September 30.
The final day of September and a half day for every school in Academy City.
The reason was simple—everyone would be changing uniforms tomorrow in
preparation for the colder seasons.
Academy City was large—in fact, it took up one-third of the redeveloped
western areas of the Tokyo prefecture—and hosted around 1.8 million
students. Even simple uniform changes sent the local clothing industry into a
frenzy.
The actual measurements and ordering had been finished around the time of
the Daihasei Festival, so the only thing happening today was giving newly made
winter uniforms to students who didn't already have them. But despite that,
the event caused large crowds, giving an idea of how uniquely massive the
event was. Plus, students traditionally wore their new uniforms right away,
partly to break them in.
But for students who had nothing to do with the seasonal clothing change, it
was just a regular half day.
Take the boy named Touma Kamijou, for example. He'd enrolled in a certain
high school this year and purchased a winter uniform back then. For him, there
were no sizing issues whatsoever. No need for him to throw himself into the
chaos.
It wasn't just him, either. The chaotic masses seemed to be limited to certain
grades—most of the students running around like chickens with their heads cut
off were second-and third-years. All the first-years were having a nice, relaxing
day.
In any event, they were now on their ten-minute break between third and
fourth period.
Touma Kamijou, the aforementioned average high school student, had
opened a window in the hallway and was now busy staring out of it and
daydreaming. Last period had been math class, and it had been so boring, he
felt like he was going to die. As soon as the break started, he'd gone to the
drinking fountains to wake up and wash his face.
His height and weight were average. The only thing unusual about him was
maybe a bit of extra muscle on his bones. They hadn't come from any clubrelated
physical fitness activities—they were from less healthy endeavors, like
getting into fights in alleys and running away from them. His spiky black hair
looked like a glimpse of a fashion magazine picture, giving an image many male
high school students tended to build up with the thought of Maybe I should
make an effort to look a little nicer. Of course, with bleary, wandering eyes and
a wide-open yawning mouth, maybe his image wasn't particularly strong.
As he stood with his elbows resting on the windowsill, feeling the firstcool
breezes of autumn now that the summer heat was gone, he sighed and said to
himself, "I hope I meet someone soon."
The moment the words left his mouth, he felt two punches thrusting into his
temples from either side as though he'd been caught in a vise. There was a
crazy cracking noise.
To the right of him stood Motoharu Tsuchimikado, and to the left, Blue Hair.
Both were Kamijou's classmates.
"You— The heck're you doin'?!" he babbled at them, shaking his head to clear
it.
Tsuchimikado looked at him, eyes glinting behind his sunglasses, not sayinganything for a moment. "Nya. That sounded pretty sarcastic comin' from you,
Kammy."classroom door over there," said Blue Hair in his usual, obviously faked Osaka
accent. "That's how it always is with you! Anything could appear when you're
around, from super-electromagnetic robot girls to pretty nymph ladies! You've
got it all!!"
When he was around, one could generally expect indecipherable gibberish.
He never did it to be mean, though.
All three of them wore black vests with stand-up collars and black slacks.
Kamijou's vest was unbuttoned, showing the red T-shirt he wore underneath.
Students normally wore button-down shirts underneath, of course, but
Tsuchimikado had hair dyed blond and Blue Hair wore necklaces. The school
didn't care about the dress code too much.
"Anyway, what do the two of you want?"
"Yo, that's right! Check this out," said Blue Hair, thrusting a manga magazine
—the most popular in the country—into Kamijou's face.
What a good friend. He hadn't used it to hit him.
Blue Hair flipped the magazine over, revealing a color advertisement for mailorder
goods. "Check it! Mr. Shoulder Massage, see?"
"I bet just your words could cause some insane lady to come tumblin' out the"Sounds cool, huh? My right shoulder's been achin' the last few days. And
when I tried to rub my own shoulder, my left shoulder started to hurt."
"Hey, this is the one they were doing those late-night infomercials on."
"I know, right?! It's super friggin' crazy! This shoulder massage machine takes
up, like, the whole back page, so it's gotta feel so good!!"
"Huh," said Tsuchimikado suspiciously. "They're probably exaggerating. You
can't put real numbers on how good something feels, nya. Aren't they basically
sayin' all the testers felt real good, but hey, who knows, right?"
"Geh! You have your stepsister rub 'em every day! You wouldn't
understand!!"
"Not every day! Maybe like once every three days, nya!!"
This all sounded like the usual small talk. Especially how Blue Hair later
claimed that something had changed the topic. Kamijou wondered what they
wanted him for.
The two responded to his thoughts.
"Anyway, Kammy, what do you think? I think it's gotta be good stuff for sure."
"I, for one, don't think it'll have you crying out in joy, nya."
Kamijou sighed. They just wanted a third opinion to break the tie. Why were
they so fixated on this shoulder-rubbing machine, anyway? "You know, I'm not
a massage specialist or anything. My opinion doesn't mean much. One of you
might have a majority, but what would be the point?"
"Sheesh, why do you have to be so freaking useless?!"
"Don't call me useless!!" he shot back on reflex, finally realizing they were just
trying to fire him up. He let them do it, though. That was how verbal conflicts
started. "I don't really think it does much. Everyone gets knots in their
shoulders, but they all hurt differently and in different places. And wouldn't it
be less effective for one gender than another? They're pretty much announcing
that this is the miracle we've all been waiting for to relax our shoulders, so it's a
little fishy, I guess."
"I told you, nya. Stepsisters are the best cure for shoulder cramps."
"You can't say that without actually doing science!" protested Blue Hair.
"Besides, I don't have a girl to rub my shoulders! That's why I'm having this
problem in the first place!!"
He and Tsuchimikado started showering each other with blows. As Kamijou
watched the fruitless conflict develop, he decided to offer a third perspective.
"Well," he said, peeling them away from each other. "Why don't we put it to
the test for real? I happen to know just the right person—one who gets
shoulder pains and has a huge weakness for mail-order products."