Chapter 4

CHAPTER 2 What Happens Next, and the Choices We Should Make
Dream. 1 Hamazura and Hanzou stepped into a District 7 restaurant whose only redeeming quality was how cheap it was. Taking a table in the corner, Hanzou stuck to ordering food seasoned in such a way that it had to be paired with beer to be any good. Back in his Skill-Out days, Hamazura would come to this place a lot with Komaba and Hanzou. A flat-screen TV hung in a corner of the restaurant. Hamazura idly watched the talk show on it; it was discussing how the reorganization of the Roman Orthodox Church was going, and how Peter Iogdis had succeeded Matthew Reese as pope. “Not getting anything, Hamazura?” asked Hanzou. “I actually just went to another place,” he answered, deciding to order a few salted yakitori skewers anyway. “…Japanese food is still all you eat, huh? And you don’t care one bit about tradition.” “You think so?” “Yeah. You’re the sort of guy who would walk into a yakiniku place and order boiled fish.” Once his food was brought over, Hanzou focused on eating for a little while. He must not have had lunch yet. Hamazura picked apart the fried chicken on his skewers, carefully dividing the skin and eating the pieces one at a time. He then looked at Hanzou, who was really chowing down. “What’s up with you? Skipped breakfast?” “I’ve just been busy lately. Haven’t had anything to eat. Not enough hours in the day, you know? Jelly and beef jerky is all I’ve been eating. Can’t tell you how long it’s been since I sat down for a meal.” “?” “What about you? Haven’t heard from you lately. Where have you been? And what’ve you been up to?” “I’m back from the battlefield—a postapocalyptic emperor.” Now it was Hanzou’s turn to give him a strange look. They proceeded to exchange bits of information, though Hamazura didn’t know if they were just rumors or firsthand eyewitness accounts. Like how a customer, enraged at some greedy gambling place for the programming of its slot machines, had flipped out and drove a dump truck into the establishment. Or how ATM security had gotten so strict that it was easier to get cash by going around breaking vending machines. “Really? Hamazura, you got a girl?” “I guess… I’m pretty anxious about it, though, if I’m being honest.” Hamazura poked some of the disassembled bird skin with his skewer. “I mean, all I’ve ever done is attack, right? I don’t know how to defend or protect. I don’t want this to be a three-month fling. So I was thinking maybe I should start thinking about the future.” “What are you going to do for money?” “…I was wondering if I could use my lockpicking techniques. Not for stealing cars. But, like, you know how roadside assistance comes around when you lock your keys in the car? Someone’s gotta be the one to open the door. If I can put all my burglary techniques to better use, maybe it’ll help me protect a thing or two.” Hamazura laughed awkwardly, taking out a small reference manual—it looked like it was from an online course—and putting it on the table. “But it probably won’t be that easy to learn skills that I can actually use. I tried reading one of those gray-hat hacker mags calling itself honest security, but when it comes to electronic locks and stuff, I don’t even know where to start.” “…Well, maybe you should try to figure out what you’re actually interested in doing. You know, like arts versus sciences or whatever. People tend to be good at one or the other. Same as with everything else. If you can get that sorted out, everything else might suddenly fall into place. Even if it doesn’t, it should still stop you from wasting effort. And then it’s just a matter of doing things little by little, picking stuff up as you go.” “Maybe you’re right.” “Hey, you used an engine from some heavy machinery to jack an ATM in two minutes flat that one time. I think going for lock-and-key stuff is a pretty good choice.” Just then, Hanzou’s cell phone went off. He reached into his pocket and took his phone out; one look at the screen, and he put it away again. Then he picked up the check and stood. Hamazura looked at him askance. “What’s up?” “A chance to make some money.” Hanzou gave him a stiff smile. “Well, I guess in your words, this job would be attacking. Not defending. Wouldn’t do you much good at all now.” “Gotcha.” “But I’ve gotta hurry, so I’ll see you later, Hamazura.” “Hey, wait. I’ll pay for my stuff.” “I’m off to make some money, remember? It’s my treat.” After saying everything he wanted to say, Hanzou turned and went over to the register. Hamazura felt a little forlorn at not being able to join in on what Hanzou had mentioned, but then… “…Huh? There’s nobody at the register. Now’s the perfect time to dash!!” “Hey!! Don’t skip out on the check and leave me here alone, asshole!!” cried Hamazura, feeling a highly concentrated sauce drown his bland emotions. 