A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 15

by Kazuma Kamachi

  He looked at them again, then flipped them over and started speaking into the phone. “Tsuchimikado, do we have any equipment that can read IC chip information?”

  “What?”

  “I found five paper bills here. If I remember correctly, Japanese yen minted and circulated in Academy City come with microchips in them. We should probably investigate these as well.”

  “Right. I’ll get something ready…I didn’t find any notable info here. I’m gonna give up on the department store’s cleaning room and head over your wa—”

  Unabara didn’t get to hear Tsuchimikado’s voice until the end.

  Boom!!

  A rocket suddenly broke through the window, flew inside, and exploded right in the middle of the room.

  A clamoring of heavy footfalls rushed the front door.

  Men dressed in gray armor moved into the room swiftly yet cautiously. There were five, all with full face masks and identical equipment. Not a single one stood out from the rest.

  Without a word, one of the men signaled with a finger to check the charred apartment—the formerly five-room one, given that, as they stepped over an air conditioner that had fallen to the floor, one of its thin interior walls had collapsed.

  Not only did no automatic fire-extinguishing system turn on, the regular fire alarms weren’t even working. They’d disabled security ahead of time.

  They didn’t exchange words among themselves, and so the soft clacking of metal stood out—they had their firearms, which were hitting against their hard armor, ready and loaded.

  Seriously…Mitsuki Unabara sighed as he watched. He was spying on them from a small gap in a door that had been knocked diagonal by the explosive impact, his back against the wall of the kitchen space. He’d jumped into the room the moment the rocket had crashed through the window.

  Now he produced an obsidian knife from an interior pocket. They tried to destroy the information by blowing up the entire room. Must be people who’d be in trouble if we got our hands on Management’s info.

  This was the third floor.

  Moving slowly so he wouldn’t make any noise, he went up to the smashed window. From this view alone he spotted about fifteen more men, all dressed in black. There were probably a lot more waiting out of sight. He was completely surrounded.

  “…”

  Unabara’s dismantling sorcery, the Spear of Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli, was incredibly powerful, able to completely disintegrate objects by concentrating and reflecting the light from Venus onto them.

  But on the other hand, he needed to designate his targets one at a time. In exchange for the ability to one-hit kill even the strongest enemies, he could only go one by one for even the weakest.

  They’re using mainly 9mm submachine guns, plus military handguns of the same caliber. If they started firing in this cramped space, skill wouldn’t make a bit of difference—I’d be full of holes in no time.

  And furthermore…this is bad. A lot of grunts showing up at a time like this is really bad.

  Even if the enemy went all out and had everyone charge inside at once, it would be pointless, since the apartment had limited space, thanks to the doors and hallways. They’d end up packing inside and getting into a jam.

  Instead, by keeping their invading team as small as they could and having most of their men surround the apartment complex, they eliminated the possibility that their target could escape. Even if he did wipe out their smaller team, they would either send in a new one or decide that if a rocket launcher couldn’t take the enemy out, they’d simply have to blow up the entire building.

  …They’re experienced. Even if I slip out, I might not be able to get through their encirclement. I’m stuck here…

  He adjusted his grip on the obsidian knife.

  Sweat had broken out on his palms without him realizing it.

  Now, what to do?

  3

  “Fires in District 7. Five instances confirmed. Relevant buildings’ security systems, including automatic fire extinguishers, are inactive. Begin firefighting at once.”

  In an emergency correspondence center for connecting civilian reports to groups such as Anti-Skill and Judgment, a female operator continued to convey the information coming up on her monitor to the appropriate authorities.

  “Requesting criminal identifier dispatch from Anti-Skill to be a witness to the fire brigade’s inspections. In addition—”

  The operator took up a fire manual, which was propped up against the wall of her communication booth, thus taking her eyes off the monitor for just a few seconds.

  During that time, a rep from the team waiting on-site for specific instructions said “Understood,” and the call abruptly ended.

  “…What?” wondered the female operator.

  On her monitor, it said she’d already given them everything they needed.

  4

  It was fifteen minutes after the rocket had fired into the complex.

  Motoharu Tsuchimikado and Awaki Musujime were in one of the apartments of Family Side’s second building.

  There were no fire brigade or Anti-Skill officers. They spotted a few curious onlookers near the building, but nobody came inside; there had been an explosion, after all. They wouldn’t do that, considering the danger of being caught in a fire or building collapse.

  The apartments had been built for families, but most of its residents apparently lived alone. Plus, far more teachers and faculty used apartments than students. After Academy City had sent out Anti-Skill to prepare for “war,” the strain of making papers and other teaching materials had fallen to the rest of the faculty, so even on a holiday like this they’d be out at work.

  “This the place?”

  It probably used to be a high-class apartment with four bedrooms plus an open area serving as a kitchen, living room, and dining room, but it was like an explosion had gone off right in the middle of it. Furniture and wallboard had come apart and was scattered everywhere, reducing the unit to only a couple of rooms. They could see the bathroom right after stepping through the front door.

  “They cleaned up all the evidence. Even a mind-reading esper might not be able to get anything out of this,” muttered Musujime as she gazed at the charred floor.

