Kris Thronell smiled, his mouth filled with stir-fried garbage.
The girl munched on a biscuit, looking dissatisfied. Holding the biscuit two-handed and gnawing away, she reminded him of a squirrel.
"…So, you said you're being chased. Who's after you?"
Having returned to his senses in the wake of his holy visitation, Kris put this question forward as the primary matter at hand.
He'd only met her thirty minutes ago and certainly had no intention of diving to the depths of hell with her. But it probably wasn't possible to forget the whole thing.
So, in the end, I'm just a hypocrite. A fraud. I just want to say I did something to ease my conscience, but there's no way I can help resolve this.
"Yeah…," she responded somewhat drily. "I wonder? Maybe Vowzen or Sanctess Stella… I think it's an organization like that, but I don't know its name, since they're not the kind of people who place much value in names."
"'They'?"
Kris treaded carefully. This meant some kind of group was chasing her.
"Yeah," Index answered calmly, despite her situation.
"A sorcerers' society."
"…I see. Magic, huh…? Umm. What the hell?! You're insane!"
"Ah, er, what? Umm, was that not the correct term in English? Sorcery, like, magic. A magic cabal."
"…" The word cabal confused him even more. "What? Is that some sort of hip new cult that forces you to believe in its founder, or else 'thou shalt be divinely punished'? And uses LSD to brainwash you? That would be dangerous in more ways than one…"
"…You're kind of making fun of me, aren't you?"
"Uhh."
"…You're kind of making fun of me, aren't you?"
"…I'm sorry. I can't. I can't do this whole 'magic' business. I know about all sorts of abnormal abilities, like pyrokinesis and clairvoyance, but I can't handle this 'magic' thing."
"…?" Index tilted her little head confusedly.
She probably assumed that someone who believed in the omnipotent power of science would have just rejected what she said outright, claiming that there was nothing unexplainable in this world.
However, a supernatural power resided in Kris's right hand.
It was called the Imagine Breaker, and no matter what nonsensical, preternatural force he was up against, his Imagine Breaker could dispel it. It could even negate miracles.
"Supernatural abilities aren't uncommon here in Academy City. Anyone can open 'circuits' and 'develop' by injecting Esperin into your brain, sticking electrodes on your head, and playing some rhythms in headphones. If every facet of something can be explained scientifically, then obviously everyone will accept it as fact, right?"
"…I don't really get it."
"It's obvious! Very obvious, so obvious! Obvious times three!"
"…Well then, what about magic? Magic is obvious, too, right?"
Index grew petulant, as if someone had just told her that her pet cat was stupid.
"Umm…okay, for example, you know janken, right? Wait, was that game played in the rest of the world?"
"…I think it's called rock-paper-scissors where I come from, but I know it."
"Okay, then say I played janken and lost ten times in a row. Would you think there's a reason for it?"
"…Mgh."
"There isn't, though, is there? But it's human nature to start thinking that there is something behind it," explained Kris, bored. "You start thinking that there's no way you could lose ten times in a row and that there must be some kind of hidden rules working against you. What do you think would happen to those people if you threw some astrology into the mix?"
"…Like, if you're a Cancer, then you're unlucky, so you should stay away from competition?"
"Exactly. Around here, that's what 'occult' really means. The moment we start thinking that hidden forces like 'luck' or 'fortune' really exist, our minds mistake simple coincidences for predetermination. It's illusory."
Index displayed a momentary, almost feline annoyance before saying:
"…So you're not just rejecting what I said without thinking about it first."
"Nope. I can't do this whole worn-out fairy-tale thing specifically because I've thought about it seriously. I don't believe in wizards like the ones from picture books. Nobody would develop their brains if you could just use some MP and raise someone from the dead. Even I couldn't believe in any of that occult stuff. It has nothing to do with reality or science."
Supernatural abilities only appear to be "mysterious" because human brains are stupid.
It was common sense that they could be explained away by science here.
"…But magic is real."
Index made her declaration, the corners of her mouth lowering in dismay. This statement was likely the pillar of her convictions, not unlike Kris's Imagine Breaker.
"Well, whatever. But why are those people chasing y—"
"Magic is real."
"…"
"Magic is real!"
Looks like she wants me to admit it no matter what.
"B-but what the heck is magic? Can you shoot fireballs from your hands? Can you do it without going through an esper's Curriculum? If you can, then why don't you show me? Then I might be able to believe you."
