“…”
Itsuwa saw where he was indicating, and glanced in that direction…
…to her chest.
And to her pink tank top, which water had soaked into, causing its colors to bleed and the fabric to stick to her skin, showing the entirety of her silhouette.
4
Incidentally, this Itsuwa girl seemed to have a very peaceful, conscientious personality.
Even when Kamijou bluntly pointed out the situation, she didn’t karate chop him, bite him in the head, or try to burn him to a crisp with a one-billion-volt current, or anything eccentric like that. Her face had reddened as she gave a painful grin, saying something like, “Ah-ah-ha-ha. Well now, this is rather embarrassing. Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha,” crossing her hands over her chest, and trotting away to the bridge with her bag on it and her change of clothes.
Her face was smiling, but her eyes seemed strangely tearful. She seemed like an adult, one with very good sense.
“Hmm…” For some reason, Kamijou was the one feeling super awkward. She could have at least yelled “kyaa” or something, he thought, gazing into the distance.
After about ten minutes, Itsuwa returned wearing completely different clothes. Where on earth had she changed? She was perfectly dry now, but he sniffed faint perfume on her—maybe she was worried about the smell of river water.
“I-I’m sorry I made you wait,” she said. She had a big bag over her shoulder.
Her clothing consisted of a blouse that was light green like ice cream and dark brown pants that went down to her calves. Her blouse looked thin enough to be see-through if one held it up to the sun. Itsuwa didn’t have the buttons done up; instead it was tied in a knot near her navel to hold it closed.
Directly over her naked upper body.
She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, which seemed, strangely enough, to emphasize her cleavage.
Kamijou gave her a blank look. “…Itsuwa?”
“I—I can’t help it! This was supposed to be worn over my tank top to change the impression my clothes gave! Please don’t say anything, please!!”
She was right; it must have been for slipping on, because upon closer inspection, the blouse had no buttons. There was no way to close it except for tying it in the front.
She seemed well aware there was only so far she could go with what she had on hand. She withered under Kamijou’s indefinable gaze.
But originally, Itsuwa had jumped into the river to rescue him. He would just have to back her up for now.
Kamijou set his lacking brain into full motion. “But Kanzaki wears something like that, so isn’t it okay?”
“The priestess does not dress this slovenly!!” Her complete denial was also a reaffirmation that her own clothes were so, and her entire face went red.
Still, if she was brazen about it like Kanzaki, she could probably pass as a “girl who probably was out dancing all night long.” But she was being coy about it, huddling up and fidgeting, which made her stand out as unusual.
“Well, I don’t know about Mr. Tsuchimikado, but if you’re here to get the document, too, shall we meet up with him and act in concert?” She must have wanted to get the idea of her wardrobe off the table quickly, because the topic shift had come with some force.
Kamijou, for his part, knew absolutely nothing about French. He had no passport, either, so he had no way of getting back to Japan if he ended up by himself. Itsuwa’s proposition worked all of that out.
“W-well, I’d appreciate it.”
“Then let’s go somewhere we can sit down first,” she suggested. “There’s a lot we have to talk about.”
Kamijou looked down at his own clothes. “I’m soaking wet,” he muttered. “It’d be nice to at least wipe off the mud.”
Itsuwa’s spine straightened. She began to fish through her bag, flustered. “I-if you need it, I—I have a hand towel right here.”
Before she finished talking, a towel slapped over his face.
Kamijou turned back, surprised, to see an older Caucasian man walking a big dog along the dry riverbed as he waved his hand behind him without looking, as if bothered and saying, “I don’t need it back.”
Kamijou took the towel off his head. “…Right. Guess there are nice people out there. Why do French people look so cool when they do simple stuff like that? Huh? Itsuwa, why are you all frozen up?”
“N-nothing, it’s nothing…,” she replied, shoulders drooping.
He tilted his head in confusion as he continued wiping up the dirt on his face and clothes with the towel. “Which reminds me. There’s demonstrations and riots happening here, too, aren’t there? Do people get inspected? I don’t have a passport or anything.”
“There have been several inspections but only of possessions. I don’t think they were serious enough to ask people to show passports. And I can trick the searches by using sorcery,” she added, then muttered quietly, “A bigger towel. That was a good idea. B-but no, hand towels are good, too…,” as she readjusted her bag’s shoulder strap.
Avignon.
A city in the south of France. The original, ancient town, four miles across, sat at the heart of the modern city, surrounded by ramparts. Many a building was crammed into the limited space there. During its golden age, it must have had a big effect on European culture as a whole. Perhaps that was why it was France’s number one tourist location to this day.
“…Hmm. Anyway, you said you were investigating the Document of Constantine in Avignon. I get that, Itsuwa, but…”
After receiving that explanation, Kamijou and Itsuwa passed through an arched castle gate installed in a giant stone wall, then entered the ancient boundaries of Avignon.
When they came out into what looked like a public plaza, they saw something like an open café. Its signboard sat beside the road, with French words (or what Kamijou had to assume were French words) next to the English on it. It didn’t feel as much meant for tourists as just made in consideration of people there for the first time.
