Editing Toaru Majutsu no Index:GT Volume12 Chapter2 (section)

===Part 2===

Meanwhile, two girls experienced this from a different viewpoint.



District 7.

An ordinary high school.

The entire student body was gathered in the auditorium. But even with the warmth of hundreds of bodies, the chilly air could not be entirely banished by the air conditioning too weak for the size of the space and the halogen heaters set up in a hurry.

That acted as the breath of death in contrast to the human warmth.

A large portrait photo sat atop the stage.

The face belonged to Kamijou Touma.

They must not have expected this. He looked almost villainous on the portrait forcibly blown up from his student ID. But maybe anyone would in an expressionless ID photo taken from head on.

A part-time monk, who was apparently an unsuccessful entertainer who did this as a side job, held a microphone.

His weirdly cheerful voice may have come from mixing together his two jobs.

“Thank you all for attending despite the poor weather. Perhaps the heavens themselves are weeping for the deceased. It pains me just as much to lose someone so young.”

In addition to the student body, a guest space had been prepared at one side.

Mikoto and Shokuhou were seated there.

One of them was shaking.

“Brrrrrr. Misa-Misaka-sa-Misaka-san, it’s so c-c-cold, you need to w-w-w-warm me up.”

“Are you even wearing clothes?”

Mikoto sighed while using a hand to the face to shove away the idiot queen – who Mikoto was beginning to suspect she might actually be “wearing” body paint – as she shivered and tried to cling to Mikoto from the side.

This was a high school.

For a middle schooler, it was like another world entirely.

But the usual tension she would feel was nowhere to be found.

She had actually been here before, but…

(I never imagined I would visit that idiot’s high school for this.)

Her heavy sighing wouldn’t stop.

However, she saw no one who could be his parents in the guest section.

Unsurprisingly.

Given all the paperwork and approvals required, there just hadn’t been time to invite someone in to Academy City.

“?”

“What is it, scheming queen?”

“Oh, I was just wondering who the chief mourner is. Ahn, halogen heater☆”

Shokuhou Misaki’s eyes melted at a machine that was like a “warm fan” that an official had placed in the nearby aisle. She looked about ready to spread her arms and hug the heater with hearts displayed in her pupils. Why had she even come to the funeral?

That aside…

(Chief mourner.)

Come to think of it, this was odd.

As fancy as all this looked, the crucial pillars were missing.

It all felt hollow and artificial.

“That said, we must not keep the deceased here forever. As painful as it will be, we must continue with the ceremony to put him at ease as he takes his journey into the great beyond.”

A gentle sound enveloped the auditorium.

Classical music of unknown composer and title began to play.

“…?”

Mikoto knew how to play the piano and the violin, but she frowned. She didn’t recognize this. It may have been healing music recently composed entirely on a computer. That would be fitting for Academy City.

A slideshow of photos played along with the music.

It was obvious what these were from.

“The Daihaseisai,  the Ichihanaransai – Kamijou Touma-san really did smile so brightly during these events.”

''Uh, uh…

Damp sobs spilled from here and there.

But wait.

Hold on.

What was this? Even in his school, how many people even knew Kamijou Touma? He hadn’t been part of any clubs and he had no connections outside his class. He wasn’t a master shogi player and he didn’t get the top score in the national practice exam. So why were all of those students who looked like second or third years shedding tears?

Mikoto was astonished.

Maybe it was a Pavlovian response, like people who would always cry when hearing a music box playing when in a sad mood.

“They’re like the delinquents who only cry at the graduation ceremony.”

Now that she had recovered using the heat of the halogen heater, Shokuhou’s whisper pierced sharply into Mikoto.

You smile at New Year’s and you cry at funerals.

That was all it was.

Like flipping a switch or turning a dial.

Was that really enough?

Could someone’s life end with this?

Of course, it would also piss her off if someone was chatting or using their phone in the middle of the ceremony, but this felt different somehow. The tears felt cheap. She wanted to stand up and shout that this wasn’t right.

Mikoto was sad.

She didn’t know what to do now that the time had come to say goodbye.

But.

She felt her heart distancing itself at the scene she found here. The distance kept growing. Her heart had lost the ability to sense her feelings.

Why?