  Accelerator arrived a moment later on his cane. “Damn. Thought you called me for something important. Just some fun little leftovers again?”

  “Did you finish your errand?” Tsuchimikado asked without looking at him.

  “Shut up,” said Accelerator flatly, looking around. “This it? The place where that moron Unabara vanished?”

  “Yeah,” said Tsuchimikado. “For now, we’ve captured Management, and we got the guys from our ancillary transporting him in an escort car. But whatever info comes from his mouth won’t be trustworthy. And if he starts going on about all the information being stored up in his head, we won’t get anywhere with him. We wanted hard data to back up what he’s saying, which is why I sent Unabara here.”

  His tone grew weary. “While he was here, he came under attack by a third party. We don’t know whether they were after Unabara in particular or just anyone who wanted information on Management, but it’s looking like the latter. From his initial report, we knew there was a computer, an HD recorder, and a few other things, but they’re all totally gone. Any appliances with AI in them are gone, too—the whole lot of ’em.”

  “It does seem like there are a few appliances left, though…,” said Musujime, using her foot to point at a scorched microwave oven. “They’re probably all products without onboard AI. They left behind the stuff you can’t put info into.”

  After more searching, they found a few other things, like a TV with a broken screen and an iron. However, everything important indeed seemed to have been stolen.

  Accelerator took a seat on a bed with cotton sticking out and sighed in annoyance. “Damn it, what a pain. Don’t know anything about that shithead Management. Don’t know what happened to Unabara. Seriously, can’t you people do your job
s?” He jabbed his foot at the broken microwave on the floor.

  Just then, its plastic door opened up and something came out.

  “…Eh?”

  Paper bills.

  About five, marked with soot, had been in the microwave for some reason.

  “Unabara reported these—he was interested in them.” With a thin smile, Musujime crouched and picked them up. “There should be microchips in these bills to prevent counterfeiting. Maybe something’s written on them. Putting them in the microwave would shut out electromagnetic waves and stuff. This might have been enough to fool the attackers even if they had a way to detect the chips.”

  “…So our shithead was the one who hid them here?” asked Accelerator.

  Then Tsuchimikado, a short distance away, announced, “Hmm?”

  They looked over to see that he’d opened a closet, and inside it was a man’s corpse. A closer inspection revealed that all the skin around his right calf had been torn off.

  Tsuchimikado said, “This is Unabara’s doing.”

  “What’s with the foot? Hobby of his?” replied Musujime, put off. Her foot had once been injured in an accident during class. The trauma from the incident hadn’t completely left her. It was so bad she had to use a low-frequency oscillation treatment instrument to alleviate the stress whenever she used her ability.

  Tsuchimikado shook his head. “He uses human skin to make a certain kind of tag. I’ll cut out the explanation, since you two don’t know anything about sorcery, but…Basically, he’s got a skill where he can switch places with someone,” he said, looking at the scar on the corpse’s foot. “He probably looks just like this guy at the moment. I bet he’s waiting among the people who attacked this place, biding his time.

  “In other words,” he said, pausing, “that chameleon is still alive and smiling. Don’t know where, though.”

  5

  What is she doing? wondered Kazari Uiharu, cocking her head to the side.

  She saw a girl of about ten, who was inside a stopped taxi—presumably at a light—arguing with the driver…Well, actually, it looked like the girl was one-sidedly biting his head off.

  Uiharu didn’t have to get any closer to hear their loud voices.

  “‘I keep saying let me off, let me off, so why won’t you let Misaka go?!’ argues Misaka argues Misaka, putting her hands on her hips and puffing out her cheek!!”

  “Look, miss, I’ve been paid to drive you to your destination, so I can’t let you—”

  “‘While he’s making excuses, Misaka will look for an escape!!’ says Misaka says Misaka, quickly getting out of the car and running into a back alley!!”

  After shouting that, the little girl disappeared into an alley so narrow you probably couldn’t even fit a bicycle through.

  The driver scratched his head, at a loss. Uiharu walked up to him.

  “Hmm? Oh, are you with Judgment?” asked the driver, looking at Uiharu’s armband.

  Judgment was a student organization created to help keep the peace in Academy City. Their jurisdiction was mainly limited to school, but apparently, most people weren’t aware of the difference.

  Uiharu gave him a blank look. “Um, was there some kind of trouble, sir? Did that girl leave without paying?”

  “No, just the opposite,” said the driver, at his wit’s end. “Her, er, guardian gave me the money beforehand, and I was supposed to take her to an apartment complex. But now she’s left, and I haven’t given her back the money.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s up to the passenger, sir. Couldn’t you just accept it as a tip?”

  “The taxi fare was twelve hundred yen. I got five thousand to begin with. I’d feel bad if I treated it as a tip.”

  What a nice person, she thought.

  The driver glanced at the alley, which he clearly couldn’t bring his car into. “…Still, I can’t get out of the car and chase her.”

  “Should I look for her?”

  “Yes…yes, if you could, I would greatly appreciate it. Hold on one moment.”

