Strictly speaking, skill-out armed groups were little different from yakuza syndicates.
Although their usual recruitment slogan was "attacking espers," anyone who rose to the rank of leader had long since shifted their focus.
Securing more turf, seizing greater power, indulging their desires, and raking in more money — that was their real aim.
Which was why powerless armed groups were never at peace with one another.
And so, Leo, that rare anomaly among such groups, had become a well-known name in their underground circles.
"You got it right. Too bad there's no prize."
Makoto's voice was lazy, almost bored, as he spoke.
"This is the so-called 'Gun Magician'?"
Beside him, Misaki's starry eyes glittered.
—The Gun Magician!
Of course she knew the name. She had, after all, investigated Harumura Makoto before.
She couldn't help it — those "coincidental" encounters and brief exchanges they'd had before had felt, to her rather sensitive instincts, just a little too deliberate.
And with her ability, looking into someone's background was hardly a challenge.
Within an hour or two, a full dossier on Harumura Makoto had been sitting neatly on her desk.
Ability development level, residence, school, the date he founded his skill-out armed group, his combat record.
It wasn't a complete biography, but it did cover nearly every major event of his life from age six to sixteen.
Naturally, the so-called "Gun Magician" title had been among the information she saw.
But what sat as dry ink on a page paled next to the shock of seeing it in person.
"So, a fellow of the same kind, huh."
Makoto's near-superhuman gunplay didn't intimidate the armored "knight" leader. If anything, his tone carried a faint note of… admiration?
No, that wasn't quite right.
If one had to describe it precisely, it felt heavier than that — almost somber.
Odd, because only moments ago his voice hadn't held that weight.
It seemed that this change had come the instant Makoto revealed himself to be a weak esper.
And in fact, that was exactly the case.
The leader in knight's garb raised his hand, signaling the high-speed members around him to halt.
"You and 'Mental Out' seem pretty close."
"No. We've met a few times, that's all. Closer than strangers, I guess, but not by much."
Since the enemy had paused his attack, Makoto too lowered the gun in his left hand. His answer was blunt.
"I see. In that case… don't you find it strange?"
"What exactly am I supposed to find strange?"
"Everything."
The man didn't waste time on theatrics. His voice was more earnest than ever, cutting straight to the heart of his point.
"Think about it. She's just a passing acquaintance — and an esper, at that. Yet in a cornered situation like this, you're still willing to risk your life protecting such a burden. You might even die for her. Doesn't that strike you as odd? That maybe you're already under 'Mental Out's' control?"
It was summer. Even at night, the wind should have carried the lingering heat of the day.
And yet, as that wind brushed her cheek, Misaki felt only a chilling cold, as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over the fire that had been burning in her heart moments before.
Yes… that was it.
Why was it that even among her own schoolmates — those who truly admired her, who followed her despite knowing she could manipulate minds — she still could not bring herself to trust them completely?
There was a term: AIM Diffusion Field.
The faint, unconscious emission of power from an esper — for a pyrokine, it might be heat; for a telekinetic, pressure; for an electrokinetic, a trace of electricity…
The form varied from person to person, so faint that only with microscopes or highly precise instruments could it be measured at all.
But however weak, it was still power, and it was indeed released.
And so the question for Shokuhou Misaki became obvious.
Her power was Mental Out.
Her rank was Level 5.
She was the strongest psychic in all of Academy City.
How strong, then, was the AIM Diffusion Field she unconsciously emitted?
Who could possibly know?
"To twist the world, mass-produce failure and tragedy for one's own gain, and yet remain unaware of it… And because they lack that awareness, it's impossible to negotiate with them, impossible even for them to control themselves. So, to restore equality to the world, the only solution is to have them die."
The Deadlock members once again powered up their pile-driver launchers.
The gears of their anti-Mental Out combat suits — the so-called "Guns of Usurpation" — began to spin once more.
"Step away from the esper. If there's no need, we don't want to harm one of our own kind."
The knight-leader leveled his weapon squarely at Makoto.
This was his final warning.
If Makoto refused, he and his comrades would charge and tear both Makoto and Misaki to pieces.
"Hmph. You should go. This has nothing to do with you in the first place."
If it were any other time, Misaki would have gladly accepted a man's protection without hesitation.
Or, if the man refused, she would simply use her ability to make him protect her — that was the logical choice.
After all, protecting herself was the most important thing.
She wasn't naïve enough to think otherwise.
And yet… for some reason…
Today, she didn't want this man to protect her. She didn't want him dragged into her affairs.
Yes — this had nothing to do with him.
She was the one who had pulled him into this mess; there was no reason he should have to shield her from it.
"Hmph. Boring."
A large hand came down, ruffling Misaki's golden hair. Makoto's gaze, however, was fixed on the knight-leader below.
It was clear that his "boring" was directed at the man, not at her.
"Nice speech.
Let's say everything you claim is true — that killing Miss Shokuhou here will suppress her AIM Diffusion Field.
Fine. Without her interference, another Level 5 will naturally be born sooner or later. If that new Level 5 appears among others, sure — you can kill them too.
But if one appears within your own ranks… will your people line up to commit suicide?"