A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 16

by Kazuma Kamachi

  “What do you mean by weapons?” asked a short boy named Kouyagi as he munched on some popcorn.

  Tatemiya fished around in the bag on the ground next to him. Then he brought out a flip-board—the kind quiz show contestants wrote answers on—and began squeaking and scribbling on it with a black marker.

  He’d written down the right answer and theatrically whipped it around to show them. Then, bam!! His eyes popped open. “That’s right—the ‘Itsuwa secretly has giant tits’ theory!!” he declared.

  They all scampered up to him in a rush—not only Ushibuka and Kouyagi but the whole male crowd, including Isahaya, an older man, and Nomozaki, who was already married.

  “D-do you have any proof for that theory, Vicar Pope?!”

  “These better not be random predictions! Save them for the horse races, asshole!!”

  The men began breathing raggedly. Tatemiya put his black marker to the flip-board again. “According to the results of the investigation from the Itsuwa Massage Stratagem that I executed earlier,” he said, “her shoulder stiffness index is forty. But considering her physical strength and the amount of exercise she gets, even factoring in the total weight of her clothing, equipment, and possessions, her stiffness index should only be thirty-seven at most. It’s odd!”

  “You mean…” The group gulped.

  Tatemiya nodded gravely, drew upon the deepest reserves of his strength, and declared in a loud voice, “Yes. This index differential of three proves my theory that Itsuwa secretly has huge tits!!”

  Bum-bum!! With the stunning truth appended to the flip-board now in front of them, Ushibuka and Kouyagi fell to their knees. Isahaya, their elder, made an arm pump as if joyful at the growth of a grandchild. Meanwhile, Nomozaki, perhaps preferring them on the smaller side, drooped his shoulders in frustration.

  Off to the side, Tsushima, a woman with fluffy golden locks standing a short distance away, sighed at the stupidity. “Quit the horseplay and focus on keeping track of the one we’re guarding.”

  Tatemiya and the other men, their fun spoiled, gave Tsushima’s body, tall yet light on cleavage, a thorough look from head to toe.

  “Tsushima’s an ambiguous one,” said Kouyagi. “I don’t think there’s much demand for girls like her.”

  “What?!”

  “Indeed,” agreed Isahaya. “You’d think she’d at least have the good grace to be tall and big-breasted, or short with smaller ones. It’s like the character designer didn’t know what to do with her. What are we supposed to do?”

  As Tsushima’s mouth hung open in silence, Tatemiya pulled out another flip-board and wrote on it with his marker. “Tsk, tsk,” he said. “The lot of you wouldn’t understand this—my ‘Tsushima has curvaceous legs’ theory!!”

  Before he could go any further explaining his strange ideas, Tsushima kicked him in the crotch to shut him up. The other men, not seeming very interested in her, left her alone and went back to Itsuwa.

  “You think this is all right? It looks like Itsuwa’s trying to continue her hand towel tactics.”

  “No, Itsuwa’s too slow to mature,” muttered Isahaya, clenching his teeth in frustration. “Nothing will happen like this…”

  Tatemiya, oddly teary-eyed, wrested back control of the conversation. “You’re right. If Itsuwa wants to use my ‘extra-large oranges’ theory to its fullest, she’ll need to do more.”

  “E-extra-large oranges?!” cried Ushibuka in a fluster. “I thought they were apples at best!!”

  Kouyagi looked dubious. “Vicar Pope, we’re in the outfield. I don’t think crying about it will solve the problem. Itsuwa’s lack of maturity is tried and true at this point.”

  “Heh. That’s why I brought a secret plan along.” Tatemiya smirked and took something out of his bag of wonders.

  “A soccer ball?”

  “I propose what I’m calling the Grand Free Kick Strategy, carried out by yours truly—the sniper on the field, Saiji Tatemiya.”

  5

  Mikoto Misaka’s mind was hazy and murky.

  It had been this way ever since she’d learned a certain thing about Touma Kamijou.

  Thinking about it didn’t solve it. Time passing didn’t solve it. Her thoughts were going over it again and again, fruitlessly, like someone was making her solve a question that had no answer.

