Editing Toaru Majutsu no Index:Item7 Prologue (section)

===Between the Lines 1===

“Quarterback, huh? They’re that North American biker gang, right?”



This carefree question was asked by an elderly man in a pricey Italian suit.

The bouquet he held naturally hid a shotgun.

He was the Mugino Family head.

…Stories of gangs and mafias causing trouble had become common of late. The Mugino Family was officially a grain production company that filled the stomachs of 1.4 billion people worldwide, but they were secretly a multinational gang with hundreds of thousands of soldiers in countries around the globe. The entire world was their turf, so they were busy getting involved in conflicts all over and putting out those fires.

So this may have been one such case.

As usual, Butler Mujinayama stood perfectly straight by his side.

“To be more precise, they hail from Texas.”

“Why the quiet smugness? Texas is huge, so even that’s not all that precise. It’s the second most populous state in America. C’mon, apologize to Texas.”

The old butler wasn’t listening.

“Our advance information has proven accurate. The police and media show no sign of acting. I managed to get a reporter from a small paper to speak using a bribe and it turns out the embassy is applying pressure. So much that even a lawless freelancer is feeling it.”

“Ha ha ha. That explains why Detective Sobasaka-chan was making such a fuss.”

The quality of reporters varied wildly and the freelancer in question here was the lowest of perverts who flaunted a media business card while spending all his time secretly recording the moans coming from love hotels and apartments owned by the rich. In all likelihood, grabbing him by the collar and giving him a good shaking would have been enough to get the information for free, but the tuxedo-wearing butler had standards.

“They’re a biker gang. And one that rides around with shotguns and submachine guns. That unconventional president doesn’t need an illegal group like that. If he needs any unspeakable killing done, he has plenty of official channels for it, like calling in those berets or the delta whatevers who are straight out of an FPS game.”

“According to Ooumigarasu’s intelligence, this has nothing to do with the administration. It seems more likely that an embassy worker is being threatened over something personal.”

This wasn’t isolated to the one embassy. In every country that biker gang visited, they would target whatever embassy had the most influence there and find a worker with a guilty conscience. And before arriving in the country, they would personally threaten that worker the same way a normal person would book a hotel room online. This allowed Quarterback to travel the world, spreading mayhem as they pleased without ever being arrested.

“And that’s why no one shows up when they cause such a scene here? Isn’t Tokyo supposed to be the capital of Japan?”



There was a clattering sound.



A steel beam still caught in what used to be a ceiling had fallen.

The place looked like a squashed cake box.

Or like a bombed building seen on a news site.

Nothing remained to help one imagine it used to be a small family-run motorcycle shop.

The only things left were a pile of scorched rubble and a boy who happened to escape unharmed because he was at his elementary school when the crime was committed. He was still a small child. If he exercised daily, watched his salt intake, and otherwise took care of his health, he could live for around a hundred more years, yet the light of hope had vanished from his eyes. His motionless head was tilted at an angle. His body was unharmed, but only his body. So that was no guarantee of happiness.

The elderly man slowly narrowed his eyes.

(They barge in as they like, steal what they like, and destroy what they like.)

Based on the bullet holes left in the partially-collapsed walls and the floor, the ruffians had used 12-gauge shotguns and .45 caliber submachine guns. In fact, they hadn’t even collected their empty cartridges or shot shells. Did the signs of explosions mean they had used grenades too? The building’s collapse was due to them ''having fun'' by spraying around the acetylene gas used for welding in motorcycle repair and customization.

They probably hadn’t worried about fingerprints or hairs either. Someone’s discarded gum had been melted to the burnt and battered floor. For a normal criminal, that would be devastating material evidence.

“They’re so sure of their safety.”

They could do all this with no fear. The police didn’t show up and close off the crime scene and the media didn’t rush in and report on the crime. The villains protected by a greater authority could send bullets raining down on whoever they liked.

They had no set goal. They would do what they liked as much as they liked until they felt like moving on to another country or region. They had repeated the pattern for at least five countries now. While saying they were going to circle the globe trashing every single developed nation.

So there was no way of knowing who they would target next.

It didn’t matter if someone was at work or eating a meal at the time. It happened whether they were at home or at school.

Out of the blue, some happy person would end up like ''this''.

“What are you going to do?”

The Mugino Family head kneeled in front of the lone boy.

He lowered himself to the boy’s eye level.

“Rushing to the hospital and praying for a successful surgery is one option. You could also begin a new life living with a relative or friend.”

“…”

The boy didn’t nod his head at either option presented to him.

Nothing he did would lead to those people’s arrest.

He could shout and scream, but the police wouldn’t show up and no one would help him.

He had the eyes of someone who had everything incinerated by unreasonable brutality.

The elderly man sighed softly.

He knew that look far, far, farrr too well. Anyone up to their necks in this world would.

Unpleasantly so.

He made another suggestion with a resigned air.

“''Then do you want to hunt down those villains with us''?”

For the first time, the boy reacted.

