around them, so tight that a single breath could snap them. Still, neither appeared flustered. In fact, it almost felt like they were enjoying this. Laura spoke first, in a bright voice as if plucking the taut strings with a finger. “Let us leave the pointless reconnaissance to the side. We haven’t much time,” she said with a shake of her head. The carpet of her curls swayed a little. “The most pressing issue is that the deal for this Stab Sword will take place within Academy City.” “The enemy is likely aware of that. We cannot allow English Puritan sorcerers onto our grounds as an exception.” If they gave a special exception in the English Puritan Church’s case, other churches and organizations would start asking for permission as well. Not all of them would be on their side. There would surely be those who would use the chance to infiltrate the city and enact all sorts of subversive activities. The situation was enough of a mess as it was—anyone could imagine how it would escalate if they created more flames. And that was leaving the current Daihasei Festival out of it, too. They would want to avoid as much as possible any chaos while the general populace and mass media were in the city. Accidents and disasters were out of the question. A similar situation had occurred at the beginning of August when an alchemist commandeered Misawa Cram School. They had invited the English Puritans and Roman Orthodoxy into the city to stop Aureolus Isard’s rampage, but the circumstances were different now. There were a lot of civilians present for the Daihasei Festival who had come from outside Academy City. Aleister could be obstinate and say, “We will decide who and how to solve our city’s problems,” but someone could then claim, “There are spectators from our country, so we will protect our citizens,” fanning the flames of chaos even further. There was a strength disparity between organizations, of course. Academy City was the head of the science faction and was simply on a different level of power compared to the magic factions and various small-scale groups. Which naturally meant there were large disparities in how influential their voices were, but it also wasn’t a situation where one could force their ways onto others. If one were to spurn the opinion of a group in the magic faction, a greater power of the magic faction would then use that as a pretext to get involved. Even if one were to force them to yield, another even larger organization would cut in. Meanwhile, the problem would start to snowball out of control, eventually ending in the entire science and magic worlds quarreling with each other. Of course, the Daihasei Festival was watched by the entire world. It would probably take less than a day from the start of a crisis before the situation was past the point of no return. “Still, it would be another problem were one of Academy City to defeat a sorcerer within its walls.” The science and magic worlds kept to their respective territories, guaranteeing their own interests and responsibilities. Public security forces from Academy City carelessly capturing a sorcerer ran the danger of overstepping those bounds. “The dullards have certainly thought this through. Both our sides have detected an abnormality, and yet in the situation, neither can carelessly lay a hand on the intruders. Neither of us can play our hands. Which means they can relax and concentrate on the deal.” “But we cannot fold just because we can’t play our hands.” Laura stood up. Her too-long hair stayed on the floor; it would take more than that to stir so much mass. The combs of gold and silver in her lap fell off, but she didn’t even spare them a glance. “I understand that you are inviting the general populace inside. You would surely welcome one going there for nothing more than a vacation, no?” Laura suggested seriously, smirking at the monitor. “Hmm. Even disguised as a vacation, having a group made up of only English Puritan members would still be an issue. If it was seen as a collective action planned and executed by a single party, others might understandably take that as an organization having successfully infiltrated Academy City and conducting operations freely. But if we were to restrict it to a single individual…and if it happened to be an old friend of someone living in Academy City, we may be able to pull the wool over their eyes,” said Aleister pleasantly and proudly. And then, Aleister added, “…And that would mean we have no choice but to appoint that boy as his travel guide.” 