Editing Toaru Majutsu no Index:Biohacker Chapter1 (section)

===Part 2===

“Ugh.”

Only after hearing it did ''Kamijou Touma'' realize the groan had come from his own mouth. His blurry vision came into focus to reveal he was lying on his side.

His entire body ached.

The type of pain varied. An oozing pain made him intensely aware of his skin, a dull pain slowly spread through the core of his body, and a hot pain covered the swollen parts across his body. He could only count himself lucky that he did not feel that knife-sharp pain that refused to even be touched.

(Lucky, huh?)

It was an awful night. He was surrounded by the sweltering midsummer air and lying in a back alley that reeked of mold and urine while a smile appeared on his lips. If this was what he called “lucky”, then the average for him must have been at rock bottom.

He had learned something with his attempt here.

Taking on five at once did not work. He could handle three at the most. And then only when they had to approach him along a single narrow path. When they could attack him from several directions at once, it was hard to even see them all at the same time. There was nothing you could do unless you were a master swordsman who could dodge an attack from directly behind by sensing a presence there.

Nothing went the way he had hoped.

His uselessness frustrated him to no end. He had grown tired of the boring routine of everyday life and stepped off the rails in search of some excitement, but this was the result. It felt like he had been shoved back onto the rails by some powerful force.

This may have been the extent of the freedom allowed to a ''middle schooler''.

While he lazily pondered that, he finally noticed something that did not fit the obvious result of his actions. Specifically, his cheek felt something far softer and warmer than asphalt. And a faint floral scent tickled his nose within the musty alley.

He wondered if the pain had been so great his brain had emitted a rush of endorphins.

But this illusion did not seem to be the type that ''his right hand could destroy''.

“Good grief.”

Someone was there.

And quite close by. They were looking down at him from above. No, they were practically leaning over him.

They appeared to be older than him. For middle schoolers, a powerful barrier stood between them and high school. If he was told to separate the middle schoolers from the higher schoolers in the bustling shopping district of District 15, he was confident he could do it in five seconds. That was how great the difference was.

(A…girl?)

She had shoulder-length glossy black hair held back by a hairband that showed off her forehead and she had a beautiful face. Beautiful, not cute. She wore a short-sleeved sailor uniform, but either it was too short or her chest was too big because the rise and fall of those twin masses when she breathed tugged the cloth up enough to give a glimpse of her shapely navel. Much like the story of the North Wind and the Sun, she may have chosen a skimpier outfit after succumbing to the heat on this sweltering night.

She was way too close.

He could feel something warm and soft on the back of his head and he was looking up at her face while collapsed on the ground, which meant…

(A lap pillow!?)

“Bwah!? Wait, you- ow!!”

“Stay still. You won’t be able to move right away. You were pummeled from pretty much every direction.”

He frantically tried to get up, but his entire body was thrown into a vortex of agony. He froze up in a weird pose, so the black-haired beauty grabbed his shoulders and guided his head back to her lap.

He had done nothing to earn this.

And when he was given something for free, it scared him. You never knew what they would demand in return. …Of course, that worldview may have been the result of his constant misfortune.

On the other hand, that mystery person did not seem to mind.

But then again, she was a grownup girl(?) – one of those high school girls he had always dreamed of getting to know. Once a girl reached that level, they apparently did not grow flustered over something as simple as a lap pillow. It felt like seeing a businesswoman before Valentine’s day who focused on cost-performance by buying a box of processed cocoa products instead of worrying about romance or competition.

And with a large-chested older girl, even an exasperated sigh could sound sexy.

“I had heard rumors of a boy wandering this area and causing trouble, but you aren’t quite what I expected. I certainly didn’t think you were this stupid.”

“Who are you?”

“Are you sure you want me to tell you? There are some things you are better off not knowing.”

That suggestive refusal was immediately followed by a complete reversal.

This mystery high-risk girl was apparently going to drag him into this while knowing it was dangerous.

“I’m Kumokawa Seria. You can think of me as a high school girl who happened to be in the area.”

“…”

“Oh, and you don’t have to worry about those Skill Outs who attacked you.”

She made it sound so simple.

It was a hell of a thing to say about a group armed with collapsible batons and modified gas guns, but it was true there was no sign of them in this back alley. Yet the girl had no obvious cuts or bruises. Did that mean she had easily driven them away? That certainly fit the profile of the “Senpai” characters seen in dramas and movies, but how had a girl with such skinny arms and bare legs managed that?

There was only one possibility that occurred to the Level 0 boy (and it came with some jealousy).

“Are you an esper?”

“Only you would ask an Academy City student such a stupid question. Have you forgotten what the primary curriculum here is?”

Espers could create movement, fire, electricity, and vacuums with their minds.

With a high enough level, they could indeed make short work of so many opponents. After all, at the higher levels, it was said they did not need any kind of weapon to wield as much destructive power as a battleship gun. Even if a bunch of weak thugs gathered together and joined forces, they would be easily defeated. Coldly logical and coldly efficient – those were the rules that governed Academy City.

“You have the wrong idea.”

But his thoughts were overturned a moment later.

This high school girl named Kumokawa Seria apparently liked to confuse people.

She brushed the hair from her shoulder as she continued.

“''We still live in the age of television''.”

“?”

“The media power balance may collapse before long, but TV still remains strong. Anyone up to no good will flee when the cameras focus their way.”

He did not understand.

However, he could hear a woman’s voice coming from the well-lit main street where the bright lights and electronic signs allowed everyone to travel in peace. But this did not seem to be someone chatting on the sidewalk. Abdominal breathing? Proper enunciation? The methods he only really thought about during music class or karaoke were used to produce an artificially clear and carrying voice.

