Editing Toaru Majutsu no Index:RailgunSS3 Chapter6 (section)

===Part 2===

Afterschool, Sakibasu Yuri first met up with Misaka Mikoto and Shirai Kuroko in their school building and then they joined Uiharu Kazari and Saten Ruiko outside the school.

“Riot, was it? I heard she was taken to a hospital instead of an Anti-Skill station.”

Shirai shrugged at Saten’s simple comment.

“Well, she was injured. And after that scandal within Anti-Skill, they probably can’t push very hard if she refuses to be questioned at a station.”

Mikoto casually cut in.

“Are visiting hours still going? I feel like those end pretty early.”

“We are not normal visitors, so I doubt we have to worry about that.”

Shirai Kuroko and Uiharu Kazari were both in Judgment, but the former was the type to talk about her “detective’s instincts” and the latter was more data oriented. When the girl covered in flower decorations said it would be okay, it was a lot more persuasive.

They walked to a large hospital in District 7 and they spotted a few Anti-Skill officers before even walking through the outpatient entrance.

Mikoto breathed an exasperated sigh.

“That’s a pretty strict guard.”

“Well, Onee-sama, they have no idea who will be fired if there are any further scandals.”

“I wonder if Maeda-san is here. Ugh, it would be super awkward if we met him.”

Sakibasu’s comment suggested there was little chance of an immoral love blossoming there, but since that awkwardness was not based on fear, she had taken this in a positive direction.

They all entered the hospital together.

Shirai and Uiharu showed off their Judgment armbands and school IDs while going through some kind of special procedure, but that took a surprising amount of time. There was apparently some jurisdictional friction between Anti-Skill and Judgment.

Saten leaned back in a lobby bench and spoke.

“Uhee, having to sit still is like torture for a middle school girl, don’t you think? If we have to wait, why not go explore the cafeteria? They might have a bunch of tasty stuff like the rice porridge you eat when you have a cold! …Wait, what’s with you two?”

“Well, um, the clock.”

“Oh, noooo. The curfew. Not the curfew. What do we do? I’ve snuck out multiple nights in a row already, so the dorm manager is probably on the lookout now.”

In true prestigious Tokiwadai fashion, their dorms were quite strict. An obedient student like Uiharu had been quite worried about the curfew, but Saten had learned something after sneaking out at night quite frequently. Sakugawa Middle School’s security was so lax that someone who collapsed in their room would become mummified before anyone noticed, so she was kind of jealous.

Mikoto and Sakibasu anxiously watched the clock, but after a certain point had passed, their shoulders slumped and they stared out the window where the sun was setting. Saten was forced to drag the two of them to the cafeteria installed in the hospital. Instead of serving a specific type of cuisine, it was more like a highway service area. They had a wide selection of meals in bowls that were not all Western and not all Japanese, but it did not look like they had worked to specialize in any one thing.

Sakibasu casually moved her knife and fork.

“Munch, munch. We missed dinner at the dorm, so if we don’t eat something here, we’ll have to go to bed hungry!!”

“Eh? That’s your dinner!? But it’s only a huge stack of pancakes!!”

“Just like with crepes, pancakes can be a meal or a snack depending on the toppings used. Hm, but these are not quite what I wanted. They are not good enough to surpass the best pancakes I have ever had.”

By the time Sakibasu had polished off the giant tower of carbs, Shirai and Uiharu finally arrived in the cafeteria. They both looked exhausted.

“W-we explained the situation to them. Honestly, is the adult world built from nothing but entrenched inefficiencies and wastes of time?”

“After all that work, we definitely need some sugar to fuel our brains.”

Those two led them to the suspect known as Riot. Mikoto had expected a special room with metal bars, but they ended up somewhere else entirely.

Sakibasu (who was still carrying her violin case around) tilted her head.

“A pediatric rehabilitation room?”

“Given the suspect’s age, isn’t it only natural to take her to the pediatric department? Besides, Anti-Skill has officers posted around her room. Although that was partially at Riot’s request.”

After Shirai’s explanation, data-focused Uiharu gave further information.

“The rehabilitation rooms are only used during the day. No one comes here after hours, so it is the perfect place for a private chat.”

Once inside, they found a large room the size of two school classrooms. To be more child-friendly, it was painted with bright primary colors. It felt like being thrown into a giant kid’s meal. The equipment inside could be divided into two categories: playground equipment like swings and a slide and training equipment like a bench press and a treadmill.

“Oh, they even have Witch & Psychic cards. Wow, this is the 15th wave booster pack! I thought that hadn’t been released in Japan yet!!”