"I don't have any magic power, so I can't use it."
"…"
It's like she's one of those useless espers who claim they can't bend spoons when cameras are rolling because it distracts them.
But it was true that his feelings on the matter were complicated.
Even though he'd said that the occult was implausible and that magic couldn't exist, the fact was that he knew almost nothing about the Imagine Breaker in his right hand. How did it work? What kind of principles did it operate under? Not even Academy City's System Scan, the world's most cutting-edge program of supernatural ability development, could see through his Imagine Breaker. That's why he carried the stigma of an Impotent, a Level Zero.
It was a power he had possessed since birth, not one he'd obtained through a scientific Curriculum.
He claimed that mysticism was unrealistic, but he himself wielded something of the "occult" that defied the rules of reality.
Still, he couldn't just tell himself something nonsensical like, "Well, there are plenty of mysterious things in the world, so it wouldn't be weird if magic did exist!"
"…Magic is real."
Kris sighed.
"Okay. If magic does exist…"
"If?"
"If it exists," Kris continued, ignoring her, "why are people chasing you around? Does it have something to do with those clothes or something?"
He was referring, of course, to her overly extravagant habit, sewn of white silk and gold embroidery. He meant to inquire if it was somehow "religiously motivated."
"…Because I'm Index, the archive of forbidden books."
"Huh?"
"I carry 103,000 grimoires. Those people probably want them."
"...This conversation just stopped making sense again."
"Hey, how come whenever I explain something, all of your verve just vanishes? Do you have a short attention span?"
"Umm, I'm trying to organize my thoughts, but I don't really understand what a grimoire is. It's a book, right? Like a dictionary?"
"Yep. The Book of Eibon, the Lesser Key of Solomon, Nameless, Cultes des Goules, the Book of the Dead…Those are some famous ones. The Necronomicon is really famous too, so there's a lot of forgeries and imitations of it, I think."
"Okay, what's in the book doesn't matter."
Swallowing his urge to just call them chicken scratch, he asked:
"So, these 103,000 books…where are they?"
He would absolutely not budge on this one. A hundred thousand books were enough to take up an entire library.
"Does this mean you have a key to a warehouse somewhere or something?"
"No." Index shook her head back and forth. "I have all 103,000 right here with me, and not one less, okay?"
Huh? He frowned. "Can stupid people just not see them or something?"
"Even if you weren't stupid, you wouldn't be able to see them. What would be the point if you could just look at them whenever you wanted?"
Index's words hung in the air between them. Kris started to get the feeling she was teasing him. He took a look around, but there wasn't a single moldy grimoire or anything—just his gaming magazines and manga, and his crumpled summer homework sitting in the corner of the room.
"…Ack!" He'd been listening patiently until now. But he just couldn't take any more, and his words caught in his throat.
This whole "being chased by someone" might be a delusion, he thought. But if that is the case, then she was hopping between eightstory buildings for no good reason. And then she messed up and ended up splayed over my balcony…I wouldn't be able to keep up with someone like her.
"…It's really weird that you believe in supernatural abilities but not magic." Index scowled again, irked. "Are supernatural abilities really that amazing? Having some kind of special power doesn't make it okay to treat people like dirt, you know."
"Well, you got me there." He sighed to himself. "That's right. You're right. It's wrong to think that having a funny trick gives you the right to lord yourself over other people."
His gaze fell to his right hand.
It could produce neither flame nor electricity. It couldn't shine, or make loud noises, or evoke strange patterns on his wrist.
However, his right hand could nullify any and all abnormal powers—regardless of whether the power in question was good or evil, and even if it was a divine miracle like from the legends.
"For the people who live here, having an ability is part of their personality; it's their moral support. So it'd be nice if you could just overlook that part. In the end, I guess I'm one of those people, too."
"That's right, stupid. Hmph. Even if you didn't mess with the inside of your head, you could just bend spoons with your hands."
…
"Hmph. What's so great about some artificial man who abandoned the natural world? Hmph."
"Would you mind if I taped that mouth of yours shut and your pride along with it?"
"I-I will not bow to intimidation!" Index glowered at him like an irritated cat. "B-besides, you keep saying supernatural powers, but what exactly can you do, mister?"
"…Err, well, I can…"
He hesitated for a moment.
Opportunities to explain his Imagine Breaker didn't come along very often. And the fact that it only reacted to "abnormal powers" necessitated an understanding of "abnormal" and "supernatural" powers first.