2 A shopping trip to the neighborhood grocery store to pick up things for dinner. “……” “……” A pop song that was so out of fashion that it made you wonder why the heck someone ever chose to listen to it was playing from the store speakers. Accelerator and Misaka Worst stood there frozen in the aisles as it played in their ears. They felt out of place. Really out of place—it was like they’d gone to a baseball stadium to see a game but had somehow ended up smack-dab in the middle of the third-base stands, surrounded by the opposing team’s fans. “What is this…? Are they trying to show us firsthand how evil and twisted we are? Is that why they’re putting us in ordinary civilian situations?” wondered Misaka Worst aloud as she pushed the clattering shopping cart. Accelerator sounded even more disgusted with the whole thing than her. “…No, they just want us to get used to seeing peace.” It may have sounded like a dumb viewpoint to have, but in reality, nothing was more important for people who’d recently come home from war. As long as they couldn’t adapt to leading an uneventful lifestyle, they would remain people who only knew how to live on the battlefield, undermining the very peace they’d fought for. Both Accelerator and Misaka Worst had spent their pasts right at the center of the vortex created by other people’s malice—in a place where blood was shed as a matter of course. A place where circumventing the rules was a prerequisite to survival, even if it meant crawling hands and knees through mud. Those countless experiences had made them strong, in a way, but they were now the ones most liable to shatter the peace. Monsters. Objects of horror. People who could only find value in themselves by killing others. If they wanted to avoid ending up like that, they would have to get used to being in these fish-out-of-water situations. These experiences would have to become their new normal. …However. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, honors kid,” grumbled Misaka Worst. “And you can shut the hell up.” “Anyway, who cares about that flyer with all the sales on it or whatever? We can just steal it all. Then it’s free.” “…Are you asking me to beat the shit out of you?” “Come on, think about it. They’re so concerned about not letting people carry baked goods out the store, but they’ve probably never considered someone eating them all in the store and just shoving the empty bags back on the shelves.” “You really are wicked to the core.” “In fact, Misaka can barely believe the whole process of paying the amount on the price tag to acquire goods. Isn’t business all about making things as cheap and accessible as possible?” “Then nobody would pay for anything. Doesn’t exactly count as business then.” “Exactly. Should we pretend to get food poisoning from the free samples?” “If you do that, I’ll kill you and eat you myself,” muttered Accelerator, a little confused. …Why am I the one appealing to common sense? That felt extremely out of place. On the other hand, though, it made him think. Sure, maybe talking about common sense was out of the ordinary for him. But saying that it didn’t apply to him? That wasn’t actually something to brag about, was it? 3 After leaving the District 7 restaurant, Hamazura felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket. He took it out and checked the screen; Rikou Takitsubo was calling. But when he answered and put the phone to his ear, a couple of different voices came through. “Hamazuraaa! You’re, like, taking freaking forever! You’re just an errand guy, remember?! How far did you even run?!” “Ugh, whatever. I was feeling a good thrashing with those morons to pass the time, but then you dragged them away. Your escape is taking so long that the sun’ll be down whenever you decide to show up. We’ll come find you instead.” “O-oh. In that case, right now, I’m—” “Oh, good idea,” interrupted Mugino for some reason before continuing, “I’m kinda bored, so I figure we can make a game out of finding you.” “?” “Me, Kinuhata, and Takitsubo. The first to find Hamazura gets to give the last to find him an order… As for what that should be, hmm…” “We might as well, like, make it a bunny-suit punishment or something.” “What?!?!?!” “…You seem really excited over something totally stupid, Hamazura. Why does Takitsubo want to cling to your arm anyway?” “…It’s okay. That’s not where his strengths lie…” Huh?! Did they just completely reject the whole bunny-suit thing?! Hamazura started to tremble, feeling panic creeping into his mind. But he couldn’t ask for details. He promised himself he’d talk to her one-on-one later. “Sweet. In that case, like, we’re totally starting the search right now. One, two, go!” Blip. They hung up. Hamazura stared at the phone’s small display. Maybe he