  The driver had a machine in the car print out a receipt, then handed it, along with the change on top, to Uiharu. Since she was wearing the Judgment armband, he didn’t seem particularly cautious when it came to handing the money over to her. “Please, give this back to her.”

  “I will, sir.” Uiharu put them in her skirt pocket. After exchanging contact information with the driver just in case, she set off into the narrow alleyway.

  In that dark space where the sun’s light couldn’t enter, she called out, “Um, what was her name? Hmm…Miss Odd Haaair?!”

  “‘Hey! Misaka’s identifier is Last Order!!’ says Misaka says Misa…huh?!”

  For the time being, she’d gotten an answer, so Uiharu walked that way in search of the girl.

  6

  Black smoke billowed.

  A boxy escort car had stopped on the road, apparently after crashing into a guardrail. Only the front half, though—something had torn apart the car’s frame, and its back half was in the middle of the road.

  The car was the same model Anti-Skill used, but it wasn’t one of theirs. Instead, Group’s ancillary was using it. At Tsuchimikado’s command, it was secretly transporting an important witness.

  “Ow, damn it…”

  A college-aged man came out from the part that was cut away—Management. Handcuffed, he stepped down onto the asphalt, then looked at his side and scowled. The gunshot wound had reopened, and fresh red liquid was starting to spread out on top of the dark-red stain that had already dried.

  Nevertheless, after spotting a boy nearby, he gave him a mild smile. “Sorry. I flubbed the job.”

  “Don’t be.”

  The boy was wearing a pair of metal goggles on his head. No, not goggles—his eyes weren’t covered. It was a ring, wrapped around his head like Jupiter. Countless cables plugged into it from all directions, and they connected to a device at his waist.

  Management offered his hands to the strangely dressed boy. “Sorry, but could you cut these, too? I can’t do first aid like this, but it’ll be a pain to find the key, too. I’m pretty sure it would be best to leave here immediately.”

  “All right,” the boy said, moving his fingers as though swiping a card.

  A moment later, Management’s wrists were shattered.

  “Ah, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh?!”

  Management writhed in agony, eyes filled with pain and surprise as he looked up at the boy. The boy, taking aim once again—this time at his vitals—spoke simply, without much change in his voice.

  “That’s too bad.”

  7

  Group was a cruel organization.

  The remaining three members took a wait-and-see stance with Unabara, whose whereabouts were still completely unknown. However, they still might not have gone to help him even if they had a hint about his location. Their fundamental policy was that if any of them mismanaged something, they had to fix it themselves.

  Therefore:

  “Got a call from our ancillary. The escort car with Management on board has been attacked.”

  “Everyone dead?” Accelerator asked.

  “No. They were nice and left everyone but Management unconscious. Either way, there goes our option of getting the man himself to talk.”

  “Do you think they left a clue as to who did it?” Musujime added.

  “Again, it’s probably in these bills.”

  For now, they had the five paper bills.

  After leaving the Family Side II apartment complex, Group had decided to return to their hideout and investigate the electronic information contained on the bills’ IC chips.

  “Man, didn’t think our secret hideout would be some empty store in an underground mall. What if some hopeful corporate dropout wanders in for a peek?”

  “Then we’ll leave,” said Tsuchimikado distractedly. “There’s hideouts all over the place, and this one was meant for them originally anyway.” He put a device for readi
ng the bills on the floor. It was connected to a laptop via cables.

  “…What is that?” asked Musujime, surprised.

  Tsuchimikado gave a small smile. It was a cell phone wallet sensor, the kind next to cash registers in convenience stores. “Ugh…It was gonna be a pain in the ass, so I asked someone in the industry and just brought the whole reader here.”

  “Doesn’t matter what we use,” said Accelerator, sitting in a pipe chair and cleaning off his handgun. “Just get started already.”

  “Right,” answered Tsuchimikado simply, picking one bill from the stack of five and holding it up to the device.

  No discernible language came up on the display. Only a jumble of numbers. Tsuchimikado fiddled with the screen, eventually starting to change them into sentences that made sense.

  “That didn’t take long. We got a hit.” He followed the lines of characters on the screen with his eyes. “…It looks like Management’s product listing. There was a deal on a professional sniper. He was handling the sniper’s weapons, too, apparently.”

  He ran the second bill over the sensor.

  “The sniper’s name is Chimitsu Sunazara…though we can’t confirm its validity. It has his history and abilities here, too, but we can’t trust that, either. But the introduction fee was seven hundred thousand yen, which makes him one of the best ‘products’ on Management’s lineup.”

  He ran a third bill over the sensor.

  “This one has his weapons on it. He’s got…an MSR-001, a magnetic sniper rifle,” he finished with a foreboding hum.

  “Magnetic?” repeated Musujime.

  “Just what it sounds like. It uses an electromagnet to launch a steel bullet. Made by Academy City, of course. It’s simpler than a railgun on the inside. The bullet’s initial speed is two hundred ninety meters per second—not quite supersonic.”

  “…Does that mean something?” she asked. “It sounds to me like a normal sniper rifle would be better.”