CHAPTER 1

Starting Signal Under the Blazing Sun
Commence_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-Fukiyoseeeee?! 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. She constantly emitted a weak electromagnetic field even if she didn’t want to, so animals tended not to like her very much.

She stared at the listless sister in white. “Hey, you. Did you see him today? Did he seem strange at all to you?”

“Hm? Him? You mean Touma? He seemed the same as always…”

Mikoto nearly burst out with, Are you two together all the time? but thought better of it. If he wasn’t particularly less energetic, then maybe that meant he wasn’t too caught up over winning? That means our school will win anyway, so…Wait, what should I do if we win? She thought for a moment, then shook her head very hard.

The collapsed girl looked at her askance. “Hey, Short Hair.”

“…That’s how you talk to someone who shared her drink with you?”

“Hey, Generous Short Hair.”

“That doesn’t make it a whole lot better, you know!!” she shouted, one of her eyebrows twitching.

The sister didn’t seem to take notice of it. “What are you doing here, Short Hair?”

“Huh? Wh-what? Well, I mean, I’m…”

“Are you rooting for Touma?”

“Wha, uh, that’s ridiculous! Why would I be here rooting for that guy, anyway?”

“Is that so?” said the girl in white, not pursuing the topic. Mikoto started flap-flap-flapping her fan on her face a lot faster.

Then the school’s PA system came on and announced that the players were entering.

The first event was the pole topple—two opposing teams had their own seven-meter-tall pole. The goal was to try and topple the opposing team’s pole while protecting their own, apparently. A crackling voice came over the speakers to explain that high school freshmen would be the ones taking part in the event.

There were TV crews here, but it was basically just a school athletic meet. The commentary for the TV stations was being broadcast from somewhere else, so it didn’t look too out of place. Of course, just the fact that people were watching on TV made a huge difference in the place’s mood and atmosphere. It was obviously impossible to do a close-up on every single one of the 1.8 million students, but some still found it nerve-racking.

Despite the insanity of the students’ cheering, strangely enough, she felt a kind of calm, a quiet masking tension, inside her. That was the moment she fully realized this was a public, worldwide event.

Still…

“I-I’m…I’m so hungry…”

The sister collapsed facedown on the ground mercilessly shattered the tense mood. She looked so pathetic that Mikoto took a portable stamina ration shaped like a cookie (and chocolate-flavored) and held it out for Index. The cheerless sister brought up only her head and opened her little mouth. When Mikoto held the ration in her fingertips at her mouth, surprisingly, she started eating it obediently.

Still, I guess that idiot wouldn’t be nervous about it…In fact, I’m more worried about him completely skipping all this like it doesn’t matter.

Then, prompted by the school broadcast, she casually looked over to the field. The team opposing Kamijou’s was from an elite school with a heavy emphasis on sports, and they looked the part—she could practically smell their expertise from their simple warm-up stretches. They had tense countenances, like coiled springs; they seemed used to public matches.

Each class gathered at its own end of the campus and began to stand up their poles. This’ll be a disaster if it’s a straight fight, thought Mikoto, shaking her head and looking over at Kamijou’s class. As far as the pamphlet told her, his school wasn’t a prep school or anything. It was just a completely normal, featureless school—or so she thought.

What she saw then were true warriors.

I…What? Mikoto doubted her eyes.

Despite the oddly intimidating air coming from their group, they didn’t engage in any jeering or trash talk. Instead, they silently formed a line on their side of the campus, Touma Kamijou at its center. This wasn’t just pole-toppling—it was like they were lining up for a medieval battle. The poles on either side to be toppled looked like soldiers’ spears or something. This wasn’t the kind of tension that came from knowing cameras were trained on you. The only things they were seeing right now were clearly their own army and the enemy one.

Grrrrrrrrrr, came a strange sound from them. Their supernatural powers numbered in the hundreds, and their side effects were clashing with one another, causing the air to vibrate.

What…? The altogether bizarre tension almost made Mikoto cry out. What the heck is with that determination?! He uses that stupid charisma for stupid stuff like this, too?! H-he can’t seriously be planning to win, can he?! Are you that set on beating me?! What the heck could you possibly want to make me do?!

This was all because their whole contingent had found out about the episode with Miss Komoe, but there was no way Mikoto would have known that.

Her face paled as the game-beginning announcement came. With the enemy forces baffled by the gap in their mind-sets and with a cloud of dust in their wakes, Kamijou and the rest of the warriors charged the enemy lines.

4

Those taking part in the pole-topple game naturally split into two groups: one to stand up their own pole and support it and one to drag the opponent’s pole to the ground.

Kamijou chose the latter option.

So as soon as the match-starting signal came out, he began running straight toward the enemy line.

“Ooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!”

As he ran, he roared.

One may think it a mere single game in an athletic meet…but this was Academy City, where most of the students were espers who had awakened to some sort of natural power. And now a hundred of those espers were clashing. Nobody knew what would start flying around—fire, water, earth, wind, lightning, ice, or any number of other things—and that made both enthusiasm and tension far above the norm.

About eighty meters lay between the two enemy camps. From the straight, horizontal enemy line sparked a succession of lights. They looked like camera flashes from the audience, but they weren’t. The students were firing long-range esper attacks—probably explosive bursts made with fire or explosion-type abilities. In addition, they would be covering them by using pressurization-type abilities to make tiny invisible walls that created their bullet shapes. This creation process meant the transparent “shells” of the explosive bullets changed how light refracted through the distorted air; they threw back the light like sunlight hitting a transparent balloon. Multiple espers cooperating to create a single kind of attack was another thing you would probably only ever see at the Daihasei Festival.

