CHAPTER 2

Stadium of Sorcerer and Esper
“Stab_Sword.”

1

Next up was the ball-rolling event.

Touma Kamijou and the other students in his grade had already entered the field. In the relatively small asphalt schoolyard, each opposing team had lined up with their classmates on either side.

The rules were irregular. Upon the firing of a signal gun, each team would need to push its twenty-five giant balls across the goal line behind the opposing team. Whichever team was first to get at least half its balls over the goal line would be the winner.

The biggest difference between this and normal ball-rolling games was that the balls were large enough that opposing teams’ balls would run into each other at least once. The very moment that happened it would be possible to obstruct the other balls by using your own or firing abilities at them.

Kamijou and a few other classmates all had their hands on one of their white team’s balls, which was almost two meters high. They smelled sweat, and they smelled dust. The tingling air right before the signal gun went off was stinging their skin, and though this was all just fun and games, the current atmosphere somehow seemed to say that wouldn’t cut it.

But even in this situation, Kamijou was preoccupied with something else: what Tsuchimikado and Stiyl had just talked to him about not twenty minutes ago.

“Security is lower in Academy City right now so they can let in all these people, right?”

“It means sorcerers are slipping right through the holes.”

Kamijou’s class had a total of three balls assigned to them. One for the boys, one for the girls, and one for both. Kamijou was in charge of the boys’ one. Aisa Himegami, at the ball next to them, kept looking over silently like she had something to say, but he was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

“But why? Did they come to kidnap Index again?! Then I’ll—”

“Relax, Touma Kamijou. They’re most likely not after her this time. It would end in only more trouble and hardship for them if they were to lay hands on her.”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

“We’ll answer ya later, Kammy. Let’s get down to business right away. About why the sorcerers made their way into the city in the first place.”

He heard the words on your marks come over the school loudspeaker.

Everyone held their breath. They lowered themselves just slightly. Kamijou glanced over to the side. Motoharu Tsuchimikado, in his signature sunglasses, had his hands on the ball with their other classmates.

“Wait…sorcerers? More than one?”

“We’ve even got confirmation on two already. Lidvia Lorenzetti, from the Roman Orthodox Church—and Oriana Thomson, a smuggler born in England in her employ. Both female. There should also be at least one other person they’re looking to make a deal with, but we haven’t figured that out yet. They’re saying Nikolai Tolstoj from the Russian Catholic Church is suspicious, but we don’t have confirmation on that.”

“A smuggler? And a deal? What are they trying to do?”

“Just what it sounds like, Kammy! They’re tryin’ to make a trade for a Soul Arm belonging to the Church, right here in this city.”

Bang!! The signal gun went off. Kamijou, his thoughts elsewhere, reacted a moment late.

“But why here…? Academy City has the least connection to occult stuff in, like, the world, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, nya! I should say that’s exactly why. Anti-Skill and Judgment can’t go intercepting and arresting sorcerers from occult factions willy-nilly. But the Crusaders and Necessarius from the occult side can’t easily set foot in Academy City, either. This place is hard for either side to take action in, basically.

“Their movements would be very restricted were it not for the security being lax during the Daihasei Festival. But right now, they have to loosen the security so they can be bold and take advantage of it.”

Kamijou hastily began to run so that the ball wouldn’t leave him behind. Countless footfalls and the sounds of the giant balls rolling reverberated through the ground and up through his feet. The balls were empty inside, so they didn’t feel very heavy. Because of that, though, they were easily affected by wind, and any slipup could cause them to roll sideways.

“But Stiyl is here. Couldn’t you just get a bunch of your Necessarius friends here in secret and capture them?”

“I’m operating under the pretext that I’m acquainted with you and came for leisure. We can’t call up other sorcerers. If the English Puritan Church ended up taking credit for this as an organization, then all the other sorcery-related factions sitting back and watching this would want in on it as well. You think all of them are friendly toward Academy City? There would be people trying to sabotage it without a doubt. You think you can rely on any of them to even try to protect this place that is directly opposed to all things occult?”

“Academy City is the head of the science faction. It has way more say in matters than a single organization on the sorcery side nobody’s heard of, nya. But if Academy City were to ignore the opinions of the smaller groups, then bigger sorcerer’s societies will start quibbling and arguing, too. This problem with Lidvia and Oriana is real delicate, Kammy. The situation’s already a pain to deal with. If we call in more than we need, Academy City’s gonna fall into total chaos. Think of it like this: The only ones who can move right now and put a stop to this are the friendly sorcerers who came here on vacation. There’s really only a few sorcerers with contacts in Academy City anyway; obviously they were going to have to stick with an elite corps.”

The balls tumbled and rolled along, slowly but surely picking up speed. The ball belonging to Kamijou’s group was ahead of the rest of their team’s. That meant they were in serious danger of being the first to clash with the enemy’s balls.

“??? But wouldn’t Kaori Kanzaki fit into that group? Wasn’t she, like, some crazy-strong person? A saint, or something like that. Wouldn’t we want more help?”

“They can’t use Kanzaki. Especially not this time—given the Soul Arm being traded.”

“Huh? What’s that mean?”

“Kammy, the Soul Arm is apparently called the Stab Sword. And it can…”

The ball was too big for Kamijou to see in front of him very well. Blue Hair shouted that they were getting close, and Kamijou focused his mind.

“…instantly kill any saint in existence.”

He heard a voice behind him shout, “Look out!”

His other classmates all flew away from the big ball at once.

Huh? I thought we still had a bit before getting to their guys…

But right as Kamijou wondered that…

…something slammed into him from behind.

“Gwaahh!!”

Their female classmates’ ball had overtaken them at a blistering pace, and it swallowed up Kamijou as it rolled. Next to that one, the co-ed ball ran by.

Seiri Fukiyose shouted coldly, “What are you doing, Touma Kamijou?!”

Aisa Himegami gave him this look, like she wanted to say, Once again—your fake bad luck with women. It’s showing.

2

A saint.

“You know the word. It means someone with qualities similar to the Son of God in Crossism. If you look at Idol Theory, you see that replicas of the cross used to crucify the Son of God hold a degree of the original’s power, right? If you apply that to the Son of God and people, then they have a degree of the Son of God’s power. Those chosen few are called saints. They have an unimaginable amount of power. Except…”

It was after the ball-rolling had ended (again in victory for Kamijou’s school, fortunately) and they’d left the field. As they sipped their sports drinks—recommended to them by the administrative committee member Seiri Fukiyose (“Here, it has amino acids, drink up! And this one’s got black vinegar and isoflavones!”)—they continued their conversation on the road.

“Saints have one weakness.”

“They do? I mean, Kanzaki was so strong she could fight on even terms with an actual angel.”

Saying the word angel didn’t quite feel real to him, but he’d actually seen one in real life. Even the fact that he really saw one seemed unreal, though. The angel called itself Misha Kreutzev, and it was so powerful it could destroy the world with a fingertip. Kanzaki had fought through it with a level of skill that Kamijou could never even hope to get anywhere near.

However, Tsuchimikado continued, slurping up his drink. “There’s a downside to their strength. Listen—saints are people with traits similar to the Son of God. The power they’re granted is also added onto by the special traits and attributes of the Son of God. Which means…” He paused. “Putting it simply, saints inherit the same weaknesses as the Son of God, too.”

“Oh,” mumbled Kamijou.

“The Son of God died once. He may have been resurrected and ascended to heaven, but that one fact remains the same. And do you know how exactly the Son of God died, Kammy?” Tsuchimikado looked at him and grinned. “He was stabbed to death. His hands and feet were affixed to the cross with iron nails, and at the end they shoved a lance into his side. Opinions are split among theologians over whether the lance was to finish him off or to check to make sure he was dead, but it doesn’t change the fact that all these ‘attacks’ were ones to stab him to death, nya.” He gulped down some more of his drink. “The Stab Sword extracts the religious significance that Christianity places on the execution of martyrs and the stabbing of Jesus on the cross—then amplifies, compresses, and focuses it into a weapon said to be able to pierce the skin of dragons and pin them to the earth. It doesn’t do anything to regular people, but it’s so strong, it can send a saint to their grave in one strike. And at any distance, just by pointing the tip at them.”

Kamijou shuddered.

“Scary, right?” Tsuchimikado continued, agreeing. “Once the Stab Sword is activated, you can be in a nuclear bunker, on the other side of the world, or all the way on Pluto, but just having the tip aimed at you will kill you. Laser weapons aren’t even on the same level of brutal convenience. It was apparently originally made to kill saints with greed and ambition, though, nya.”

“And they’re trading it for something? What the heck are the sorcerers planning to do?”

“War, of course. Saints are basically the sorcery world’s version of nuclear weapons. If you could surgically kill enemy saints and preserve your own, everything in the war would change.”

A war.

For an ordinary high school student living in modern Japan, the term didn’t hold much weight. But Kamijou had once witnessed a fraction of what it might look like. A three-sided battle among the English Puritan Church, the Roman Orthodox Church, and Amakusa over the Book of the Law and the sister said to hold the key to deciphering it, Orsola Aquinas. When Tsuchimikado said “war,” though, did he mean something on an even bigger scale? Like the kind that can entangle unrelated people from all over the world and redraw political borders?

“But there’s plenty of sorcerers who aren’t saints, right? I feel like Necessarius could fight even without Kanzaki.”

“Kammy, Kammy. That’s not the problem. It doesn’t matter if other factions are able to win or not. All they need is the illusion that they can win to start a war. Saints are symbols of power, and if they die, it’s not hard to start imagining the total collapse of the system of sorcerer’s societies. Like when despair spreads through a nation after the royal family is killed off, nya. As soon as someone sees a chance, it’s over. Whoever thinks they can win is gonna plunge right into battle—without seeing the miserable results waiting for them.”

Tsuchimikado spoke his words with such intimidation that they sent a chill down Kamijou’s spine. Perhaps it was because he worked as a spy and knew firsthand just how fragile the world was.

“The countries and groups whose religious power balance is thrown into disarray by the arbitrary killing of their saints would come under all sorts of attacks from magic factions both inside and out and eventually collapse. It might not be visible, but those nations and the world would definitely be devastated. And if the unbalancing in one spot lights a fire, others might start plotting to alter their own power balances, and that could lead to war. That’s why the English Puritan Church’s 0th parish, Necessarius, a national peacekeeping agency that fights sorcerers, can’t let this little incident go, nya.”

Despite Tsuchimikado’s actual words being an assertion of his own determination, he ended his sentence with a lot of levity. Kamijou was too much of an amateur to determine whether that made his position as a spy nice and easy, or if he just had all his emotions under control like a professional.

He kept at his drink, which was now lukewarm. “But if it’s really that serious, shouldn’t you ask for Index’s help?” Yes—Index wasn’t here. After Stiyl and Tsuchimikado had explained things to him, he’d been dragged along to the school field for the ball-rolling competition without getting to meet up with her again. She was extremely reliable in matters concerning sorcery. In fact, as far as Kamijou knew, there was nobody more knowledgeable about it than her.

Tsuchimikado rejected that outright, though. “Nope. We can’t use the Index of Prohibited Books this time. We can’t let her anywhere near this incident, and we can’t tell her anything about it, either.”

“…Why not?”

“Hmm. It’s a pretty complicated situation, nya. I guess I’ll start from the beginning, so listen up.” He scratched his head like this was all a big bother. “Like I said before, the science faction can’t interfere with the sorcery faction very much. Right now, Academy City’s got its hands full with problems both inside and out…Do you understand that?”

“Huh? Right, because Anti-Skill and Judgment can’t do anything to sorcerers directly.” Kamijou felt like Stiyl had explained similar circumstances when an alchemist hijacked Misawa Cram School in secret. The science faction and sorcery faction both had a monopoly on their own technology, and that’s how the two worlds stayed at peace. If an Academy City peacekeeping organization were to try and arrest a sorcerer under these circumstances, it could mean a leak of the sorcery faction’s intel and tech to the science faction. “As an analogy, it would be like a state-of-the-art jet fighter crashing in enemy territory and them grabbing it, right?”

“You got it. In addition, a bunch of sorcerers coming into Academy City as an organization would be bad. Which means the sorcerers here now trying to complete their deal pretty much have free roam at the moment, nya. Seriously, they could probably even start killing people.”

Now that he thought about it, this whole setup seemed absurd to Kamijou. Everyone was after the same thing, but because of all this, nobody could actually do anything about it.

