“Yes!!”

Before the shameless electronic pchee!! could go off…

…Kuroko Shirai suddenly appeared with teleportation and delivered a drop kick to the back of Touma Kamijou’s head.

With a thunderous craaack, the cell phone flew from Kamijou’s hands as his body slammed forward, the phone’s shutter going off a moment later.

Despite his intention for the picture to be a cute shot of a couple, Kamijou saw the phone, now resting on the ground, display instead a flawless shot of his blurry head, a surprised Mikoto, and Shirai’s underwear.

Kamijou had tumbled down to the floor face-first. “Wh-what the hell?!”

“I…I take my eyes off you for five minutes, and what do you do…?” Kuroko Shirai landed from her drop kick right next to Mikoto. It seemed like she was implying that was her spot, not his. “First, Uiharu makes me do grunt work for Judgment after a half day’s worth of classes, then when that’s finally finished and I go see Big Sister, Uiharu was waiting for me with a violin attack, and then they made me do an extra job where I put in so much effort…Good grief, I see it was a mistake to underestimate you as an upstart slave. Big Sister, you’ve certainly been having your fill…”

“I…Don’t read anything into this, Kuroko!” Mikoto’s hands flailed around in an expression of denial. “I wasn’t doing this because I wanted to! I mean it! I just wanted the Croaker strap, so I asked him to sign up for a pair contract with me, and they told us we had to take a photo for it!!”

A listener could take that as her convincing herself of the fact rather than defending herself to Shirai. Whatever the case, there was no point kicking Kamijou or asking him for anything.

Well, this was how punishment games usually went.

Shirai couldn’t completely conceal her shock at what Mikoto said. “But! But you needn’t beg a gentleman like him for help! If you’d asked me to pair with you, Big Sister, there wouldn’t have been any issue! Now, I’ll take a picture, let’s get this over with quickly, we’re about to make a memory that will last a lifetime!!”

Mikoto gave a slight grimace to Shirai, who had instantaneously boiled over, but Kamijou abruptly looked back up.

“Huh? If that’s fine, then can I go home now?”

“I told you, the couple needs to be a boy and a girl!!”

The crude question resulted in Mikoto firing a powerful spear of lightning at him.

5

On the sofa he’d been sleeping on, Accelerator opened his eyes slightly.

He sucked his teeth. “…Must’ve fallen asleep.”

Checking the clock, he saw it had only been about fifteen minutes.

They’d left the TV on. The noise it was making had probably woken him up. Lately he’d been waking up without much reason, whether he was just sleeping more lightly or because of sudden stimulus.

In the wide, empty living room, Accelerator shook his head a little. I let my guard down. Idiot, idiot. His own resentful voice seeped into his mind.

Accelerator had always slept whenever he wanted. Alarm clocks ringing next to his ears, stupid kids raising hell, or bombs exploding on top of him—no matter what, he would continue to sleep peacefully through it all.

That was thanks to his ability, which could change any vectors at will. Normally he’d always be “reflecting” everything except the bare minimum oxygen and gravity he needed.

In that state, Accelerator could take a direct hit from a nuclear bomb and emerge unscathed.

That was why Accelerator, who had innumerable enemies, never hesitated to fall asleep—which could be called his most defenseless state—before now.

Unfortunately, that was back when his ability was perfect.

Accelerator put a hand to his neck.

Around it was a blackish choker…or what looked like one, except it had electrodes attached to the inside. It was a device that linked to the brains of a little less than ten thousand Sisters scattered throughout the world, letting him borrow their immense parallel calculation functions.

Accelerator had suffered brain damage on August 31.

This device and the calculation assistance it offered him were the only things letting him live a normal life now. In normal mode, he could retain his ability to walk, speak, and count for forty-eight hours, but normal in this case was esper mode—when he activated all his vector control abilities, he would have to do a ton of calculations in the span of an instant, so the battery would go dead in fifteen minutes. The item came with quite a few limitations.

This all meant that, practically speaking, he could only be safe for fifteen minutes at a time.

Beyond those fifteen minutes, he was a weakling who couldn’t even walk properly unless he charged the battery once every forty-eight hours.