Kamijou figured offhand that the pressurized bullet shells would come off and release the explosive pressure within them, sending shock waves in all directions. As the dozens of shots were fired at him, a huge number of spears made of sand were coming from his allies to meet them and overtaking him as he ran. These were telekinetic attacks. The “power” had no original color or shape, but the sand particles in the air reacted to the invisible force—like iron filings aligning with a magnetic field.

The explosive bullets and telekinetic spears collided halfway between each team and exploded. There was a string of delighted shrieks and squeals from the stands as the unexpected wind forces hit them like they were riding a roller coaster.

Well…I guess it’s a lot more fun to watch!! Flinching a bit from the sounds of the explosions, Kamijou pressed onward.

The enemy school seemed to be filled with sports experts and clearly put a lot into ability development. At least these attacks weren’t as bad as Railgun’s or Accelerator’s—those two could definitely kill you in one hit—but they were still scary anyway. Kamijou’s right hand was loaded with a power called the Imagine Breaker. It was a fantastic ability, one that could nullify any sorcery, any supernatural power, even divine miracles, with a single touch…but in the end, it was in only his right hand. He couldn’t completely defend against abilities coming at him from all directions like this.

As he mulled over that, still running at the enemy lines, he saw someone running alongside him. It was Blue Hair. “Let’s do it, Kami. Those rotten, high-and-mighty elitists—just feel their aura of handsomeness and good looks. Watch as I, the comedic mastermind, smash them all into a million pieces! Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!”

A few explosive bullets that their return fire missed came rushing at them, but Blue Hair laughed and danced around them like a ballerina, dodging every bullet with time to spare.

The teams were about twenty meters apart now. They couldn’t risk looking away, but Kamijou got in a retort at Blue Hair, running beside him, anyway. “Hey, what on earth are you so happy about?”

“Ehh?! Kami, it’s love—love, I tell you!” he replied, thick with his fake accent. “These athletic girls, lively, sweating, crying, their fleeting hearts weaving a sadistic form of love for a national television network—nay, for a multinational broadcast! Their love will do anything to achieve its goal, and I would never turn it away to open up a harem route!!”

He continued laughing uproariously, and as his spirits heightened, his movements grew even faster.

“Hey, uh…Is that angry guy with the crew cut part of that love? Look at how red he is—that’s some pretty intense pillow talk, eh?”

“You’re such a joker— Wait, gyaaaaaaaaaah?!”

Thanks to Kamijou’s calm notification, Blue Hair realized what the “pillow talk” really was and froze in place. A second later, an explosive bullet sent him hurtling backward. Kamijou looked back, startled, but one of their allies had caught him in the air with their invisible telekinetic force.

Cheers and applause erupted from the audience seats.

Holy shit, those things are strong. I’ll pass on the carnival ride, thanks! And now the audience is into it because they think this is what the Daihasei Festival is for!! He took his eyes off the flying Blue Hair and looked in front of him again.

There was the enemy team. About ten meters before they collided now. Touma Kamijou quietly clenched his right hand into a fist.

A moment later, he dove straight into the enemy ranks.

5

The story ended with Kamijou’s class winning the game.

They were confident that a straight-up battle would end in total defeat, so right before the two teams clashed, Kamijou’s class fired all the abilities at their disposal at the ground to create a huge screen of dust, taking away the enemy’s sight and using a blitzkrieg-style surprise-attack tactic. The faculty had been sprinkling water on the grounds beforehand to prevent sand from being kicked up like this, but they couldn’t deal with successive attacks scooping it out entirely. The one who came up with the idea, Seiri Fukiyose, had split the entire class into roles as she held her parka to her chest—one group to shoot the ground and make a dust cloud, one to sneak through the dust cloud and push over their pole, and one for the telepaths who would give the orders to make dust and to get their allies who ran into it out at the proper time. To top it all off, she held command over the entire operation.

As this happened, though, telepathic messages used to convey the order to make dust clouds didn’t reach him. Unfortunately, he was at the tip of their spear, so he got blown away by friendly fire and then beaten to a pulp by the enemies. Still, results were results.

The warriors, covered in scrapes and bruises, left the courtyard from the competitors’ entrance without thinking at all about either having wrested victory from the arms of defeat or the wounds they sustained doing so. When they did, Miss Komoe, half crying, brought over a first aid kit.

“B-but why? Why did everyone act so recklessly to try and win?! The Daihasei Festival is for everybody to have fun playing in the games! It doesn’t matter if we win or lose! You’re all so torn up now, and I, well…it doesn’t make me the least bit happy…!!”

Despite her complaints, the students began splitting off into twos and threes and leaving, as if to tell her that some things were better left unsaid. Kamijou left the competitor waiting area as well and went over to the cheering section, looking for Index.

She should have been in the student cheering section. Normally it was off-limits to anyone but students, but he had hesitated to bring her to the regular audience seating. She had 103,000 grimoires packed away in her brain. They were much more valuable outside this city than inside it.

“Indeeex? That’s strange. Where did she go?”