“So that’s why we special exceptions—you, me, and Stiyl—are doing stuff…” Tsuchimikado grinned. “But there are groups that aren’t taking that too well, either. They’re all casting their nets, trying to find out if there’s a way to sneak into Academy City for one reason or another. Some of them want to resolve the situation, and some of them don’t. They’re using radar-like spells outside the city to detect the flow of mana. So that as soon as something happens, they can storm in, nya~.”

“Huh…Is that how it works?” That was all Kamijou could think to say. He didn’t honestly have an idea of what “mana flows” were. “But what does that mana detection have to do with Index? She can’t use mana, can she? Even if they used a radar spell, that wouldn’t mean we had to keep her away from all this.”

Kamijou had amnesia, so this was recorded in his brain only as knowledge, but Index couldn’t use any magic whatsoever in exchange for having access to the 103,000 grimoires. Supposedly it was just a countermeasure to guard against her using the grimoires for her own ends or just going crazy, but…

“That is what we call a difference of opinion. Listen, Kammy. A whole lot of sorcery-related incidents have been going on around you for the past few months. And you’ve settled them all brilliantly. But in the world of sorcery, your name hasn’t really gotten around, nya~.”

“W-well, it would be weird for me if it had. Why’s that important?”

“I’m saying that compared to you, Index’s name is far more important. Most people in the sorcery world don’t think, ‘A lot of incidents are happening around Touma Kamijou.’ They’re thinking, ‘A lot of incidents are happening around the one managing the 103,000 grimoires: the Index of Prohibited Books.’”

Oh, I get it, thought Kamijou.

“So most of them are working under the assumption that if something happens, she’ll be at the center of it. It would be only natural for them to search the areas around Index, right? Unfortunately for them, there’s no spell that would allow them to monitor all of Academy City at all times. Even if they were to use a group spell, like the Gregorian Choir, it would still be down to a circle about two kilometers across, nya. So if we put Index far away from the stuff going on, we’ll be able to draw their attention elsewhere. That also means they would probably overlook a sorcery battle or two happening somewhere else, nya~. But if we called her to the middle of everything, that wouldn’t happen.”

“Are you telling me we’re supposed to do something about this without Index noticing any of the sorcery or whatever?” It might seem simple, but it was actually a pretty difficult problem. In the first place, Index could perfectly remember those 103,000 grimoires for the purpose of countering any sorcerer in existence. She would never miss even a tiny hint, and once she got that, she’d naturally act. But if they explained the situation to her in advance and told her to stay put, she probably wouldn’t accept it. The one thing she hated most was other people getting mixed up in sorcery-related incidents, so she wouldn’t be okay with someone being a substitute for her.

As Kamijou mulled it over, Tsuchimikado shook his now-empty drink container. “Still, Kammy, I guess this is just another instance of your rotten luck, nya~. Everything you did, and they still give all the credit to Index, huh? Must be tough.”

“You’re dumb. I’m worried about her. I can’t believe her. She’s already got plenty of reasons for other people to go after her, and now this…” He clicked his tongue and turned his thoughts even more inward. Tsuchimikado smiled a little as he watched. Just a small smile, with no sarcasm or scorn in it.

“Well, whatever the case, nya~. We’re just gonna leave the problem of Index to you, Kammy! I mean, just promise to show her around some place or other, and get her as far away as you can from anywhere you think sorcery might start flying back and forth.”

“Huh? What?! You make it sound so easy…”

“You’ll be fine! You’ve raised so many flags already. It’ll be a cinch!”

“That is one big, unfounded clump of confidence! I mean, what are we supposed to do for our events? Fukiyose’s gonna go crazy on us if we skip out on them without telling her anything! No one will even want to look at us when she’s through with us!!”

“You’ve got a ton of flags raised—use them for something! Index is more important right now. Some ‘index of prohibited books’ she is. I bet you could just give her some food and she’d do whatever you wanted, nya~. If worse comes to worst, just throw some candy in the direction that’s not where the incident’s happening, nyaaa!”

“If Index heard you say that, she might bite off your whole skull. Actually, I guess I’ve never seen her bite anyone except me…,” concluded Kamijou tiredly as Tsuchimikado patted him on the shoulder a few times.

3

The asphalt under the hot sun was really hot.

That was the thought the starving Index had as she lay flat on the sidewalk.

After the parade ended and the female Anti-Skill officer Aiho Yomikawa took away the no-crossing sign, she couldn’t look at the girl anymore. She stopped her work and swept Index up into her arms like a princess. There probably weren’t any scientific cooling effects applied to the bench, but she laid her on one anyway, under one of the trees lining the road. The calico that was with Index followed right on Yomikawa’s heels and jumped up onto the bench.

Then, her female teaching colleague, Komoe Tsukuyomi, whom she had notified in advance, finally arrived. Supposedly she was older than Yomikawa, but she was wearing a cheerleading outfit: a light green tank top and a short, pleated white skirt. She probably had it on so she could root for her class along with the other students, but Yomikawa sighed; the fact that the outfit looked good on her at her age was nothing short of terrifying.

“M-Miss Yomikawa! You said you found one of my acquaintances, and— Ack!” Miss Komoe looked at Index and yelped. “Th-the sister?! Wh-why does she look like a wilted vegetable left over at the supermarket?! O-oh, don’t tell me she’s been suffering from heat stroke since before I got here!!”

Her shouting made the calico meow disagreeably and its fur stand up a little.

My…As Yomikawa stared at Index on the bench, she thought. A cursory glance might tell a person she had heat stroke. After all, she was collapsed in a habit of pretty thick fabric under the hot sun. Thinking that the heat had gotten to her was probably the correct judgment.

“Miss Tsukuyomi, earth to Tsukuyomi! Come on, calm down a little, ’kay?”

“H-how am I supposed to stay calm?! This sister may not be one of my students, but she’s still a child I need to protect!!”

“Yes, I get it, enough of the ideal teacher spiel. It’s not heat stroke, ’kay? She’s just hungry.”

“What?” Miss Komoe looked at her, confused. And then: “A-again, how am I supposed to stay calm?! Malnutrition is a dangerous thing in and of itself!!”

“Jeez. I suppose I should respect my senior teacher for not deflating even a bit here. But you know, I already gave her three servings of my portable rations and she scarfed them down.”

At Yomikawa’s appalled voice, the calico meowed comfortably as if to say, Yeah, and she gave some to me, too. There were crumbs left over around his mouth.

“…Then it’s not that she’s hungry, it’s that she’s so full it hurts?! But you’re a teacher, too, so you should know how to properly maintain nutrition…!”

“You know what? Why don’t you just hear it from her?”

Yomikawa pointed her finger at the bench. As Miss Komoe pushed down her finger, saying it wasn’t polite to point at people, she looked at Index again.

In a very weak voice, the exhausted girl in white said, “I-I’m hungry…I-is Touma here yet…?”

“You’re really just hungry?!”

“That’s what I said! Right, so can I leave her to you?”

Miss Komoe assented with a bow and a word of thanks, and Yomikawa turned and trotted away, waving one hand back at her. It was a carefree response, but it was because Yomikawa knew she didn’t need to hesitate with her.

Miss Komoe looked back at Index. She was lying there exhausted on the bench, trembling slightly. “I-I smell sauce…If I smell any more, I’ll be done for…”

The teacher’s shoulders finally loosened (not from exhaustion but relief—which was very like her), and then she reacted to the word sauce Index had suddenly said. She sniffed around. “Hmm? You mean the food stalls?”

She looked around them. Across the road where Aiho Yomikawa had put up the no-crossing sign was a corner with homemade-food stalls lined up like a student-run culture festival.

“Little Sister, I bought you some food!”

Index looked at the products from the stalls Miss Komoe had chosen randomly and bounded upright on the bench. “W-w-woooooooow…”

She sounded like an archaeologist who had just discovered new ruins. The calico in her arms made the same sort of sound.

“I didn’t know which you wanted, so I brought some yakisoba, okonomiyaki, a hot dog, and some takoyaki…Oh, you’re from the West. Are you okay with eating octopus? How about Japanese pancake?”

“I’ll eat it! I’m so hungry I’d even eat fermented beans like natto or dried horse mackerel!”

She looked at the food wrapped in clear plastic, which was made by students and not very high quality, but Index’s eyes were sparkling with a lust for food. The calico began to shake a little in her arms, too, as though her attachment to food had awakened its animal instincts.

Miss Komoe gave a pained grin and said, “Ah, ah-ha-ha. Well then, this is a good opportunity. Let’s use it to learn how to hold our chopsticks properly instead of in your fist and— Aaah!”

Index had started devouring her targets before she could begin an explanation. Chomp chomp chew chew munch munch!! The pile of food was disappearing fast. The calico, undaunted, went for the yakisoba noodles, but having a cat’s tongue was a fatal handicap when faced with hot food.

Miss Komoe’s shoulders drooped in disappointment. “No…I thought we finally…finally had a chance for me to teach you about Japanese culture…”

“Chomp chomp…Huh? Did you say something, Komoe?”

As she gulped down the final piece of okonomiyaki, she blinked a few times blankly. The huge pile of food had been completely leveled.

Passionate teacher that she was, Miss Komoe had a weakness: She’d get depressed if someone took away an opportunity for her to teach something. Still, the full and completely satisfied Index didn’t notice.

As her tiny shoulders shook, she said, “I-I didn’t say anything important anyway! I’m not frustrated at all! I would never cry over something as silly as this!”

“??? Oh, I didn’t thank you. Thanks a lot for the food! Wait, was that wrong? Why do you look like you’re going to cry, Komoe?” Index tilted her head to the side. “…Anyway, I wonder where Touma went. It’s almost lunchtime!”

“…Um, lunchtime…after th-that…?” stammered Miss Komoe, but Index wasn’t listening.

“I really wonder where Touma went…I’ve been like this all day…I wonder if we’ll be away from each other for the whole day…”

That relit the flame of her teacher’s soul. This sister didn’t seem to be affiliated with any school. That meant it would be hard for her to stay with Touma Kamijou during the Daihasei Festival. There were a few events where non-student residents would compete, but they were all them versus the students anyway. She’d never actually compete alongside him.

Miss Komoe could sort of understand how she felt. Being left alone at an event of this size could seem like no big deal, but it could also be devastating. But on the other hand, if she could be involved somehow, no matter what it was, she would be able to gain a sense of closeness and satisfaction. Kami just doesn’t get it, does he? Leaving a poor child like this by herself, she thought as she shook her head at her terrible student, considering her options.

Not a compromise but a solution. “It’s okay! There’s a way you can take part in this, too!” She found an answer. I’d be a failure as a teacher if I can’t help a child who looks so sad and lonely, she thought, giggling a little.

“Eh? Wh-what?”

“I said, there’s a way for you to enjoy the Daihasei Festival with Kami! You don’t have to be by yourself anymore!”

At first, Index was taken aback by her overly cheerful voice, but then she forgot about her appetite and her expression softened. The calico didn’t seem to care; it stretched and yawned.

“Wh-what is it? What should I do?”

“This, right here!” Smiling, Miss Komoe pulled on the chest of her tank top a little. She was wearing a cheerleading uniform. “Eh-heh-heh. You can’t actually play in the games, but you can cheer him on from the sidelines. And cheerleading is the perfect way to do that, right? If you think it’s too embarrassing alone, then don’t worry! Miss Komoe will be right there with you!”

Miss Komoe smiled, and she kept on smiling. Energy from actively teaching bubbled to the surface, causing her face to shine. Index started to feel a little cautious about this. “Wh-why do you look so happy about this, Komoe?”

“You don’t need to act like Little Red Riding Hood with these questions. Eh-heh, being happy about getting an impromptu chance to teach you cheerleading? Eh-heh-heh, being able to get you to pay me back for missing that opportunity to teach you how to use chopsticks? Eh-heh, eh-heh-heh, I’m not thinking of any of that!”

Index was frozen in place after seeing this new side of a person she thought she knew; Miss Komoe took that as a good thing, grabbed her hand, and led her off somewhere.

4

Touma Kamijou went back to the point where they’d been blocked from crossing the road earlier, but Index wasn’t around anymore. The no-crossing sign was gone entirely, and the Anti-Skill lady was nowhere in sight.

According to Tsuchimikado:

“Searching for Lidvia and Oriana is important, but making sure Index doesn’t find out what’s happening in Academy City right now is just as vital. Kammy, I’ll check with city security on my end and look for any traces of sorcery, so you meet with Index at regular intervals and don’t let her catch on. If there’s any suspicion about what we’re doing, Index will probably ruin our plans and plant herself right at the center of the incident.”