couldn’t walk the same path as Hanzou. Maybe he couldn’t ever go back to Skill-Out, either. Even after getting through World War III, he was still a third-rate punk who could only turn tail whenever the neighborhood delinquents got the jump on him. Despite that, he’d forged bonds with other people: Mugino, Kinuhata, and Takitsubo. They’d lost a companion named Frenda, but he and the others had once again banded together as Item. There were people who would come looking for him if he disappeared. It wasn’t much, but deep down, it was something that could keep him going. He’d been reminded of it once again. …I really can’t keep running away forever, can I? The battles in this peaceful world wouldn’t be won or lost in street brawls. They wouldn’t involve tearing things away from others. Everything rested on whether or not he could become someone who was able to protect those he cared about without doing things like that. He let that thought sink in, but then— …Wait. Those three said they’d come looking for me, so what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Would it be okay if he moved? Or was he supposed to stay in one place? The girls had barely explained the rules before starting the game. He ended up standing around ineffectually, unable to commit to staying put or getting a move on, and generally looking stupid. He was an object called Hamazura. “Ohhh?” And then a voice addressed Hamazura the object. It belonged to a girl. He turned around to find… He wasn’t sure how to describe her. She was wearing a yukata, except it was extremely short. A miniyukata? Her hair was brown, her makeup was thick, and she was covered in accessories. It was like she’d dressed herself exactly how some clueless old guy assumed city-dwelling high schoolers looked. Hamazura also happened to be acquainted with her. He didn’t know her last name, but her first name was Kuruwa. She came over to him, the chains coiled around her shoulders, waist, and legs jingling. “Is that you, Sir Hamazura? What are you up to out here?” “I’m a landmark. The Statue of the Postapocalyptic Emperor.” “?” Hamazura gave the girl a thin smile, not explaining that he had to stand still as part of his friends’ game. “I could ask you the same, Kuruwa. Looking for Hanzou again?” As far as he knew, this Kuruwa girl was an unfortunate sort who was obsessed with ninjas. He got the feeling she was always chasing Hanzou around whenever she got the chance. Lately, though, Hamazura couldn’t help but notice that she’d been talking more politely. Maybe she’d had a change of heart? He didn’t know if the two things were related. “Oh, no, of course not,” she said. “Lord Hanzou seemed rather busy at the moment, so I’m acting independently.” “You are?” “Yes, I am. Actually, if I was still seriously searching for him, I would have already used every trick up my sleeve to extract every drop of information you have on him—including my feminine charms.” “Feminine…charms…?” He was pretty sure Kuruwa had said that to please him. But Hamazura could only stutter in response, because the last time she’d used her feminine charms on him, he’d been hit with a surprise attack. And he knew that whenever she said stuff like that, danger was close at hand. Hamazura steeled himself. Not seeming to register his cautious expression much, Kuruwa pouted and reached for the sash at her waist. “You don’t seem like you believe me. I could give you a peek right now, if you want.” “No! Stop! Don’t take it off!! If you use your charms on me for literally no reason, you’ll only plunge us into an infinite hell of eroticism!!” Sensing something from the quivering, terrified man, Kuruwa removed her hand from her obi. Then she said this: “I want to be with Lord Hanzou more than anything, but burdening him is the last thing I want to do.” “Oh, right. He told me he had something to do. And that he’s been so busy that he’s barely had time to eat.” “When did you last see him?” “Just a little while ago, right over at that restaurant. He ordered nothing but home-cooked Japanese commoner food, as always.” “Well, he is the type to walk into a Chinese restaurant and ask for a plain vegetable stir-fry.” “Yeah, and he would walk into a yakiniku place and order boiled fish.” The two of them laughed at their shared image of Hanzou. “Which means…did he talk to you about what he was up to, Sir Hamazura?” “A little. Said it was a deal to make some money.” “Hmm. Then it’s probably not what I’m involved with right now.” “What are you involved with right now?” “Well, it’s more like I’m sticking my neck in some business Lord Hanzou is involved with. I’m surprised he can handle other things while it’s still going on, actually.” “?” “But since you’ve already heard about it, it must be the type of thing he’s okay with mentioning.” “What is it?” “Oh, you