Editing Toaru Majutsu no Index:Item7 Chapter1 (section)

===Between the Lines 2===

“A gas station out front and a car repair garage in the back? It’s the perfect base for those car and motorcycle lovers.”



It was midday.

The Mugino Family head removed a pair of binoculars from his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

The Quarterback biker gang traveled the world spreading mayhem, so they of course had no fixed base in Japan. At best, they would storm a shop or factory, throw out the original owner, and take over.

The walls were covered with bright graffiti and the cars had been modified with no concern for what was safe or legal. These cars were stolen, so maybe they didn’t have to worry about the consequences of the modifications.

The elderly man who preferred Italian suits normally avoided going in guns blazing and terrifying the neighbors.

“But even with all this going on, looks of “not my problem” were found all across the residential area. The residents likely hadn’t reached out a helping hand to the gas station owner when the station was illegally taken over.

“Fine then. Mujinayama, are the trucks in position?”

“They are.”

“Then let’s get this party started.”



A 155mm field gun positioned 9km away opened fire.



It resembled a whistling sound.

The giant shell tore through the air in a large arc similar to a long throw in baseball, flying fully over the residential area before stabbing down into the edge of the gas station’s grounds.

White smoke swelled out across the parking lot.

“?”

At the far side of the gas station grounds, the large men in leather jackets and sunglasses stood still, not knowing what this white phosphorus meant.

Mujinayama whispered with a pair of binoculars in hand.

“No correction necessary. Keep in mind the wind from the west-southwest and open fire.”

An explosion blew it all to smithereens.

And not just from one direction. Several field guns positioned all around Quarterback’s base launched shells from distances ranging from 5-10km.

The gasoline or diesel stored underground must have caught fire because the building itself was blasted upwards.

The aforementioned “trucks” were no metaphor. They were special vehicles towing large containers with an openable side. The containers each hid a military field gun, so the entire container would open like an outdoor concert stage, all the shells would be launched, and the container would close back up so the truck could vanish along the ordinary roads. The entire process took less than three minutes. The license plates reflected strong infrared, keeping them from being mechanically read on the road, and lights of various colors were shined on the containers to change the apparent color of the truck at any time.

The Mugino Family head got moving with the bouquet-disguised shotgun in hand.

“Time to barge in and mop them up.”

They met no real resistance.

The initial bombardment had killed 80% and the remaining 20% had been too badly injured to stand.

The head fired slugs directly into the screaming Quarterback troops, blowing away their upper bodies.

Which may have been a blessing for those burning and struggling victims.

A final man emerged from behind a twisted steel beam, but Butler Mujinayama silenced him with his bolt-action sniper rifle before reporting.

“That settles that.”

“This is only the beginning. But more than that, you need to contact that construction guy we bought off before. After blowing up the place for our own reasons, it’s only logical that we return the gas station and repair garage to the original owner in good-as-new condition. Make sure it’s all fixed up.”



A bar on the outskirts with lots of large motorcycles parked outside was flattened.



A dangerous underground parking garage where villains with an aversion to satellites gathered to ''sell their wares'' was engulfed in flame and shockwaves.



A highway service area that was in plain sight yet not a single ordinary vehicle ever stopped there was blown away.



The everyday, peace, and happiness could collapse in an instant.

That was on display here.

With so many troops and Managers in tow, the Mugino Family head entered the artillery-destroyed service area on foot. They didn’t need to climb over the guard rails surrounding the place. Those had been badly bent and blown away who knows where.

There was sporadic resistance, but the initial attack had already given one side the upper hand.

The biker gang was armed with shotguns, submachine guns, and grenades.

That may have been enough of a threat for police officers who were forced to write a report explaining their actions whenever they fired a tiny handgun even once.

But it wasn’t nearly enough to handle the Mugino Family which had supersonic bombers and ALCMs.

“Give up, Quarterback. If you really want to battle us, you’ll need a fighting force on the level of the Seventh Fleet. When we call something a war, it isn’t just a figure of speech. The Mugino Family has its roots planted across the world, so we can gather old and new weapons and personnel from around the world and truly procure everything needed to wage a war.”