So he said, but Kamijou couldn’t do anything like this. Nobody around to ask where Index is, and no clues. I can’t call her, because her cell phone’s battery is dead…Did she actually get lost somewhere for real? Kamijou didn’t think it was a big deal, since he was used to the streets of Academy City, but if someone, for example Stiyl, were to find out she’d gotten lost, he’d say, “I understand the situation. For now, if you could just die, please?” and attack him without further ado.

Hmm. Where would Index go…? He glanced around, then his eyes locked on to something in front of him. On the other side of the main street, there was an area with student-made food stalls like a culture festival. “N-no. Did her hungriness get to her and make her go floating in there without any money? Then that means the entire street corner could’ve already been devastated by the Starving Girl Disturbance…!!”

Kamijou blanched. Imagine Breaker, the power in his right hand, could wipe out any supernatural ability, magic, or even divine miracle with just a touch, but up against that chomping girl he was an ineffective Level Zero. Nevertheless, he needed to stop her with his own hands. He strengthened his resolve and headed toward the stall area.

But then, something bounced into him from the side. He turned and saw Aisa Himegami in her short sleeves and shorts and Maika Tsuchimikado peddling her bento from atop a cleaning robot, staring at him. Apparently Himegami had been basically following her around as she sold her wares, making conversation as they walked the streets.

“Your face. You look like a hero of justice. About to face the final boss. Why do you look like that?”

“You look like you’re gonna fall over and die right here! If you’re hungry, do you want a bento?”

Just as he was about to charge into the battlefield, their calm voices ruined all his determination. “Hey! You know! I left Index hungry and alone when I went to the last event. And now that I’m back, she’s nowhere in sight. And the closest place with food is that food-stall area, and she could have already rampaged through there, and I…!!”

His basically crying declaration took the two girls off guard. “You mean that sister? She walked over there.” Himegami pointed in the complete opposite direction of the food stalls.

“I think she got kidnapped by that famous miniteacher from your school,” answered Maika from her perch on the cleaning robot, looking up and away in recollection.

“??? She got kidnapped…No, that can’t be. Miss Komoe knows who she is. So then, what? Is she going to show her around the city? Well, whatever. Thanks for the tip. I’ll go find her now.”

With just that, Kamijou walked off in the direction Himegami had pointed. From behind him, Maika loudly wished him luck, and Himegami remained silent. Hmm…Since when are the two of them friends? Well, they both came to my student dorm over summer break, so maybe they met then?

As he mulled everything over, he walked onto a relatively large road. The people going back and forth were staring in amazement at every little thing, like the wind-power-generating propellers, and that in turn felt new to Kamijou.

Then, suddenly, he heard a cat meow from nearby. He was used to the particular traits and qualities of that meow already—it was Sphinx, their calico.

“Index?” He stopped and looked toward where he’d heard the sound. There was a small park there, surrounded by buildings. The metal fence was higher than usual, giving it an intimidating air to keep people out. The entrance was overgrown with foliage, and he had a hard time seeing inside. The lack of vision made it seem even more forbidding.

Well, it makes sense, he thought. It wasn’t strictly a park. The metal fence had a sign nailed to it that said, PROPERTY OF TADAYAMA UNIVERSITY SCHOOL OF BOTANY. It was for growing plants and collecting data on them. Given the heightened state of security during the Daihasei Festival and the lack of anyone patrolling the area, it seemed to be open but not really a place they’d want outsiders entering.

Then the familiar calico poked its head out of the brushwood. When it saw Kamijou, it pulled its head back in and ran farther inside. Just the cat…? No, Index wouldn’t let him out of sight so easily. I guess that means she’s in there, too. Hmm…If they’re growing apples or something in there, then maybe she’d wander in.

Knowing she’d flare up at him if she heard him say that, he decided to check inside. Careful not to break any of the tree branches blocking the way, he stepped in. “Indeeex? If you’re here, it would be great if you could say something…”

He went in farther, and when his vision cleared…

…Index was there.

In the middle of changing her clothes, for some reason.

“………………………………………………………………………”

Kamijou and Index locked eyes and froze.

In addition, Miss Komoe, wearing a cheerleading outfit, was facing Index, but she had her back turned, so she didn’t realize he was there.

That’s strange, he thought. The latest version of Index in his memory wore a teacup-like habit, white with gold embroidery. For some reason, the habit was neatly folded on the ground— Why was that? And why were panties of the same color on top of her habit?

Where had they gotten that short, pleated white skirt and light green tank top that looked like something a cheerleader would wear? She had on both those things right now, and Miss Komoe was in the same outfit.

However, she had just gotten a hand on her tank top to pull it down. Her breasts were ever so slightly poking out of the slanted edge of the clothing. On top of that, it was the very moment when Miss Komoe was in the middle of pulling up the cheerleading underwear (possibly the same thing that women wore in tennis).

The underwear was up to one of her thighs, and she was currently about to get her other foot through it as she froze. Of course, in that state, the skirt wasn’t doing much for her. Cheerleading clothes didn’t have much utility in “covering” anyway.

Once again, Index’s habit was neatly folded and placed on the ground.

On top of that were panties of the same color.

If not for Miss Komoe’s head as she was pulling up the underwear, he would have gotten a glimpse of something he would probably regret for a long time.

“…Ah…” After freezing temporarily in surprise, her expression slowly changed to one of anger, one that said, I’m going to devour him this very instant. Kamijou, naturally, was sweating all over and couldn’t move. Miss Komoe had already finished changing into her cheerleading outfit, and only she was unaware of how they were acting. She talked to Index casually.

“I’m sorry! The rules say you can’t use the official changing rooms unless you’re actually a student. I didn’t want to have you change in a place like this, but…Huh? Eek!”

Index didn’t listen to everything she had to say. With her panties still hanging at her thigh, she surged forward toward Touma Kamijou. “Toumaaa!! I think maybe you should reflect and think about how many times this makes!!”

“Agh! I’m perfectly ready to apologize, but I won’t let you eat any more of me than you already have!!” Kamijou managed to twist around to avoid Assault Girl Index’s bite attack. Index’s hands ended up behind him, and she grabbed onto his body, but though she was aiming for his head, her aim slipped a little.

Squooch. Index’s mouth landed right on his cheek.

“Eegh…?!”

He felt her small but soft lips on him. The hardness was her top and bottom teeth, and the warmth must have been her tongue. Breath warmer than his body heat came to him, and he shuddered heavily at the subtle sensation of her saliva.

“…I— What— Index?!”

“…”

Kamijou shouted, his face bright red, but didn’t get an answer.

Whoosh!! Index shot away from him without a word. He would have expected her to yell at him, but she stayed quiet and looked down so far he couldn’t see her face—but she was red up to her ears. Maybe she was actually giving thought to the act of biting him, which she hadn’t really paid much attention to before. Maybe she’d lost her head; she hadn’t seemed to notice her own state of half-undress.

Kamijou looked at Miss Komoe, but she had her hands at her cheek, stammering words that weren’t actually words. He couldn’t expect anything from her. “I— Well, um, Miss…Miss Index? It’s all right—it was an accident! Just an accident! We won’t count that one, so don’t get so serious about it…Wait, what?! Wait, Index, why did your face suddenly flip from embarrassment to your angry mode?! Did I say something I shouldn’t have?!”

He took a few steps back as he looked at the cheerleading girl who started to tremble in silence, and at that moment…

“…Kamijou.”

A cold female voice stabbed him in the back. Staying cautious of Index in her unpredictable state, he slowly turned around to look.

It was Seiri Fukiyose.

She was wearing her thin administrative committee parka over her gym clothes. “I was looking for Miss Komoe for administrative business, so when I heard voices I came this way…and here we are again.”

She looked first at Kamijou and the shaking, half-naked Index; then at Miss Komoe, who was red-faced; then at the clothing and underwear, neatly folded and placed on the ground; and finally back at Index—or, more precisely, to the underwear hanging from her thigh.

“Was this why you weren’t with the rest of us rooting for our school? You traitor!”

With one hit from her fist, no supernatural abilities included, she slammed Touma Kamijou and put him on the ground.

5

Now covered in scrapes and bruises, Touma Kamijou left the park (well, the botanical laboratory) for now. Actually, it was more like Seiri Fukiyose dragged him out in a bout of righteous fury. Not by the hand, but by the back of his collar. Back there, Index was probably in the middle of changing clothes with Miss Komoe’s help.

“I swear. Can’t you put just a little effort into making this competition a success? I know that as the administrative committee member, I should be doing the most work, but seeing someone be as unmotivated as you makes me so mad!” While she spoke, she took an extra paper carton of milk out of her parka and started drinking it. She must have had low calcium levels thanks to her anger. Not in an “I hate you, Touma Kamijou” kind of bashful way, though; instead, she mercilessly conveyed her honest feelings.

Bsssshh. As Kamijou continued to be dragged along by his collar, he managed to say, “F-Fukiyose, is…is our school in a match right now…?”

“Why can’t you remember that yourself? Not enough nutrients in your brain? Yes, I get it. I understand. Then your top priority right now should be consuming some sugar!” she said, throwing her milk carton into a trash can, then fishing around in her parka pocket and bringing out a sugar stick used for coffee to hand to him.

“Eh?! That’s literally just sugar! With nothing else!” Kamijou’s shoulders jerked in surprise and he tried to run, but at that moment, Fukiyose put her arm around his neck. Then she completed her headlock with just her right arm by tucking Kamijou’s head under her armpit.

“For now, just wake up your sleeping brain. If you can’t, we can try a soybean isoflavone infusion. I trust you’re okay with soy-milk pudding!”

“Agh! If you would be so kind as to give me soy-milk pudding from the start, I would be in your debt! It would contain sugar, too!” Kamijou flailed as Fukiyose attempted to force the sugar stick down his throat, but with his head being fixed in place in her armpit, he didn’t actually move anywhere. Still, he continued his struggle. Suddenly, he felt something soft touch his right cheek.

It was one of her big breasts. Ack?! Kamijou began to resist three times as hard. Fukiyose must not have noticed what was happening, she was just frowning at the sugar stick in her hand. “Wait, just wait! I could fill myself up with just that and it wouldn’t fix how stupid I am!!”

“…Doesn’t it make you sad to say that about yourself?”

“It does not!” retorted Kamijou pathetically as he quickly tried to veer in a different direction. The bounciness of her breast amplified then, causing his entire body to lock up. Fukiyose, still looking dubious, sighed and released him from the headlock.

Thank God, said Kamijou, exhaling, when a moment later, she grabbed his collar and began dragging him right along again.

“Right now our school is doing two events: The second-year girls are doing the tug-of-war and the third-year boys are doing the best-pick triathlon. Which do you want to go cheer for? I bet the girls, right? I mean, that would make sense for Kamijou!”

“Your words—they hurt so much! How can you be so coolheaded all the time?! Does even your heart stay cool in the summer?!”

“Don’t give me that. It’ll take more than that to get past my defenses!”

But your defenses are cold as ice, retorted Kamijou to himself, but she obviously wasn’t going to laugh at that, so he kept his mouth shut.

“By the way, Fukiyose, are you okay with your committee work right now?”

“…You don’t have to keep worrying about every little thing concerning me, you know.”

“I guess this is what it’s like to be completely rejected…Isn’t your committee work, like, hard? Well, I mean, I don’t know what exactly you’re doing, but I was just wondering if you really had the time to be bothering with an idiot like me.”

From setting up and judging the competitions to broadcasting their starts, middles, and ends; dealing with lost children; and giving people simple directions, the administrative committee was assigned a wide variety of tasks during the Daihasei Festival. Plus they would have to compete as athletes themselves, too, so they had far less free time than normal students.

Fukiyose, though, gave him a sidelong glare. “It’s fine. I told Miss Komoe. Besides, I made sure my schedule has some give in it to deal with unexpected situations like this, so there’s no problem!”

“Seems like a waste. You should just leave me here and go around the food stalls with your friends or something.”

“Everyone has their own ways of making things memorable. They agree with that, too!” For just a moment, the sharpness in her expression faded to something more normal.

Kamijou, still being dragged along, sighed. “Yeah, yeah…Doesn’t matter to me, but could you stop dragging me like this?”

“All right, give me your hand,” she said, letting go of his collar surprisingly easily, then offering her hand to him. Her palm looked soft, like she used hand cream. It was probably one of those coenzyme Q10s or a health fad relentlessly advertised on television.