Unfortunately, when he went to check the student cheering section, he didn’t see her anywhere. They weren’t really seats, either—just a blue vinyl sheet lying on the dirt ground of the campus. There was nothing blocking them from the actual event…but anyway, it was really crowded. The students going back and forth were like a wall, and he had difficulty just looking around.

He dove into the crowd and walked from one end of the cheering section to the other, but he didn’t find her. He went back the same way. Still, there was no sign of her.

Hmm…That white habit she wears stands out a lot, so I thought I’d see her right away. He reached into his gym shorts pocket and looked over at the school building, which was a bit farther away. I gave her a zero-yen cell phone, so using that to meet up with her would be fastest…but I seem to have left my cell phone in the classroom. The fact that he’d never actually seen Index using the cell phone gave him cause for a lot of worry, but he decided this would be the best solution.

A lot of schools were cordoned off for the duration of the Daihasei Festival. They contained facilities for ability development curricula, so they couldn’t let outsiders see any of it. But it wasn’t an issue for the students who belonged to the school like Kamijou. There were doctors and nurses waiting in the nurse’s offices in case they had to treat injuries, and the shower rooms and such were open for use as well.

In any event, Kamijou headed for the entrance. There was a pair of black-clad Anti-Skill members in the shoe locker room. It was a little surreal to see teachers, who normally taught history and math at the blackboard, carrying guns.

“Excuse me! I want to find someone who got lost in the crowd, but I left my cell phone in the classroom. Can I go get it?”

“Straight and to the point as usual, Kamijou. If you need to use the school phones because you can’t get a signal, give us a call. That is all. Have a nice festival.”

The math teacher’s reply contained some annoyance. Still, he delivered all the necessary points—obviously the man had training.

Kamijou walked by them and into the school. He traded his shoes for slippers then headed for the stairwell. The empty school was pretty quiet—of course, the announcements being broadcast over the speakers were echoing around because of it, and that was a pain.

He went up the stairs. His classroom was only a few moments’ walk down the hallway. He came to the door and threw it open. I’m glad Himegami is getting used to everyone in the class. Anyway, let’s get my cell phone and give Index a call. If Himegami’s free, we can bring her along and walk around together—

A moment later, he fell over.

The administrative committee member, Seiri Fukiyose, was in there, with all her clothes off.

He hadn’t realized that the curtains were all closed until he opened the door. Now, in the darkened classroom, she sat alone on a nearby desk as they faced each other. She was down to one piece of underwear. Really just one—she didn’t even have on her bra. She must have been changing out of her clothes, since they’d gotten soaked with the hose before. The panties she had now seemed to be brand-new, and the wet clothing, including her underwear, had been stuffed into a vinyl bag at her feet. The rest of her clothes must have been in the duffel bag sitting next to that one.

Seiri Fukiyose, without batting an eye, stared at the intruder.

“………………………………………………………”

Eventually, though, her face still impassive, she reached for a nearby chair.

Kamijou’s shoulders jerked. “W-wait a minute, Fukiyose! I only came here to get my cell phone so I could find someone who got lost— I didn’t have any evil intentions!! And you should really read the manual for the classroom chairs before using them! You’d probably actually kill me if you hit me with that!!”

Wshh!! Kamijou was on the ground groveling within 0.2 seconds. Fukiyose looked at him and sighed, then let go of the chair. She took a new parka out of the duffel bag at her feet and wrapped herself in it for now. “Fine, whatever. Just get out of the classroom for a minute.”

“…You’re not mad?”

“You’re looking for someone who got lost, aren’t you? You know, you don’t have to keep bowing and groveling like that—but don’t look up, Touma Kamijou!”

She had on a parka, but under that the administrative committee member was wearing only panties. And, perhaps due to impatience, she couldn’t seem to zip up the parka. Kamijou, as frightened as she was, didn’t notice the shakiness in her hands.

Kamijou continued to press his face to the ground like a soldier to a feudal lord, then decided to crawl backward out the door. “…You’re seriously not mad?”

“No, so just get out!”

She took a paper box that was on the desk and flung it at his head, and he hastily jumped out of the room. He slid the door shut behind him, sat down in the hallway, and took a deep breath.

Ahh…wow, that scared me…

After shaking his head, he looked down and noticed the paper box in the hallway, about the size of a box of cigarettes. Wondering if it was the one Fukiyose had just thrown at him, he picked it up and looked at it.

Written on it was:

RED-HOT MR. SHEEP—AN EXTREME INFRARED TREATMENT DEVICE YOU CAN USE JUST BY CONNECTING IT TO A CELL PHONE’S BOTTOM PORT. WORKS ON ANYTHING, FROM KNOTS IN YOUR SHOULDERS TO BODILY FATIGUE!!

Upon looking at the box again, the actual device would have been shaped like a cute, deformed sheep. It might have been from the same mascot line as the frog on Mikoto’s school bag.

“…You have to plug an accessory into a cell phone? ‘Anything from knots in your shoulders to bodily fatigue’? That doesn’t seem like a very big range of things. I had no idea people on this planet fell for such clearly suspicious products…Huh? Wait, don’t they show this off on TV shopping programs late at night?”

Of course, the television was in the room Index slept in, and by the time late-night shows came on, she was sleeping soundly. He had to watch the programs using the TV on his phone.

Fukiyose, for her part, didn’t seem to notice Kamijou’s complaining. “Kamijou, is your cell phone in your desk?”

“Oh, there should be a bag on top of the desk. It’s in there…”

“After I change, I’ll bring it to you, so you wait right there!”