They did not research and develop their own bleeding-edge next-gen weapons the way Academy City did.

The Mugino Family had a different sort of power.

They didn’t seek a monopoly on something unique.

They wanted the opposite of that.

Whether it was a stealth bomber or a nuclear submarine, as long as it was a form of violence already traveling the globe as an officially adopted weapon of a major power somewhere, they could get their hands on it whether it was on the strategic or the tactical level. It might take throwing cash around and it might take some under-the-table deals, but they could do it. So you could say the Mugino Family’s power was the price the world’s people had to pay for allowing violence to grow unchecked across the planet. If no one was producing these things for a profit, no one would need to become their targets. In that sense, it was a cursed mirror that reflected your own ugliness. The evil and criminal Mugino Family acted as a warning guiding people toward good and justice.

(Sakuya and the others were extremely cautious of Shizuri’s brand as Academy City’s #4, but they were actually fairly off the mark as far as what the Family wants. Monopolizing a technology before it proliferates doesn’t act as a karmic warning.)

“Their leader is named Rafaeli Oslend, right?”

“According to the data on the phone recovered from the rubble, anyway.”

“But this service area is their largest base. Where has he gotten off to?”

Following the fundamentals and firing their guns was enough to hunt down the less than 20% who had survived. They had all been mostly crushed in the initial artillery strike. That was no reason to let your guard down since a dying man could still pull a trigger or remove the pin from a grenade, but it wasn’t even a battle at this point.

The head found one more person.

“Ah, bh. Bhbhbh.”

In the parking lot peeling up from the ground.

The large man’s prized motorcycle was scorched and reduced to bent scrap metal and his leather jacket had partially fused with his body. Anyone could have identified his injuries as fatal, but he was still shouting angrily with unfocused eyes. He apparently intended to aim his gun this way and pull the trigger, but his right arm had already been torn away and blasted who knows where.

“Why… Why aren’t the police showing up after all this!? Goddammit!!”

The bouquet shotgun split open the shouting man’s forehead.

The Mugino Family head showed exasperation on his face.

“Because of the instructions you gave, obviously. ''You had that superpower’s embassy ensure no one would touch any incident involving Quarterback.''”

Of course, the Mugino Family had plenty of ways of holding back the police on their own, but Quarterback had dug their own graves in this case.

This was their just deserts. And the head would make sure to bury each and every one of them.

There wouldn’t be any survivors hiding behind cover. The only way anyone remained alive was if they had covered their face in blood and hidden among their friends’ bodies.

Unable to bear it any longer, someone groaned down by the head’s feet.

“Ugh-”

The shotgun roared straight down and silence returned.

The head fired with a single hand.

He didn’t even look down as he continued on.

After another ten minutes of target practice with the survivors, they had all been eliminated.

The head rested the bouquet on his shoulder.

“They should all be slaughtered now.”

“I believe so.”

“Oh, no lecture? Even though going all out like this must have terrified all the ordinary people out there?”

Mujinayama sighed softly.

“You saw the breakdown of a small boy. Not using one of the kiloton nuclear warheads which can be launched from a 155mm was a relatively rational reaction considering.”

“I did consider using that mobile ballistic missile waiting on some island somewhere. That 50megaton hydrogen bomb has to be one of the worst things humanity has invented. That unused second-hand weapon is mid-range, so it could attack anywhere in Japan, couldn’t it? They could have escaped by boarding a sketchy cargo ship and fleeing to international waters, but they all decided to remain in the country, making this hunt that much easier.”

The old butler did not bat an eye at this.

If this much was enough to shock him, he could hardly serve the Bloodline.

The Mugino Family was a criminal organization with hundreds of thousands of troops around the globe and they provided life-giving food to 1.4 billion innocent people in just about every country and region. They were on another level entirely from simple multinational or ultranational groups. You had to think on that scale to properly discuss the Mugino Family.

In just about every possible way, Quarterback had chosen the wrong opponent from the start.

