Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 A Peaceful Academy City Without Him
City. 1 Academy City. Built on previously uncultivated land in western Tokyo, the city spanned approximately one third of the area of the Tokyo Metropolis and was surrounded by high walls. It boasted a population of about 2.3 million, 80 percent of whom were students. Here in the pinnacle of academia, you could find every field of scientific and technological research under the sun. But the city served another purpose: It fostered espers—those with supernatural abilities—through an artificial, scientific process. Here, the students themselves were “developed.” Their multifarious abilities were classified into six ranks based on their worth, strength, and versatility: Levels Zero through Five, from worst to best. Shiage Hamazura was a Level Zero. Technically, he’d heard he was able to use some sort of ability, just on an invisible level—but practically, that didn’t make any difference. His whatever-type ability only existed on paper, and he wasn’t very familiar with the words on that paper to begin with. But it was too soon to let that disappoint him. For Shiage now had a very rare kind of experience: He’d waded through the absolute worst of the fighting during World War III. And as if that weren’t already enough, he’d defeated the fourth-ranked Level Five in the city without anyone else’s help. By his estimation, successfully navigating a global conflict to save the girl he loved put him just a little bit outside the realm of a normal high school kid. He’d protected a settlement on the verge of being wiped out by the military in Russia, where the bulk of the fighting was taking place, driving off the many assassins dispatched from Academy City and living to tell the tale. He had won his daily life back—he, the postapocalyptic emperor—and now… “Hamazuraaaaaa!! How long is it gonna take us to get some goddamn drinks?!” And now Shiage Hamazura, several drink glasses in his hands, gave a frightened start as a girl’s voice assaulted him from across the diner. It’s… It’s the same! Not a damn thing has changed! I went through all that, and my life is still exactly how it’s always been!! The postapocalyptic emperor—now relegated to the guy responsible for getting everyone drinks from the beverage station—gave a wail of lament in his heart. But in the end, this was just how the world worked. War veteran or not, grunts stayed grunts forever. The name of the girl antagonizing him so he would hurry up with the drinks was named Shizuri Mugino. There was a lot to say when it came to her—certainly too much to get into right now—but she was the city’s fourth-ranked Level Five. Her slender build and wavy brown hair were her trademarks, but she also wore a very special kind of makeup on about a third of her face and had a prosthetic eye. Two other girls were sitting at the table with her. One was Saiai Kinuhata, a short middle school student in a one-piece knit dress who wore her hair in a bob. Her clothes exposed her thighs an awful lot, which was definitely the idea. She claimed to be researching how to cross her legs so perfectly that you’d think you could just about see between them but never quite could. The other was Rikou Takitsubo, who had just been watching a movie with Hamazura before this. Her black hair fell to her shoulders, and if he had to settle on anything that stood out about her, it was the pink tracksuit she wore year-round. Kinuhata was checking a message board on her cell phone, but the stiff, formal nature of the topic in question—the status of restoration efforts in Russia, where the bulk of the war had taken place, along with the how the people dispatched from Academy City were doing—appeared to have bored her. She half threw the phone onto the table and turned her attention to the big stack of fries in front of her instead. She began popping them into her mouth with one hand, using the other to poke at Mugino’s special makeup. “…You, like, totally can’t see it at all, even from up close,” she commented. “Not the scars, and not even the eye band. I always figured special makeup would have to be, like, edited out in photographs and stuff before you couldn’t tell the difference anymore.” “But it won’t sweat, and the hair follicles on it won’t ever change,” replied Mugino. “Plus, my skin color won’t change based on temperature. And it won’t get goose bumps. So if I hang around for a while, people will eventually notice something’s up, even in normal conditions. It’s one of those uncanny-valley things—my face can be as clean and neat as you want, but it’ll still seem weird somehow… Why are you poking it anyway?” “Well, y’know. We live in an age where people just use CG to add moles and scars and wings and horns. But now you’ve got, like, this totally analog makeup. As a movie