2 It was ten thirty. The opening ceremonies had finally ended. “Damn, it’s hot…” The average high school student Touma Kamijou was standing in a soccer stadium. Apparently the facility belonged to an athletics school that put a lot of oomph into their club activities. It was so blazing hot that the artificial, synthetic resin grass might have melted, but nevertheless the procession of boys and girls in all kinds of gym clothing passed through the exit, then split up into small groups and dispersed. There were a little more than 1.8 million participants in the Daihasei Festival. The stadium was to professional specifications, but it was impossible to fit everyone in there. And that’s why the opening ceremonies had been held in more than three hundred places at once. “…But I still think this city has too many principals,” Kamijou muttered, exhausted. The “little stories” principals had were always long, and they had to sit through many of them in this blazing heat. For various reasons, Kamijou was an amnesiac, but he felt like he was experiencing a second life midway through the ceremony. Of course, the General Board carefully selected which principals would speak. Otherwise, the entire first day of the competition would be over by the time every school’s principal got done talking. A look around revealed students of all grade levels who were participating in the Daihasei Festival, but most of them seemed to feel about the same as Kamijou. They were all generally in a short-sleeved shirt and shorts. Depending on the school, some might be wearing leggings or track-and-field tank tops. The more unique schools might have been wearing dogi uniforms for martial arts such as aikido, or camo-patterned cargo pants, or even body armor (the un-powered kind) made from special materials. Basically, anything went. The one common thread was that every student was wearing either a red or a white headband on their forehead. The Daihasei Festival was generally a competition between schools; wins and losses would add and subtract points for the school. The schools were then split between a red team and a white team, and the total number of victories for each team would combine, and points would be added to each individual school based on that. Red versus white, school versus school: Everything combined would form a total score, and each school would be ranked in the very end by their final point tally. Kamijou and Mikoto’s pre–opening ceremony argument about who would win and who would lose was based on this system. Whichever one of their schools ended up higher in the standings of all the schools would be declared the winner. Or, in her words: “J-just watch…! You’re going to regret making the punishment game doing whatever the winner wants” “…It’s a bit late, but I wonder what she’ll do to me. W-wait. She isn’t going to have us play a game of catch with her Railgun (with me being the catcher) until the sun goes down, right?! I don’t even want to say the word catcher anymore” The students around him at the stadium exit gave him strange looks as he shouted despite himself. He snapped out of it and snuck away from the bus roundabout in front of the stadium. Still, well… Until now, Kamijou had been trembling in fear at his terrible vision of the future, but all he had to do was not lose, right? Sure, she was from an elite school, but it was only a middle school—and an all-girls’ school, at that. On top of that, even though abilities were allowed in the games, they were (or should’ve been) a simple extension of gym class. Honestly, he doubted young ladies raised with such love and care could compete with a team of absurdly sweaty high school kids in the prime of manhood. And even if he lost directly to Tokiwadai in one game, there was still a way. As long as his school beat the other schools besides them, they could cover the difference. “Touma!” Suddenly the one beside him addressed him. He looked to see a girl there, unique among the gym-uniformed masses in a pure white habit lined with embroidery of gold thread. Her name was Index. The English girl had silver hair, green eyes, and a slender frame, but she also possessed perfect recall, which she’d used to store 103,000 magical grimoires in her memory. Frankly, she was even more dangerous than an unskilled esper. Index slumped, clutching a small calico to her chest with both hands. “Touma…I think I’m hungry.” “Already?! It’s still morning! You just ate breakfast two hours ago” “Mgh…I know, but there’s all these indescribable smells coming from everywhere!” As she spoke, the cat’s nose perked up and it mewed happily. Kamijou decided to sniff around himself to be sure. His nose caught the faint, particular smell of soy sauce and mayonnaise being cooked. He looked windward and saw a whole street lined with the kind of stalls selling homemade food you would see at a festival. Despite the breadth of the athletic competition, the students wouldn’t all be confined to events at every waking hour of the day. As long as they got to the stadiums they needed to go to at the times they needed to be there, they were free to roam. They could go root for other schools, look around for souvenirs with family members, or stand in a convenience store and read manga without any issues. The schools of culinary arts and home economics like the one Maika Tsuchimikado attended were setting up their stalls and booths and working as fervently as they could to bring in a little extra income. There weren’t actually many events where every single student in a school participated at once. They’d be split up based on academic year and how the