Itsuwa led Kamijou out of the public square and onto a smaller road. Maybe she’s got a hole-in-the-wall place, he thought. “I thought we were going somewhere to sit down for now.”
“Y-yes.”
“So why are we going to a Melty Coffee? I mean, it’s a foreign business to begin with, so it’s not weird it’s in France, but I thought it was entirely a Japanese chain. Isn’t there, like…you know, a famous hidden place some old couple started up as a hobby or something?”
“W-well, there are some places like that, I suppose…,” said Itsuwa apologetically. “Um, those places mostly have only locals going there…If Japanese people from abroad like us went in, we’d really stand out. I figured, well, a chain restaurant like this where lots of Japanese tourists visited would be better…”
“Mm,” grunted Kamijou. He was about to yield to her opinion but suddenly thought of something. “…Wait, Itsuwa. If we’re worried about appearances, I’m pretty dirty right now.”
Kamijou had gotten a towel at the dry riverbed earlier, but that alone couldn’t get all the dirt off. His clothes were a lot drier, but he couldn’t do anything about the mud stains.
“If I go in like this, we might not just stand out; they might chase us away, right…?”
“No, that’s all right,” replied Itsuwa in a natural tone. “Right now, that’s all right.”
He understood what she meant as soon as they entered the store.
Its interior furnishings were exactly the same as the ones in Japan. The entire wall facing the road was a glass pane, with seats for one and longer tables lined up in rows. In the middle of the room there were four-person booths, with the ordering counter in the back. Kamijou couldn’t read French, but given the omnipresent placards with no-smoking symbols on them, these were the no-smoking seats. But if there was one difference, it would be the patrons. Since this was France, of course, he didn’t see any Japanese people.
Nobody had been around where he’d landed in his parachut
e, but the café was fairly crowded. Perhaps it was simply that while people were afraid of the protests and riots, they couldn’t stay cooped up at home and still live their lives. The point was that the flow of people was extremely focused, since they were only going to places they absolutely had to.
And there was one other thing.
Most of the guests had mussed hair and dirty clothes, mud on them, and arms and legs wrapped in bandages. Everyone from the burly adults to the small children had at least a bruise on their face, with uninjured people being more unusual.
“Protests and riots, huh…?” muttered Kamijou to himself.
For the time being, though Academy City and the Roman Orthodox Church were displaying completely antagonistic viewpoints, it hadn’t escalated into full-blown military action. Still, these changes were steadily starting to eat away at the world.
Unpleasant changes—changes nobody wanted.
“We have to do something soon,” said Itsuwa softly.
“…Yeah. Hence the strategy meeting.” Kamijou kept his answer short as well.
This wasn’t the time to be relaxing and eating, but Itsuwa pointed out that if they sat around without ordering anything, they’d stand out. Well, Kamijou found it uncomfortable indeed to make small talk under the glare of the employees, so they went up to the counter for now.
The lady behind the register was, of course, French.
Okay, thought Kamijou. “I-Itsuwa, since we’re in France, do I have to speak French?”
“What?”
“Like, should I be expecting some plot twist where even though she’s French, she can speak English?”
“Um, I think English should work in most places in the EU. Japan is surrounded by water, but here their sense of national borders is weak. See, look—that man over there is German, and the one across from him looks Italian. The chain restaurant service business needs employees to talk to a lot of different people, so I don’t think French is the only thing that will work here.”
“O-oh!!” said Kamijou, getting energetic all at once.
The time had come to show them the fruits of using his “Easy English Training” cell phone learning application. In truth, he was stuck on practice level four in the app, but no point worrying about that. He marched right up to the counter, and before the cashier could ask what he would like, he said, “Coffee and sandwich please!!” in English.
His English was mostly just him pronouncing the words with Japanese sounds, but the lady nodded in understanding.
Sh-she understood!!
…Being overjoyed at this made him feel like his practical English level didn’t amount to very much. Then the lady said something in a foreign language that meant something like, “That will be seven euros.”
Kamijou lost his calm.
He couldn’t pay in yen.
“What…what now…?!”
As Kamijou’s face darkened like lightning had struck it, Itsuwa held out a few paper euro notes from next to him. He told her he’d pay her back later, then started wondering how many yen were in one euro.
Itsuwa, in Japanese, said to the cashier, “U-um, I’ll have an espresso and a Berkshire pork sandwich and also a bag of Healthy Vegetable Sticks, please.”
The French cashier nodded again.
Kamijou couldn’t help but shout, “What? Japanese?! I could have spoken Japanese?!”
When he looked at the cashier more closely, he saw many small badges in the shapes of national flags attached to her uniform, near her shoulder. They were probably signs that a customer could use any of those countries’ languages.
When it came to that, Kamijou’s English ability only became even more dubious. The cashier could have just understood the Japanese-pronounced words and put in the order from that.
Now quite disheartened, he took the tray with his order on it and went to get a table. Itsuwa came a few moments later. She first placed her own tray on the table, then took her bag off her shoulder and put it at her feet.
When she did, he heard a heavy metallic clang from the bag.
“…?” Vaguely interested, he looked that way.
