Editing Toaru Majutsu no Index:Item3 Epilogue (section)

==Epilogue: The Cry of True Evil==

Summer was ending. It was late at night in District 23.

After the last trains had come and gone, the vast international airport took on a unique aspect. This was, after all, an industry where a single screw or 5mm piece of rubber tire on the runway could lead to a tragic accident. Various types of pavement cleaners were busily driving back and forth, the guide lights embedded in a straight line flashed unnaturally, and any high luminance light found to have the slightest electrical deficiency was immediately swapped out by the workers.

Among all that, a woman in a suit pressed her palm against the top of her head and tapped a few times to see how her wig was doing as she walked down the asphalt runway. The summer caused a lot of problems.

She was Hanano Choubi.

Or more accurately, she was the voice on the phone who sometimes used that fake name.

She puffed on a cheap cigarette packed full of menthol flavor and she was not alone.

“So are cigars actually any good?”

She was one of the higher ups, but she spoke to the dog next to her with respect.

And the golden retriever with a thick cigar in his mouth responded in human language.

“I prefer them, but if you aren’t already hooked, I would recommend staying away. They are really ''strong'', so once you’re used to them, you can never go back to the ordinary cigarettes sold in convenience stores and vending machines.”

“Ah ha ha. Every smoker tells non-smokers not to start☆”

“Also, they cost around 200 times as much. And you won’t be able to stop smoking them all day long.”

“Then I’m definitely not trying them. It’s always like this. Too many things will ruin your life once you learn to like them.”

“Financial hardship is another problem common to all smokers.”

“Yeah, and I can imagine those top-quality Cubans are worse than I can even imagine there.”

“''Yuiitsu-kun''' can’t stand the smell of smoke. And I don’t mean the smoke itself – just the smell. It’s been too long since I met someone who understands this kind of romance.”

They each had an orange dot of light slowly rising and falling at the corner of their mouth.

The human and canine walked through the darkness at a steady pace.

Almost like those lights were slicing sharply through the shadows.

“Anyway, I’m surprised someone like you bothered to visit me here,” she said.

“''This time,'' I have the same goal as you. It’s only by chance, but our interests are aligned. So I can watch your back here if you like.”

“Oh, really? I thought you preferred to stay neutral.”

“Neutrality can refer to a noncommittal bastard who doesn’t really care if it’s his enemies or his allies who fall. You need to start viewing the neutral as even more trouble than simple good or evil.”

The dog was Kihara Noukan.

He was a member of the Kihara family, a group of ''infamous'' researchers on the dark side, including Amata, Kagun, Byouri, Enshuu, Yuiitsu, Therestina, and Gensei.

At the same time, he was rumored to be a confidant to the Board Chairman, making him a highly unusual being.

When the talking golden retriever made a move, it meant ''something had happened'' that not even the top of the city could ignore (even though he usually left the dark side to its own devices to advance his own goals). At the same time, it indicated a moment when the entire structure of the dark side was cut open by the ruler’s hand so it could be transformed in some way.

Now, was that really ''aligned'' with what the voice on the phone wanted?

She could only pray she wasn’t marked to be eliminated along with Item.

The suit woman held her cigarette between two fingers and exhaled smoke.

“Well, it’s not like I can fight on my own. After letting you get this close to me, I can only hope heaven is smiling on me.”

“Don’t lie to me, Miss Immortal. I could kill you as many times as I liked and I’m sure you would escape it all by faking your death.”

The voice on the phone ''had survived that way at least once already'', so she only stuck out her tongue a little.

They were walking toward one corner of the airport while passing by a tanker truck of fuel and a work truck loaded with ultrasonic equipment to keep birds away (which the canceler device in the juvenile prison was based on).

They arrived at a row of airplanes smaller than the large passenger planes people ordinarily thought of.

The private jets and charter planes were stored here.

But anyone with knowledge of such things would recognize that these were not ordinary jets. The engines had been customized for lengthy flights by prioritizing fuel economy over speed and the roof of the slender fuselage was lined with special antenna lines that resembled fish bones.

These were miniature strategic AWACS planes. Academy City’s VIPs had paid a lot of money for the peace of mind that came with owning a flying hideout that could keep them alive even if the entire surface of the earth were polluted by nuclear war. …Whether or not the planes would work as advertised was questionable, but the rich tended to make a hobby out of buying safety.

One of the planes had artificial light spilling from within. The light wasn’t coming from the windows because all the plastic shades were kept shut. The entrance hatch was opened outwards and transformed into a small set of stairs.

The flavor of her cigarette vanished from the woman’s mind.

“…”

“Stand back, miss.”

“No, thanks. I can take care of myself.”

“You’re strong, I’ll give you that. But I do wish you would let an old man like me indulge in his romance.”

The voice on the phone didn’t want to be indebted to a Kihara, so she ignored his advice and climbed the narrow stairs into danger.

She peeked inside.

The powerful stench of death instantly overpowered the cigarette in her mouth.

“I think we can rule out a faked death,” said Noukan, entering the plane as if sliding by at her feet.

Having the dog right alongside her with the lit cigar in his mouth was mildly concerning. She was wearing synthetic stockings, after all.

The plane wasn’t exactly spacious, but the interior was so luxurious just one of the sofas could have bought an entire house in the city. And it was all ruined. Splattered blood stained the floor and walls, coloring all the furnishings red. A young man’s corpse sat in the sofa. He had been decapitated, but not to hide his identity. The head was right there in the small trash can next to the sofa.

He was another voice on the phone.

He was one of the colleagues she had recently shared a table with at a yakiniku place.

“''So he was from the company,'' Hanano Choubi muttered under her breath.

The foolish severed head stared back up at her from the Chanel trashcan it barely fit in.

Her report on the Sadistic Dolls had been delayed because she had trouble identifying this man.

If the enemy was another voice on the phone, it made sense her privileges hadn’t been sufficient to break into the data he had locked down.

The suit woman tossed her cigarette butt into the filled trash can. It produced a quiet sizzling. The can was filled with gruesome blood and flesh, so it was a lot like dunking a firework in a bucket of water.

She shook the package to pull out a fresh cigarette and the golden retriever used a mechanical arm to light it with an oil lighter. She gladly accepted the offer.

“So did he go too far and draw ''you-know-who''’s attention?”

“The opposite, I’d imagine. He realized ''you-know-who'' was after him, so he needed to set up some emergency defenses. That is the truth behind those justice groups. But in the end, it would seem he failed to defend himself, failed to even identify ''you-know-who'', and ended up slaughtered.”

“The Sadistic Dolls, the Frees, that detective, and Judgment’s Special Exception Cleanup Team execution squad.” The woman calling herself Hanano Choubi scratched her head. “A team of justice elites. That makes them the polar opposite of a collection of dark side villains like Item. I thought we were dealing with competitors – sigh – not this.”

“Does this conclude your business here?”

“I guess. I get the feeling you aren’t done, though. So are you after the person who did this?”

“Yes.”

Kihara Noukan readily admitted it, his thick luxury cigar waggling in his mouth.

Even though knowledge of this bombshell could bring all kinds of trouble.

“This isn’t like those imitators. My target is the true symbol of justice lurking in the deepest depths of this city.”

“''The Dark Side’s Bane. The #6,''” spat Hanano Choubi.

Then she scratched her head again. She could tell her wig had slipped to the side.

It wasn’t often something hit her so hard the flavor of the cigarette felt like an intrusion.

“That bastard really knows how to get the job done. It’s always like this with them.”


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