know. All that stuff about…” 4 Accelerator and Misaka Worst tossed item after item into the shopping cart, following along the marks on the leaflet. “Furikake, nori boiled in soy sauce, whitebait, mentaiko, umeboshi…” “Misaka’s never eaten much except synthesized stuff, so maybe she shouldn’t be saying this, but aren’t we getting a few too many rice toppings?” “They’re probably trying to cut corners. Just be thankful this isn’t a big parade of frozen meals.” “Even frozen meals would be a luxury for Misaka, but all right.” And then Misaka Worst grew quiet. Accelerator had paused, having picked up something that wasn’t in the instructions on the flyer. It was a bottle of furikake that seemed to be having a tie-in with some mascot or other; the cap on top had a little doll affixed to it. Misaka Worst would normally be more than willing to bust out laughing if she found out Accelerator was into that stuff, but she wasn’t in the mood for it today. Still, it was enough to berate him for. “A baby chicken mascot? That’s so cliché… Is that a souvenir for your daughter, Last Order? What a caring father.” “Regardless of where she came from, her interests are pretty simple,” spat Accelerator, waggling the bottle a little. “…You’re part of the Misaka network, too, so you’re affected by its aggregate desires. Shouldn’t your interests be similar?” “Listen here. The network may mess with Misaka, but it’s only the dark, twisted parts inside it that get to her. Don’t treat Misaka like Last Order. She’s a simpleton with innocent tastes.” “……” “Besides, Misaka was designed to take advantage of you by trampling all over that, remember? Misaka thought you were painfully aware of that after what happened on that Russian snowfield. Besides, that’s just a worthless mascot character, and…” Accelerator silently shook the bottle of furikake again, drawing Misaka Worst’s eyes over to it. The girl in the ao dai then looked back in the opposite direction, but eventually, her gaze was drawn to it again. “You haven’t been able to take your eyes off this baby chicken mascot.” “Agh!!” groaned Misaka Worst, uncharacteristically upset. “…M-Misaka can’t believe you’d purposely consider this Misaka to be in the same category as Last Order in pursuit of some weird role-play where Misaka’s body and mind end up disconnected…” “You know, going by the numbering scheme, you’re technically the little sister.” 5 Once Accelerator and Misaka Worst were finished shopping, they left the supermarket—with an extra bottle of furikake that hadn’t been marked on the leaflet. “Misaka has to say, she’d never expected any of this. That was an encounter with the unknown from start to finish. Peaceful days are more exhausting than she thought.” “……” Accelerator couldn’t easily laugh off her words. Was this right? He was completely tired out just from going shopping. Could he really fit into this world? It would be easy to push this sort of tepid, peace-drunk attitude to the side, saying it didn’t suit him. In fact, somewhere in his unconscious mind, he felt like he’d always romanticized that sort of response as being “cool.” But what would happen if he did that? Was there supposed to be some alternative that shone even more brightly? If he wanted to become a monster who could only derive worth from killing people, he could choose that path. But his destination lay elsewhere. The more he pushed it away, the more his desires would slip from his grasp. Could he really do this? …I wonder what the hell happened to that guy? he thought, recalling a certain Level Zero. Accelerator had reigned over Academy City as the strongest, but that boy had probably been mired even deeper in the fighting. Accelerator knew he had to have a home of his own. Had he made it back? Did this all feel strange to him, too? If he’d been constantly alternating between extreme battlefields and daily life, then wouldn’t he have it way worse than someone like Accelerator, who had just stewed in the darkness the whole time? Accelerator let himself stand there, exhaustion soaking into him, but after a few moments, Misaka Worst tugged on his sleeve. He looked over, suspicion on his face. “What?” “Let’s grab some food with the leftover change. Misaka’s heard that’s a basic way to be evil.” “…You seem to have a pretty broad definition of ‘evil.’” Well, she did gather all the ill will and malice from the whole Misaka network, so in a roundabout way, maybe Last Order’s own desires were a part of her. Giving in to Misaka Worst’s whims, they bought some ice cream at a stand made from a converted boxcar. “Shall Misaka let her tongue play lasciviously along it for you?” “Who would enjoy that? You?” “Guess you’re right. Misaka would let you touch her boobs or her ass if it dealt fatal damage to your and Last Order’s relationship. But it seems