“Oh, well. Uhh, right. Thanks.” He thought for a moment, but decided to take her hand anyway. He figured it would be cold, but it was warmer than he’d thought. He felt his heart thump in slight surprise just from that simple fact.

Fukiyose gave him a glance, then said, “You walk too slowly.”

“…” Touma Kamijou sighed and wondered what he was getting all excited for as the ironclad, unhappy Seiri Fukiyose started to pull him away by the hand.

6

They walked through the city, Fukiyose tugging Kamijou along.

The crowd was especially thick around this area. The cause seemed to be a cluster of traffic locations like subway stations and automatic bus terminals all in one place. People were going in every direction, making transfers from trains to buses or from bus line A to bus line B.

He noted they’d gained a lot of distance from where they’d parted with Index. Fukiyose seemed to want to get Kamijou to come root for their school, but right now, he’d have to take action immediately if any word came from Tsuchimikado or Stiyl, who were tracking Oriana separately. Help, I don’t know what to do, he worried to himself.

“Hey, Kamijou. Does the Daihasei Festival bore you?” Fukiyose said suddenly, still holding his hand.

“Huh?” Kamijou frowned.

“You seem rather restless, like your mind is on something else entirely!”

He gulped.

Fukiyose saw him gulp and continued. “Well, I can’t force you to focus only on the festival, and I can’t stop you if you want to drop out of it…”

She didn’t seem to have suspicions that something else was going on behind the scenes of the festival. She just had doubts as to where Kamijou was directing his focus.

“Still, and it may seem selfish, but seeing as how I’ve worked hard to plan for today, I want everyone to participate and have a good time that they can look back on and remember fondly. If everyone’s happy with that, then great…but if you feel like today’s been boring, then it means I haven’t done enough to prepare for this, that’s all.”

“…You’ve got a strong sense of responsibility. Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s boring. Crazy events like this are best if you let yourself go crazy, too, you know?” Kamijou didn’t know why Fukiyose was on the administrative committee for the festival. However, it seemed that not only did she nominate herself rather than be forced into it, she had a reason for wanting to make everything a success. A reason that meant spending time until late after school and forgoing free time with her other friends.

But there was something she didn’t know. Sorcerers were out there right now trying to take advantage of those kinds of feelings. She didn’t know about their secret efforts to come to a deal on the Stab Sword, nor about all the different opinions and purposes clashing both inside and outside the city walls.

I’ll have to do my best, he thought. Fukiyose’s not the only one. All the administrative committee members are trying to make the festival a success. The students walking around, too, and even the people from outside who came to watch—all they want is a memory they can look back on fondly. So I need to do my best.

Fukiyose peered at his face dubiously. “…I guess I can’t do anything about the fact that you’re thinking about other things.”

“What? No, that’s not it! I am super pumped for this. You’re plunging into your angry zone for no reason, Fukiyose!!”

Fukiyose was quickly losing her sparkle to her displeased irritation. Still holding her hand, the flustered Kamijou went in front of her, looked her in the eye, and was about to answer her…

…when someone bumped into him from behind.

The sidewalk was so crowded that someone’s shoulder must have bumped him.

Ack! He couldn’t immediately react to it, and he took a step forward by accident. That brought his face a lot closer to Fukiyose’s.

Actually, there were only about thirty centimeters between their faces in the first place.

“Ack…!!”

“Huh…?!”

In less than a moment after they cried out, the distance between them shrank to zero. With a loud thud, their foreheads rammed into each other. The tips of their noses touched a little, too. Their lips didn’t, but he felt her light breathing on his.

Wha…?

Kamijou stopped breathing despite himself.

“Get away from me, Touma Kamijou!”

A moment later, Fukiyose delivered a hard head-butt to him.

“Ack— Whoa?!”

His entire upper body reeled back. His hand, which had been in hers before, jerked back. He felt heat rising to his face. Fukiyose’s expression didn’t seem to change too much, but it was gradually being painted over in more and more anger.

“…I suppose Touma Kamijou is still Touma Kamijou even when people are trying to talk seriously to him.”

“Th-that’s not it! I was trying to think seriously, too!!”

“This is one of those cases, isn’t it? All the time in the world wouldn’t be enough for me to open up to you.”

He groaned. “I feel like I’ve been destroyed by Fukiyose’s chilliness!” he shouted without meaning to. Fukiyose’s palm came right at the back of his head and smacked it. Her retorts lack that sense of affection, he thought, rubbing his head and lowering it in apology, when just then…

…bloof.

This time, as he lowered his head, it suddenly ran into something soft. He calmly assessed the situation and saw that it was a woman’s breasts.

“Oowahhh?!”

He hastily pulled back. What the hell is going on here?! he thought, surprised once again. The woman he bumped into, though, went, “Whoopsies,” and didn’t seem to mind it very much. He heard Fukiyose rumble out a low “Kamijou…” that sounded like evil spirits were leaving her mouth.

The woman he’d run into was dressed in a plain work outfit and was about eighteen or nineteen years old. She might have been the same age as Kaori Kanzaki. She was taller than Kamijou, too. The phrase “tall for a Japanese” might have worked for her, but her bright blond hair and blue eyes suggested the evaluation might not have been accurate. Seiri Fukiyose was particularly good-looking among his classmates, but this woman’s sexiness far outshone Fukiyose’s looks. Her simple physical features like her chest and waist were great, but he felt some kind of invisible charm about her.

Her long blond hair seemed to be fixed up with quite a bit of wax or a curling iron or something. In all, she had a hairstyle where a curling iron had been used on thin bundles of hair, combined into three thick bundles of many strands coiling around one another. There were several other parts of it that had their own thing going on, so the style was very difficult to classify. On the other hand, there were no accessories in it. It was more like her blond hair itself had been made into a decoration.

Dried paint was stuck all over her work outfit as if she was related to the painting industry. Her hands were barely long enough for one to hold the bottom part of a signboard under her arm.

However…

“Wow…”

…he was not the one to accidentally murmur something: Fukiyose did it instead.

The woman’s work outfit was the kind you buttoned up in the front, but it was wide-open. Some wore those things with the top two buttons open, but not her—the only button not open was that second one. It gave a blindingly clear view of her belly button and enormous cleavage. Kamijou thought it almost seemed like a swimsuit in that regard.

Her pants were fairly loose as well, like they were just hanging from her hips. He didn’t feel like going around behind her to check, but a little bit of her butt may have been showing from out of the low pants hem.

She was certainly exposing quite a bit, but it had an added layer of another kind of danger, like the slightest wrong move would send her clothes flying off. She had confidence in her body, which, to Kamijou at least, put her in a different category than the jersey-wearing, big-breasted Anti-Skill lady.

The painter woman used her free hand to make a gesture of apology and, in surprisingly fluent Japanese, said, “Oh, whoops! Sorry about that. I’m just not used to this kind of crowd! Does it hurt anywhere? Oh, there? The back of your head?”

Kamijou groaned. “You’re not actually right, but you’re being so nice it’s infecting me and I might just let you have me…”

Seiri Fukiyose shut one eye at his tearful response and brought another fist down to the back of his head. And, in so doing, sent Kamijou plunging into the painter woman’s breasts again. She didn’t scream or anything; she just used one hand to peel him off her slowly.

“There we go. Are you okay now? You really mustn’t fight so much. Festivals don’t come around very often, so it would be wise to use this time to make some fun memories, right?”

Kamijou’s entire look burst into an expression on the verge of tears. “You have such a good heart! I can’t even compare you to a certain biting girl or this punching girl! I think I’d like to drown myself in your kindness!”

“Oh my. Your pickup lines could use a little work—saying you loved me after looking at only what would benefit you.”

This jerk, said Fukiyose’s eyes as she glared at him. The painter woman smiled thinly and bowed a little in apology. “Oh, oops. I apologize to you as well.”

Fukiyose looked surprised. “Wh-why would you say sorry to me?”

“Well, because I suppose I indirectly caused this, perhaps?”

The girl winced at the too-relaxed, adult words. Kamijou thought to himself: Look—that’s what a real woman is like; did you see it? Learn from her! Use her as a reference and stop being so straitlaced!! A moment later, Fukiyose belted out an aikido throwing technique and planted him in the ground.

She looked at the boy being held to the ground and the girl holding him there and called out, “Umm, I suppose you’re all right? You both seem plenty energetic.” Then she came out with one hand, looking for a handshake. “I do apologize for running into you. I assume in Japan you would bow your head, but where I come from we generally do it like this.”

“Huh…Is that right?”

“Oh. Would you rather have a kiss?”

Kamijou nearly exploded. After the innocent boy trembled for a few moments, he replied, “Yes! I would like that very much!!”

The words had barely left his mouth before Seiri Fukiyose rocked him with a fist to his temple. His head spun. The painter woman smiled and offered her hand again.

I wonder if Index could stop biting and learn a more gentle, cultured approach like this, thought Kamijou as he took her right hand in his right hand.

Shwaaack!!

There was an odd sound, almost like something was breaking.

“Huh?”

That was neither Kamijou nor the woman, but Seiri Fukiyose who was watching them. The two people shaking hands both knew what had just happened, so they didn’t say anything.

Touma Kamijou was busy recalling the power in his right hand anyway.

And the painter woman was busy figuring out what had just broken.

“Whoopsies!” The woman forced a dry smile but failed even at that. “I should really be getting back to my work. May I go now?” she asked.

And then she left without waiting for a reply. There was nothing different about the way she acted or moved, but that air about her that had earlier felt like composure was gone.

Fukiyose, who had her own hand still sitting in the air waiting, tilted her head. “…Huh? No handshake for me? What do you think, Touma Kamijou?”

“What? Maybe she just didn’t like you and— Gaahh?!”

His deflection earned him a full-force head-butt.

Fukiyose heaved a very heavy sigh and went to grab Kamijou’s hand to lead him off somewhere else again, but just then her cell phone ringtone began to play. It sounded like it was from the administrative committee; businesslike words left Fukiyose’s lips. As far as he could tell from the way they were speaking in hushed tones, it seemed like some trouble had come up. She looked at Kamijou, then at the time display on her phone. She left him with the very committee-like “The bread-eating race is next, so you’d better not be late!” He watched her leave, her phone in one hand, then rubbed the cheek he’d been punched in earlier.

Then he thought. What had he just canceled out? A supernatural power or sorcery? After thinking for a few moments, he decided it wasn’t as likely to be a supernatural ability. Espers were all from Academy City and were simply students. The woman seemed like a worker from outside the city, given her painting work outfit, and the manufacturer logo on it sealed the deal—he’d seen the name from time to time on TV. And, of course, none of the students in the city had a way to acquire such clothing. Which meant…

Touma Kamijou got out his cell phone. He looked around to make sure Fukiyose was gone. He figured asking her about it wouldn’t be the right thing to do, since Anti-Skill or Judgment acting would apparently be a problem. He dialed Motoharu Tsuchimikado’s number.

“Heya, Kammy. Busy pullin’ the wool over Index’s eyes, nya? We’re looking for nice, insecure spots where Oriana could make the deal, but there’s way more in District 7 than we thought. If you could just keep Index away from that area for now, that would be great—”

“Never mind that. I need to ask something, Tsuchimikado.”

Tsuchimikado lowered his tone, catching on to the quickness of Kamijou’s speech. “…What is it?”

“What was it again? The something-or-other sword, the magic item. We’re supposed to be stopping them from making a deal with it, right?” Kamijou looked at the crowd. He could still see the back of her dressed-down work clothing.

“The Stab Sword. And it’s not an item, it’s a Soul Arm. Wait, why? You getting cold feet on us, Kammy? You know we won’t be getting any backup here.”

“Is that true?”

“…Not sure what you mean, Kammy.”

Kamijou straightened, making sure not to let the woman out of his sight. Then the woman turned a corner. “I shook hands with somebody and the Imagine Breaker destroyed something. I don’t know what. But she doesn’t seem like a student. She dresses like she’s not from the city.”

“Wait. Kammy. I have to ask. Was she carrying anything big? The Stab Sword is a meter and a half long, and each side of the guard goes out thirty-five centimeters. Something that could hide a huge sword…? Not sure what, since I don’t think it’d fit in a suitcase…”

Kamijou’s face paled. “She was.”

“What was it?”

“A signboard? It was, like, this big sign, wrapped in a white cloth—”

“Kammy, where are you right now?”

“What? Oh, uhh…I’m in front of the Ichizai Bank.”