  It couldn’t possibly have been a lie.

  The thing—it was his amnesia. That one word had shaken her heart.

  But how long ago was it…?

  When they’d signed up for the paired cell phone contract on November 30, he hadn’t seemed strange. She couldn’t see any changes in him during the Daihasei Festival, either. What about August 31? And back when he was involved with the Sisters and Accelerator?

  “…” She couldn’t get a grip on the problem. Now that she was thinking about it, he’d always seemed close to her. But there was a lot about him she couldn’t actually figure out.

  I know worrying about this isn’t going to help…

  How long had he been like this? How much of his memory had he lost? Did it affect his life? Did he ever see a doctor like he should have? Was there really no hope of curing him?

  And—what parts of his memories had disappeared?

  I guess I could talk about this with a mental-type esper I know, but…

  There was one other Level Five at Tokiwadai Middle School besides Mikoto. She was number five and had the strongest mental-type ability in Academy City’s history—Mental Out, as it was called. Reading memories, brainwashing personalities, telepathically talking to distant people, erasing feelings, amplifying willpower, reproducing thoughts, transplanting emotions…She had single-handedly mastered every mind-related phenomenon out there; she was a veritable Swiss Army knife of a Level Five.

  “But I just don’t like her…,” Mikoto went on, speaking her thoughts aloud accidentally. It went to show how uncomfortable she made her.

  After all, unlike Mikoto, who didn’t belong to any specific groups, organizations, or factions, this girl had ascended to queenhood of the largest faction in the school. That in itself meant they wouldn’t get along. If Mikoto asked her about this, it would undoubtedly place her in the girl’s debt…and, at worst, she could always play a trick on that idiot’s mind and lie that she cured it. The blunt fact was that she didn’t trust her enough with his body.

  Mikoto knew she shouldn’t pursue that plan, so she drove the Level Five from her mind for the moment. And I know this is that idiot’s problem—not mine. But I can’t just stop thinking about it. I’m not the kind of person who can have a rational attitude toward everything.

  Why hadn’t he told her about it? Would it be better if she pretended not to notice? She couldn’t give those questions, among other things, any more than a vexed clenching of her teeth. After all, Kamijou didn’t seem to know Mikoto had realized any of this, and he seemed to want it that way. She could awkwardly question him about it and force him to talk, but…in this case, that could end up only hurting him.

  What should she do? Could she do anything about this problem?

  Graaahhh!! Crap. Why the heck am I even worrying over that idiot?! Now I’m all impatient and confused, and that’s just making me more impatient. Maybe I should do a complete refresh and think about it from the beginning.

  Still, if she could start thinking about something else just like that, she wouldn’t be suffering now. She heaved a heavy sigh.

  “…?” Suddenly, she caught sight of someone sneaking around near a small movie theater on a street corner.

  The big man, his hair a glossy black like a stag beetle, placed a soccer ball on the asphalt. He took a few steps back to give himself some room, nodded to several others nearby, and then launched a full-force free kick.

  Pom! The soccer ball flew far, rotating horizontally, its spin giving it a sharp curve. It was so strong that in an official game, it probably would have flown by the defense’s wall and shot into the goal from the side.

  Why were
they doing this in the middle of the city? Mikoto, naturally, glanced at where the ball was headed.

  And then she froze.

  Ba-gam!! The ball struck Touma Kamijou in the side of the head.

  And then the momentum sent his head flying into the cleavage of a nearby girl.

  The force seemed to be so strong that Kamijou left his head buried in her chest, unconscious. The girl didn’t seem to know what to do in response, and as her face reddened, she decided to rub the spot the ball hit with her palm. The act made it look like she was squeezing his head in, but that wasn’t true, was it?

  As Mikoto’s mouth opened and closed in amazement, she heard a “Yahoo!” from somewhere. She looked over and saw the stag beetle who had done the abrupt free kick from the roadside and a group of young people cheering and giving one another high fives.

  Snap-snap. She heard sparks flying.

  Before she realized she was producing a high-voltage current, she exploded. “Here I am, worrying my butt off…Quit kicking that stupid ball around to try to get weird things to happen!!”