Mujinayama made a suggestion.

“We will count the bodies. Cleaning up after a mission is our duty, so you need not accompany us to the end.”

“Thanks for the assist☆”

And so the elderly man took a bare minimum number of subordinates with him as he boarded a black bulletproof car.

That said, this was the Mugino Family head traveling.

The bare minimum still amounted to a considerable convoy.

In the back seat, the elderly man looked out through the thick window. He must have noticed a distinctive sign in the city flowing by because he made a childish comment without even looking to the maid politely seated next to him.

“A job well done really works up an appetite. Oh, man, could I go for some gyudon.”

“It is too late for lunch but too early for dinner.”

“You need to be more clever than that, Miss Maid. It’s mid-afternoon, so there are plenty of useful terms we can use. Like snacks or afternoon tea!”

“I thought I was fairly well trained as a Manager, but it would seem I require more training. Eating gyudon for afternoon tea never would have occurred to me.”

He felt like she wasn’t treating him with as much care recently.

He pouted his lips and then a simple tone sounded in the car.

“Head.”

He took the receiver from the maid named Kagyu. This was a car phone, not a cellphone.

“What is it, Mujinayama?”

“I have a report on the cleanup. The service area was Quarterback’s largest base in Japan, yet there is no sign of their leader Rafaeli Oslend’s body.”

“We did do a real number on them. Any headless bodies?”

“The number of torsos is insufficient, so this is not just a case of miscount-”

A great roar.

An impact piercing in from the side.

He didn’t have time to think beyond that.

A large truck had shot out from a different street and crashed into the side of the VIP car at the center of the convoy of bulletproof cars.

Like a game of daruma otoshi, that one bulletproof car slid sideways out from the convoy.

It then broke through the guardrail and onto the gentle slope reinforced with concrete. The head’s view collapsed. His sense of up and down vanished, likely because the thick bulletproof car, which had to weigh more than two tons, was rolling over and over again.

The screeching of brakes came from far above, but it was too late.

The rumble of large motorcycle engines came from all around.

They were surrounded.

By a greater number than they had killed at the service area.

Bringing them down at this exact point had been the plan all along.

“A trap. It was a trap.”

One of them was the face found in the data the Mugino Family had collected.

Rafaeli Oslend.

The large man got off his large motorcycle and drew a shotgun with an excessively large drum magazine attached. If that was full-auto, it could tear through a bulletproof car’s door, or even the side armor of a light armored truck made to be dropped by parachute.

“While you were reveling in your big win, you didn’t realize at all you had fallen for my trap, did you? Ha ha ha. It’s time you figured out I had you dancing in the palm of my hand, you old bastard! ''I set up some teams to lose to you on purpose''. All to set up this moment!!!”

His laughter was drowned out.

Several explosive booms erupted in quick succession. Caused by a horizontal storm of bullets. Countless cracks ran through the thick door window, the black paint was torn away, revealing the gray metal below, a few metal components split, and the bulletproof door itself bent and weakly swung open.

One of the subordinates wielding a 45mm submachine gun whispered.

“Japanese cars really are sturdy. One of our huge four-wheel-drive ones would’ve been sliced in half by now. And, boss, shouldn’t we stop now?”

“What the hell is wrong with you!? We haven’t even fired a thousand rounds yet!!”

“There’s no point in any more. A few of us have already been killed by ricochets. Attempting a door breaching from head on is dangerous.”

“Oh, is it?” Rafaeli removed his finger from the trigger.

Conflicts between criminal organizations were games of massacring chess.

It didn’t matter how many pawns were sacrificed as long as you could take the king by the end.

Feeling satisfied after taking the valuable rooks and bishops had been that Japanese man’s final mistake.

“Oliver has a family. So do the others who died here. We need to pay out of the team account to support those families.”

“Yeah, a ‘family’ with god knows how many people around the world. How are we supposed even count them all?”

“A hell of a thing to say when it was your meaningless ricochet that killed him.”

And it wasn’t over yet.

