Its left arm sported a machine gun. And as for its right… “A smoothbore cannon?!” That was the kind of weapon you’d find on a tank. As Hanzou shouted, light flashed at the muzzle. He didn’t even have time to shove Fremea out of the way. The shell struck the wall not far away from them, causing a massive shock wave. The discharge sent out a whump!!!!!! that took a moment for Hanzou’s ears to process. The shock wave alone should have knocked out his hearing entirely, but that burst was so loud, he somehow heard it anyway. But he had no time to complain about every single injury. He was hurled several meters away before slamming into the floor. He blacked out. And three seconds later, he regained consciousness. The reason for his recovery was clear to him. …My AED shield. It automatically sent a shock to my chest in response to my brain signals. Guess it works… “Gah… Geh…!! F-Frem…Fremea…!!” Though he was too rattled in the brain to stand, he could still make out the scene, albeit hazily. Students were nearby—a lot of them—and they were all screaming as they started to run for the exit. The shrill cries and thumping of feet made Hanzou’s head pound with pain. Anti-Skill was baffled for a few seconds. Then they leaped into action. They fired two or three pistol rounds at the eight-legged powered suit, but after seeing that do nothing, they quickly changed tactics, opting to swiftly evacuate the students to keep the casualties to a minimum. Hanzou had to hand it to Anti-Skill for not getting mowed down like grunts, but he doubted he could count on them to protect him or Fremea. If the spider mech decided to commit to an all-out assault, it would mow Anti-Skill down; the only thing the officers could do was escort the civilians to safety. Where are you, Fremea?! Damn it! Crawling along the floor, Hanzou kept searching for the girl. Most of the wall had collapsed, and the shock wave had shattered pillars and glass panes alike. Just then, in the middle of the debris, he saw a small shadow lying on the floor. It was her. She was about ten meters away. He couldn’t tell if she was fine from where he was. But she still seemed to have all her limbs, at least. Which was a miracle, considering the guy in the suit had fired a smoothbore cannon right at her. Whump!! Whump!! came the following cannon blasts; the spider mech was now shooting at Anti-Skill to try and ward them off. Hanzou observed the suit. With every shot, it ejected a spent disk—the bottom piece of the shell—from a spot near the elbow, before loading a new shell into place with its shorter left arm. It seemed to be taking them out of a knapsack-like compartment on its back. It wasn’t firing directly at the Anti-Skill officers, but at the floor in front of them. Was the pursuer trying to be merciful? Or were they trying to hit everyone at once with a rain of debris, since it was too much trouble to aim anti-armor rounds at each and every individual target? The officers’ bulletproof vests and other body armor would shield them from incidental shrapnel, but they wouldn’t afford them protection from blast waves. One after another, the formidable Anti-Skill officers were knocked out. It was almost like each one was being tazed after a bucket of salt water had been dumped on them. The spider mech’s right elbow ejected another metallic disklike object with a burst of scorching hot gas—the bottom part of the shell, now useless after firing. “Urgh…” With the sound of that shot, Fremea—who had been knocked down by the earlier shock wave—groaned. She hadn’t regained consciousness on her own; the impact had probably jostled her awake. Strength was finally returning to Hanzou’s limbs. A bunch of shrapnel hit the wall and the ceiling before it struck its target… The shells must be APFS…uh, something or other. Too many letters to remember. The kind that punches through armor with sheer force instead of explosives. Plus, they have a multilayered structure. Once the shell penetrates the armor, it causes spalling and overpressure on the inside. Normally, these types of rounds weren’t meant to be fired directly at people—they were designed to be used against tanks or armored vehicles to kill their occupants. The confined, sturdy interiors of tanks made made them death traps when shrapnel and shock waves were introduced. Maybe that was why it had failed to finish Hanzou and the others off in this spacious mall. “…Fre…mea. Can you stand? Fremea?!” “……” Though the girl stirred, she didn’t reply to him. Hanzou ran over to her in a crouch. The powered suit responded. It crawled closer to him on its eight legs, its right-arm cannon pointed at them. Clearly, the