  Spears of lightning went zz-bam, zz-bam from her bangs in succession. When the stag beetle’s group saw, they scattered in all directions and disappeared in the blink of an eye. Like chameleons, they blended into the crowd, and although she looked, she couldn’t find a single one of them.

  “???” Mikoto tilted her head in confusion.

  But just because she’d lost sight of her targets didn’t mean her anger was quelled. After all, the source of everything, that spiky-haired boy, still had his face buried in that girl’s chest. And then he started groaning in his sleep and clutching her breasts.

  “That idiot…How long are you going to let those big clumps of motherhood coddle you?!” she shouted, dashing straight for Kamijou to deliver his punishment.

  6

  It had been a terrible day.

  Touma Kamijou heaved a sigh.

  A sudden free kick had hit him from the roadside; follow-up lightning attacks had struck him from Mikoto…Then she pinioned Itsuwa, who was starting to assemble her lance to do her bodyguard duty, and then he had to flee all over Academy City because for some reason Mikoto was angry about him being so close to Itsuwa. He’d run so far and gotten so much exercise that he knew he wouldn’t have to worry at all about his metabolism.

  And then, a new problem stood blocking his way.

  Yes—this was where things got dicey.

  “…Anyway, Touma, why is Itsuwa from Amakusa with you?”

  The most dangerous checkpoint of the day.

  The words Index had spoken as soon as he’d opened the door caused him to break out into a greasy sweat all over. She flashed her teeth, as if to say she was primed and ready to bite him at any time. Incredibly scary.

  Incidentally, the calico cat always with her was circling Itsuwa, sniffing around, wondering who the new person was.

  Kamijou wiped away some of the sweat on his brow. “W-well, you see,” he started. “How should I explain this…?”

  Itsuwa, standing next to him with a blank expression, said, “What he’s trying to say is that God’s Right Seat—”

  “Hi-yaaah!!” Kamijou suddenly let out a cry and gave Itsuwa a karate chop to the neck. Her body jolted, and then he went around behind and put her in a headlock before hastily dragging her away from Index and beginning secret talks.

  “(…Itsuwa, please!! Um, well, could I possibly get you to kindly keep this a secret from Index?!)” he whispered urgently.

  “Wh-what?!”

  “(…Acqua’s only after me, so I think it would be best if he doesn’t have to go after Index, too! Please don’t say anything that will get her any closer to weird situations like this, okay?! Okay?!)”

  “Wawawawawawawawawawawawawawawawawawawa?!”

  “(…Itsuwa, are you listening to me?)”

  “I-I’m listening!! I got all of that—yes, I did!!”

  Itsuwa shook her head rapidly, her face for some reason bright red.

  Am I hurting her? he wondered. He put his arm around her shoulder and neck and grabbed her arm, but mysteriously enough, her expression turned somewhat unhappy.

  And then…

  “…”

  Index, at some point, had gone completely stone-faced. She didn’t even explode in a fuss. “Whatever,” she muttered, turning back to the television again.

  That made things very awkward. She was serious. This wasn’t her calling him stupid over and over. He saw the kind of dark aura he noticed around his classmate Himegami sometimes. Why did it come to this? And why on earth was she so angry? After Kamijou shook back and forth, he eventually assumed a quiet groveling position, his head pointing at Index’s back.

  “…Well, I don’t really understand, but would you mind biting me before you completely explode? If you let the power of your anger disperse little by little like this, Mr. Kamijou would get away without any bites to the skull, you know.”

  Despite Itsuwa’s uncertain fidgeting at the two of them being so still, it was perhaps her sense of duty that made her stick to her role of guardian. Her gaze drifted from one spot to the next until her eyes met with the cat’s as he finished smelling her.

  “O-oh, that’s right. I brought a gift for the cat,” she said, not to calm the situation but to remove herself from the uncomfortable conversation, fishing around in her big bag.

  What? thought Kamijou. How did she know we had a cat at the Kamijou residence?