lover, I guess it really gets my blood pumping or something! And what always gets my blood going is chasing down some good serial killer splatter films!!” …I’d prefer to run away… Unfortunately, if Hamazura made the girls wait any longer, he’d wind up as a splatter-film victim, no special makeup required. So he brought the girls their drinks. “Damn, Hamazura, that took forever,” grumbled Mugino. “Huh? What the hell? Go back and put ice in them like you were supposed to! Look, your stupid hands made them warm!! Don’t you know anything about quality control? Normally, you’d have to completely replace these!!” “Come on, give the guy a break,” said Kinuhata. “This is Hamazura we’re talking about. Besides, it’ll take even longer for him to do it over. We gotta be the adults here and be understanding, yeah?” “Gee, thanks.” Hamazura slumped as he looked over to the one girl who wasn’t trying to verbally eviscerate him. “If mine are that bad, then get the dumb drinks yourselves. My princess here isn’t complaining at all, you know—that’s my kinda woman. Right, Takitsubo? Takitsubo?” His plea to his girlfriend fell on deaf ears. In fact, she wasn’t moving at all, even though her eyes were wide-open. “…Snnnoooreee…” “H-how are you asleep?!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t think our date was that exhausting!” “I mean, it’s you we’re talking about, Hamazura,” Kinuhata pointed out. “I’m actually more surprised she wasn’t bored out of her mind the whole time.” “You were the one who recommended that awful movie! It was the worst thing I think I’ve ever seen!!” “…The worst? I think you mean the best. Were you even paying attention during the climax? When all the characters gathered in front of that giant Indian elephant and started dancing?” “That was the part I understood the least…” Evidently, Kinuhata was too much of a bad-movie maniac to make an effort to understand his troubles. She took a little sip of the drink he’d brought her, then gave him a look that couldn’t possibly have been any more dissatisfied. “…I hate to, like, take the words out of Mugino’s mouth, but this is warm. Like, warmer than we can tolerate. It kinda makes me wanna slap you.” Mugino grabbed the salmon meunière she’d brought back for herself, which was served on a plate that resembled a frying pan, then made her voice really sugary and baby-like for some reason. “Oh, well then. What do you say to hitting widdle Hamazura with this to get him to go back and twy again?” “Don’t point that sizzling thing at me!!” cried out Hamazura reflexively. “And even if it’s already cooled off, it would still hurt like hell!! Why do you feel the need to scare the shit out of me anyway?!” Kinuhata let out a breath. “You can’t do that,” she said. “That would just be a reward for Hamazura. He’d totally imagine us wearing nothing but an apron, so he’d, like, love it.” “What kind of household is this?! It’s terrifying!! And hey, stop looking so creeped out just because I said ‘household’!! That’s actually the only situation I could possibly even imagine where it makes sense for you to wear aprons!!” Kinuhata plugged her ears in the seat across from him, a look of disgust on her face. But when she did, her elbow hit the B-movie pamphlet she’d spread out on the table in front of her. It fell to her lap, then slid down to the floor. “Hamazuraaaaaaaaaaaaa!!” “What?! How is that my fault?! …Fine, okay, I’ll pick it up!! Shit. Don’t get so worked up that you start flinging those stupid Level Four powers all over the restaurant!!” Mr. Errand Runner went under the table, complaining all the while. He found the thin pamphlet in question right away. It said COUNTRYMAN N’S ZOMBIE ESCAPE MISSION on it. Was that the actual title of the movie, or was it just a horrible translation? Either way, it disheartened him even more, so for a moment, he looked elsewhere. And then his eyes fell on… …Saiai Kinuhata’s legs, along with the lovely strip of cloth covering her nether regions, which were both exposed by her super-short knit dress. What if? If he were fulfilled in his job and his personal life, if he were hitting all the life milestones he’d planned, if he were a slick dude with sick skills in abrupt ad-lib situations…? Maybe then, he could have given her thigh a quick little brush, then laughed it off like a joke. But Hamazura was way too Hamazura for that. In fact, he was so surprised at the sight that he jumped. “Kinu— Agh?!” Thud! His head slammed into the table. The two casualties were Shizuri Mugino, who was vacantly poking at her drink with her elbow on the table, and Rikou Takitsubo, sleeping with her eyes wide-open across from Mugino. To be more specific, the contents of Mugino’s beverage flew out of her glass, spilling all over Takitsubo. The latter’s already opened eyes began to come into focus. “…Hamazura…?” “You