Rafaeli breathed a heavy sigh, took a cigarette from the pack one of his subordinates handed him, and stuck it in his mouth.

He lit it on the red-hot muzzle of his gun.

“Don’t die yet, old bastard. I’ve gotta teach you how Quarterback does things.”

Rafaeli wiped the sweat from his brow and gestured over with his chin.

His many subordinates held their guns at the ready as they approached the twisted rear door.

“Our rules say any idiots who kill one of us get dragged for a mile while still alive. Not a puny little kilometer – a proper mile for each one of us they killed. After the mess you made, I’ll give you a choice. Do you want to be dragged all the way to Kagoshima or Sapporo?”

After the concentrated gunfire, the door easily moved at a light push. One of Rafaeli’s subordinates placed his hand on the thick, twisted door and slowly opened it.

It made a metallic creaking sound.

An arm emerged from the opened door.

“Ah.”

In an instant, the arm grabbed the soldier by the collar and dragged him into the car.

The broken door slammed shut.

It was dull.

Such a dull sound.

The wet squashing sound repeated over and over.

It must have been loud to be heard coming from inside the thick bulletproof car.

And after it stopped…nothing.

''The car ate him,'' someone whispered.

“Wha-?”

Rafaeli Oslend froze in place.

The twisted door opened again and something was tossed out. Like it was nothing. The object colored toxic reds and blacks looked like an enormous piece of chewed gum.

It was a human who was just barely still breathing. Or really, breathing was the only thing he could do anymore. He had intentionally been reduced to that state. Simply killing him would have been easier, but meticulous effort had gone into altering him into a mass of human flesh like this. In the most optimal way.

Ikezukuri.

“Go to hell!” shouted Rafaeli.

Or he meant to.

But instead a heavy impact pierced through his entire body, launching him more than three meters straight back. He didn’t understand that the object that knocked him down had in fact been the bent and twisted bulletproof door.

Conflicts between criminal organizations were games of massacring chess.

Having their king taken so suddenly created a brief silence from all those troops and guns.

The person who had kicked away his own bulletproof door emerged into the world.

“''From the very start…''”

The Mugino Family head sneered.

He displayed an undeniable confidence.

That wasn’t the face one would expect of a VIP isolated after a surprise attack from a large group.

The red color covering his body was only the blood of his enemies.

“''I was worried this wouldn’t be any fun if I overwhelmed you and your pain and fear continued for too long. Did it not occur to you, Quarterback, that I was setting things up to extend that pain and fear as much as possible?”

“You’re…”

Rafaeli Oslend.

He forced his blood-clogged throat to get out a trembling voice.

“You’re stronger unarmed? That’s insane…”

“Now, now. Who did you think trained Mujinayama to where he is now? I couldn’t serve as the Family head unless I was better than all the rest.”

That was how the Mugino Family worked.

Mugino Shizuri wasn’t feared because she was Academy City’s #4 Level 5. It was her fundamental personality and deep-seated nature that gave her such a presence.

This was the same.

The Managers and troops were not meant to make the head stronger. Katanas and guns were no more than a last resort to keeping yourself safe.

There were no options or services available there. It was an intentional restraint the Mugino Family head had placed on himself to keep him at the level of ''ordinary violence.''

In the criminal world where funding, weapons, and population mattered most, he was one who single-handedly went around tearing down those things that had been so coldly listed out. His fists were far more powerful. He couldn’t call himself a true Mugino if that wasn’t true.

Therefore…



The Italian suit burst from within.

Now that he had removed his restraints, he could mess them up.



Countless gunshots rang out.

The Mugino Family head grabbed a nearby enemy soldier in a single hand and used him as a shield. He was holding the hapless man upside down by the leg.

He swung around the enormous man – who had to weigh more than 100kg – bludgeoning a new enemy with him.

Something audibly broke.

Red blood splattered on the ground. Front teeth flew through the air.

Unable to bear the fear, someone threw a grenade sans pin.

It exploded.

But only their own man’s body was splattered around.

Because the head had thrown the crushed corpse to the ground to cover the explosive. Using a single hand.