like that won’t do much right now.” “I’m not listening,” said Accelerator, fed up with the conversation. Ice cream in hand, he glanced over at the crowd, then paused. He noticed a silver-haired nun wearing a white habit. Her face was thick with exhaustion and anxiety. It was like the life had drained from her charming features. She’s… Accelerator remembered her face. But she looked quite a bit different from the last time he’d seen her. A few seconds later, she disappeared into the crowd. Lost her, eh. Well, I’m sure it’s not important enough to go crazy looking for her—and she could easily be put on the wrong path if she gets involved with me. The mean-looking girl sitting next to the city’s top dog didn’t seem to have noticed. “Ugh, Misaka just can’t get used to this,” said Misaka Worst candidly, licking her vanilla ice cream. “The two of us sitting here in the sunlight side by side, doing nothing but lick, lick, lick, lick. For real, it’s insane. This isn’t normal. Don’t you feel anxious that nothing is happening? Don’t you wonder if it’s all a precursor to something big?” “Got your hopes up so far you’re anxious about it?” “Misaka doesn’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Misaka doubts there’s any human who could really understand her mind. When psychologists do their tests on themselves, they probably overestimate how well they do. If anyone could get a full grasp on how Misaka thinks, they’d be insane, too.” She grinned. “What about you?” “Not interested,” answered Accelerator offhandedly. “Everything I thought I needed, I ripped away from that war. I have everything I need now. And if someone tells me I’ve gotta do stuff I’m not used to in order to keep things that way, I’ll do it.” “Ultimately, Misaka thinks the central issue is what, exactly, we’re not used to.” “Eh?” “Is it the peace itself? Or is it having to mold ourselves to the expectations of others? You know, fit ourselves inside their boxes?” “…You think like a little brat.” “Misaka actually doesn’t think it’s that stupid. We both know from experience how inconvenient it is to be inside someone else’s box like that. And we’ve torn away everything we needed. Doesn’t that mean our very natures aren’t even compatible with fitting other peoples’ expectations?” “You just need to change your perspective.” Accelerator was unperturbed. “There’s someone out there who thinks we could never do that—that beasts like us can only live in seas of blood. Showing them that we can live like this if we want to is just another way of rebelling against those people, ain’t it?” “Oh, Misaka sees. Misaka likes that better.” Once Misaka Worst was finished licking her vanilla ice cream all over, she crunched down on her now-purposeless cone. “…You smell that? There’s a bad odor. Near us, too.” “?” “A nostalgic scent, you might say.” “……” Accelerator narrowed his eyes a little upon hearing that. He took another look around. What he saw was a calm, peaceful city. That explained the uncanny sensation he was picking up. All the colors and shapes fit perfectly, but they were clearly off. It was a very odd feeling that he couldn’t explain, almost like he was watching aliens wearing human skin. One thing stood out to him as particularly strange. “That sightseeing bus,” he said. “A vehicle disguised as one anyway. Probably an undercover vehicle, yeah?” Misaka Worst grinned. “Academy City’s still the same as ever, huh? Oh, wait. But that’s weird! Didn’t somebody put a stop to underground organizations coercing people into doing dirty jobs? Misaka thought they did.” “……” “We have two choices.” Misaka Worst held up her index finger and middle finger, waving them in front of Accelerator. “Eliminate the bus to keep the peace, knowing it will be dangerous. Or overlook the threat to peace, avoiding the danger and staying safe.” “More like one choice,” spat Accelerator. “We destroy it now. They’ve broken the contract. Little scraps of darkness are hanging on. I’ll teach them discretion… I don’t like sticking my neck in where I’m not wanted, but if this involves the darkness, it’s a different story.” Misaka Worst whistled. “Well, now that the darkness is on the prowl, someone’s gonna get hurt. It’s a threat to life and limb, yeah? Number One is such a good boy who cares about the community.” “…Don’t act like you know everything about me. What about you?” “I’m taking the more dangerous route, obviously. It’ll be more fun.” 6 Shiage Hamazura pressed his back against the wall of the building, then slid down to the ground. Kuruwa had already left. His conversation with her flashed through his head. You haven’t heard? Lord Hanzou is currently providing shelter to a little girl. In truth, Hamazura wasn’t in a position to fully enjoy his life in Academy City without consequences. The only reason he’d broken