don’t even try to figure out what’s going on or pretend to be half asleep—you just immediately blame me for anything that’s happened. The sheer leaps of logic you’d need to do that. And all of you are guilty of this. How’d I end up in this group?” As Hamazura grabbed the pamphlet and crawled out from under the table, he then laid eyes on a shocking sight. “Come on…,” Takitsubo murmured, covered from the head to foot in self-serve beverage, before she started to remove her tracksuit. In the process, she revealed two mounds boldly protruding from her thin blouse underneath. “…I knew they were huge.” “…No, no, I’ve, like, totally got her beat in the figure department overall. For sure.” “…Oh, shit. I was right. I was right.” “Huh?” Takitsubo looked back at the others, the only one who still looked confused. Without much in the way of emotion in her voice, she asked, “Is it time now?” “Well…yes. We’ve had our snack, so let’s, like, get down to business, yeah?” “Mm,” replied Mugino. She was rather glum, and her response was uncharacteristically short. Hamazura got back into his seat. “Do we know the location?” he asked. “Yeah, I totally looked into it,” replied Kinuhata. “Though, I mean, District 10 is literally the only place it could be anyway.” “Then let’s head over,” said Mugino brusquely. Wanting to dig a little deeper, Hamazura asked, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” They had all originally belonged to a little group of people called Item, but they weren’t at full strength. One person was missing—someone who had been here in the past. As if to bring that missing piece into focus, Mugino opened her mouth to speak. “…Then to Frenda’s grave we go. Let’s get this over with.” 2 As soon as they reunited, she punched him in the face as hard as she could. And then she hugged him as tightly as she could. The strongest Level Five in Academy City, Accelerator, had just returned home from the worst of the fighting in World War III to a reception of extreme contrasts. The person who had hit and hugged him was a teacher in a tracksuit named Aiho Yomikawa. Accelerator was currently freeloading in her apartment. He had peculiar, unpigmented white hair. His red eyes were as dreadful as any wild animal’s. A crutch with a sleek design supported his slender body—though none would consider him delicate or frail. After all, he was a Level Five. A weapon, thoroughly trained and raised by means of the very latest scientific advancements. Even in Academy City, there weren’t many who were capable of treating Accelerator like another human being, whether that meant punching him or hugging him. But the few peculiar folks who could seemed to all live in this apartment. People like… “Gyaaahhh!! Whyyy?! Why are you attacking Misaka with lasers that come from six directions?! Asks Misaka asks Misaka, shaking with fright at the terrifying combo!!” Last Order, a girl who looked like she was around ten, shouted strangely as she clutched a game pad. People like… “Heh-heh-heh! The lasers are just for spacing—Misaka’s real attack is this huge laser beam!!” Misaka Worst, a twisted, scheming girl who had the exact same face as Last Order, albeit aged up to a high schooler. People like… “…As far as I know, she wasn’t one of the samples in the production plan…was she…?” Kikyou Yoshikawa, a researcher currently watching Misaka Worst with a dubious look on her face. Incidentally, Misaka Worst still had a broken arm, so she had placed her game pad on the floor to hit it like a keyboard with all five fingers of her uninjured hand. And she was still wiping the floor with Last Order, who actually had the ability to use both hands (not to mention the fact that she was avoiding pressing L or R to give Last Order a handicap). She was delivering an unrivaled performance—and showing off a pink and white ao dai that Accelerator didn’t know why she was wearing. “Arrrgh! Now that it’s come down to this, Misaka will directly input commands into you using the network made from all the Misakas’ brain waves! says Misaka says Misaka, wanting to use a cheat technique, but for some reason, there’s no response!” “Heh-heh-heh. This Misaka is from the Third Season, so she’s loaded with mechanisms to reject commands like that.” The two girls sometimes had a very unique way of talking to each other. “Hey, where’d you get that Vietnamese dress anyway? asks Misaka asks Misaka.” Misaka Worst looked confused for a moment. “Oh, right. Since I reject commands, this Misaka isn’t constantly sharing her memories with the Misaka network.” “I gave it to her.” When Misaka Worst smugly refused to actually answer the question, Yoshikawa the researcher explained instead. “I won it in a raffle, but it didn’t fit me.” That made sense; why else would Misaka Worst be wearing such a vibrant outfit when she always mocked people for wearing bright colors like pink and white? But that wasn’t what Last Order got hung up on. “…Another adult bragging about their breasts, says Misaka says Misaka, putting up her guard.” “That’s not what I mean,” clarified Yoshikawa. “It doesn’t fit me in terms of height or waist measurement, either…and besides, if you’re just talking about the bust, she’s more well-endowed than I am.” Last Order took her eyes off the video game and quietly looked up at the ao dai Misaka Worst had on. And then she said, “There is hope, says Misaka says Misaka, clenching her hands into fists.” “Unfortunately, Misaka is from the Third Season. Her growth accelerants are different!” bragged Misaka Worst. Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack!! went the buttons as Last Order furiously mashed her controller. However, that did little to prevent her from being trounced on-screen. Yomikawa frowned slightly as she watched the two girls engaging in their strange conversation. She turned to Accelerator, who was lying on the couch, and asked him outright, “So who’s the high school girl? The kid’s big sister?” “Nope,” said Misaka Worst before Accelerator could answer. As they waited through the results screen of the fighting game, she turned to Yomikawa and closed one eye as if making fun of her somehow. “If Misaka had to say, this Misaka is actually the kid’s little sister.” “?” 3 The Parameter List. This was the data that would protect Shiage Hamazura and others like him who had fought Academy City’s underworld head-on. A lifeline, stored on a microchip a quarter of the size of a movie ticket. It could greatly damage the city depending on how it was used, but at the same time, Hamazura didn’t think it would be that simple. In addition to the twenty- to thirty-year gap between Academy City’s technology level and that of the rest of the world, there was plenty of research that wasn’t publicized internally. There had to be a hypersensitive system in place when it came to the handling of information. And Hamazura didn’t plan on personally making use of it anyway. He wasn’t trying to overthrow the city—he was trying to live peacefully inside it. If safety was all he’d wanted, he could have just left altogether. But he still wasn’t prepared for that. For certain reasons, Rikou Takitsubo, the girl more important to him than his own life, needed medical help—and it needed to come from Academy City. Now then. Academy City had many installations and facilities that other areas of the world lacked. Wind turbine generators dotted the city, autonomous security and cleaning robots scuttled to and fro, and advanced food-production facilities were a frequent sight. That said, there was one thing that was rarely found in Academy City. It had far, far fewer cemeteries than anywhere else in the world. A whole 80 percent of its residents were students who lived apart from their families in dormitories. If one of them died inside city limits, then—after thoroughly incinerating them to the point where their genetic material couldn’t be analyzed—the authorities would usually send the bones back to the parents. That meant there was no real demand for cemeteries here. The only graveyard in the city was located in School District 10, and it looked like a parking garage with an elevator. Visitors went into one of several booths, which were separated out by partitions that resembled shooting ranges, then they would input a personal identification number; the system would then automatically retrieve a compact grave containing the bone-filled urn using a lift or elevator. People who came to pay their respects could leave an offering, like flowers, as long as it fit within the water-resistant, thick paper tray provided. But the system would scan whatever was presented for microorganisms, and if the amount exceeded a certain value, it would automatically flush the offerings out a dust chute. As described before, it was very rare for the bodies of students to be kept here. Most often, their remains would wind up in the School District 10 cemetery because nobody came forward to take them. Examples of people left behind included criminals, Child Errors who’d been intentionally cast out of their families like coin-locker babies, those who had completely erased any trace of their legal identities to fully inhabit the underworld here, and many others. “…Mugino’s taking a while,” said Hamazura. They were sitting on a bench near the dreary entrance to the cemetery building. The space must have been set aside for smokers; the unused box-shaped ashtray nearby made the whole place feel even more desolate. Mugino had gone inside alone. She was the one who had personally killed Frenda. She probably had a lot to talk about. Nobody else wanted to hear any of it or sneak a peek at her face while she was doing it, either. Staring idly into the sky, Hamazura said, “What kind of stuff did Frenda like again?” “Mackerel,” answered Takitsubo, who was sitting next to him. Kinuhata sighed. “She ate, like, a ton of canned goods, huh? Weird, since I’m pretty sure she had plenty of money.” It still felt a little odd to be talking about someone in the past tense. Were they supposed to hope it eventually wouldn’t feel strange anymore? Or hope it stayed this way? Hamazura was still too inexperienced to know which. 