Now was not the time to be standing paralyzed.

The elderly man was already rushing sideways toward his next target and knocking them down.

Then the process repeated.

The Mugino Family head was too much.

He had brought violence so far he wasn’t even walking on two legs.

If the world of a delinquent manga – where large motorcycles are lifted from the ground for street fights, nail bats and metal pipes clash together while leaving afterimages behind, and a single punch sends pompadoured boys flipping several meters through the air – were suddenly attacked by a war rather than a street fight…it would probably turn out like this.

Someone was actually doing it.

With no hint of maturity.

“Sigh…”

Maid Kagyu, who had used the commotion to slip out of the car, sighed with her 9mm full-auto handgun at the ready. Like a proper criminal, she was of course using the nearly scrapped bulletproof car as a shield.

''That man never changed.

(Yes, he is the kind of person who could crush an enemy organization’s convoy or mansion with a single shovel resting on his shoulder. But when he rids himself of that shovel and goes at it truly barehanded is when he is at his strongest. Our head has left the world of a delinquent manga to reach a global stage.)

The supremely cool maid was exasperated.

No matter how exceptional an individual the Mugino Family head was, bone was bone and muscle was muscle. So what he was actually doing was shutting off the mental limiters, eliminating all the excess, and optimizing his body’s actions as much as possible. The difference was impossible to tell at a glance and he probably wasn’t doing it based on logical calculations. Intuitive geniuses were so terrifying because they weren’t even aware of what they were doing.

With his superhuman and unpredictable actions, she couldn’t even provide covering fire.

She modestly called out to him instead.

She wasn’t concerned about the enemy’s bullets. People could be killed by a tiger or elephant rolling over in its sleep.

“Head.”

“Oh, perfect timing, Kagyu! ''Shoot me in the back a bit with that 9mm''!! I’m overpowering them so much this is going to be over in no time, but they still haven’t felt enough fear! Ha ha ha! After all the trouble these fools caused, I need to give them some hope for the moment! Ha ha ha ha heh hahhhh!!!”

“The dead cannot feel hope. Head, pummeling that flesh any longer will only hurt your hands.”

“Hm?” The Mugino Family head stopped his slaughtering hands.

He held a red and black mass in one hand. It had no more volume than a metal bat. Apparently the only part left was the leg he had been holding onto as he swung the man around. It had torn off at the base of the thigh.

Everything else was a mess.

Large motorcycles were bent at right angles, modified cars were flipped over, and the boxy rear of a large truck was more than halfway torn up. So many soldiers had been caught in that ''massive blender''. Counting the Quarterback bodies would be a challenge.

At this point, it felt like something from the occult – like a brown bear’s ghost had appeared and run amok. Strictly speaking, it was possible to achieve this superhuman destruction using leverage, gears, elasticity, pulleys, and other things used in the agricultural machines Mugino specialized in, but even so…

The maid sighed softly.

“Did you have to destroy them like a piece of construction equipment? Did you not consider who would have to count the bodies? Create all the bodies you like, but at least leave their heads intact.”

“Does it matter which part you use as long as each of them only has one? You could count the number of dicks if you wanted.”

“After you kicked them to a pulp and tore them apart? Those will not all have survived either.”

“A Japanese maid should really be more bashful than this,” said the elderly man, staring into the distance.

At any rate, this ended the Quarterback incident.

The rumbling of many engines approached from the distance. The elegance of the noise told him this was Mujinayama and the others arriving from the service area.

“Kagyu, what are you doing?”

“With you here, I must check for any unwanted gifts left for you. I doubt there are any, but there could be a bomb attached to a clock in one of the trunks.”

“Hm, let’s take a look.”

“Please do not approach while I am checking. Get off of me.”

The car’s trunk was locked, but its contents were still visible. It had been partially torn away while still shut.

Something was visible inside.

And not just one. A ton of them. With this many of them, they may have been a product meant to be sold.

The Mugino Family head picked one of them up between his fingertips.

“What the hell is this?”


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