event worked, so someone would always be free. The ones running the booths were probably supposed to be cheering on their own schools right now, but apparently the closing ceremonies would be more bombastic if they earned some money at the stalls. More than 1.8 million students’ families were here; the potential for big profits was clearly present. “Ahh, mmm…Japan’s culinary culture is like one big tempting ball of food!” said the nun holding the cat suddenly. Index would rush to get her hands on any food put in front of her. Even just the distant scents would make her start to drool if too much time passed. Kamijou almost felt like giving her a pat on the back for managing not to launch into a desperate attack on the food stands. “Right…You’re free all day, so when I get some time later, we can walk around together.” Index nodded in agreement, but then froze. “…Later?” “Yeah. The first event’s about to start, and I need to get over there. Here, take this pamphlet. I marked the stadium seats for the events I’ll be in today. Let’s get going!” “Wahh, nooo! Why are you acting so businesslike today, Touma?” Index cried something out, but he was already running a little late. He wanted to visit at least one or two booths, but if he released the hungry girl into the wild, that wouldn’t be nearly enough. He was sure of it; she wouldn’t be satisfied until they visited every single booth along that street. He caught Maika as she went by selling food and bought one of her maid bento (1,200 yen? That’s steep…) after haggling it down to half price, pushed it into Index’s arms, and headed off for the stadium with her. The maid lunch happened to have completely ordinary Japanese foods in it. That’s it? For that price? he complained. Maika had this to say on the matter: “Japan is the world capital of bento! They don’t even have this tradition in most other countries. In English-speaking countries they just wrap the whole meal into the word lunch and eat anything. Biscuits are pretty much the only portable foods in western civilization, which is why I went all in on Japanese cuisine. And you keep saying how expensive it is, but it was just made for the beginning of the festivities and meant for those who came to watch, so it’s a high-grade product! I’ve already reduced it nearly ten times from what an udon meal would cost given the occasion. In fact, I think it’s proper tradition to use only the best ingredients and make these Daihasei Festival–specific bento by hand.” None of that really made any sense, but it all seemed to be logical to her. With the maid bento still in one hand, he headed for his high school’s campus. He really wanted to go with Index all the way to the audience seats, but the competitors and audience used different entrances. They parted ways, and he headed over to the competitors’ entrance. Their campus was still being set up at the moment, and a few teachers were spraying water with hoses here and there to keep the dust from whipping up. An autonomous advertisement balloon was hovering in the blue sky, and the uniquely thin screen hanging vertically from it read, DISTRICT 7 HIGH SCHOOL SECTION—EVENT 1—POLE TOPPLE. 00:10:23 REMAINING UNTIL THE GAME BEGINS. I don’t know what Misaka’s gonna make me do if we lose to Tokiwadai Middle School in the overall rankings, so let’s get things started with a bang and rack up some points! The Daihasei Festival took place over seven days, so your pace throughout the week was really important for final placement. It depended on your strategy, and there were a few different things you could do. You could try to shoot ahead at the start with a lot of points, or you could save your stamina for the latter half and overtake the exhausted schools. Kamijou had amnesia, so this would be his first time experiencing the event firsthand. Still, unless you were a student from a pretty good sports school, nobody could calmly think through the ranking situation and maintain stamina. Sure, they all had special powers, but they were students at heart. They were going to be emotionally affected by how the events turned out. Even if there was still a theoretical chance at victory, being behind by a significant margin would break their spirits and ruin chances of a comeback. Kamijou preferred to put in the immediate effort. Come to think of it, our preparation was one big chain of nonsense with my class. Maybe the whole school was like that. Well, I’m sure they’re all pumped. None of them likes to lose. I’m actually more worried about what problems they’ll cause while trying to win. With hope brimming in his heart over the useless solidarity his class had, he strode into the competitors’ waiting area on the side of the campus and marched into the circle of his classmates. And then, Blue Hair, who seemed like he’d be all for crazy festivals like this, turned toward him and said: “Uuuggghhh…I don’t feel like doing this…” Kamijou found himself splendidly fallen headfirst on the ground. From his new vantage point, he looked around. The rest of his classmates looked about the same. They