“…”

Sakibasu Yuri quietly glanced over at innocently-excited Saten and gave her a somehow complicated look. Mikoto recalled how she had worried that the trading card game she had created when she was 5 might have caused her family to suffer.

But that was not the focus here.

Riot.

The blonde girl had apparently been given baggy pajamas to wear. That made her look very different from when she wore the leotard. Instead of sharpening her slender body into something professional looking, she actually looked her age.

Sakibasu leaned forward and spoke.

“So you said you would tell us what we wanted to know.”

When she saw their faces, she gave a sigh of resignation.

No, it was when she saw Sakibasu Yuri who had saved Maeda of Anti-Skill for nothing in return.

“Fine…”

The girl was sitting on a training machine.

She apparently did not want to touch the playground equipment.

“I will tell you everything. Everything that I know, anyway. You can call me Riot.”

That of course did not sound like a real name.

Going by a pseudonym may have been a sign of how deep in Academy City’s darkness she had sunk.

Shirai Kuroko glanced at a document displayed on her phone before asking a question.

“You are Hanakawa Hinadori-san, correct?”

Her hair was blonde and it did not appear to be dyed or bleached.

But the girl herself reacted to something else.

“I told you to call me Riot. I don’t like that name. It doesn’t fit who I am.”

“But it’s so cute.”

Sakibasu’s overly honest response only increased the exasperation in little Riot’s voice.

“For now. But who wants a name that means ‘baby bird’ when they’re in their 40s or 50s? Maybe forcing your hopes on your child is a privilege of being a parent, but I really wish they had thought this through.”

That might not seem that weird to most people, but these things could still end up being powerful complexes. Everyone had their own reason for falling to a life of crime. This may have been one of many contributing factors.

Then Riot, or Hanakawa Hinadori, got started.

“I think it developed all on its own to begin with.” The girl sighed in the simple pajamas she had put on in place of her light blue leotard. “You know how you might be able to get an expensive bag in a unique color or invited to try out new menu items at a fancy hotel restaurant? There are those things that only a chosen few get to enjoy. And then a weird reversal sets in where the people who receive those services ''feel like they have been chosen.'' …But then the people that felt that way gathered up those small rewards, drew lines connecting them, and built up a giant network.”

“A network?”

Mikoto frowned.

Hanakawa, the girl sitting on the training equipment, nodded.

“They developed a shared set of values. Or maybe you could call it a currency only they could use: Bag Rank 3, Ring Rank 2, Foreign Car Rank 4, Violin Rank 5, and so on. They developed and spread a culture that explained how to become one of those chosen few and what you had to present to receive what services. That’s what rarity is all about, right? There are regions of the world that use seashells or whale teeth as money.”

“Violin…” muttered black-twintailed Sakibasu Yuri while glancing down at her violin case.

The small girl smiled cynically.

The Riot name may have come from this side of her.

“Exactly. When some kids messing around caused the value of all Stativari to crash, the higher ups were less than pleased. Those were supposed to be Violin Rank 5, but a loss at a simple school exam, stripped them of their effectiveness as a key. Would Almati be next? Or maybe Guarnari? Either way, they needed to head to the Chandelier Auction House and spend a small fortune winning one. You can see why someone easily could have ended up dead.”

“Then you really were ordered to kill the violin’s owner?”

“No, I wasn’t.”

Mikoto asked, but the girl on the training equipment shook her head.

“I mentioned a shared set of values, didn’t I? It wasn’t the Stativari that mattered. It was the giant organization – the network. They were afraid of the ''entire situation'' that had shaken trust in one of their keys. That key could be a ring, some fur, or land – it didn’t matter. Once one was destroyed, concerns would spread that something could happen to your key. And once everyone loses trust in the keys, the network falls apart. Oh, I know. Let’s say an online bank is hit by a cyber-attack and someone’s account is cleaned out. It doesn’t matter if they’re a friend or not; do you really think anyone is going to leave their money in that bank?”

“So they had to take measures to stop that,” quietly cut in Uiharu.

Hanakawa gave a snort of laughter.

“You’ve got that right. The ones feeling the pressure weren’t the Stativarius owners. It was ''the hosts'' who had attached the special label to the Stativari and said what services they were worth.”

“The hosts? You mean the people at the center or core of the network you mentioned!?”

“Yes, of course,” whispered Hanakawa Hinadori with a grin. “Blue Blood. They’re a group of complete nutjobs with delusions about their bloodlines.”