4 The video game ended in a landslide victory for Misaka Worst, and Last Order grumbled, whined, and let go of her controller, flopping her seemingly ten-year-old body down onto the floor. Then she pointed to a specific location on her opponent’s body. “…Those boobs of yours were throwing off Misaka’s focus, says Misaka says Misaka, analyzing her defeat.” “Oh, really? Making fun of someone’s body out of frustration, are we? Well, it seems the command tower definitely belongs with the rest of the Misakas. How evil, how wicked you all are deep down! ” Last Order shrugged off Misaka Worst’s ridicule and turned to Kikyou Yoshikawa, former cloning researcher. “Please explain to Misaka what she should eat to get that big, says Misaka says Misaka, requesting a release of information.” “You both eat the same food. Aiho makes it for you, remember?” By “Aiho,” she meant Aiho Yomikawa, gym teacher and owner of the apartment. The woman wore a very unflattering green tracksuit year-round, but…as far as Last Order could tell, she was an absolute knockout. She didn’t think she’d ever seen someone with a bigger chest. “It isn’t fair…says Misaka says Misaka, lamenting the lack of explanation provided by nutritional science.” “Well, if we all eat the same things, and Misaka Worst turned out like that, then I think there’s a chance for you, too. Don’t you?” “…???!!!” “You don’t need to rush things. You aren’t old enough to have breasts right now, remember? As time passes and that gap closes, you’ll grow and develop into the beauty you’re meant to be.” Yoshikawa’s words were like a ray of hope for Last Order. But then it happened—something fell out of the ex-researcher’s pocket. It was a strange-looking personal-care device. It was equipped with a mechanism that was probably meant to coil around a certain part of the female body with a belt, and it looked designed to interact a lot with that specific part. So… …in blunter terms, it was, most likely, a breast-enlargement machine. “………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………” The optimistic expression vanished from Last Order’s face as she witnessed firsthand just how underhanded adults could be. Her lips trembled before she eventually spoke. “…You said Misaka would naturally grow, right? asks Misaka asks Misaka, seeking confirmation.” “H…hoh-hoh-hoh. Actually, a college friend of mine brought this to me and wanted to know if it was a product of psuedoscience, and since I’m the expert—” “Misaka will never be fooled by an adult’s lies again!! says Misaka says Misaka, reaching out for the machine in question!!” “No, Last Order, don’t!! Using this device will make your chest explode if you aren’t a woman with a mature body!!” “Misaka just said she wouldn’t be fooled by lies like that, says Misaka says Misaka, brushing off your words of caution, adding that why would a woman with a mature body even need a device like this in the first place?!” Having nothing better to do, Misaka Worst glanced at Accelerator on the couch. “I guess even biologists can fall for some obvious mail-order scams, too, huh? …Also, aren’t you going to stop them?” “Ugh…,” muttered Number One, sounding sincerely fed up with it all and turning over. In his stead, Aiho Yomikawa, the enormous-chested gym teacher and owner of the apartment, stepped between Kikyou Yoshikawa (who was doing some teasing) and Last Order (who was being teased). “All right, all right already,” she said, plucking the breast-enlarging machine out of their hands. “Hey, isn’t this that thing you were complaining didn’t work, Kikyou? You have a bad habit of collecting weird devices that claim to be body-altering. Learn your lesson already. Remember that diet machine? And the belt that was supposed to make your face smaller?” “Misaka’s ray of hope has been stolen by the last person in the world who would ever need it!! says Misaka says Misaka, shuddering with fear!!” “You can’t, Aiho! If someone already batting a thousand gets even more assistance from a machine, the laws of the universe will break down!!” But the situation deteriorated even more than expected. “…Huh?” said Yomikawa. “Why’s this thing smoking all the sudden? I didn’t do anything to it.” “Maybe your crazy high breast power is flowing back into it!! says Misaka says Misaka, trembling at the unknown phenomenon!!” “That’s completely unscientific…but