“Thanks, Fukiyose. I’ll trade it for this weird as-seen-on-TV product. You know, I didn’t think you’d be the sort of person they sold these products to.”

He heard a short, startled cry from inside the classroom. She must not have realized what she’d thrown at him. After a few moments, her voice came back from the other side of the door. “Th-that isn’t really relevant now, is it? And besides, even if I watched shopping programs with a notepad in one hand and lay around on my bed reading shopping magazines, what would be wrong with that?!”

“N-no, I didn’t say it was bad. I was just a little surprised…”

Fukiyose seemed to have a knack for sassy retorts, but also seemed to have trouble when they were turned on her. Kamijou had thought what he’d said was acceptable, but then words came back from the classroom with even more haste. “What? I can want to fill my room with novelty cookware, which seem convenient when I see them in magazines, but when I get them they’re nothing special, and I only end up using them two or three times before abandoning them, and it’s no business of yours!”

“It’s that bad?! You should calm down and think about it before calling them!”

He meant that as a generous piece of advice for a classmate, but he got some crazy in response. “I mean, doesn’t a frying pan with a notched surface just seem so wonderful? They advertised it as catching thirty percent of the grease that comes off meat. But the surface is just dented, and you can’t even make eggs sunny-side up with it!”

Kamijou decided to stop trying. He stared at the box again for the infrared sheep device in his hands. “Works on knots in your shoulders, huh…?”

“Why do you sound so dubious? I can have knots in my shoulders at this age and it’s perfectly fine!”

“No, not that.” He looked up at the ceiling, still sitting in the hallway. “…I was just thinking, maybe you get knots in your shoulders because your breasts are so big…Ack! I mean—”

One moment later…

A duffel bag crashed through the sliding door and into Kamijou. His cell phone was thrown in there as a bonus—Seiri Fukiyose was ever the kind and gracious committee member.

6

“Touma…Huh? You kind of look like you’re crying.”

“Don’t worry about it…”

The girl dressed in a white habit tilted her head cutely to the side, but Kamijou answered in a shaky voice. He also decided not to tell her about the epic adventure that had unfolded before he found her. On top of everything else, the zero-yen cell phone Index had was dead (she didn’t understand what the words charge or power supply meant in this context). He’d ended up relying on her ultra-conspicuous habit to find her.

They had gone back to the student cheering seats. Index had moved through the crowd to get to Kamijou, and for some reason she cradled an empty plastic bottle in her arms along with the calico. The cat didn’t seem to react to it; it yawned lazily as if saying cats being afraid of plastic bottles was only a superstition.

“…A-anyway, my stomach is empty, and I’m in urgent need of something to eat…Touma!”

“What?! What happened to your bento?! Why do you look like an angry ghost starved for energy?!”

“Short Hair was here before, and she gave me a drink and a chocolate cookie…but they didn’t help at all…”

“At all?! You were scarfing down extra food and that’s what you say?! And who’s Short Hair?! I don’t care, actually, but you made sure to say thank you, right, Index?!”

Index didn’t react much to his shouting, though. Girls often had a separate stomach for sweets, but Index’s stomach seemed to be constructed to allow her to deal with every single kind of food separately. Kamijou figured that if the bento didn’t sate her, then they would need to go to another food stand no matter what. For now, he looked at the thick pamphlet he’d given to Index before. There wasn’t much time before his next event, the ball-rolling, but there was a little.

“Whatever. Let’s get out of the cheering seats. There are mountains of food by that stall area from before.”

When Index heard that, her head whipped around to look at him. “Mountains?!”

“N-no, look, there might be mountains’ worth, but Mr. Kamijou didn’t say his wallet could cover all of it! Stop it with those sparkling eyes, the guilt, ohhh, the guilt…!!”

After his cry, he took the wallet out of his shorts pocket and checked inside. There was some money in there, but it had to last him the entire seven days of the Daihasei Festival. If he burned through it on the first day, he would undoubtedly meet a tragic end.

Worried about how he’d rein in Index this time, he decided to head over to the stalls for now. Next to him, Index’s thoughts turned to this unseen palace of food, causing her eyes, hair, and skin—all of her, basically—to sparkle. He’d heard some theory once about psychology or something that said a person’s mental activity could affect them physically. It seemed to be true.

Kamijou and Index approached a large pedestrian crosswalk. They stopped there as the light turned red. There was generally no civilian traffic allowed in Academy City during the Daihasei Festival, but business vehicles like automated buses, taxis, and delivery trucks were still on the roads. That was the reason they couldn’t make the place into a so-called “pedestrian paradise” despite the deluge of people around.

The food stalls were just a little bit past the other side of the crosswalk. They could already smell the faint scents of soy sauce and other sauces being cooked from across the street. The light turned green, and Index’s sparkle levels were reaching a yearly high…

…when— Clatter-clatter-clatter.

One of the Anti-Skill officers, charged with protecting peace in the city, brought a no-crossing sign in front of the road.

“Oh, sorry ’bout this! A big group of wind instrument clubs is starting their parade in a moment. We need to block off the flow of traffic now, or we won’t make it, ’kay?”

The officer was apparently the lady who had helped him out during the entrance ceremony about two weeks ago. Though she had her black hair tied in the back, she was a scarily good-looking teacher. She wasn’t wearing the green jersey he remembered; instead, she was clad in her official, mostly black gear. She wasn’t wearing her helmet—maybe so she wouldn’t give the regular people a bad impression? Kamijou didn’t know why she didn’t just wear more normal clothes instead of jerseys and combat armor.