When he did, Itsuwa blushed for some reason and waved her hands in front of her. “P-please don’t worry about it!”
“But, well…”
Before Kamijou could continue, Itsuwa said without moving her lips almost at all, “(…It’s a weapon.)”
“Huh?”
“(…The handle is split in five pieces. To use it, I connect them all to make a spear. I know using ‘joints’ makes it less durable, but I can’t carry it around unless I do…)”
Now that she mentioned it, he thought he remembered Itsuwa using a huge spear in Chioggia, too.
“Anyway, um, did you get in touch with Tsuchimikado?”
“No.” Kamijou took his phone out of his pocket. “…Haven’t heard from him since we got separated while falling. I just can’t get through. My phone’s working, so he probably either has his phone off or isn’t near any ground antennae…Anyway, I think he’ll be fine no matter what happens.”
He tested it once more, but it didn’t even seem to call, probably because one of them was out of range. I’m surprised it survived falling in the river. This thing is tough, he thought, returning it to his pocket.
For now, he figured he’d eat his sandwich and have this strategy meeting. But then, he realized there were no napkins on his tray. “Eek, now what? I wanted to wipe my hands off before eating.”
For some reason, Itsuwa’s eyes sparkled at his complaint. “I-i-i-if you need one, I have a…” She blushed and started fishing through the bag at her feet, but a French waitress suddenly passed by them, curtly said “sorry” in what must have been French, and very rudely slammed a few napkins down on the table.
In front of Kamijou, Itsuwa—who was in the process of taking out a hand towel—stopped moving in pure disappointment.
As Kamijou wiped off his hands with the napkins that finally got there, he broached the main topic. “By the way, about before, you said you were investigating Avignon…Wait, what’s wrong, Itsuwa?”
“N-no…nothing…,” she said, wilting like a leafy plant left unattended on a summer windowsill.
He pulled himself together and tried again: “You’ve been investigating stuff about Avignon, right? Why France and not the Vatican? Did you find something suspicious?”
“Y-yes,” said Itsuwa with a nod. “I was actually going to contact the others from Amakusa in France after getting a little more information.”
“Which means we were spot on,” suggested Kamijou.
Itsuwa didn’t deny it. “Do you know of a building called the Papal Palace?”
“?”
“It’s the largest Roman Orthodox building here in Avignon. Actually, it’s more correct to say the city of Avignon expanded out from that building.”
“Papal Palace, huh…?” he muttered. Papal—did that mean the pope? “Hm? But wouldn’t a palace for the pope be in the Vatican? It sounds like the most hoity-toity name they could think of.”
“Well, you see,” Itsuwa began, seeming a little troubled for words. “The city of Avignon has a somewhat complex past.”
“What kind of past?”
“At the end of the twelfth century, the Roman Orthodox pope and the king of France had a dispute. France won the dispute in the end. The king of France apparently won the right to make several demands of the pope at the time…One of them was for him to leave his headquarters and come to France.
“It was called the Avignon papacy,” she added. “And also the Babylonian Captivity.”
“The headquarters—you mean the Vatican?”
“N-no. I think it was called the Papal States at the time.”
Anyway, she went on to say that France wanted the Roman papacy under their control to use the Roman Orthodox Church’s various privileges and favor.
“And they chose Avignon here as their place of confinement. So the palace they locked them up in was gi
ven the name the Papal Palace, or the Palais des Papes in French.”
“Locked up, huh?”
“Several Roman popes were held by the Babylonian Captivity for sixty-eight years. Of course, they still had to do their job as pope in the meantime.” Itsuwa munched on a vegetable stick. “But as the pope, there were things they couldn’t do outside of their headquarters, the Roman Papal States. I suppose appointing new cardinals and ecumenical councils were the big ones. The Papal States’ location, the buildings there, and all the Soul Arms within…They couldn’t re-create all the same conditions in Avignon.
“That would be the same as making an entirely new version of the Papal States,” she said. “So, the Church needed a trick.”
“A trick?”
“They couldn’t create the same facilities in Avignon as back home. Instead, they built magical pipelines between there and Avignon, allowing them to remotely control the facilities in the States.”
“…Like connecting an access computer to a big server.”
“When the captivity ended and the pope returned to the base in France, they supposedly severed the pipelines several times…But considering the local ground current patterns, that seems like the only building in Avignon they could use the document from. Maybe the current Church reconnected the pipelines at some point.”
“Hmm…” Kamijou nodded. After thinking about everything for a few moments, he said, “Did you investigate inside the Papal Palace?”
“N-no,” said Itsuwa, wincing and shaking her head. “I’m just snooping around, that’s all…Originally, the plan was to get enough information first and contact the vicar pope, then get a big force here and go in together.”
Apparently, the vicar pope, Saiji Tatemiya, had received a “special Soul Arm” handed down through Amakusa. Still, now that the document was involving the entire world, Itsuwa decided that acting alone was a bad plan.
“If Tsuchimikado is trying to get here, too, you’ll have another person saying Avignon is suspicious, a different information source. That means, like you suspected, it’s very possible the Roman Orthodox guys are using the document in the Papal Palace.
A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 14 Page 9