Now that he was in such a situation, he could no longer languish in indolence and laziness, sheltered behind his abilities.

“…”

Accelerator, his eyes suspicious, glanced at the huge flat-screen TV.

A one o’clock talk show was displayed on a cable channel boasting stupidly high contract pricing. Given the video recorder currently active underneath the TV, he guessed that Yomikawa, the owner, was a fan of the celebrity appearing on the show today or something.

“Mr. Hajime Hitotsui, tell us a little about the movie you starred in recently. Japanese people having a lead role in overseas productions is fairly rare, isn’t it? Can you tell us about what that felt like?”

The MC and the guest were facing each other across a small table.

As Accelerator stared at the screen, his hand moved to the switch on the side of the electrode choker…

…and cut the power.

“Well. The most unique directive on the side of the plot was to use it to act appropriately as a Japanese. Maybe he didn’t have even and the other people extremely appropriately understood it as a Japanese person today?”

The words came out garbled.

The guest had actually said this: “Well, the most unique instruction the director gave me was simply to act like a Japanese person would. I mean, even we don’t really know what that means these days, do we?” However, Accelerator’s brain couldn’t parse the conversation’s contents anymore.

He started to lose his balance.

Almost before he realized he was falling, his body was back down on the sofa. The digital numbers on the video recorder—he couldn’t understand what they meant. The gears in his mind had disconnected. It was like he was looking at a problem on a standardized test after someone forced him to stay awake with no rest for a hundred hours.

Urgh…Accelerator put his hand to his neck.

His body felt like it was wobbling all over the place, and it took several seconds for him just to flip the small switch. After hitting the choker a few times and failing, the middle of his thumb eventually found it.

There was a soft click.

It changed into normal mode, returning Accelerator at last to the usual world.

“I had to use native American English for actually speaking, so he told me to display what being Japanese means through only my actions, behavior, and attitude. It made me think a lot about it.”

In his sideways perspective of the world, what was undeniably the celebrity’s bragging session continued.

Once they’d called Accelerator the strongest esper in Academy City. Now he was reduced to this.

If he didn’t borrow the proxy calculations of Last Order and the rest of the Sisters, he wouldn’t be able to have a normal conversation, walk, or even count to ten, much less use his ability. The electrode choker on his neck was essential for that task, and the battery could hold out for forty-eight hours max.

And if the power ran out or he went underground or somewhere that otherwise obstructed the electric signals, he wouldn’t be able to use it.

Just the choker’s normal mode had brought him to this.

It had to process much more information in ability usage mode, and he’d only be able to use it in that state for a little under fifteen minutes. Its primary use was first and foremost as a medical device, not something that could stand up to the military-level usage required in the environment of esper combat. The battery was also something the frog-faced doctor had made especially for this—he couldn’t change it, swap it with a store-bought battery or anything. He also couldn’t get a whole bunch of batteries together and chain them in and out to increase the usage time.

Fifteen minutes was, in all truth, his time limit.

At least he wouldn’t need to use his crutch anymore in ability mode.

It’s such a pain to have to remember every goddamn one of those rules. What am I, freakin’ Cinderella? Supreme but with a time limit? That’s not even funny.

“…”

Guess I’ll take a shower, thought Accelerator, rising from the sofa.

He needed a change in pace.

Last Order, utterly without caution 24-7, was one thing. Yomikawa and Yoshikawa were just too soft. Why was everyone he met putting so much trust in the “strongest” esper in the city? Who said he’d be able to meet any of those expectations? Yomikawa and Yoshikawa didn’t understand the terror. Sure, he was accustomed to destroying things, but he wasn’t used to protecting others at all. And if he did strike for a defensive purpose, it was easy to imagine the danger developing into a catastrophe that engulfed everything nearby.

Huh. Nobody’s in the room. Did those idiots go shopping or something? thought Accelerator idly as he opened the door to the changing room.

And there…

…was Last Order, completely naked, her soggy brown hair being dried off with a towel…

…by Yomikawa and Yoshikawa on either side of her.

