A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 19

by Kazuma Kamachi

  Accelerator and the others weren’t headed for any specific room, but for the wall at the opposite end of the floor.

  After checking the map displayed on his cell phone screen, Tsuchimikado rapped on the wall with the back of his hand as though knocking on the door to the president’s room.

  “Here we are. Diagonally down, at thirty degrees eastward and about eighty meters away, there should be a Hula Hoop control facility hallway. It doesn’t look like there’s any closer place than this. It should be a wide-open space down there, too.”

  “Eight meters…,” repeated Musujime.

  “On paper, it seems like even a certain middle school student in Judgment could manage this.”

  “…Don’t even go there. I just need to do it, right?” Musujime glared at Tsuchimikado, who had purposely made her recall a certain twin-tailed teleport esper. She headed for the wall then turned back to Accelerator and said, “Going in right away, then?”

  “Hold up,” said not Accelerator but Tsuchimikado. He slid a finger across his own neck. “Something’s going on with your electrode choker, right?”

  “…”

  “Wait fifteen minutes. I’ll try using the vertically hanging wires in the elevator shaft as a makeshift antenna so that EM waves will reach into the facility.”

  “I can help you with that,” said Unabara, adding that he didn’t have anything else to do anyway.

  Tsuchimikado shook his head. “You’re standing in for our man on the phone. If you make an emergency call, it should temporarily connect you with the General Board. Get in touch with them, and just to be safe, warn them not to send in agents from any other units. I don’t want a separate crew to start doing things without us realizing and winding up caught in the aftermath when they get themselves killed.”

  “Why me?” asked Unabara, confused.

  Tsuchimikado grinned. “Because your face will probably be most popular with the old guys.”

  “Need I remind you it’s only a rental.”

  The boy, not originally even an Asian much less a Japanese person, used an index finger to scratch the cheek on his gentle face that Japanese people would probably find appealing.

  Tsuchimikado turned around, back to Accelerator.

  “Listen up—the operation starts in fifteen minutes. I think you’ll be fine, but just to be sure, check on your electrode choker again and make sure there’s no other malfunctions that could potentially happen. We can deal with you dying, but not if it means those hostage kids get killed.”

  6

  The Hula Hoop: the world’s largest particle accelerator.

  Constructed two hundred meters underground, the facility could accelerate photons to a maximum of 99.22 percent the speed of light and maintain that state for three hundred seconds.

  Still, even this large-scale facility had its limits.

  Forcing it to operate at speeds or times higher than it was designed for meant the Hula Hoop would eventually collapse, exposing one-third of Academy City to massive gamma radiation emissions.

  The boy hadn’t known that until this very moment.

  Well. He’d also never had a masked man hold a gun to his head, nor had his hands ever been tied behind his back. From the same school bus were almost thirty of his classmates, their chaperone teacher, and the bus driver, all trembling together. This very span of time itself was one big clump of reality he’d never experienced before.

  “Hold it at fifty percent light speed. The Hula Hoop is a distraction. They won’t negotiate if we use it. That’s why we kidnapped these kids.”

  “But if we go too far, won’t city leadership try to bomb us along with the entire underground facility? There aren’t any civilian buildings directly above us, just runways. If they wanted to, they could blow us to hell.”

  “That’s what the Hula Hoop is for. If we show them we could potentially cause it to explode at any moment, it’ll prevent the General Board from doing anything drastic.”

  “I’ll check the escape routes. Once negotiations are complete, with the accelerator running at about seventy percent, we’ll cause an explosion in its wall, intentionally hitting the control facility with a small-scale blast. Then we’ll go to Special Evacuation Area B and put on the heavy anti-radiation-powered suits to endure the emissions, and while they’re fussing over setting up radiation countermeasures, we’ll cross the wreckage and escape outside.”

  Only sinister, eerie words flew back and forth over the boy’s head.

  He couldn’t imagine a situation where he would be released safely.

  Whether this took a turn for the better or for the worse, none would be saved.

  That was all he could could think about.

  “Looks like it’s time.”

  Ignoring the boy’s terrible quaking, a man who acted like their leader, also in a mask, glanced at his wristwatch.

  “Well, I didn’t think the leadership would react without us using anyone…Is the camera ready? The real negotiations start now. Prepare yourselves.”

  His words were rife with euphemisms, but the masked people around him, who seemed to be subordinates, responded swiftly. The camera itself wasn’t anything special; they were apparently going to use one built into a cell phone. But it was attached to a weird machine via a cable, maybe so nobody could trace the transmission.

  “Video and sound are both ready to go.”

  “Hotline to the General Board secured. We’re patching through an Anti-Skill office. We can go live on your signal.”

  “Great. Let’s get started.”

  Before he even finished speaking, the leader grabbed the boy’s hair in one hand. The boy screamed, more out of surprise than from pain, but the man didn’t care. He dragged the boy away, then tossed him in front of the lens.

  The boy wanted to object, but his words caught in his throat before he could.