“Wait right there,” he heard before the phone hung up.

He stared at the phone. Should he follow the woman or wait here for Tsuchimikado? He thought a little, then sprinted off toward where the painter lady had gone. They’d lose her for sure if he waited for Tsuchimikado.

He had a premonition—something was beginning.

And he knew that it wasn’t going to be anything festive.

7

With the big sign under her arm, the blond woman wearing her work uniform casually weaved in and out of the crowds. She knew she was on edge. She thought she was choosing her movements and actions carefully. Unfortunately, she couldn’t completely deal with her emotions now that something unexpected had happened.

She stuck her empty hand into her pants pocket. Her pants pulled down a tiny bit when she did, but it didn’t bother her. From out of her pocket she produced a ring of flash card–like pieces of paper. Nothing was written on them, though. The white pasteboard cards simply hung from a metal ring.

“Mm…” She bit off one of the cards, ripping the paper from the ring. Then writing appeared on it like color on litmus paper. It read WATER SYMBOL in cursive, gold English letters.

The symbol of water reacted to the golden ink and spun.

She returned the ring of cards to her pocket, then took the card out of her mouth and placed it to her ear like a conch. “Testing! Hello? This is Oriana Thomson. Are you getting this? If you are, I’d appreciate it if you said something.”

In response to her talking to herself, the card pressed to her ear spoke in a voice that didn’t vibrate the air.

“Please refrain from using your real name. Take into account the potential danger if your physical voice were to leak out and be overheard. If you revealed your true identity, we could find ourselves in a difficult situation.”

The voice was polite and well mannered.

Very well mannered. The woman calling herself Oriana smiled drily. “I’ve already run into a bit of trouble. I do find ad-libbed comedy routines far more of a turn-on, but that wouldn’t be a very pleasing situation for you, would it? Lidvia Lorenzetti.”

The person she was talking to, whom she called Lidvia Lorenzetti, was silent, but only for a moment. “Please refrain from such obscene expressions. I have been strictly ordered to go along with you for religious reasons, after all.”

“Oh, right. Tantalizing yourselves with abstinence is what you nuns like best, isn’t it? I suppose gentle verbal abuse is a little too rough for you. Have you heard this, by the way? Scientifically speaking, martyred saints seeing angels at the end of their lives could be a manifestation of masochistic ecstasy.”

“…”

“Oh? I guess you’re not into scientific conversations. I hadn’t pegged you for one of those who would cover her ears if someone started talking about how the Church’s operating procedures make use of mass psychology.”

“…That is not what I am concerned about…,” said the other person before trailing off, seeming annoyed.

Oriana, finally, started to feel dismayed. There was no point in calling her like this. “I guess I was fooling around too much, young lady. I apologize if I offended you.”

“I believe you are younger than I am…”

“Yes, but you’re still a young lady. No matter how old you get. Growing old as a young lady is the ambition of all nuns, isn’t it?”

“As one dedicated to honest poverty, I believe a rich-sounding title like signorina ill befits me. And you, too, have taken up the Bible, have you not? When someone enters the family of our Lord, a nun must—”

Same lecture as usual. Oriana sighed. Lidvia Lorenzetti was the exemplary disciple of Roman Orthodoxy. She mainly grew passionate when praying or spreading the word. Oriana listened inattentively and waited for a chance. “Right, so in terms of the trouble I’m having—”

“It is judged a crime of adultery against our Lord should we engage in sexual relations with another, for all nuns are the brides of the Son of God…Oh, but my lecture—”

Oriana shrugged off the can wait and spoke. “Essentially, that spell I used on myself got all broken.”

That spell.

The name of the single-time use was Silent Coin.

Oriana had used it as a sort of insurance. A spell to sap the energy of those who wanted to chase her. It wouldn’t have any effect if she were actually engaged in a conversation with someone. Just turning her back, though, would make the person think it wasn’t worth stopping her or that it could wait until next time. They wouldn’t, under any circumstances, call out to her after that. This sorcery was a configuration of the “vacate,” or warding, spell that operated on a similar principle to an Opila rune barrier.

As long as the spell was active, Oriana could make balls of flame appear in her palms or whatever else, and nobody would feel like calling her out for it. That’s why she was using it—so she could get this “deal” finished without worry, but…for various reasons, Oriana was unable to reconstruct the spell now that it had broken.

“Oh…What was the direct cause of it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well then, what should we do about it?”

“Don’t know that, either.”

“…”

“Ahh, don’t hang up on me! I’m not into the silent treatment.”

“Then I would like to hear your alternative plan for what to do at this point.”

“Let’s see,” she said, smiling.

“…First, I’ll shake off this boy behind me.”

8

As Touma Kamijou watched the woman in the work uniform—probably the smuggler Oriana Thomson—she suddenly turned around a corner.

…Did she notice me?!

Still, not losing sight of her came first. Kamijou stopped his poor attempt at tailing the woman and began to run among and around people. People weren’t gathered on his route, thankfully—there might have been TV cameras set up somewhere else.

He swung around the building at the intersection.

The blond hair was fluttering farther away than he’d expected. He accelerated, passing by children holding balloons and couples holding hands. Guess it’s a good thing I’m wearing this gym uniform, he thought. It wasn’t made of special high-tech aerodynamic material, but it was a lot easier to move around in than his school uniform would have been.

Despite essentially running at full speed, he didn’t draw strange glances from others. Maybe they were mistaking him for being in a scavenger-hunt race or something. As he thought about it, he steadily increased in speed. He was now easily a kilometer away from where he had first bumped into her and parted from Fukiyose. Not to mention the botanical laboratory where Index had been changing. That was so far away now if he was to walk back to it.

Then, he heard his cell phone ringtone from his pocket. Running while talking would take too much energy. Kamijou considered deciding whether to pick up based on who was calling him, but then he saw it was Motoharu Tsuchimikado. He quickly picked up.

“Kammy, where are you?! Why didn’t you wait where you were?!”

“Sorry! I was going to lose sight of her otherwise!” As he spoke, the work uniform disappeared around another corner about twenty meters ahead of him. He sprinted the length of the sidewalk, heading for the corner.

“Shit. Then where are you now?”

As Kamijou rounded the bend, he groaned. It was a narrow road that split into three different paths. He listened carefully and ran after the footsteps he heard—straight ahead. “I’m…There’s no good point of reference! I’ll give you my GPS code in a text. You do the search!!”

GPS-enabled cell phones provided a service to find where friends were. This required, however, that the person who wanted to be searched for send a special code in a text message. The code was changed every thirty minutes. After he sent the necessary code to Tsuchimikado’s cell phone so his friend could locate him, he hung up. He left the phone on, of course, to let the GPS do its thing.

He ran down the narrow path for a while. It was longer than he thought it would be. The small cracks between the buildings got even smaller, to the point where he couldn’t see inside them. As he went farther and farther, he finally heard footsteps and the voices of a crowd.

“Whoa!!” When he burst out of the path, he found himself on another main street. He quickly scanned his surroundings. Oriana was running from left to right across a pedestrian walkway over the road. That’s pretty far. About fifty meters away, maybe? She was absurdly fast, considering the big signboard (or whatever it was she might have been hiding) was tucked under one arm.

Kamijou darted after her.

Fortunately, the giant sign stuck out among the people, so she couldn’t just blend in right away. Still, the fact that she could drop out of sight at any moment made Kamijou focus on her completely. His tunnel vision practically made him stumble on the smallest bumps in the road, never mind watching the people walking around him.

“Shit!”

He cried out, pushing himself to run farther, when bam—something slapped him on the back.

It was Motoharu Tsuchimikado and Stiyl Magnus.

They’d gotten here quickly.

They hadn’t come from behind him but from a small road cutting across. They’d probably seen where he was, predicted what direction he was moving in, and taken a shortcut.

“Which one, Kammy? You said the Stab Sword was disguised as a signboard, right?”

Kamijou gasped for air. “That one…The blond woman wearing the work outfit,” he managed, pointing.

Tsuchimikado and Stiyl ran off together. Leaving him there—maybe they were telling him this was their job now, as professionals. Nevertheless, without pausing to catch his breath, he ran after the two of them.

How persistent…!

Oriana looked over her shoulder and privately clicked her tongue. She had fifty meters on him, but that was also all she had. She’d worked pretty hard to choose small roads that seemed easy to get lost on so that he’d lose sight of her, but it had been completely ineffective.

Her current painter’s outfit combined with the “signboard” gave others the impression that she was on the job. If only she didn’t have the sign, she could go into a hotel or department store or restaurant and they’d just think she’d come there on her break…but if she was to walk in the guests’ front door of any of those places, the people working there would probably say something. She wouldn’t be able to explain why she was fleeing even if they asked, and having to get rid of employee after employee would make her stand out all the more.

Still, if she wanted to go in through a staff entrance in back, she’d need a key or an ID. All of which meant she was forced to use roads—one of the reasons she was finding it difficult to throw off pursuit. However, the fact that she had so much distance and he was still on her tail seemed a bit strange.

And by the time she noticed this, she also noticed that she now had three pursuers, not just one.

Considering how the first was tailing her, he must have been an amateur. After the two new ones came, though, their work became much more accurate. They were probably professionals. They were trying to read her mind, to predict what routes she’d take to flee.

I heard Academy City and even the whole Church can’t do anything in this city right now, but I guess the reality is more difficult than that…Whoops!

Oriana stopped dead in her tracks. There must have been TV cameras ahead, because there was a much denser crowd in front of her. She couldn’t get through them with the “giant signboard” in her hand. It would get caught on the human wall, and she’d get stuck. And, of course, abandoning the “signboard” and diving in would be completely counterproductive.

She looked around. It’ll be a little tough, but going through there would be safest, I think…

She thought, she calculated, and she decided to veer to the side and take another route.

Tsuchimikado was the fastest of them, with Stiyl in the middle and Kamijou trailing behind. Kamijou was already exhausted from running, of course—he would probably outpace Stiyl normally.

Oriana suddenly stopped running about thirty meters ahead of them in the middle of the road, looked around, and went onto a different road. Tsuchimikado frowned as he ran.

“That seems way different from what she’s been doing, nya…Did she change her mind?” he wondered aloud, not breathing particularly hard. He was going so fast Kamijou would be out of the running if he so much as stumbled. He encouraged his legs to continue and followed in Tsuchimikado’s wake.

When they got to where Oriana had stopped, they noticed TV cameras ahead of them. A reporter’s voice filtered through the crowd, giving an excited explanation that any local would know was off the mark. People were packed in like a rush-hour train around the reporter. Oriana must have changed her route out of concern for being caught up in there.

Kamijou looked in the direction she’d run. “…What’s that? A bus terminal?”

Before them was a ground covered in asphalt.

It was a flat, square place, enclosed perfectly by buildings on all sides. It seemed like a place that had been leveled hurriedly, someone having dismantled an unneeded structure for some Daihasei Festival requirement.

It was around thirty meters wide and a few hundred deep, but it didn’t seem “wide” or “open” in the least: for there was a ton of large buses squeezed into the place like they were ready to be loaded onto a big tanker. They couldn’t see all the way back from here, but it looked like somewhere from fifty to seventy buses were parked here. Metal pillars stood in several places, connecting the whole facility to a giant roof of galvanized iron or something. There were all sorts of metal robotic arms hanging from the ceiling, like the kinds used in car factories to build vehicles.

All of these vehicles were driverless, automatic buses. This was probably a temporary service facility for buses loaded with self-driving units. They, too, would have to leave their posts for maintenance at some point, whether it was for cleaning or gas refueling. These buses were basically waiting on the sidelines as they underwent repairs.

They were used only during the Daihasei Festival, and this big facility had been constructed for that purpose alone. It gave Kamijou a newfound appreciation for the sheer scale of the event.

One bus, with the words OUT OF SERVICE on its display, passed by them almost silently and proceeded deeper into the facility. Tsuchimikado grabbed onto the back of the slowly moving bus and used it to enter the facility just as silently. But the very moment he stepped inside…

Roar!!

Suddenly, a pale blue explosive flame plunged down from the ceiling.

The unnaturally colored flame came hurtling straight down at Tsuchimikado as though it were being channeled through an invisible tube. It was a sorcery-based attack, probably—and not Stiyl’s, of course, despite his using flames often. Who had fired it, then?

“Shit, she decided to set a trap to crush us instead! Get down, Kammy!”

Tsuchimikado immediately jumped back and tried to push Kamijou down, but…

“What are you saying? This is his cue, isn’t it?”