Their outward image seemed to be the most important thing to Academy City’s higher-ups during this public Daihasei Festival. Actually, the strategy going into maintaining appearances was probably half of the whole point here. Academy City was, as has been established, a closed environment, but even that had its limitations. Outsiders knew, for example, that research on strange, unknown science was proceeding in its completely secret, completely cordoned-off facilities. Naturally, they might feel rather opposed to it. That was the reason the city was opened up like this a few times every year.

Of course, security detail in research areas was much tighter than normal—they didn’t want anyone getting to the core secrets of ability development. Making such strict security feel normal to civilians had to be the work of true professionals. The Anti-Skill lady’s outfit was probably one piece of the strategy. Her pretty face being visible did give her a more favorable impression than having every inch of skin covered in violent gear.

He looked between the no-crossing sign and their destination. “Umm, we want to go over there. Is there a different way around?”

“Ack. The big parade is cutting off a good eight kilometers of this road. I think it was in the pamphlet schedule. Hmm…” The Anti-Skill lady looked it over. “There aren’t any pedestrian walkways around here, either…I guess this one here would be the closest? There’s an underground mall about three kilometers west of here. If you enter at U04 and leave from V01, you can cross underground…”

Three kilometers…?! Kamijou was dumbfounded. He looked over. Index had a face that implied she couldn’t walk that far and was losing the battle with her empty stomach. She slumped to the ground without a word.

7

Mikoto Misaka ran through the streets.

Not inside a closed-off stadium, but through the roads filled with people. There were no restrictions on entering buildings or any road preparations, either.

Despite that, Mikoto was currently competing. She glanced to the side and saw several other runners on the sidewalks opposite the road.

There was no restriction on non-competitors being in the way—in fact, this was the one event in which their presence was a necessity.

It was the scavenger-hunt race.

However, the event took place across three entire academic districts of the city: Districts 7, 8, and 9. Using modes of transportation such as the self-driving buses and subways were, of course, forbidden. It was almost like a more nuanced, more complicated version of the marathon, where they had to dash out of the stadium, find the designated item, and return. The mental aspect was important; you needed to build the shortest route in your head. And not with your face down on your desk in anxious worry, but in a situation that demanded you deplete your stamina in a long-distance foot race. It was famous for always having very difficult-to-find items given the area of the game.

Argh! This is Kuroko’s specialty—she’s the one who can teleport! At least make it easier by having this be in a place without the tourists around!

Her ability was immensely powerful, but in areas crowded with bystanders, she had a hard time handling it. In consideration for the civilians, the Academy City General Board had set the maximum level of ability interference to four. However you looked at it, Mikoto’s ability was way over the limit.

She was coming to a water supply point, but she ignored the sports drinks set up there and kept going. Too much water in your system would actually slow you down in a long-distance race. She opened up the folded scrap of paper in her hand again and once more checked the name of the indicated item written there. I drew the short stick again…Whoa!!

As she ran through the throng, she suddenly spotted her goal “item” right nearby.

This was one of the conditions:

If the indicated item is in the possession of a third party, upon gaining permission from that person, return to the stadium with him or her in tow.

Got it!! Mikoto burst off one of her high-rebound shoe soles and dove into the mountain of people.

Kamijou put a hand on Index’s shoulder as she cried and clung to the no-crossing sign. “Come on, Index. If we stay here, the smell is going to tantalize you. The pamphlet has branches of those food stalls on it. Let’s go look for something else, all right?”

She sobbed. “It’s so close I can almost touch it, but I’ll never be able to reach it!” she shouted, oddly poetically. The Anti-Skill lady who put up the sign looked guilty, but rules were rules. She couldn’t let them past. “T-Touma…Then where is the next closest one of these stall thingies?”

“Huh? Hmm…I guess it would be this one,” he said, flipping through the pamphlet at random. “Three kilometers to the west…Wait, that’s exactly where the underground mall entrance is that she told us to use!”

“…Ahhh…”

“Hmm…But if we walk all the way there, I might not make it to my next event. What about the buses…Oh. They’re all detouring around this street during the parade, too. Jeez. Doesn’t look like this is happening, Index. You’ll have to endure it until after the ball-rolling event.”

“(…snap)”

“Uh, wait, what?! No! Don’t get mad at me for that! I, Touma Kamijou, profess to have absolutely nothing to do with the location of the stalls or the program of events or the bus routes!!”

Index, who didn’t feel like listening to him, opened her cute mouth like some kind of monster and leaped at him. It was so fast not even the Anti-Skill lady could react. So now she’s going to eat me!! He couldn’t help but flinch…

…when he suddenly blurred away at high speed.

Snap!! Index’s teeth dug into empty air.

She looked up, wondering what happened. Her accuracy rate—and kill rate—with her bite attack was 100 percent.

But it was only natural she’d miss—from the right, Mikoto Misaka had come running in swiftly, grabbed Kamijou by the back of his neck, and then quickly disappeared off to the left.

“All right!! I’ve got my ticket to victory! Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha!!”

“W-wait…! I can’t breathe! A-at least explain this to me…!!”

The two of them disappeared into the crowd before the dumbstruck Index. She face-planted onto the sidewalk in exhaustion, and the Anti-Skill lady, unable to just leave her be, handed her a ration that looked like a biscuit.