all seemed a step away from having sunstroke. “H-hey, wait a minute, everyone. Why are we already on our final day of exhaustion before the first event’s even started?” asked Kamijou, shivering to himself. Blue Hair whipped around. “Eh? Well, I was having so much fun last night that I didn’t get a wink of sleep! And before the opening ceremonies, we were all fighting over what strategy we should use to beat the other schools, and now our stamina is almost zero” “All of you?! Every single one of you—haven’t you ever heard of putting the cart before the horse?! Anyway, congratulations, Himegami! I am so glad you’re blending in with the rest of the class” He was referring to Aisa Himegami, who was standing a short distance away. Fair-skinned with black hair down to her waist, she had a unique ability called Deep Blood—for slaying vampires. A cross hung around her neck, hidden against her chest in the short-sleeved uniform she wore. She had just transferred into Kamijou’s class at the beginning of the month. Her long black hair was very Japanese as it swayed in the wind, although the style seemed to be more out of the ordinary these days. “School events,” she said curtly. “That’s all they are. We don’t have personal trainers. Or coaches.” “Oh, is that all they are?!” We’re gonna lose for sure! thought Kamijou, clutching his head in despair. Then, as if to reward him for his efforts: “Nya. No reason for you to lose hope, Kammy. I mean, the entrance ceremony was fifteen principals comboing us with their speeches. And then a raging hurricane of fifty short celebratory messages. I give you credit for getting through all that…” That was Motoharu Tsuchimikado—a multiple-organization spy well-versed in both magic and science. His short blond hair was spiked up, he wore lightly tinted sunglasses, and golden accessories jingled around his neck. The short sleeves and shorts of his uniform clashed terribly with the rest of him. “E-even our two fitness idiots are like this…N-no, wait, if our opponents are just as worn out, then we still have a chance” cried Kamijou, clinging to one last hope. “Won’t happen, Kammy! Apparently we’re up against some elite private sports school.” “Gyaaaahhhh!” Kamijou buried his head in the dirt. He was already imagining the hellscapes Mikoto Misaka would have in store for him after he lost. As goose bumps spread to his whole body, one of the girls in the class arrived, late. “…Wh-what is this? Why is everyone in such low spirits?!” “Huh?” Kamijou looked up, still on the ground. Like his other classmates, she was wearing short sleeves and shorts. But she also had a thin parka around her shoulders. On the parka’s breast was written DAIHASEI FESTIVAL ADMINISTRATIVE COMMITTEE—HIGH SCHOOL DIVISION. The same thing was probably on the back, too. She was tall compared to the class, and she looked good, too. It took only a glance to see her chest swelling under her uniform T-shirt, he thought in an offhanded way. Her black hair was parted so that it would fall over her ears, exposing most of her forehead. Seiri Fukiyose. Also known as the brick wall: pretty but not the least bit sexy. As she looked over the class in a daze, her eyes finally fell on Kamijou, who was on the ground by himself. “Hah! Don’t tell me your excessive listlessness has infected the other students, Kamijou…How do you plan on fixing this?!” “Huh? Wait, this isn’t my fault anyway! I just got here a minute ago!” “So that’s why everyone looks so tired—because you were late?” “You really want this to be my fault, don’t you?! Besides, you got here later than me!” “I was doing administrative committee work, stupid!” Everyone’s so quick to treat me like an idiot! Kamijou nearly started crying. “Just leave me alone already! I can’t go on. I’ve come face-to-face with an unlucky, unfortunate reality, and in my current state, I am incapable of standing up” “How undisciplined. You’re in a state of minor anemia due to skipping breakfast rather than the psychogenic sort. If you get some water and minerals in you, you’ll be fine, so have a sports drink already and stand the heck up, Touma Kamijou!” With a clatter, Fukiyose whipped out a few varieties of small plastic bottles from her parka pocket. “Ahhh! Your logic would make only health-goods maniacs happy! And in your case it’s not water or minerals, it’s calcium you lack, or am I just imagining it?!” “What are you saying? The fish I had for breakfast gave me enough of that!” Fukiyose glared at him sharply. “I hate people who give up on controlling their life for dumb reasons like they’re unlucky or unfortunate. If you act lazy, everyone else isn’t going to want to do anything. So stand up straight—for all our sakes!” Kamijou had to flinch away from Seiri Fukiyose’s constant stream of nagging. But as he backed off, the administrative committee member closed in on him even more. He tried to go back even farther, but a flower bed was in the way. And then, jubilant expressions appeared on his classmates’ faces. “Wh-whoa. Fukiyose, you’re amazing! You’re the perfect shield against the