Last Order was the first to react with a sudden jerk. “Wh-why do you keep showing up out of the blue like that?! says Misaka says Misaka, reaching for her towel but not reaching it and stuff!!”

Accelerator ignored the noise coming from Last Order and looked at Yomikawa and Yoshikawa, who were standing there blankly.

“…Why the hell didn’t you lock the door?”

“Er, sorry about that, ’kay? Been living on my own and everything, so I totally forgot that was a thing. Sowwy, sowwy.”

“Aiho, would you please just cover yourself already?” asked Yoshikawa with a sigh and handed a towel to her counterpart—she’d already wrapped herself in one. Yomikawa, looking annoyed, covered herself with it. Even so, her thighs were more exposed than if she’d been wearing a miniskirt, and he could see her silhouette pretty clearly, given that she hadn’t dried herself off yet.

…What the hell is this?

This wasn’t what Accelerator’s life was like. If there were a person who ran into women changing or whatever whenever he opened a door, he’d be laughing his ass off right now.

Last Order realized there weren’t enough towels for her, panicked, and hid herself behind Yoshikawa, eyes watering. “…Why are you two simply handing towels to each other like you’re tired and without making a fuss? asks Misaka asks Misaka bluntly.”

“Huh?” Yomikawa looked at Last Order dubiously. “Well, I mean…He’s a kid, and we’re adults, ’kay?”

“Not caring about it whatsoever is more the hallmark of a middle-aged lady than just an adult, I think, says Misaka…Ow, ow, ow, ow!! Stop pressing on Misaka’s head like that! insists Misaka insists Misaka with resolution and stuff!!”

As Yoshikawa continued her attack on the crown of Last Order’s head, she prescribed, “Not middle-aged, just adults, all right?”

“But how is getting angry at a little kid right away the adult thing to do, asks Mis— Owww!! Hey, you over there, I need help and also a towel! pleads Misaka pleads Misaka, trying to evoke a paternal response with her upturned eyes and stuff!!”

The stupid little brat was wailing about something, but Accelerator ignored her and closed the changing room door.

He sighed.

“I told them to be more freakin’ cautious.”

6

“And that’s what happened, says Misaka says Misaka, delivering her report of the incident.”

Last Order was in the passage right outside Yomikawa’s apartment. She wore a men’s button-down, the sleeves extending past her fingertips, over a sky-blue camisole.

The tiny girl was talking to someone who looked like a blown-up version of her: serial number 10032, Little Misaka.

Little Misaka was wearing the winter uniform of Tokiwadai, consisting of a beige blazer and a dark-blue checkered, pleated skirt. The Sisters wearing the same things as their original, Mikoto Misaka, was a convenience issue with the experiment, but even after the study ended, the mannerisms remained.

One difference between her and the original was the pair of large electronic goggles around Little Misaka’s forehead. They were shaped like night vision goggles but were actually for visualizing information the naked eye couldn’t see, like lines of magnetic force and electron rays.

Little Misaka watched Last Order closely, her eyes betraying no emotion. “Your report has already been sent through the network to all Misakas, so is there a need to repeat it verbally? asks Misaka, conducting a verification of her natural question.”

“Sometimes we need to use our regular five senses to communicate so we can correct stuff like time miscalculations, says Misaka says Misaka, finding an excuse that seems reasonable!”

“If you say so, says Misaka, turning aside her superior’s complaints with a tired look. It may also assist in Misaka’s rehabilitation, says Misaka, forcing herself to search for elements to convince herself with.”

She claimed her face looked tired, but her expression hadn’t actually changed one millimeter. Last Order was flailing her hands and feet around, but Little Misaka wasn’t overwhelmed by her excitement.

Instead, she looked up at the apartments in front of her, moving along at her own pace. “What a foolish situation, however, to have been standing aimlessly out here after being locked outside by an automated mechanism, says Misaka, offering an evaluation of the situation. I wonder how long you would have been alone had Misaka not coincidentally been taking a walk, says Misaka, smiling to herself as she doubts the host individual’s specifications.”