8

Kamijou, now nothing but a messy rag, entered the stadium with Mikoto Misaka, and they cut through the goal tape.

This stadium was in a totally different world than the one his pole-toppling event had been in. It apparently belonged to a sports engineering university. There were white lines on an orange-colored asphalt track like the kind used for official track-and-field events. The seating was set up in tiers like a real stadium as well, and there were far more reporters with cameras and far greater security detail.

An administrative committee high school student was waiting for her at the end, and after Mikoto passed over the goal line, she placed a large sports towel on Mikoto’s head. The way she offered a drink and used the small oxygen cylinder was both brisk and businesslike—not only in a practical way, but also in a way with the cameras on them in mind. There would be an awards ceremony and a simple interview after this. She’d basically be waiting in another place for the rest of the competitors to finish.

This is totally different…That committee member moves like an expert personal trainer from some sports engineering place.

Then, the high school committee member, after seeing to Mikoto, gave Kamijou a suspicious look. He braced himself a little, not knowing why, and then she began to whisper.

“(…Touma Kamijou. Yes, this is certainly the item for your scavenger hunt, but you seem to have a lot to do with girls, don’t you?!)”

“(…That voice…Wait, Fukiyose?!)”

Kamijou finally looked at her more closely, and it was indeed Seiri Fukiyose. She had on a short-sleeved T-shirt and shorts, with her thin parka over her shoulders. She froze for a second, but she was on the job, so she didn’t let herself get any angrier.

“(…I am so, so sorry for earlier, for my lack of caution and attention, and for walking in on you changing!)”

“(…I’m trying my best to forget about it, so just drop it already, Touma Kamijou!)”

“(…Ohhh, I’m really, really sorry. By the way, Fukiyose, does that sheep-shaped infrared TV product actually feel good?)”

“(…Did you want one?)”

“(…N-no, I was just a little curious! I didn’t say I wanted one!)”

“(…Be quiet. Everyone’s working earnestly, so I would thank you not to get in my way of seeing to the event and the athletes!)”

Without any further desire to listen to Kamijou, Fukiyose picked up a clipboard from the ground lying next to a case of drinks and began writing what were probably race results with a ballpoint pen. Nobody realized Mikoto was right next to him looking a little irritated.

Now that he had figured out Fukiyose was no longer willing to talk to him, he turned back to the one who had dragged him all the way here against his will. “By the way, Misaka. You made me run so far that I’m soaked in sweat, and my calves feel like they’re gonna explode. It would seem the rules say you need to get the person’s permission first. Am I just seeing things?”

“Oh, that? Yeah, you’re seeing things. Anyway, it doesn’t say anywhere I can’t leave getting permission until after the fact!”

“…”

“Come on, don’t just sit down like that. You look pathetic. You’re so lazy!” She put the sports towel that was on her on top of Kamijou’s head instead. Then she placed her hands on top of that and started madly wiping off the sweat on his face. It was like she was drying a little kid’s wet hair. Kamijou felt a bit mortified, but she was doing it with such force he couldn’t get her hands away. Flailing his arms was making him look even more like a kid, so he decided to be quiet and let her have her way.

After that, it looked like Mikoto was about to hand him a drink bottle with a straw in it, but suddenly she looked at the straw again and stopped. Her eyes went to Fukiyose and she shook the bottle a little. Fukiyose, writing something on the clipboard, looked up and shook her head. It seemed like the rules said only one drink per competitor and no more.

“……………………………………………………………………………”

Mikoto stayed still for a few moments, but then at an unfortunate moment some dust must have gotten caught in Kamijou’s throat because he started hacking up a lung. She winced, then shook for a few moments before saying, “Argh, you’ve got no backbone! I can’t stand to watch you do that! You can have it! Take it!!”

“Gwahhh!!”

Mikoto pushed the side of the drink bottle against his cheek; he thought he saw some liquid spurt out of it, but she wasn’t watching. Her face was bright red as she turned away from him and disappeared over to where the awards ceremony was to be held. They were relatively unelaborate when the games were between classes or academic years because of the number of people, but for individual events they still had the top three properly represented and awarded. Mikoto, having gotten first place, was obviously one of the ones receiving an award.

Next to him, Fukiyose remained silent, clicking her tongue in a clear show of disdain. The event was still going on, though, and she needed to see to the next athlete, so she left to prepare for that. Of course, Mikoto was the only one being awarded anything. If this were a bread-eating race, he would have been the bread. There was no point in his continued existence once things were over, so he might as well have just left.

This is just adding insult to injury…This whole event is even more of an inconvenience for the random people involved than for the actual people competing! Wouldn’t the whole point be the athletes not being able to go all out, since they have to match the pace of the random people they grab? Kamijou finally came to the end of his doubts, but nobody was around who could answer them. As he slurped up the drink given to him, he wondered if Index was still waiting around by the no-crossing sign.

Suddenly, a scrap of paper blew into him on the wind. It looked like the thing saying what they needed to find for the scavenger-hunt race. There were no other athletes in the stadium yet—Mikoto had clinched first by a landslide—so this must have been hers. Fukiyose was finished with her busy writing on her clipboard, too, so they didn’t need it anymore. The cleaning robots would pick it up even if he left it there, but he decided to pick up the burnable trash and look at it.

What…?

And there it was.

One phrase: “A high school student who has already participated in his or her first event.”