out of the city and gotten mixed up in World War III to begin with because they’d decided he knew too much about the city’s darkness and couldn’t be trusted to act the way they expected. He’d been on the run. During the war, he’d obtained a certain piece of data. It was called the Parameter List, and it could certainly shake things up in Academy City. Nonetheless, it wasn’t all-powerful. There was some semblance of equilibrium for the moment, but if the scales tipped too far, the city—always two steps ahead of him—would find a way to get rid of him. I don’t know the details, but apparently, the city’s higher-ups are gunning for her. He insists that she’d be killed within thirty minutes if she walked around the streets. And the scales were already severely unstable. If they took another hit, they’d swing way over to one side. To prevent that from happening, he’d have to stay under the radar for now. He needed time—time to see whether or not it was really worth placing his life on one side of the scales. Would he get involved with this problem or not? Or would he abandon Hanzou? That would mean giving up on the girl, too. What was her name again? He knew what the rational decision was. If he prioritized safety, that would be his only choice. He’d sworn he’d protect Rikou Takitsubo. He wanted to keep her as safe as possible. The last thing he wanted was for her to get sucked back into the darkness of Academy City. Abandoning them, then, was the right choice. It was correct. He knew it. But still… I think it was…Frem…? Frem…aye? Oh, right. Fremea Seivelun. She’s around ten, with fluffy blond hair. I believe she got along well with Sir Komaba. As Hamazura sat hunched over in the alleway, he gritted his teeth. Ritoku Komaba had once been Skill-Out’s leader. He’d fought Academy City’s darkness for the sake of many Level Zeroes—and paid for it with his life. This Fremea girl was, so to speak, the very person he’d risked his life to protect until the very end. And Hanzou must have been sheltering her to honor Komaba’s wishes. Fremea herself was a completely harmless Level Zero with no ties to Skill-Out. That powerlessness may have been exactly why Komaba wanted to protect her, in fact. And that wasn’t all. Shiage Hamazura knew the last name Seivelun. He hadn’t known that was the surname of the girl who’d always been with Komaba until now. In fact, even Komaba—the person she was closest to—had just called her Import based on his first impression of her. But there was no deceiving anyone at this point. Now that he knew her name, he’d have to face the facts. “…Frenda Seivelun,” Hamazura mumbled. He paused, then added something. “So she’s her little sister…?!” Shizuri Mugino, Saiai Kinuhata, Rikou Takitsubo. They’d fought together once as Item along with one other person—Frenda. They didn’t know how she’d come into contact with Academy City’s dark side or what had brought her to Item. They’d even toyed with the idea that she simply loved the thrill of the fight. But… …what if her sister had been the reason all along? Was abandoning Fremea still the right decision, then? Even now, his friend Hanzou was fighting against Academy City’s darkness. Giving up on them would be tantamount to turning his back on both deceased parties—Frenda and Komaba. Was abandoning them still the right decision? …Yeah, he thought before speaking out loud to reaffirm his intentions. “It’s the right one…” His voice got louder and louder. “It can’t be wrong. It can’t be wrong to keep Takitsubo and the rest of Item out of harm’s way!! I clawed and scraped through dirt and mud during that awful war. And I finally got what I was looking for!! I’m not throwing it away now. I have it! And I’ll protect it, no matter what!!” He cradled his head in his hands, still sitting curled up in the alley. Yes. Logically, the best way to protect Takitsubo would be to abandon Hanzou and Fremea. That choice presented the least risk. It protected the people most precious to him. So Hamazura had to make that choice. At least, if he really wanted to protect what was precious to him. He needed to be cold. Unfeeling. He had to deftly evade the problem hurtling at him. So choose. Choose! Now! Hamazura swore, then scratched his head madly. “How the hell could I ever abandon them?!” Putting his hand on the wall, he stood up again. Then he turned toward where the alley went deeper and strode in that direction, into the shadows that symbolized the city’s darkness. All to save a friend whose life was in danger. All to respect the wishes of two dead people. He didn’t contact Takitsubo and the others. This was his problem. As long as the balance was fragile, he couldn’t afford to get them involved in this. It would be reckless. But he’d come back to them. And so Shiage Hamazura plunged himself into the darkness.