…right before he could, Stiyl grabbed the back of Kamijou’s neck and hurled him forward.

“What?”

Kamijou looked up to see the pillar of flame descending on him like a guillotine.

“What?! Hey, no! You gotta be kidding me!!” He frantically thrust his right fist upward like an uppercut. The pale blue pillar of flame scattered in all directions, fading away without burning anything.

The cigarette in the corner of Stiyl’s mouth wiggled. “I must say, you are quite the team player. We have a nice division of roles; things are easy to understand and easy to deal with.”

“Y-you…you…!!” Kamijou trembled, moments away from grabbing the red-haired priest.

“Come on, do the rest of your job now.”

Bam! Kamijou found himself kicked ahead again.

Whoosh!! The sound of something splitting through the air. A clump of earth about the size of a baseball came under the frame of the self-driving bus that was put-putting along ahead of them. Then, with a metallic noise, a ton of stone spikes came out of the ball, making it look like a sea urchin. It abruptly hopped up, shooting for Kamijou’s chin.

“Hey, wait, what’s going on?!” He instantly stuck out his right hand, and the stone bullet shattered like ice and faded into the air. Tsuchimikado and Stiyl had both jumped to either side to use the parked automatic buses as walls. Kamijou, quickly developing trust issues, didn’t hesitate to go over to Tsuchimikado’s side.

Tsuchimikado, with his back to the side of the bus, looked at Stiyl, who was pressed against the side of the bus across the maintenance path. “Stiyl. You put up your rune cards and wait here, nya. I’ll keep going and take down the smuggler.”

“All right. Should I use Opila?”

“Sure. I don’t want to put any more mana in the air than we need to, but it’ll be worse if this all spreads. As long as Index doesn’t head our way, we should be fine.”

Kamijou started to have doubts as the two professionals talked between themselves. “Hey, wouldn’t it be faster if we all went after her?”

“Kammy, when there’re this many obstacles, we could end up going the wrong way. When you’re after someone, it’s a basic tactic to close down as many exits as possible.”

“Oh.” Kamijou finally realized what he meant. They weren’t in a slugging match—this battle was about catching her before she got away. It was a different objective that called for different tactics.

Tsuchimikado looked at him. “What’ll you do, Kammy? It’d probably be safe just to stay here…”

Stiyl gave him a smirk. “I like that. I agree; it’ll be safer if you stay. Not for your safety but for mine.”

Kamijou flung an empty can at his feet at Stiyl and decided to move forward with Tsuchimikado. He peeked around the side of the bus down the maintenance path and then leaped out at full speed. Kamijou followed right behind him, figuring his Imagine Breaker placed him in the front as a shield.

But then there was a slam!! From straight ahead, yellow spears of fire shot toward them. They were ten meters ahead, having suddenly appeared where there was only empty air before. When Kamijou stuck out his right hand, a guillotine made of highly compressed air came for him from the gaps in the buses to either side.

“?!” He faltered for a moment, and Tsuchimikado grabbed him by the collar. Then, dragging him in his wake, he ran on farther, dodging the guillotines to either side and twisting around the arcing flames ahead. When he let go of his collar, he said, “Kammy, don’t feel like you need to take them all on! They’re just to buy her time. If you try and deal with them all, she’ll get away!!”

“Okay, I get it, but…!!” Five big balls of ice the size of advertisement balloons were falling on them from the ceiling. He desperately fought back the urge to use his right hand and just kept running straight ahead. He felt the roars and tremors as the giant masses shattered on the ground. It sent a chill down his spine.

They shot past a line of buses. Several big washing machines for the buses came into view. They were about as high as a two-story building and had all the machines necessary to wash a vehicle on the inside. Instead of the roller brushes you might find at a gas station, they used giant, flat sponge things that utilized supersonic vibration.

Once they got behind it, they caught a glimpse of long, fluttering blond hair.

“There she is!!” As soon as Kamijou got behind the buses, a line of the ground in front of him burst upward to block him from the washing machines. The wall of earth stretched five meters high, then came crashing toward the three of them like an avalanche. The wall of earth stretched from one end of the service facility to the other. They couldn’t avoid it, and if they hid behind the buses, they’d be crushed along with them. Above all, if the metal pillars supporting the roof broke, the entire facility could come toppling down on them.

“Kammy, you’re up! It’s made of temporary matter, like ectoplasm—your hand can wipe out the whole thing!!”

As Tsuchimikado called out, Kamijou jumped in front. He felt his teeth start to chatter at the enormous opponent, but he couldn’t run away crying in this situation. He dove toward the root of the mudslide and shoved his right hand into it without a second thought.

There was a loud shwshhh!! With the sound of glass shattering, the five-meter-high wall of earth came crumbling down. It appeared to melt into thin air, and after it vanished nothing was left. The asphalt below them returned to normal, too. Before Kamijou could pull back his right arm, Tsuchimikado ran by him and disappeared behind the big washing machines. Kamijou followed, rounding the obstacles in a single burst.

Then he stopped. Oriana wasn’t there.

A piece of thick paper about the size of a stick of gum, like one you’d find on a ring of flash cards, was all that was left, hanging on the washing machine wall. Kamijou overtook Tsuchimikado, who had stopped, and looked around. There was a small exit hidden in the shadows of the washing machines. A few steps away, though, a manhole cover was open—plus, the glass windows of the building were broken. Basically, there was no way to know which route she’d actually used to flee.

“Oriana Thomson, the Route Disturber…Goddamn it!!”

Tsuchimikado tore off the paper on the wall, his display of anger informing the amateur Kamijou just how bad the situation was.

All right, then. I do hope that threw them off…Oriana Thomson gave a glance over her shoulder as she walked onto a main road. She’d stopped running as soon as she’d completely lost sight of her pursuers. If they had lost sight of her, too, then it was more important not to be discovered again than to gain extra distance. A full-speed sprint would be rash. She’d stand out like a sore thumb in the crowds.

Still, it was getting to her. As she held the “signboard” wrapped in white cloth under her arm, she looked behind her once more…I may have gotten rid of them for now, but that doesn’t mean it’s over. It might be better if I ready the next move…Whoops!

She’d been so focused on what was behind her that she ran into someone walking right in front of her. The sensation she received through her exposed navel was not one of human skin but of metal. She’d run into a pair of male festival committee students carrying a pole with a basket on the end that would be used in a high-toss game—said pole was now on the ground.

“Oh, whoopsies. I’m so sorry!” She apologized lightly and left the scene. The male students got one look at her cleavage and tensed up a bit, offering awkward responses. Wet under the ears, she thought with a little smile. It means the “trick” for that purpose is doing quite well. Maybe I should get them into a little more trouble, she mouthed, whispering to herself.

After that, Tsuchimikado took out his cell phone and called someone. It seemed to be Stiyl. They were both sorcerers, but Tsuchimikado couldn’t use magic. Well, strictly speaking he could, but he was an esper as well; using magic would trigger a rejection response and could create little explosions inside his body.

After telling him to come over here right away, Tsuchimikado stuck the phone back into his pocket.

Kamijou looked at the thick piece of paper in Tsuchimikado’s hand. “Hey, what is that, anyway?”

“Huh? It’s the Soul Arm Oriana’s using, nya~,” he replied in a somewhat irritated voice, showing Kamijou the paper. There were blue letters on it—it was cursive, so it was hard for him to read, but it said SOIL SYMBOL in English. He got terrible grades in English class, so he had no idea what it meant.

Tsuchimikado translated it for him. “You know how RPGs and stuff have the five major elements? Like fire, water, earth, and wind. It’s that.”

“…Then this is like an earth talisman? I don’t get it.”

“No, that’s not all it is. The color attributed to earth is green, but she wrote the word in blue, right?” Tsuchimikado spun the paper around. “Blue is the color attributed to water. Normally, it can’t be used for earth magic. If she wanted to use earth, she would have used green or the discus, since they’re more compatible. It’s like how Stiyl uses red cards to control flame.”

“…Did she mess up?”

“Of course not. She’s doing it on purpose. She sets up the not-quite-right colors on purpose, then transforms the recoil from it into attack power. In terms of wu xing—the five traditional Chinese elements—she’s using the order of overcoming interaction, with earth overcoming water. Bad compatibility breeds bad results, basically.”

As they were talking, Stiyl came running to them from the other part of the service facility.

Tsuchimikado waved the paper in front of him. “Got the mana call. If she was remote-controlling this while running, then she was probably transmitting mana back and forth. I’d like to use this to make a tracing spell. Could you help me out, nya?”

9

Tsuchimikado’s body didn’t allow him to use sorcery. More precisely, if he did, it would go out of control. Human stamina wasn’t quantified with numbers like it was in video games, so there was no specific number of times he could use magic and still endure it. Sometimes he could hold out for four or five castings, and sometimes he’d die on the first.

It was essentially a game of Russian roulette. As long as he wasn’t absolutely sure he could bring things to a conclusion in one strike, Tsuchimikado seemed to completely refrain from using magic. Everyone knew what would happen if he was incapacitated on the battlefield. He wasn’t going to be the one using the tracing spell.

He placed on the ground the card Oriana had left. Then all he did was draw circles around it and position origami of all colors nearby. It was apparently Stiyl’s job to actually trigger the magic.

“The spell’s name is Four Ways to Truth…Man, I wish we could’ve used this during Angel Fall, nya. I was already a wreck from the defensive spell I used to escape its effects, and Zaky’s bad at drawing barriers. It was a disaster! And of course, I couldn’t teach spells to someone from Russian Catholicism—another denomination entirely…”

“Why not work your hands instead of your mouth? Didn’t you say the search range isn’t even three kilometers?”

“Oops, you’re right. Okay, Kammy, stand back. This won’t mean much if your right hand busts Four Ways to Truth.”

Kamijou, a little startled, took a few steps back. After placing markings on the ground here and there, Tsuchimikado backed away as well and stood next to him.

On the ground was a black circle about fifty centimeters across. In the middle was the card Oriana had stuck on the side of the washing machine. Four pieces of newly made origami each sat at ninety degrees within the circle—blue, white, red, and black—dividing the circle into four parts. It looked like it was separating east, west, south, and north.

Stiyl knelt down by the circle Tsuchimikado had drawn, then placed his hands together and shut his eyes as if praying. A small bead of sweat trickled down his brow.

“CBTW, CNABTWTTL. (Carried by the wind, conveying not air but the will to the location.)”

With his words, the four pieces of origami moved despite there being no wind. Like puppets controlled by an unskilled puppeteer, they wafted upward. Each of the colored papers stood upright, then paused abruptly. Their edges evoked images of sharp blades.

“Runes work by coloring and decoloring,” said Tsuchimikado, watching the circle on the ground. “One carves out meaningful characters, triggers the spell by coloring the grooves with power, and turns it off by decoloring it. Stiyl uses cards that he colored in advance—using a method called printing—so he’s crazy fast at activating spells. Plus, he can just burn the card and skip the decoloring process entirely, nya. It does mean he can only use spells that he ‘colored in’ beforehand, but…”

The four papers danced around above the circle. Each time they drew a smooth line through it, it would draw a curved line of the same color on the ground. Scritch, scratch, scritch, scratch. The circle grew narrower, little by little, moving toward the card in the middle Oriana had left them.

“As long as you follow the fundamental rule of coloring and decoloring, then you can actually get pretty far away from the runic alphabet, futhark, and still have the sorcery work, nya! We may call them all runic characters, but there were a few different types of them depending on what time period you look at.”

Fifteen centimeters remained until the circle closed in at the middle.

Kamijou watched the four swiftly revolving pieces of origami. “So if you use this, you can figure out exactly where Oriana is?”

“Well, within three kilometers it’ll pinpoint her, nya. If she’s gotten outside that range, though, we won’t get anything out of it.”

“…Three kilometers. That’s kinda far. Even if we found her almost exactly three kilometers away, she’d just move somewhere else while we were trying to catch up.”

“There’s one more bit to all this. Once you use Four Ways to Truth, you need about fifteen minutes to let it cool down before using it again, nya! Which is no problem if we get it the first time, nya~.”

Tsuchimikado seemed confident, but what if they failed? “Fifteen minutes. That sounds like a short time, but if she uses a train or a bus, we’re sunk.”

“We don’t really care how she decides to flee. Did you forget already, Kammy? I’m a sorcerer, too. I can use it only once, but I’ve got Red Style if we need it.”