“The wait is finally over, everyone! L.S.S. presents the Street Corner Kitten Show! It’s time to take a stroll while searching for some cuties. Where are those kitties hanging out tonight, I wonder? Oh? Where did that one from before get off to? I have heard that there is a gathering spot for cute kitties between some of the buildings around here.”

There was a lot of motion out front.

Some bored onlookers must have gathered around the TV crew and the female reporter. It was true the villains (if you can call them that) who worked to maintain a reputation on the streets would not want their dumb mugs showing in living rooms across the city. And if the cameras caught them in the act, then they would have Anti-Skill after them.

“It may be that disease unique to middle schoolers,” said the high school girl while her large chest rose and fell slightly from her gentle breathing. “But everyone seems to judge weapons and esper powers based entirely on their direct usefulness in a fight. Academy City’s culture is said to be 30 years ahead of the outside world, but based on what I see here, I can only assume the entire planet will soon become a postapocalyptic wasteland of mohawks and motorcycles.”

Kamijou Touma thought she had a point.

Academy City was well ahead of the pack when it came to technology, but the brains of the people living there did not necessarily achieve the same standards. Greed, lust, and pride were what ruled the minds of the most intelligent lifeform on the planet. …And Kamijou was not about to claim he was an exception there.

Convenient tech led to depravity.

Would humanity always be struggling with the same issues, no matter how far technology progressed?

He could complain about depravity all he wanted, but what did it say that he could not even keep up with that degraded world? He could only smile cynically while covered in wounds and bruises.

He could not get anywhere on his own. He had not even decided on a destination.

“So they ran away because of the cameras?”

“Don’t just assume it was a coincidence.”

After a sigh of relief, something occurred to the boy.

“What about that girl!? Agh!!”

“Again, don’t force yourself to get up. You’ll only bring back the pain.”

He desperately tried to sit up, but he froze in place halfway up and the mystery high schooler pressed her finger against his forehead and returned his head to her lap.

“Ah, ow! Th-then what happened to that girl? Ghhh, what happened to the girl who they were attacking in the first place?”

That was it.

Kamijou Touma was not an idiot. Well, he was actually an idiot who liked to believe he was not, but even he had learned how to stay safe on Academy City’s streets. He was not reckless enough to enter a dangerous back alley and pick a fight with a bunch of armed delinquents for no reason.

Yes, he had a reason for it.

And that was what mattered now.

“Don’t tell me she just disappeared. Ow, dammit. They didn’t snatch her away during the confusion, did they?”

He had to force himself up now.

There had been a lame used car near the entrance of the alley.

The round light car meant for housewives had been decked out with wings and a modified muffler in an attempt to make it look manly. It was the obvious compromise of someone who wanted to rebel against society but could not rebel against the price tag. He doubted anyone but those delinquents would want to touch that thing. It was unlikely they would try anything as risky as dragging an entire person around with them, but it was still a possibility. If caught, those numbskulls would probably try to claim it was just a joke and they did not mean anything by it, even if that would not exactly explain why they were wielding a knife. Logic was not always the best predictor of what people like that would do.

However…

“Oh, you mean ''Mitsuari Ayu''?”

“?”

“Wait, you rushed into danger and you didn’t even know her name? Can’t say I expected that.” Kumokawa placed a hand on her famous forehead and shook her head, but then she smiled. “But you can draw some conclusions from the fact that I managed to ask her her name, can’t you? Look, I can tell the pain is keeping you from thinking straight, so I’ll say that again: I managed to ask her her name.”

“You mean…?”

While still seated on the filthy ground with their faces so close their noses nearly touched, Kamijou moved just his head.

He was not sure if this qualified as a public road or private property, but the back alley was piled high with miscellany: a plastic trashcan, a rusty bicycle, and some cleaning tools that had practically become one with the grime.

Among it all, a stack of yellow beer cases shook slightly.

There was someone behind it.

“Uhh…”

The small face that finally poked out belonged to a girl even younger than Kamijou. The gap between middle school and high school was enormous, but the opposite was also true. She looked very young, but the spiky-haired boy could tell she was the same as him. She was probably in middle school.

She had fluffy chestnut hair and a slender build. Her chest size and her entire skeletal structure appeared to still be in the process of growing. She wore a short-sleeve blouse, a beige sleeveless sweater, and a dark gray miniskirt. He was pretty sure that was the uniform of some famous school or another, but he had no idea which one. She also had the nerve to wear a small (he assumed) brand-name bag over her shoulder despite only being in middle school.

There were tears in her eyes, her shoulders were tense, and her legs were pressed together and trembling.

On the other hand, her hair and clothing looked unmolested and she did not appear to have a scrape on her.

She was so unscathed that it actually confused Kamijou.

His awareness could not keep up with what he had done.

“You got between them and her and caused enough of a scene to gather attention and buy some time. Of course, you were probably lucky to buy even 10 minutes like that.”

It had not worked like a samurai movie where the hero could swing a sword around and cut people down in all 360 degrees or like a Western where everyone wanted to send their rival to their grave in a one-on-one quickdraw shootout.

All the boy had managed was to curl up in a ball to protect his vitals.

He had only managed to endure and endure while running down the clock.

However…

“But without those 10 minutes, I couldn’t have noticed what was happening and brought that TV crew here. Then Mitsuari Ayu here might have had her arms, legs, and mouth duct-taped up before she was thrown into the back of a car and driven away.”

Her tone said she refused to accept it.

But at the same time, the situation demanded that she say it.

And Kumokawa Seria said more under her breath after looking away from him.

“Well done, hero. I haven’t felt this excited in a while.”