  No sooner had she removed a super-expensive-looking golden can with the words Feast for a Cat: Three-Star Platinum Rank on it than the cat froze with his hair on end. His eyes opened wide as his posture returned to normal. Itsuwa popped the lid off and offered it to him, but he seemed scared of it, as though saying, I may be a cat, but are you sure you want to feed me something so bourgeois?!

  Then Kamijou, still in his highly rated groveling position, got a glimpse of a supermarket bag inside Itsuwa’s tote.

  “…Why do you have meat and vegetables in your bag, Itsuwa?” he asked. “Are they for an Amakusa-Style secret fish spell?”

  “N-no, nothing like that,” she said, waving her hands in front of her face. “Right now, I don’t have any food restrictions like fasting. I just got some ingredients at a nearby supermarket in advance. I, well, I can make simple things. I may be a bodyguard, but I would balk at freeloading. You can leave the housework to me. I’ll help with whatever I’m able to.”

  For a moment, Kamijou didn’t understand what she’d just said. It took several blank seconds for him to finally realize the meaning of her commendable remark. This time, without a word, he moved his head around to look at Index.

  “Wh-what, Touma?” she said. “Why does it feel like our positions just changed?”

  “Look inside your heart for the answer. Who, exactly, has been leaving everything to poor Kamijou and refusing to help at all?”

  “O-oh. Well, I’m sorry, but…Wait! You’re just saying that to try and turn the tables on me—”

  She was about to see through his scheme, but now that the flow had turned against her, it wouldn’t change. Kamijou, indeed naturally, looked over toward his kitchen space. “Um, do you need me to tell you where the pots are?”

  “Oh, yes, please.”

  Their exchange left the nun in white out of the picture, and the questions he’d had at the beginning, such as How did things come to this? and What is she trying to do? ended up being thrown into his mind’s trash bin.

  I mean, even I don’t know why Itsuwa is so into this! I can’t explain what I don’t understand! W-well, right now, all I need to do is say thank you to Itsuwa! Fu-ha-ha!! What a marvelous feat—I escaped Index’s pursuit without having to get bitt— Urgh!!

  Just as he was basking in the glow of victory, Index, angry anyway, bit the back of his head, and he began rolling around in pain. The act made the gorgeous can of cat food splatter all over the floor, and the cat began lapping it up greedily, as if saying, What a waste!! I’ll just
have to eat it! All of it!!

  Itsuwa gave a pained laugh and headed into the kitchen. To her eyes, it looked like a heartwarming scene, but for the victim, it was a scene straight out of hell.

  Still, though…, he thought. This was the Amakusa ability to blend in with their environment and all that stuff. Kamijou looked over to she who had, one way or another, been accepted at some point.

  Spread on the floor facedown like an unnatural death with human bite marks in the back of his head, he began to hear the sounds of boiling from a pot and high-pitched sizzling from a frying pan.

  I—I get to see a girl cooking, he thought, almost ready to let a tear trickle from his eye.

  “Hm? Touma, why do you look like a lamb who just witnessed a miracle?” asked Index.

  Kamijou ignored the sister and took in all the blessed light.

  Then he started to feel uncomfortable. He was relaxing and letting Itsuwa do all the work. Maybe I should clean up the room or something, he thought. Rather seriously, in fact.

  Meanwhile, Index, who had vented most of her stress with her Kamijou head bite, started floating toward the kitchen as though drawn by the scent of cooking.

  “What?” said Itsuwa. “No, don’t eat that fish cake!!”

  “Talk all you want—my mouth is past the point of no return!”

  Seeing Index, having immediately given in to her own hunger, starting to get in the way, Touma Kamijou rose abruptly. After a fearsome dash, he wrapped his hands around Index’s waist and quickly tugged her out of the kitchen space. Then, using the momentum from his lead-up, he hurled her onto the bed with a cry in a strange pro-wrestling throwing technique.

  “Don’t ruin a man’s dreeeeeeeeeeeeeams!!”

  “Mgyuh?! T-Touma, what was that for?!” she shouted, eyes spinning. The cat kept his distance as though annoyed, but Kamijou wasn’t about to give her a real response. Silently, he grabbed Index’s head and spun it to face the kitchen. “Look at that, Index!! That is what a freeloader should look like!!”