Ten centimeters until the center of the circle.

Kamijou gave him a sour look. “Wait…That’s the one you used to destroy my house from the beach house to stop Angel Fall, isn’t it? I guess if you could use a long-distance artillery move like that…But wait. If you use sorcery in the open in Academy City like that, all the other sorcerers waiting outside could use it as an excuse to break in, right?”

“No, they couldn’t, Kammy. Their excuse needs to be that they’re acting to protect civilians from the evil sorcerer that snuck into the city. If I ended the whole thing in one attack, they would just have to say this to get their hands on the wreckage of the Stab Sword: The crisis is gone, so we no longer need any of you, nya~.”

Five centimeters until the center of the circle.

Tsuchimikado gave Kamijou a grin. “But resolving an incident as a sorcerer in the limelight would be bad for a bunch of reasons. That’s why I have Red Style. Not Black Style, which is based on water, my specialty, nya. If someone asks who used sorcery, I could just tell them, Stiyl fired it, since fire’s his specialty.”

“…How bold of you. Will that really fool them?”

“Sure it will! Necessarius has 103,000 grimoires stored away, remember? Wouldn’t be strange at all if they’d studied non-Crossist sorcery, nya. Stiyl’s runes don’t actually have anything to do with Crossism, either. Well, I guess I’d have to temper my mana in kind of a Western way, too, instead of doing it the Eastern way.”

“…”

“Don’t look so shocked! Anyway, if we can pinpoint Oriana’s location, we’ve won. If we can, I want to capture her myself and get her to tell us where Lidvia and the other party for the deal are. For now, though, stopping the Stab Sword deal takes priority, nya! We can blast the Stab Sword to outer space or tear apart Oriana’s body to do it. Either way.”

Zero centimeters until the center of the circle.

The four pieces of folded paper touched the card left by Oriana. There was a dry pop as the colored paper bounced away. Then, at an incredible speed, they started to draw a precise map on the ground. At first it was a blurry image like an unfocused camera, but it steadily came into focus.

Roads, buildings, trees on the streets, benches, vending machines, wind-power-generating propellers, and even an empty can—it was less a symbolic, simplified map than a super-high-resolution satellite image from space.

The location, once it finally came into focus, was…

Oriana Thomson suddenly perked up her head.

She craned her neck as she held the signboard-shaped object covered in a white cloth; the action caused her breasts to put more stress on the second button of her outfit—the only one buttoned.

White smoke fireworks were popping in the late September sky, and there was a cool, comfortable breeze despite the summer’s lingering heat wave. The mottled white clouds lazily drifted in the same direction, giving the appearance of absolute peace and tranquility.

Nevertheless, Oriana felt a tingling nervousness on her skin…like the feeling right before charging into a building a bank robber was holed up in.

Oriana Thomson thought for a moment about what was coming. “CBTW, CNABTWTTL, is it…? You’re wide-open. ”

And then she grinned.

“Grah, gaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh?!”

All of a sudden, Stiyl bent over like he’d just taken a body blow.

With a loud crack, the map lines being drawn on the ground all scattered in every direction. It was like someone had sneezed on a picture drawn with sand. Many more snaps and cracks of things breaking followed. For a moment, Kamijou thought it was Stiyl’s bones.

“The sound of out-of-control mana warping space—a simple ghost sound! Kammy, give Stiyl a punch! That should stop it!!”

Kamijou was taken aback by his words. At the moment, he was scared, since he didn’t know what was going on. He rushed to Stiyl and hastily hit the bent-over boy in the back. He was trying to do it fast, without thinking about measuring his strength.

There was a pop of air rushing.

Then, as though exhausted, Stiyl fell over onto the ground. Nevertheless, it seemed to have calmed the situation; he couldn’t hear the weird noises anymore. Stiyl breathed heavily for a little while, but eventually he combed his sweat-soaked hair out of his face. “What…was that…? Some kind of defensive spell…in case she was traced…?”

Tsuchimikado walked over and picked up one of the unmoving pieces of origami. He set his fingers on it, folding it here and there. “If that were true, the something should have happened to me for setting up Four Ways to Truth’s magic circle…but there’s no trace of that.” He waved the cleanly folded paper. “I think she read your mana, Stiyl. And she probably set up an interception spell that would activate when it detected your mana specifically. Damn. I thought she was suddenly counterattacking, but this was her aim all along. She let us use sorcery, read our mana, and then must have set up a magic circle to transmit it or something, nya!”

Kamijou winced at Tsuchimikado’s words as he kept tinkering with the origami, then reached out a hand for Stiyl. Stiyl pushed his hand away, annoyed, and stumbled up to his feet. “An interception spell to stop me after figuring out my mana patterns? Sounds like quite the problem.”

“…What’s that mean? She made a pinpoint attack on you, then, Stiyl?” Kamijou made a face like he didn’t understand half of what they were talking about.

Tsuchimikado sighed. “Yeah, mana does differ in quality and quantity depending on how the user tempers it…but I don’t think that alone would have given her the ability to pull off such a perfect interception, nya~,” he said, his hand diving into his shorts pocket, bringing out a red calligraphy pen…or something like it, anyway.

According to him, magic was like gasoline: It took the raw fuel, the person’s life force, and used the refinery of their style or religion to refine it.

But if, for example, the rune-using Stiyl used an Aztec method of tempering his mana, the mana he got out of it would be wholly different in nature. “Like making heavy oil or light oil instead of gasoline, nya~,” he said. People like Kaori Kanzaki, the saint of Amakusa, were experts in Buddhism and Shinto as well as Crossism, and could freely use whichever type of mana fit the situation.

If Oriana wanted to intercept Stiyl alone, she would have to know every type of mana he was likely to create. Tsuchimikado was of the opinion that she wouldn’t have thought herself safe for only sealing one of the mana patterns Stiyl refined in the service facility. Oriana wouldn’t have a grasp on the extent of Stiyl’s power, so she would have to consider possibilities that didn’t involve his true strength.

“Umm, then what is Oriana doing?”

“That’s the tricky part…I think it was something like this,” said Stiyl, still unsteady. “Mana itself has several different patterns. But that’s not the case for its previous state. The way a person refines mana differs based on their religion, the technique, and their life force. From there it’s just a mathematical problem. You can find the answer by following the numbers.”

For example, say there were twenty points’ worth of mana type A, and a mana refining method B. You compare them, then ask how many points of type B life force would be needed to refine twenty points of mana A with refining method B—you could calculate the original life force used like that.

Irritated, Stiyl took a new cigarette out of a box and cast his stare at Tsuchimikado. He was busy writing some kind of symbol on the origami he held, using the red calligraphy pen. He then dropped it in front of him, telling Kamijou he was making a circle to get them out of the situation.

Stiyl looked back at Kamijou. “Mana doesn’t have traits that differ, but life force, of course, does. And that means Oriana figured that out. Damn it. I shouldn’t have placed those rune cards without thinking…Still, I would have understood if she used some large-scale holding facility for holding sorcerers, like the Tower of London or the basement of Windsor Castle. To think there was someone who could detect life force, analyze it, reverse-engineer it, apply it, and intercept it all by herself…I suppose I should have expected as much from the Route Disturber.”

He practically spat the words as he, in an unusual act, took out a match and struck it on the sole of his shoe. Maybe he was being careful not to use sorcery to create fire. Perhaps that was why he was waiting for Tsuchimikado to finish setting up, too, instead of counterattacking right away. The fact that a man with such immense self-pride was being cautious gave Kamijou an idea of the depth of Oriana’s skill.

Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure the only one who clearly used sorcery in the earlier battle in the service facility had been Stiyl.

“If she had calculated the spell itself, instead, then Tsuchimikado would have taken damage, since he’s the one who drew the Four Ways to Truth circle on the ground. He didn’t, which means she had to have reacted to my life force.”

“You’re saying Oriana was analyzing your mana or life force or whatever on the run?” Kamijou looked at him askance, but Stiyl blew out smoke in irritation. Maybe he’d lost his usual calm because of the damage he’d taken, or maybe he just felt like it was a pain to explain something so basic for sorcerers.

“If she could do that, then…she’d be seen as even more valuable than your right hand.” He took in a full breath of smoke. “That interception spell of hers…it was a surgical-class spell on Tower of London levels. She would need a magic circle— No, she’d need command of an even larger facility. What that means is that Oriana didn’t use only a spell. She built an entire facility for it. Essentially what she probably did was get a super-fast computer and have it do the analysis for her. That way she’d be able to focus on getting away. Still…”

“Still what?” asked Kamijou.

Stiyl responded in a bitter voice. “…No, it’s probably just my imagination. I feel like I’ve seen this automatic processing trick before…but that can’t be. Oriana may be strong, but she can’t possibly have one of those…” He was essentially talking to himself at that point.

Kamijou could only frown in confusion, but suddenly Tsuchimikado stopped writing on the origami next to him and grinned. “Nah, Stiyl. I’m thinkin’ the same thing, actually.”

“Are you serious?…Well, if she did have one of those, it would make sense that she could automatically operate a separate facility. But if that were the case, that would make her a wizard, not a sorcerer.”

“Well, now. Maybe she really is, nya! From my point of view, there are some things about her that aren’t stable. If she really is a complete wizard, she should have a sorcerer subordinate for her to lecture. I would guess that would be Lidvia’s role, nya~.”

As Tsuchimikado spoke, he marked up his origami even more with the calligraphy pen, writing symbols on top of his old ones.

“??? What exactly are you referring to?” The two sorcerers had been prattling on, leaving the amateur Kamijou completely in the dark.

Tsuchimikado looked at him and gave a little grin. “Right, right. I guess you’ve never really seen one, Kammy! You should know about them already, though. Has sorcery-related knowledge packed away inside, activates itself as a magic circle despite what the person wants? Stays active semipermanently by amplifying its strength just a tiny bit with what leaks from life force and ley lines?”

Tsuchimikado’s smile deepened. His blue sunglasses lenses reflected a glare. “Still don’t get it? Kammy, I don’t think there’s anybody closer to them than you, nya. After all, Index is with you, and she’s got 103,000 kinds of them!”

103,000 kinds.

Index.

He didn’t understand everything Tsuchimikado had just said, but he knew what he was referring to.

“Wait, c-could it…,” he stammered.

“That’s right, Kammy,” Tsuchimikado said with levity, waving the origami in his hands.

“The original copies of a grimoire.”

An original copy.

Grimoires had knowledge pertaining to sorcery recorded within. By itself that wasn’t much, but it was said that if a normal human were to try and read it, it would destroy their mind. Plus, the grimoire’s sentences, passages, and letters would activate themselves as a magic circle, creating a semipermanent interception system against those who would destroy the grimoire.

These original copies of the grimoires were indestructible, which was why they took the more temporary approach of sealing them instead. Index had 103,000 grimoires recorded in her mind, and Orsola Aquinas was trying to analyze the original copy of the Book of the Law—both, however, did so in order to oppose the danger presented by the grimoires.

Kamijou was basically an amateur when it came to sorcery. He’d never seen an actual grimoire. Despite that, weird stuff involving sorcery and grimoires always seemed to spring up near him, and people gave him nothing more than knowledge to combat it.

Tsuchimikado heaved a sigh and drew a symbol on the four pieces of origami. “It’s because, fundamentally speaking, magic circles and grimoires have similar characteristics, nya. I mean, the primary side effect of original grimoire copies is a magic circle, after all.”

Kamijou frowned. He had no idea what Tsuchimikado was getting at. And there was a problem even before that. “How are they the same? Grimoires are some old books, and magic is like star charts you draw in circles like in RPGs, right?”

His question earned an irritated glare from Stiyl. “…Again with the absurd analogies. They’re Seals of David. And it’s not a single item—it’s an intermediate magic circle used as part of the larger circle.” He cast a gaze toward Tsuchimikado’s hands. “Suppose I’ll start with explaining the circles first…The initial state of a magic circle is just that of a simple circle. Like this.” As he spoke, he picked up a rock on the ground and squatted, before drawing a fifty-centimeter-wide circle. Despite it being freehand, the circle was scarily perfect. It surprised him, but Tsuchimikado didn’t even look over from his pen-writings. Maybe it was important for sorcerers to be dexterous so they could make circles and talismans and stuff on their own.

“Even amateurs like you think of pentagrams and hexagrams for this. They’re used for additional effects. To amplify the effects of the base circle, you overlay Seals of Solomon or David on it.”