What the hell…? I-I mean, sure, I just finished the pole-topple contest. But there’s gotta be at least a hundred thousand other kids who fit this condition…Why was…Why was it me…?

He suddenly felt exhausted, like an anvil was pressing down on his back. His shoulders drooped and he trudged to the exit. As he walked, though, he suddenly started to wonder how Misaka even knew he had just done the pole-topple contest at all.

9

It was a long way between the stadium and where he left Index, so he decided to take the bus.

Seventy percent of the currently operating buses were driverless, automatic ones. Kamijou pressed a temporary button attached to the side of the bus stop, and a mainly electric-powered bus glided up without any engine noise.

Driverless technology for passenger planes, trains, and boats was in development, but the car was apparently the most difficult of the bunch. All areas—land, sea, and air—demanded extremely complex control and decision-making. They could be used only during times like the Daihasei Festival, where there were already transportation restrictions in place.

The bus door opened automatically and Kamijou climbed on board. No private cars were allowed in the city, so the bus was packed. There was a driver’s seat, but a reinforced glass shield like a telephone booth separated it from passengers. Watching the steering wheel and pedals moving smoothly without an operator there was pretty fascinating.

The bus didn’t use gas and was thus very quiet as it let people off and picked people up a few times before bringing Kamijou to his destination.

He left the vehicle. This still wasn’t where he’d left Index—that was a little ways away. The road was blocked off by the wind ensemble parade, so the bus routes had been changed temporarily.

He trotted along until he began to hear a competition broadcast mixed in with the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Everything coming over the stadiums’ speakers was being broadcast via various big-screen TVs on department store walls, the sides of blimps, and to temporarily constructed outdoor theaters.

“Regarding the results of the previous men’s obstacle course, the decision has been made that—”

“These are the events that will be beginning within the next hour. Once an event begins, no further spectators will be allowed entry, so please be—”

“The Fourth Combined School scavenger hunt certainly didn’t betray anyone’s expectations as Mikoto Misaka from Tokiwadai Middle School won in a landslide. She crossed the finish line a full seven minutes ahead of the next closest competitor—”

“Attention, we have a lost child. If there is a Mr. Charles Goncourt visiting from Saint-Tropez, please find the nearest security robot and have it verify your face and Academy City–issued Daihasei Festival entrance pass. When your position has been confirmed, we will immediately bring your child to you. Veuillez l’entendre. Nous vous annonçons un enfant manquant”

As he listened to the broadcasts, their volumes quickly increasing then passing him by, he looked around him. All right. She wouldn’t just go off somewhere and get lost, would she?

It would be great if he could call her cell phone, but unfortunately, her zero-yen phone’s battery was dead. She apparently had perfect recall and seemed to memorize every road they walked down, but he was still worried. As he trudged on in the blazing sun, he thought, Well, maybe I should have stopped by the food stalls and bought her a thing or two. He couldn’t go back now, though. His next event was quickly approaching. For now he’d just find Index and hurry to the stadium where his class was waiting. He sped up…

…and then stopped abruptly.

There was someone he knew in the crowd of people.

Long hair dyed red. Earrings. Silver rings, one on all ten fingers. A cigarette in the corner of his mouth and a bar-code tattoo under his right eye. It was a very un-priest-like priest.

Stiyl Magnus.

A true sorcerer belonging to a post in the English Puritan Church called Necessarius, the Church of Necessary Evils.

??? What? Did he come to see Index?

Stiyl was a member of the magic side—Kamijou couldn’t imagine him having any interest in the festivities. It might be logical to think he came to see Index, his former colleague, whose face he barely saw anymore. Kamijou didn’t have any particular reason to refuse him that, and having someone he knew stay with Index would put his own mind at ease. He decided to let him take care of her during the events as he casually approached…

…but Stiyl seemed to be talking to someone. “…so…that’s what it looks like…I think it’s possible, don’t you?”

He heard a voice. Who was he talking to? Kamijou got closer to check—and saw his classmate Motoharu Tsuchimikado standing there.

A multi-spy—a mole buried in both Academy City and the English Puritan Church. From afar, he gave off a very amicable air, but he was speaking low so others couldn’t overhear.

“Right. You…a point…For them…this…only chance.”

Kamijou got a bad feeling about this. They were smiling, and that by itself made them seem to blend in to the Daihasei crowds…but something important was missing. They didn’t look amused in the slightest. Those smiles were forced—not born of positive emotions but negative ones. And that clearly set their countenances apart from the rest of the massive festivities.

He walked closer and closer, hoping to get rid of such ideas…

…and then Stiyl Magnus said something quietly.

“That’s why we need to do something about the sorcerer who has wormed their way into the city. By ourselves.”

And just like that, Kamijou’s world, based completely in science…

…transformed into another, colored by sorcery.

INTERLUDE ONE

There was a student named Kuroko Shirai.

The petite girl went to an elite girls’ school for ability development called Tokiwadai Middle School, and she liked to wear her brown hair in twin tails. She was a user of teleportation and acknowledged as a Level Four, placing her relatively high up even within Tokiwadai, but despite that, she wouldn’t be participating in the Daihasei Festival. Several days ago, a certain incident had left her with wounds that had yet to heal, and she was still half-covered in bandages.

However.