  That was because the leader was ready with a gun that anyone could tell was real.

  “One last act of mercy. Blindfold him.”

  The young child struggled, but it was no use. His hands were tied behind his back, and even if they hadn’t been, one little kid couldn’t have put up any meaningful resistance. Before he knew it, a piece of cloth was wrapped around his head, covering his eyes.

  “Get him on his knees. Start the broadcast.”

  In the darkness, someone grabbed his arm and forced him up. And then someone walked up to stand behind him. A cold, hard sensation pressed up against the back of his head.

  He heard a small, motor-like noise as the high-efficiency cell phone camera’s autofocus kicked in.

  The man standing right behind him began to speak, as though reading from a speech.

  “We hoped for a peaceful resolution. Again and again, we offered solutions that would cause the least amount of bloodshed. But it seems our efforts have worked against us. We seem to have given you the impression that we don’t have the nerve to take real action. If that is the case, then allow me to apologize.”

  A chill.

  The boy could feel the soft hair on his back stand up.

  “In order to instill within you the ability to make sane decisions, we’d like to show you how serious we are. However, know that this was never a choice that needed to be made—and this was never blood that had to be spilled. I hope this stings your conscience and makes you regret your foolish judgment.”

  The boy heard a click from the gun pressed to the back of his head.

  He wasn’t old enough to know that it was the sound of a thumb cocking the hammer, but he understood that it was a definitive cue.

  “If you do not reach a swift decision, we promise that even more innocent blood will be spilled. We won’t hold back. We believe we’ve assembled everything necessary to change your minds. Therefore, we are considering using them all if need be. Still, we hope it won’t come to that.”

  He wanted to run away.

  He wanted to scream something.

  But he knew if he did that, things would
immediately take a turn for the worse.

  “Now, we’ll make use of the first.”

  And if he stayed quiet, he’d just be killed.

  He knew that, but if he resisted, he’d only be killed even sooner.

  He couldn’t make a move.

  He knew that if he didn’t move, he’d be killed—but he couldn’t even lift a single finger of the hands tied behind his back.

  “The negotiations start now.”

  He was frustrated.

  Realizing this emotion, which lay deeper down than his fear, the boy finally opened his trembling mouth.

  “…This…”

  It wasn’t to plead for his life.

  “…This plan will never work…”

  It was the opposite.

  “It doesn’t matter how fancy your tricks are. It doesn’t matter how scary your weapons are. Your evil deeds will never be allowed to happen.”

  A counterattack, at the end of the line—he wanted to do at least this much.

  “I have faith. The world is a lot kinder than villains like you think it is!! You might have used a crazy plan to cover it up, but I know that a hero will catch you!! And save everyone. Someone out there, in this big world, who will save us!!”

  “I see.”

  The leader, standing behind the boy, addressed him for the first time.

  What he said was quite simple.

  “Even if there was, it looks like they weren’t in time for you.”

  The child heard a soft grinding noise.

  The sound came from inside the gun, resounding directly in his skull from the muzzle pressed to his head. Because the man slowly pulled back on the trigger, a small spring was contracting.

  The blindfolded boy shut his eyes anyway.

  Nevertheless, until the end, he whispered to himself.

  (“…I believe.”)

  Da-bamm!! came the sound of a gunshot.

  It rattled the boy’s skull, scattering the scent of iron into the area.

  At that very moment—

  A gunshot, no more and no less, had rang out in the control facility of the Hula Hoop, the world’s largest particle accelerator. Dark-red liquid splattered on the floor, and a metallic smell filled the air, mixing with a faint, drifting stench particular to lit gunpowder. An empty bullet casing fell to the ground, and a shrill clang followed.

  A gun had definitely gone off.

  A bullet had been fired—no ifs, ands, or buts—mercilessly, piercing flesh and bone.

  Thump came a dull noise. It was the sound of the boy’s small body falling to the hard floor. His children’s brand clothing was awfully stained in red now. It was fresh blood and nothing else.

  However.

  That blood didn’t belong to the boy.

  It was flowing from the leader’s arm, which had been holding the gun up behind him.

  A third party had shot the masked man from a blind spot to the side.

  “Wha…?”

  For a few moments, the leader, dazed, looked at his arm—the gun blown out of his hand, and his arm bent at an unnatural forty-five-degree angle. The pain seemed to hit him shortly after.

  But he never screamed.

  As soon as the man’s gaze shifted somewhere outside the cell phone camera’s range, more gunshots followed. Ga-bam-bam-bam!! Bullets penetrated the man’s entire body, sending him careening to the side.

  Several panicked voices from the other masked people overlapped.

  But then someone outside the video frame fired off even more bullets. The man filming with the cell phone was shot, and he fell to the floor along with the phone he’d been holding. From the Academy City leaders’ points of view, who were probably watching through that camera, only the ceiling would be visible now, and then just gray noise. The lens had cracked.