It was already over. She knew that. Yet she felt some kind of powerful impatience growing inside her.

Was this really enough?

Would this mark the end of someone’s life?

“To represent you all, his homeroom teacher Tsukuyomi Komoe-sensei will now present some flowers.”

“Uhh.”

It might all look emotional, but it was nothing but checking off everything on the list.

It was a routine.

It was a ceremony to cut someone away from society, forget them, and erase them.

And.

Mikoto saw a red dot out of the corner of her eye.

“?”

Curious, she looked over to see a video being recorded.

Since she wasn’t familiar with funerals, she thought maybe that was a way to leave some memory behind, but…

“(That’s the funeral company. I bet they’ll chop it up and use it in their ads.)”

Shokuhou was more coldhearted.

Perhaps she was more accustomed to death than Mikoto.

But from where?

There was no answer to that question. As Shokuhou faced forward, her profile looked somehow lonely.

The entertainer hosting the event continued on.

“We will now receive a message from Kamijou Touma-san’s parents.”

The slide show of school events switched to something else.

“I am truly grateful you have all gathered today for our son.”

Were they using an online conference app?

The white wall behind the auditorium stage acted as a large screen to project someone who was presumably his father.

He was likely at home. The room behind him looked lived in.

Maybe this had been too sudden for anything else.

His user name was displayed below him in small text.

Kamijou Touya.

His flowing words were anything but coldhearted.

Even through the screen, Mikoto could sense just how hard that grown adult was clenching his teeth to get through it.

That distant place carried a much more appropriate mood than the site of the funeral.

Or so it seemed to Mikoto.

She sensed something authentic there.

“I’m sure Touma’s life in Academy City was full of smiles and memories with all of you. He never was great in school and he didn’t develop any kind of esper power, but we have all of you to thank for allowing him to enjoy himself enough to forget about those things. Our son seemed so happy in all the emails and messages he sent us. He also sent plenty of photos and videos. Those limited glimpses into his life were enough to know his time there was a bright and happy one. And I imagine he enjoyed himself even more than he let us know. I would like to thank you all deeply on behalf of our son. Even if his life there was cut short, he was truly fortunate to be surrounded by so many wonderful frie- kh...no, I can’t do it!!”

His trembling voice grew strained partway through.

The middle-aged man’s face filled the screen. With tears welling in his eyes.

“He was our family!! Our son is dead!!! But they won’t let us in the city!! They won’t even tell us the exact cause of death!! Is it not as safe inside those walls as we were led to believe!? This is crazy! What the hell is going on in that ci- (voice muted)”

His mouth flapped silently for a few more seconds before the video also cut out.

The host put on a fake smile and worked at smoothing that over.

“Oh, dear. The signal appears to be unstable and since it still hasn’t come back, we will move on.”

How could they just move past that!?

Mikoto just about stood up from her folding chair, but Shokuhou grabbed her hand.

Firmly, to hold her in place.

Even his parent’s wholehearted rebellion had accomplished nothing.

That was just one branch on the flowchart.

By following that branch through, they could bring the ceremony back on track.

“Now, if you will please come forward to burn incense. Yes, it will help if you climb the stairs on the right and descend the stairs on the left. You may begin.”

If the entire student body burned incense, it would take all day. Instead, each class sent a representative up to the altar. The staff held stopwatches and kept everything on the schedule determined during the dry run. Someone had died, but they didn’t allow anything to break down.

It was like the sand in an hourglass.

Once the stock had been used up, it was over. The coffin would be shut and placed in the hearse to be taken to the crematorium. Then nothing would remain. Kamijou Touma would be burned to ashes, leaving nothing even on the genetic level.

The entertainer monk continued with a smile.

“Finally, I would like to read the telegrams that have arrived from those close to the deceased. To start with, um, we have a Miss Leivinia Birdway from England.”

It was ending.

The funeral really was going to end.

“You’re looking at it wrong.”

Still facing forward, Shokuhou spoke quietly but clearly in her mourning clothes.

Even though Mental Out wasn’t supposed to work on Mikoto.

Her voice was somewhat stiff, but she still managed to say it.

“We have to bring his life to an end ourselves. So, Misaka-san, you need to prepare yourself to actually say goodbye.”