"Well, you see, my right hand…Oh, by the way, I didn't get this through drugs; I'm a natural from birth."
"Uh-huh."
"If something touches my hand…If it's an abnormal power, even if it's like a nuclear blast, or a tactical Railgun, or even a miracle, it gets canceled out."
"Huh?"
"…Wait, what's with that reaction? You look like someone showed you a rock that got passed off as a good luck charm on TV."
"Well, I mean, I was just told that someone could dispel miracles even though that someone doesn't even know God's name."
Surprisingly, Index smirked at him and stuck her pinkie finger in her ear.
"…Ugh. H-how annoying. I can't believe how annoying it is to be mocked by some fake magical girl who claims magic is real but can't even show me any."
He'd been muttering to himself, but his grumbling instantly set her off:
"I-I'm not a fake! Magic really does exist!"
"Then show me something, you Halloween reject! I'll jam my right hand into it, and then you'll believe my Imagine Breaker is real! How's that, Fantasia?"
"Fine, I'll show you!" Index raised her hands, smoke seemingly about to pour from her ears, and cried, "This! My outfit! This is the strongest holy shield you could get, the Walking Church!" Index emphasized her teacup-like habit with outstretched arms.
"What the hell is a Walking Church?! You're making no sense! Quit throwing around gibberish like holy shield and index of forbidden books, you inconsiderate jerk! Do you even know what the word explain means? You're supposed to break it down for people who don't get it. Don't you even understand that?!"
"Wha—?! Says the person who isn't even trying to understand!" Index waved her arms furiously. "I'll show you some proof! Go get a knife out of the kitchen and try stabbing me in the stomach!"
"All right, why don't I?!…Wait, you're trying to entrap me, aren't you?!"
"Oh, so you don't believe me!" Index's shoulders were bobbing up and down in time with her ragged breathing. "This is a church in the form of clothing, with all the essential elements of a church crammed inside. The weaving of the fabric, the stitching, the decorative embroidery…All of it was calculated! A simple knife won't hurt me a bit, okay?"
"It won't hurt you…Hey, on what planet would some idiot just say, 'Sure, I'll stab you'? That would be a remarkably new twist on juvenile delinquency."
"I've had enough of you making fun of me…This fabric is a perfect copy of the Shroud of Turin, worn by the saint who was pierced by the Lance of Longinus, so its strength is Papal class, okay? In your words…yeah, I guess it would be like a fallout shelter. It can repel any attack, physical or magical, and parry or completely absorb it…Before, I said I was shot in the back, fell, and got caught on your balcony, right? If I hadn't been wearing the Walking Church, I'd have a bullet hole in me. Don't you even understand that?"
Shut up, moron.
Kris, his affection gauge toward Index quickly decreasing, regarded her through narrowed eyes.
"…Huh. So, in other words, if your little skirt really is some kind of abnormal power, then it should get blown to smithereens if I just touch it with my right hand, right?"
"If your power is actually real! Ha-ha-ha-ha!"
Fine, then! Kris reached forward and grabbed Index's shoulder firmly.
It actually felt as if he were grabbing a cloud. The texture was weird, like a soft sponge was absorbing the pressure.
"Wait…huh?"
Now that he'd calmed down a bit, he played through the scenario.
If hypothetically…if what Index was saying was all true— though he still thought it was impossible—then what would happen if her Walking Church had actually been constructed employing some preternatural means?
If his hand erased all aberrant forces, wouldn't her clothes be destroyed?
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—" Kris shrieked automatically in anticipation of the completely unintentional and M-rated situation into which he'd been maneuvered.
…
…
…?
"—aaaaaaat, wait…huh?"
Nothing was happening. Nothing at all.
What the hell, man? Don't scare me like that! he thought, though in fact he did feel on some level slightly disappointed.
"See, look! Imagine Breaker? That's nothing! See, nothing happened, did it?"
She beamed at him triumphantly, placed her hands on her hips, and puffed out her chest.
The next instant, like an unbound ribbon on a gift box, all of Index's clothes fell off.
The threads woven into her habit severed cleanly, and the outfit collapsed into a simple piece of fabric.
One piece, however, remained. The hood resting atop her head seemed to be isolated from the rest of the ensemble. It stayed where it was, looking awfully lonely.
Still grinning with pride, her hands on her hips and her chest puffed out, Index froze.
To put it simply, she was stark-naked.