  Now with no video, the blindfolded boy’s words came through alone, in a quiet, quavering tone:

  “A he…hero…?”

  “A villain.”

  And then, on the heels of this:

  A reply came, sinister, as if to blacken out the place.

  “A villainous piece of shit.”

  There was a crunch.

  It was the sound of the villain’s sole coming down on the cell phone the terrorists been using to film, utterly crushing it.

  And with that noise, the number-one enemy in Academy City began his battle.

  7

  Level Five espers were still only human.

  Number one or not, it didn’t change the fact that he was a primate like the rest of them.

  Whatever special powers he had, he would die if he couldn’t breathe air; he would starve if he didn’t eat food. He had a normal lifespan, too. If you stabbed his internal organs, it should kill him no problem.

  Any human who shared these weaknesses could be killed.

  No matter how monstrous, if they could still be classified as a human, it was doable.

  Spark Signal was originally a special unit with the goal of aggressively eliminating any who threatened to leak Academy City secrets. They had fought many powerful espers during their term of service. That was why Spark Signal could appropriately respond to espers who had strange, unfathomable powers. They could calmly size up the enemy and formulate a means of defeating them.

  This was what the masked former members of Spark Signal thought.

  They honestly believed it was possible.

  However.

  Was Academy City’s number one really human?

  Roar!! A whirling blast wind tore through the air.

  The bullets caught in it seemed to scatter every which way, but then every single shot hit one of the former Spark Signal terrorists.

  Of course, they hadn’t executed this grand design only to wind up being shot like this. Sensing a serious threat to their lives, they mobilized all the prowess and knowledge they’d cultivated in order to stand up to the white-haired Level Five with all their might, hoping to find a way to escape.

  One tried to hide behind an obstacle and fire a rifle.

  Another tried to take a hostage and convince him to stop.

  Yet another tried to use explosives to take out a pillar, aiming to crush him under so many pounds of debris.

  But all of it was pointless.

  Not ineffective—it simply had no meaning.

  The bullets didn’t work.

  As soon as the rounds made contact with the monster’s skin, they bounced straight back and punched right through the shooter.

  The hostage didn’t work.

  Right as the terrorist reached out to grab a child to use as a shield, his arm snapped in an unnatural direction.

  The explosives didn’t work.

  Before he could hit the detonator, his fingers were crushed, along with the transmitter they held, and then blown away.

  No …

  That isn’t all, thought one of the masked former Spark Signal members.

  The man, cold sweat thick on his face invisible to the outside, realized the true terror welling up within him was due to something else.

  No.

  Academy City’s number-one Level Five, Accelerator, wasn’t arrogant.

  He didn’t boast needlessly about his overwhelming power. When he saw the terrorists dropping like flies, he didn’t slip up. If he had slipped up, they might have still had a chance, but Accelerator wouldn’t allow even that slim possibility.

  Sometimes using his ability and sometimes relying on his gun, he brandished the least amount of power necessary along the shortest route to obtain the greatest results. This was no longer a “man vs. man” battle, nor a match of “man vs. monster.” There was no emotion involved in this violence.

  As an analogy:

  He was a heat-seeking missile precisely tracking a desperately fleeing jet from behind.

  The argument wasn’t over who would win. It was whether or not the attack reached its targets. And if it did, death undoubtedly awaited. The calamity Accelerator was causing had already reached suc
h a level.

  How much work do you think we put into this plan …?

  Using his ability, the Level Five somehow moved in a low arc through the air to attack the former Spark Signal man’s teammates. He watched, dumbfounded, trying to make sense of the chaos in his mind.

  Spark Signal’s abilities are on full display, plus we had several contingency plans prepared in addition to the main one … And yet, and yet … He’s crushing us like a pile of dead leaves … ?!

  And then it happened.

  After another one of his teammates went down, their consciousness draining along with their freshly spilled blood, the monster’s head swiveled to look at him.

  What are we supposed to do … ?

  The former Spark Signal terrorist locked gazes with those red eyes.

  They’re almost like a laser sight, he thought.

  What are we supposed to—?!

  There was no winning or losing.

  He’d been locked onto—and the attack was incoming.

  The time required had been just three hundred seconds.

  Then, silence and peace visited the world’s largest particle accelerator, the Hula Hoop, once more.

  8

  Now the boy knew.

  He couldn’t see what was going on through the blindfold. But the electricity in the air had gone away. The very world of despair those terrorists had created was gone.

  He heard a gasp from nearby.

  It was probably one of his classmates or one of the adults with them.

  He couldn’t sense any relief in their sighs. Maybe the way the situation was resolved had been too violent.

  The boy frantically worked his bound hands. Just when he thought he was about to tear his skin on the rope, the loop suddenly fell off one of his hands. He moved his trembling arm and took the blindfold off his face.

  The first light he’d seen in some time stunned him at first.

  The boy put a hand up to block the fluorescent white light, squinted, and then took a look around. He had to be somewhere around here. Thinking that, the boy’s head stopped in a certain direction.