Kamijou factor!” “And normally girls would just go, O-oh, Kamijou, are you all right? too!” “And he’d be complaining about his rotten luck or whatever when he’d actually be in complete control of the perfect situation” “Our hope and the hope of all humanity. We may be able to overturn Kammy if we study Seiri Fukiyose” What kind of person do they think I am?! Kamijou retreated, exhausted. And then… …suddenly, his foot bumped into something with a little squish sound. It was one of the rubber hoses for sprinkling water. The sprinklers were for keeping the sand and dust to a minimum before the event (though they couldn’t do the job perfectly). Farther away, a male teacher working on-campus muttered “Hm?” confusedly, staring at the hose that water wasn’t coming out of anymore. That moment… The water that Kamijou’s foot was holding back burst out. The hose connected to the sprinkler faucet buried underground started swinging around wildly, raining tap water all over the place. The one closest to the faucet was… “F-Fukiyosee?! Damn you, Kamijou factor! She was our final stronghold” “It’s over. As straitlaced as she is, interfering with the Kamijou factor only makes her another victim—of a wet T-shirt fiasco…” “And then it turns out she actually has on pretty cute underwear, and the usual romantic comedy begins…” “Our hopelessness and the hopelessness of all humanity…Wait, if Fukiyose can’t do it, then who the hell can?!” Seriously, what kind of person do you think I am?! And seriously, Seiri Fukiyose, I’m so sorry! Kamijou alternated between being mad and apologizing to her. Now that she was soaking wet, her gym uniform was sticking tightly to her skin, revealing both her skin and her underwear. It didn’t quite fit her image, the yellow and orange checkers, the extremely cute design her underwear had. Fukiyose, however, never changed her expression. “…Something to say?” Not at all Kamijou immediately bowed in apology. With a hmph, she looked away and closed up the front of her parka, then produced a paper milk carton and began to slurp milk out of a straw. She was ingesting more calcium to calm her own anger. The male students nearby started using their thumbs to plug up the sprinkler faucets and shoot the water like a laser cannon at other people. They were already utterly exhausted and actually pretty aware of the fact that Fukiyose was soaked, but they seemed to be letting out their gentlemanly mentality to try and show her that they didn’t mind and it was okay. They looked innocent, but as they got further into the crazy water game, it was clear their eyes weren’t smiling. Kamijou watched them in a daze. Teamwork wasn’t even in his classmates’ vocabulary. N-no one’s gonna be able to play the pole-topple game like this Maybe it’s already over for real. This class is a mess in a lot of ways. He wandered over to the wall of the gymnasium where the competitors’ entrance was, and he happened to overhear a man and woman speaking to each other. They were hidden in the shadow of the gymnasium, arguing. “…That…absolutelynot!” “…Absurdit’s clear that…is it not?” What now…? Kamijou pressed himself against the gymnasium wall and poked his head around the corner to see. In the shadows of the back of the gymnasium, he saw his class’s homeroom teacher, Komoe Tsukuyomi. She was 135 centimeters tall and no one would bat an eye if she were wearing a third grader’s backpack. Today she wore a short, pleated white skirt and a light green tank top—sort of like a cheerleading uniform. Was it so she could cheer them on? Facing her was a man he didn’t know. Maybe it was a teacher from a different school. Even the faculty changed into store-bought jerseys for the duration of the Daihasei Festival, but for some reason, he was wearing a close-fitting suit and tie. Miss Komoe and the male teacher were arguing. Actually, it was more like Miss Komoe was on the receiving end of the male teacher’s disdainful scorning. “I already said I’ll admit that our facilities and classes aren’t perfect! But that’s our fault—the students have nothing to do with it!” Miss Komoe was waving her arms around while shouting, but the male teacher didn’t pay it any mind. “Hah. Your facilities are imperfect because your students are of low quality, aren’t they? The General Board gives monetary bonuses to schools that deliver. Heh. Of course, a school that produces a constant stream of dropouts would never even get in an application. Yes, Miss Komoe, I’ve heard. Your final first-semester ability measurements were horrible, weren’t they? It must be such a pain to have to deal with such failures.” “Th-there is no success or failure when it comes to the students! Only their individuality! Everyone is working as hard as they can! How…how can we, as teachers, even think about abandoning them for our own convenience?!” “Is that an excuse to hide your own incompetence? Ha-ha-ha. What a fanciful viewpoint that is. Shall I destroy it with facts? The elite class I’ve been in charge of will beat your dropouts into the dust. Yes, the first event is the pole topple, right? Well, I