“That is one option, but it’s entirely meaningless. I don’t recommend it. Slaughtering them all will not improve your parents’ situation undergoing surgery in the hospital. It won’t fix your broken shop or bring back the stolen motorcycles. It accomplishes nothing. Revenge is meaningless. …The most it lets you do is spit on a pile of their bodies.”

“I don’t care…about the bikes.”

The boy sniffled his nose.

But he still managed to wipe away his tears and face forward.

He stared straight into the Mugino Family head’s face with rage and hatred in his eyes.

“I have to get back at them. So I’ll do it! That way this will never happen again and mom and dad can head home from the hospital without worrying. I won’t just ask you to do it. I’ll join you!!”

A dull, quiet sound followed.

It came from the Mugino Family head’s fist striking the small boy in the solar plexus.

There was no scream.

The elderly man had a shocking amount of experience in swiftly knocking people unconscious.

…Because he kept ending up in situations where ''this sort of thing'' was necessary.

His diorama hobby may have been a way of showing off that he could do things other than ''this sort of thing''. He enjoyed his peaceful time engrossing himself in that hobby, but deep down it was probably acted as a downer for him.

But he had only built up his skill in ''this sort of thing'' because it was necessary.

Because even if it was evil, criminal, and wrong…it could lead to this sort of hope.

“You won’t just ask us to do it? You’ll join us?”

The elderly man caught the young body and lay him down on the floor.

That was enough.

Hearing those words was plenty for him.

This boy should not stain his small hands with blood. The Mugino Family wouldn’t allow it. This boy shouldn’t sacrifice his 100 years’ of life in the name of death and crime ''just because of'' this obvious misfortune and tragedy. His life was precious. He shouldn’t throw it away because he felt he had no choice. That was unacceptable. The Mugino Family preserved its hidden side so it could deal with ''this sort of thing''.

They kept an eye on every level of human society, picked up on the voices being silenced in some corner of the world, and completed the jobs that the good and the just couldn’t do because they were bound by their own rules.

Butler Mujinayama sighed softly.

“Isn’t it fairly cruel to draw out his resolve and then reject it?”

“Don’t be stupid. If we went along with his selfish desire, this boy would become a friend of organized crime. He wouldn’t be able to open a bank account, sign a phone contract, find a job, rent a room, or get a passport. He might think that’s what he wants now, but life is long. We need to give him a path toward a brighter future.”

So this kind of job was handled by the ''specialists'' who were already unclean.

Besides, it wouldn’t be fair if only one side were pros.

This battle had to be fought by people who knew how it was done.

Isn’t that right, Quarterback?

I’m not forgetting that name.

“Can we track them?”

“They have done nothing to cover their tracks.”

“Then gather three or four teams. After they caused this much of a mess, it wouldn’t be any fun if we went all out from the start and they died immediately. Balance things out so those idiots can survive long enough to suffer. Use the ''usual pattern'' for punishment: give them a glimpse of hope before sending them plummeting to the deepest depths. I want to hear a chorus of that hysterical joke: ‘I’m sorry. My entire life was one big mistake.’ ”

“Do you need a director? Torture specialist Kusarihebi is in Argentina right now.”

“No need. I’ll plan it out myself. They seem to like attention, so I’ll break every breakable part of them and turn them into the kind of mutilated corpse that will go down in criminal history. I’ll teach those troublesome tourists all about the Japanese culture of ikezukuri. Using this ''bouquet''.”

“And the embassy worker? I suppose that goes without saying.”

“It wouldn’t be any fun if we went all out from the start and they died immediately☆ …And by the end, there will be no exceptions. No matter where in human society they might try to hide, the great Spaceship Earth is a limited piece of land floating in the vacuum of space. Drag out every last person who played a role in this ridiculous affair.”

The Mugino Family did not call themselves the good guys.

The man who led the international criminal organization did not think of himself as a decent human being.

To be blunt, he saw himself as a hopeless villain.

''But there were things even a villain like him despised.

“Everyone living a normal life is a better person than us. You hurt some of them. I hope you’re ready, Quarterback. You demonstrated all the forms of cruelty your feeble minds could think of. Did you think the protection of a greater authority would keep you safe? Did you think you could do as you liked with no risk whatsoever? To be honest, small-time fools like you are the kind of criminal I hate most.”

“Good grief. The thing you hate most changes by the week. Or by the day sometimes.”

“Don’t make it sound like a cheap but delicious set meal. Rankings are constantly in flux. Besides, do you think these people are worth more than bell peppers?”

“Apologize to all the bell pepper farmers out there. Right this instant. This kind of talk is unacceptable for the head of the world’s largest grain production company which fills the bellies of 1.4 billion people worldwide.”



The Mugino head exited the trashed shop with his shotgun bouquet resting on his shoulder.

With many butlers and maids following in his wake,

A true battle meant risking your life.

That was how professional jobs worked.

He had taken on this dirty job for a young child, so failure was not an option.



“This is a war between organizations now. ''The King of Mugino'' is coming for you, Quarterback.”

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