In spite of the doctor’s orders to stay in bed, she had slipped out of the hospital onto a large Academy City road. She wore her usual Tokiwadai uniform, but she was sitting in a wheelchair. It was a sports model rather than the usual kind, featuring wheels that came inward at the top like the body of a formula-one car.

Kuroko Shirai wasn’t the one wheeling it along. Behind her was Kazari Uiharu holding its handles. They were colleagues in Judgment, an Academy City peacekeeping organization, among other things.

Uiharu was wearing the white short-sleeved T-shirt and black leggings of a regular athletic girl, but the decoration on her head made of roses and hibiscus flowers was clearly unsuited for the look. So many artificial flowers were on it that you could spot the flower crown even from afar.

She pushed the sports wheelchair along, smiling brightly. “Well, we were all toiling away under the hot sun, so when I thought of you sitting all alone in an air-conditioned room taking a rest, I just wanted you to help us out, too. Tee-hee-hee.”

“…Your wonderful show of friendship is appreciated. The moment I’m better, I’m teleporting your clothes away and leaving you completely naked. I do hope you look forward to it.”

Shirai’s reply sounded exhausted, but she had been bored from lying around alone during a big event like the Daihasei Festival, so she was kind of happy that Uiharu forced her to come out here. She would die before telling anyone that, though.

This wasn’t her first Daihasei Festival, of course, but it happened only once a year, so it was still something special. The roads were the same as always, but just hearing the competition commentary and fireworks seemed to give everything a new color. Some of the people walking around—not Academy City residents, but outsiders—looked at her with curiosity, which was somewhat annoying. Shirai knew she had powers, though, so she rationally saw their behavior as only natural.

She looked around a little from her sports wheelchair. “So is there a problem happening at the festival this year?”

“For now, nothing major. We did have a corporate spy posing at a fried calamari stall trying to steal DNA mappings from student saliva, but that was about it. This is the first festival I’m working for Judgment, though. The others tell me it’s been relatively easy this year.”

“Yes, this is certainly on the tame side compared to the attempted destruction of an unmanned helicopter by anti-AI radicals, or the attempted stadium bombing by spiritual culture advocates.”

Her response was so smooth that Uiharu unwittingly grimaced. Those incidents hadn’t ever gone public, so she was in a state of surprise (Things like that actually happened last year?!). Shirai, though, would have been prepared to get involved in trouble like that if she’d been acting as a Judgment member during this festival.

Then her ears picked up on stadium commentary, which she realized was coming from a big screen on the wall of a department store. The footage wasn’t live, it seemed, but rather the highlights of previous events. A clear male voice continued the explanation.

“The Fourth Combined School scavenger hunt certainly didn’t betray anyone’s expectations as Mikoto Misaka from Tokiwadai Middle School won in a landslide. She crossed the finish line a full seven minutes ahead of the next closest competitor—”

A track-and-field stadium blinked onto the screen.

A camera had caught the competitor’s face, and her name was on the screen as well. Whoever it was, she would be practically world famous, since the broadcast was going all over the planet…or so one would think, but that wasn’t actually the case. There were more than 1.8 million people competing, and even though she won first place, the events weren’t nearly Olympic level where the winners would leave their names in history. It might be easier to consider it like a little league whose athletes hadn’t been scouted for the big leagues yet. In such a situation, it was impossible to remember every one of the athletes’ names and faces, so people would celebrate and then forget about it—that was the audience’s standard operating procedure.

Because of that, Kuroko Shirai didn’t have much interest in what was on the big screen, but then…

“Mikoto Misaka, who took first place, stayed on her feet even after finishing, and she seemed to have even more energy to spare.”

Shirai whipped around to face the big screen so fast that Uiharu, who had been pushing her wheelchair, froze in panic.

“Oh, my Big Sister…My wonderful Big Sister…Ah, my Big Sister (haiku)! You’ve done it again! A flawless victory, your youthful, vigorous limbs on display for everyone to see! Please, I beg your forgiveness for not seeing you live or even being able to record it! I am a failure!!”

Sparkle sparkle sparkle sparkle sparkle sparkle sparkle!! Shirai’s eyes glittered, but…

“Her consideration for the one who cooperated and ran with her was impressive as well. I suppose it is the very decency one would expect from the elite Tokiwadai Middle School.”

What? thought Shirai, a question mark appearing over her head. Wha— No…?!

A moment later, she saw—

Saw the male student Mikoto Misaka was holding the hand of as she ran to the stadium.

Saw how she wiped the male student’s body clean with her own sports towel.

Saw how she handed the sports drink she’d already had some of to the male student.

That little upstart…!! T-t-taking Big Sister’s hand and being her escort, taking a-ad-advantage of her human decency to have her wipe his sweat all over, a-and even laying a hand on the beautiful drink she had just been drinking!!

Kuroko’s entire body broke out into a tremble as she looked at the far-too-lucky male student.

Wait. She totally remembered this kid. Actually, she’d just run into him a few days ago. She leaped up full force out of her wheelchair with a loud clatter. “Y-you’re dead! Don’t think you’ll come out of this alive!! And you made Big Sister blush so hard in front of everyone! Frustrated doesn’t even begin to describe me right now!!”

“W-wait, Shirai!! Please calm down! Wait, how did you even stand up with those serious wounds?! This isn’t the time to show your fighting spirit like in a shounen manga!!”

As Kuroko Shirai half cried, her very soul enraged, and Kazari Uiharu yelled at her from a few inches away, they only made the Daihasei Festival even livelier.