wait?!?!?! Wait, no, that’s… It can’t be! But maybe Aiho… Just maybe…!!” The insanity Yoshikawa was witnessing completely overwhelmed rational thought. Out of all the girls and women in the room, Misaka Worst was the only one unconcerned by the machine. Accelerator, still lying on the couch, asked her, “You’re not interested?” “A little, actually. But only if it could give you huge tits.” 5 School District 10, in front of Academy City’s cemetery. As Hamazura, Takitsubo, and Kinuhata made small talk, the automatic door to the cemetery opened. They all turned to watch Mugino coming out. Her expression was the same as always—no tearstains or puffy red eyes. But something must have happened in there. Something she didn’t want them to know about—something she’d go to any length to hide. “You done?” asked Hamazura. “Yeah,” said Mugino bluntly. “I’m done.” It was possible nothing was done. But Mugino made sure to insist otherwise, almost like she was drawing a line in the sand. By the way—and you’ll have to excuse the explanation in the middle of their very heart-to-heart conversation—School District 10 had the cheapest real estate in all of Academy City and was notorious for not being very safe. Because it contained the city’s only cemetery, quite a few establishments that couldn’t get building permits elsewhere ended up finding their way here. This was to say that poor old Shiage Hamazura, who had brought three adolescent girls with him (or so it would have appeared, though the reverse was true), was the perfect target for any delinquents who happened to be skulking in the area. As Hamazura and the others were trying to figure out if the bus or train would get them home faster, five men showed up and surrounded them. If this were a sentai show, every one of them would have been classified as the “Yellow Ranger.” They all glared at the lone male of the group, Hamazura, trying to look very intimidating and wrench away control of their discussion. “Hey, hey, wait a sec, little rich boy,” one said. “We’re on a part-time gig right now. You wanna help us out? Basically, we punch trash and get paid for how well we do it.” “Oh, and we’ll beat the shit out of you even if you do just hand over your wallet,” another added. “And if you try to run. And if you beg for your life. You get our drift?” Ah, crap…, thought Hamazura. This looks kind of bad. Though the young men’s words made it obvious there was so little in their skulls that it was a miracle that they knew how to breathe, Hamazura was no superhero. He shuddered. The second one who’d spoken seemed particularly dangerous. He looked like a pro-wrestler type, given his stance and the way he’d dropped his hips. But in this part of town, there was no referee nor soft mat to catch his falls. Hamazura knew from experience that people who used throwing, grappling, and locking techniques could be even more dangerous than amateurs armed with guns or knives. That said… …Hamazura was actually relieved at that, too. If that dude was relying on hand-to-hand combat techniques, then the gang was probably a lot like him—guys who had lost their way because they were Level Zeroes. As long as none of them were a rule-breaker, like some gravity-manipulating wrestler whose throws were ten times more powerful than normal, this group would be a far cry from Academy City’s most feared individuals. And while Takitsubo might not be, Mugino and Kinuhata were a couple of the city’s most feared individuals. Mugino was the fourth-ranked Level Five, while Kinuhata was a Level Four capable of holding her own in a shoot-out. That meant these punks were practically waltzing into a street fight with a tank or a bomber. It didn’t matter if they were the best rule-breaking heel wrestlers in the business or judo masters who threw man-eating bears at them—if the two groups went head-to-head, they would stand no chance against the likes of Mugino and Kinuhata. Which was why… “…Hey, you might not want to do that.” Hamazura gave the thugs some advice out of a sincere sense of pity. He’d unconsciously slipped into his “postapocalyptic emperor” mindset. “Listen up, runts. I’m saying this out of the kindness of my heart. I want you to remember every word. If you don’t, you might not walk away from this.” He paused. “Some people in this world shouldn’t be messed with. And you’re this close to making a serious mistake. Just one wrong move here, and you’ll meet your maker. If you know what’s good for you, then turn around and march right back to wherever you came from.” However… …for some reason, Mugino and Kinuhata then exchanged strange-looking glances. “Eeeek. Help us, Hamazura. We’re scaaared,” they both exclaimed at the same time. He had no idea why they’d done that. The two of them came up to either side of him and put their arms through his. That also confused him.