Stiyl breathed out some smoke and continued to draw a pentagram inside the circle. This, too, was a perfectly equilateral five-pointed star, which separated the circle exactly. The lines were completely straight.

But what does this have to do with magic circles? Kamijou wondered.

When Stiyl saw his confusion, he clicked his tongue to himself. His irritation was at not only Kamijou and the physical damage Stiyl had taken, but also at Tsuchimikado’s taking so long to set up for this plan he was considering (apparently considering, anyway). “Then we come to the later stage of the magic circle.” Stiyl paused. “I don’t want to have to explain this again, so watch closely.” He moved the small rock some more. “In the late stage of a magic circle, you add other things on the top. These are the characters. In most cases, you would write the name of the angel you wanted to borrow power from around the edge of the circle, but…”

As he spoke, he started to write something along the circle. It was a dreadful magic circle, so he had thought Stiyl would write some unknown letters there, but instead, he just wrote in English.

Scritch, scratch. Stiyl’s stone etched into the asphalt. “You write the name of the angel to borrow power from first, like this. Well, this is like indicating what kind of power you want, like fire or wind. You specify what type of telesma—angelic power—and how much of it you need. The type goes without saying, but the amount is actually very important. If it’s too little, the spell obviously won’t work, and if you have too much, the extra will do whatever it wants. It’s quite difficult to figure out the appropriate amount.”

It didn’t take long before the English letters made a complete revolution around the circle. Stiyl kept going, though, continuing the line of text on another line outside the first.

“Once you acquire the necessary amount of telesma with the right type from a different plane, you write down how you want to use it. You can put it into a staff to imbue it with a special effect, or use it for defensive powers around the magic circle. Things like that. When you do…”

From the second line to a third and then a fourth, he continued his passages, the characters curling around each other like a Swiss roll.

They might have been for a magic circle with symbols on it, but…

“…it looks like a page from a book, doesn’t it?”

Stiyl puffed some smoke onto the circle on the ground.

It actually looked exactly like that. The way he wrote the characters had been irregular itself. There was no rule, none of the normal horizontal or vertical text you would find in a regular book. However, the lines of characters around the circle—what if you were to place them horizontally? If it was saying what type of power and how much you needed, how to construct the magic circle, and what effects it would have…then wasn’t that basically just a recipe for a spell?

A spell recipe.

What else was a grimoire but that?

“Of course, there’s a flaw to using magic circles like this. The more complicated the diagram gets, the more difficult it becomes to control the circle. For example, the English word front can refer to the front of something, but in certain circumstances it can mean ‘promenade.’ If there’s any misinterpretation between what the caster is thinking and what’s written on the magic circle, the spell can easily go out of control and hurt the user.” He paused for a moment. “Though mistaking the meaning of a word you wrote on the magic circle is a pretty dull-witted thing for a caster to do.”

Stiyl slowly stood up. He tossed away the stone he was using. Tsuchimikado saw that and spoke. “When all’s said and done, the amount of information in a magic circle is directly linked to its power. The extra characters you write into complicated patterns are no more than a little trick to help out. Same goes for the origami I used for the Four Ways to Truth spell. They’re like accessories providing information through the four colors in each direction. And if this is the case, how much information do you think grimoires must have, considering they’re entire books of the stuff?You could basically say the original copies of grimoires are super-compressed magic circles. So dense that pro sorcerers wouldn’t know what to do with ’em, nya~.”

Tsuchimikado came to the conclusion. He had used the red calligraphy pen to write symbols all over the origami in his hands, to the point where they were totally covered.

Kamijou fell silent for a moment. Then he decided to ask the question he was thinking. “So…what? You’re saying Oriana got her hands on the original copy of a grimoire just so she could make an automatic interception spell for the Daihasei Festival?”

That was a scary thought. Kamijou himself had gotten wrapped up in the battle over a grimoire called the Book of the Law, caught in the middle of three separate sorcery factions. Of course, grimoires probably differed in value and rank, too, but this just didn’t make sense to him. It wasn’t just that they were a big deal—it was like they were too big a deal and Oriana was wasting the one she had.

Still, Stiyl didn’t agree with his opinion. “…Can she actually do such a thing? The alchemist Aureolus Isard is known for being a grimoire author, and he was seen as the fastest writer among the Cancellarii—but even with no rest or sleep, he’d take three days to pen one grimoire at the least. A thicker grimoire would have taken a month for him. I really don’t think she could have put together an original grimoire while on the run. And we don’t know if she actually has one in the first place…”

“You’ve got it wrong. Creating the book from start to finish would take at least that much time, nya. That, though, isn’t what Oriana’s after.” Tsuchimikado spoke in a lighthearted tone. “For her, the effects of the grimoire converted into the magic circle are what’s important. She doesn’t care about the format of the book. It’s more like a quick memo, one she didn’t care if others could read, isn’t it, nya?” he finished, completely reddened origami in one hand.

“…A Shorthand one, then? I still don’t think she could do that, but…it doesn’t matter. We need to consider every possibility right now.”

Kamijou looked down and mulled over what the sorcerers were saying. Eventually he brought his head back up. “Nobody can destroy the original copies, right? If people could just jot them down on the fly for every fight, wouldn’t the world be full of grimoires?”

“You’re on the right track, nya. Necessarius hasn’t received any report to that effect, either. This is just speculation, but Oriana’s Shorthand probably isn’t perfect. Real grimoires will convert their pages into a magic circle and stay semipermanently active. But I’d think her chicken scratch would break down on its own pretty quickly,” he answered smoothly. He continued writing with his pen on top of the already filled origami. The appearance wasn’t everything, he said with a dry grin. It mattered a lot what order you wrote the seals in and how you overlapped them. “Lots of sorcerers have tried penning faulty grimoires in the past and died when they went berserk, nya. Maybe Oriana is keeping her Shorthand grimoires able to be destroyed at will. That would make it easier for a caster to use. A mixed technique, blending grimoire and sorcerer…Not one to save knowledge or skills for future generations, but one she could use immediately and discard a moment later. Something like that, nya?”

“Hmm.” Kamijou folded his arms. “I still don’t really get all this original-grimoire-and-magic-circle stuff, though.”

“…Really, why bother explaining anything to you?” said Stiyl, frowning, his face still pale from his injury.

“Now that she intercepted you, does that mean you can’t use any magic on her?”

“No. I don’t think I can use any magic until we do something about the interception spell. I’m pretty sure her spell will detect when I try to use anything and will intercept it. It doesn’t care why I’m trying to cast it, and there wouldn’t be any point in adding such bothersome commands.”

Stiyl had just confessed a weakness, but his tone of voice was bitter. It showed no weak emotion. He was showing that things weren’t over yet.

“So what should we do? Stiyl can’t use magic anymore, so that, er…Four Ways to Truth? We can’t use that to locate Oriana anymore, right? And Tsuchimikado can’t use sorcery in the first place.”

“Not quite,” said Tsuchimikado, shaking his head. The origami in his hand were soaked in red ink, wet to the point where it seemed strange they didn’t just tear apart. “This is an automatic interception spell using Shorthand, remember? We just have to hold that in check. We could make an amulet as a countermeasure if things go well, but she still has that original copy, imperfect though it may be. It might just be easier to smash this spell and let Stiyl use sorcery again, nya~.”

Kamijou glanced down at his right hand. Original grimoires supposedly couldn’t be destroyed by any means, but the Imagine Breaker might be able to manage.

Stiyl breathed out smoke. “We can break her Shorthand grimoire, but is it possible Oriana flees outside Four Ways to Truth’s search area?”

“Yeah. But if she was confident enough to flee so quickly, she wouldn’t have put together an interception spell, would she, nya? That sorta thing takes time to make. She’s already pressed for time, so she shouldn’t normally want to make more work for herself.”

“Hmm.” Stiyl folded his arms.

Kamijou frowned. For a basic objective, that was enough, but… “So where is this Shorthand thing exactly?”

“I believe it would be hidden somewhere.”

“Oriana can’t take it with her?”

“We don’t know the subtle conditions for using Shorthand, so we can’t really say, nya. But here’s how she’s doing things. She sets up stationary traps in this service facility to figure out Stiyl’s life-force pattern. Then she sets up an automatic circle to grab that life force and send it to her. I think it’s possible the last in her little chain of spells would be in the same vein—a stationary spell—don’t you, nya?”

“Then you know where she set up the Shorthand grimoire?” Without knowing what route she’d chosen to flee, they couldn’t decide where the interception grimoire was set up either, of course.

“That’s what we’re gonna find out, nya~.”

“How?” asked Kamijou, but he got no response.

Tsuchimikado, for just a moment and very quietly, exhaled and inhaled. He returned to his pocket the red calligraphy pen he’d been using, then held the soaked, dyed origami delicately in both hands.

Then he spoke.

“Stiyl, I don’t care what kind—use a spell. I want to know where the interference is coming from.”

They were cold words.

Kamijou was shocked, and Stiyl’s face became completely impassive.

“Oriana used a Shorthand grimoire to interfere with our movements after figuring out Stiyl’s life force. Even that interception spell should be using mana. I’ll set up a Divination Circle around you—it’ll react to that mana like a litmus test. It’ll be an unused magic circle, one none of our mana is going through yet. The Divination Circle will activate in response to the interception spell’s mana, then calculate the direction and distance the mana is coming from.”

As he spoke, he took his red-dyed origami and squatted. Then, he moved the origami on the floor as though he were wiping a table. In a matter of seconds, a vermilion circle two meters wide had been drawn. After finishing his work, he stood up, not seeming pleased at all.

Kamijou found himself doubting Tsuchimikado’s sanity—how could he say that so calmly, like he was reading out of an instruction manual? He hastily grabbed his shoulders.

“He can’t do that, Tsuchimikado! Do you have a concrete idea of what will happen once the interception hits him?! If we do this one more time, Stiyl will end up collapsing again!!”

“One more time?” Tsuchimikado frowned, confused. “Who said that? Once obviously isn’t gonna be enough for this. Stiyl won’t be dropping out of the running here. At worst, after we destroy the interception spell, I’ll need him to use Four Ways to Truth again to find Oriana. And if the first Divination Circle doesn’t detect the interception spell, we’ll need him to keep on trying.”

Kamijou’s expression darkened. “…You…Are you serious right now?”

Tsuchimikado looked him dead in the eye. “Kammy, you seem to be forgetting something important. Even if Oriana isn’t here, even if we’re not crossing blades or firing bullets at each other, we’re still in the middle of a battle with our lives on the line. Whole nations, even the world, could be affected by its outcome.”

“But…” Kamijou stomped on the ground. “I could understand being absolutely sure we’ll win in exchange for Stiyl getting hurt again. Why can’t you guarantee that?! You’re saying it’s possible nothing could happen no matter how many times he gets hurt! Plus, even if we did find and wreck the interception spell, you’re gonna drag him with us to fight even more? That’s bullshit!! And I’m not gonna stand for it!!”

At the end, he barely managed to hold in the last words he was going to say.

…You’re getting Stiyl to use magic so that you don’t have to fight while hurt…

“I know. Let’s get started,” answered Stiyl, accepting the clearly unfair proposition.

“But you…!!”

“Would you please not act so friendly with me, Touma Kamijou? It’s creeping me out. If this is what it takes to end things, then I have no problem with it.” He gave Tsuchimikado a glare. “In exchange, you’d better find exactly where that interception spell is. And we’re settling this problem ourselves. We will not let it continue to spiral out of control. Do you understand me?”

Tsuchimikado didn’t avert his eyes under the glare. “Yeah, got it. We won’t let this get any more out of hand—Index could be forced to return if that happened. We’ll be sure to defend her life in Academy City. That was your condition, wasn’t it?”

Kamijou was at a loss for words. In the end, Stiyl was only thinking of how to make a certain girl happy, even if it meant getting hurt. Even if he didn’t exist in that happy world. Even if Touma Kamijou was now standing where he should have been. It would take more than those facts to stop him.

The sorcerer Stiyl Magnus turned his back to the two of them and removed a rune card from his inside pocket.

The Divination Circle.

Stiyl didn’t hesitate to step into the vermilion ring Motoharu Tsuchimikado had drawn on the ground.

“Touma Kamijou…I’m not pleased by the fact that you’re here,” said the red-haired priest in an unwavering voice. “Why are you not at her side? If anything were to befall her, it would be your fault.”

Then, runic flames erupted—and at that moment, the interception spell activated.

A scream rang out, followed by the sound of someone collapsing.

That was how Stiyl Magnus lived his own life.