should advise you as the representative of the opposing school to put in a word with the prep committee so that you can keep the number of wounded to a minimum.” “Wha…?” “You caused me a great deal of embarrassment at the last meeting—I’ll be paying that back now. In a stadium broadcasting to the entire world. I do intend to have mercy, but I don’t know what will happen if your trashy failures are too weak for even that. Ha-ha-ha,” he laughed as he walked away. So he’s from the school we’re up against? Kamijou thought he had the gist of it. He was Level Zero already, so being called a failure or a dropout honestly didn’t do very much damage at this point, but… “…You’re wrong,” muttered Miss Komoe to herself suddenly. All alone—to nobody—with her head down—and voice shaking. “You’re not failures, right, everyone…?” Her already small shoulders seemed to shrink down even further. As if to say all that harassment had happened because of some failing of hers. She looked up to the sky and stopped, as if staring at something. “” Kamijou stayed quiet for a moment. Then he turned around. His classmates were all standing behind him silently. Touma Kamijou spoke to them and to confirm just one thing. “Right, so, everyone! You heard that, didn’t you? You’ve all been complaining about being tired or not feeling like doing anything…” He shut one eye. “…but I’ll ask you one more time. Are you still not up for this?” 3 Mikoto Misaka was in the student seating of the audience. Unlike the regular audience seats, there was no overhang to block the sunlight. There was just a blue sheet laid out on the ground, without even seats. It’s like a flower-viewing picnic, thought Mikoto with a sigh. It was primitive, wild—but that actually made it feel fresh. Considering her schedule of events she was participating in, watching Kamijou’s class’s event all the way through was relatively dangerous. She couldn’t keep her curiosity at bay, though, so here she was. No one else was wearing the designated gym clothes of Tokiwadai Middle School, of course. I don’t think they could possibly beat our school, though…She sighed to herself. Tokiwadai was an elite school that valued practical ability above all else, as could be seen from its two Level Five students, seven Level Fours, and all the rest being Level Threes. Another school had scraped by them at the Daihasei Festival last year, placing them in second, but that was another one of the top five schools in the city, Nagatenjouki Academy. In reality, these “top five” schools were the ones vying for victory every year. If anyone overturned that, they would probably become one of the top five. Everyone in Academy City would have known this, so why would he have challenged her to something so reckless? She didn’t know. She thought for a moment and decided the idiot wasn’t actually trying to win. But…There could always be a surprise upset. One that ignored everything, including the objective ratings of Level Zero and Level Five. Like the time he demolished Academy City’s strongest Level Five with only his right fist…When he clenched his teeth and got back to his feet again and again for her sake… Her thoughts started to blank out a little. Ack, no, stop! What am I blushing for all of a sudden?! She fanned her reddened face with her paper uchiwa fan. Flap flap flap flap She shook her head—it was a good thing nobody from her school was there to see her like this. But then she looked… …and right next to her was a silver-haired girl in nun garb lying facedown on the ground. “?!” Mikoto’s shoulders gave a jerk. This must have been the girl who was with that idiot on the first day of school. He called her Index—was that a nickname? It certainly didn’t sound like an actual name. She wondered what the girl was doing here, but an answer came to her a moment later. She must have been here to cheer him on. She was holding a pair of chopsticks in her right fist, and there was an emptied bento box nearby. Mikoto wondered if it was the school lunch Maika Tsuchimikado was going around selling. As the girl lay on the ground, she began to speak. “…I…I’m hungry…” “You literally just got here and ate that bento” shouted Mikoto on reflex. Then she revised her thinking—what if she didn’t seem exhausted because of an empty stomach but because of heat stroke? She took a sports drink in a plastic bottle from the sheet in front of her and handed it to the girl. Index immediately shot up and managed to get halfway through, saying “Thank you” before the contents of the bottle were empty. And then, not a moment later, she fell limp again. “…I think filling an empty tummy with a drink is too drastic a strategy…” “I guess you really are hungry…” Mikoto put a hand to her forehead and sighed. A calico cat slipped out from between the lying Index and the ground, seeming to say, Oh, hello there, young lady. I see she’s caused you some trouble. Hm?…Well, now. This doesn’t seem quite right. The cat’s eyes darted around. Mikoto’s ability was called Railgun—she was a superpowerful electricity user. Word Count: (8543)