“It wasn’t Misaka’s fault, it was the auto-lock thing being very rude! says Misaka says Misaka in indignation! The electronic lock was being annoying and not letting Misaka’s power work on it and making a really high-pitched beeping noise! says Misaka says Misaka, flailing her hands around to vent her stress and stuff!!”

“Is it not a praiseworthy state of affairs that it didn’t budge even after using the power of an electromaster on it? says Misaka, offering an objective viewpoint.”

Last Order groaned like a persistent dog. Unfortunately, the petite “network host individual” didn’t know much about the wider world, and her interest at any given moment easily flitted from one thing to the other. “Also, I’ve been wondering, says Misaka says Misaka, pointing at your forehead.”

“? Misaka’s forehead is of average size, and Misaka is not a character known for her forehead, says Misaka, putting a hand to her forehead just to make sure.”

“No, not that—those goggles, says Misaka says Misaka, pointing again.” Last Order had her eyes on Little Misaka’s electronic goggles. The small girl looked at her questioningly. “Um, how come all the other Misakas have a pair, but Misaka doesn’t get any? says Misaka says Misaka, looking at you with envy.”

Little Misaka seemed to just remember the goggles on her forehead and touched them with a fingertip. She looked at Last Order, who was staring up at her, saw she had no goggles on her forehead, and said, “Those Misakas are those Misakas, and this Misaka is this Misaka, says Misaka, tacitly suggesting that you give up.”

“That’s like when they say, ‘Other families aren’t like our family,’ and that won’t convince me! says Misaka says Misaka, immediately arguing! Besides, by that reasoning, Misaka is the only one who is part of a different family, says Misaka says Misaka, pointing out an even bigger problem and stuff!!”

She moaned and groaned between all her repetitions of the word Misaka. Then she grabbed Little Misaka’s skirt and started angrily flapping it up and down.

“Misaka wants one, Misaka wants one! says Misaka says Misaka, employing a spoiled child’s version of negotiation by using her tiny appearance to maximum effect!!”

“You may be attempting to act in a cute manner, but when used on a member of the same sex, it only makes them angry, having the opposite effect, explains Misaka concisely.”

More importantly, with her skirt up like that, everyone could see the panties she was in the mood for today—ones tied on either side with a ribbon—but Little Misaka didn’t seem to care about that part at all.

Last Order groaned in irritation at her stony expression. “Hey, number 10032, could you bow for a second? asks Misaka asks Misaka.”

“?”

Though she was suspicious, Little Misaka decided to follow the host individual’s instruction.

“Ha-ha-ha, you’re wide open! says Misaka says Misaka, succeeding in her burglary!!”

She’d torn the goggles away from Little Misaka’s bowed head.

Before her victim could say anything, Last Order turned around with a delighted grin and cried, “If you’re falling for beginner’s tricks like that, then maybe they need to check the routines used by all the network individuals, says Misaka says Misaka in parting! Come on, if you don’t like it, try to get them back, says Misaka says Misaka, basking in her victory as she dashes away at breakneck speed!!”

Pat, pat, pat, pat, pat!! She scrambled away and disappeared more quickly than her appearance would suggest she could.

“…” Little Misaka stared after her in a daze for a few moments but soon snapped out of it. “Misaka cannot do anything about a direct order from the network host body, says Misaka with incredible reluctance while removing a submachine gun and rubber bullets, confirming the situation.”

Ka-click!! rang the menacing metallic noise, echoing throughout the unmenacing city streets.

“An exercise though it may be, the opponent is the host individual, so it would not be childish for Misaka, a network node, to challenge her with everything Misaka has, says Misaka, offering a natural perspective. This is by no means Misaka getting mad, but merely exercising appropriate judgment based on logic, says Misaka, breaking into a sprint with her live firearm in one hand and praising herself for pretending that her own thought processes are level and calm.”

With an expression that looked impassive, but upon closer inspection revealed her eyes twitching, Little Misaka began her pursuit.

Meanwhile, Last Order, who had caught on to Little Misaka’s mentality, used the Misaka network—consisting of the Sisters’ brain waves and weak electromagnetic waves—to provoke her pursuer as she ran through back roads.