pilot was intending to kill. Hanzou slid across shards of building materials on the floor to Fremea, then scooped her up and disappeared around a corner. Then the shot came. Metallic death hurtled at them faster than sound, crashing into a wall between Hanzou and the powered suit. But that wasn’t the end of it. Having struck the surface of the wall, the kinetic energy continued, traveling through it and emanating outward from the opposite side. The entire building shuddered. And then as if over a giant speaker, a whhhuuummmppp!!!!!! roared in both their ears. “Brft— Geh… Hah?!” Unable to withstand the shock, the wall crumpled and buckled under the force of the blast, sending millimeter-long fragments flying that plunged into Hanzou’s skin. He wasn’t one to brag, but the way he’d positioned himself around Fremea to protect her from the debris was probably one of his top five best plays of all time. A…a nonlethal air-stun cannon that shoots adhesives…?! That was the first question on Hanzou’s mind, almost before even realizing he’d survived. He switched ammunition? That thing can swap between different types of shells?! Modern smoothbore cannons could apparently fire both artillery shells and anti-air missiles. It was possible this powered suit even had guided weaponry. Well, speaking of modern…, he thought, slowly getting to his feet and making sure the girl in his arms was safe. Academy City smoothbore cannons can hit a target five kilometers away with over ninety-five percent accuracy, even while moving and even during continuous fire. It doesn’t matter how small the target is. At that distance, there’s no way he’d ever fail to kill us… Naturally, their pursuer had no reason to pull his punches. And that powered suit had to be every bit as capable as an ordinary tank was. Which meant something else was going on. Something that would make it fail—twice—to kill unarmed humans three hundred meters away, under ideal conditions in an enclosed underground mall. …Underground mall… “Oh, I get it.” Hanzou brought his head up. He’s using radio waves for precision aiming. That would work on an open battlefield, but this structure is complex, so his signal must be getting scrambled. He can’t correct his aim the way he wants to. Hanzou assumed urban combat would present similar difficulties for this model. It had probably been altered for use in World War III, since the open countryside of Russia had few obstacles to speak of. Now the hunter was using it for this mission instead. Which also meant… If I can somehow interfere with the signal even more or hit this guy’s targeting system’s receiver with powerful EM waves, it might neutralize the cannon completely… Was this a chance to turn things around, or was he getting greedy and putting himself at even greater risk? The suit’s eight legs clacked and clanked as it clambered over. Hearing that, Hanzou decided to try and get out of here for now. A car might not be able to shake it off—not if that suit was military hardware. But maybe he could take advantage of its size somehow. More importantly, the bigger threat is if he turns and sprays that left-arm machine gun at us. That thing’s more than capable of gunning down human targets. Whatever the case, they’d gain nothing by letting it get close to them. Standard procedure would be to take a narrow, cramped escape route, but that smoothbore cannon would more than likely just blow through them regardless. That path wouldn’t guarantee their safety. A way out…, thought Hanzou as he slowly got to his feet, Fremea in his arms. We need a way out. A weird one. One that will pull the wool over his eyes… While he understood that on a logical level, no solutions came to mind. Instead, all he could think of were the exits he’d prepared ahead of time. His brain was urging him to just get moving for now. Telling him that was most important. And that would bring him down the most predictable path. And then… …Hanzou’s knees suddenly gave out. Unable to support Fremea’s small ten-year-old frame, he fell to his knees. He managed to keep himself from completely collapsing, but at this rate, he wouldn’t be able to walk straight, much less escape a powered suit made for war. The reason for that was simple. While the two cannon shots hadn’t killed Hanzou or Fremea, they’d still done damage. The shock waves had knocked the wind out of him and thrown off his sense of balance. Shit… Hanzou tried to take in a breath, which was when he finally realized how stiff his jaw was. How did I not realize I was injured? My stupid body could’ve given me a sign a little sooner! The exit stairs were only a few dozen meters away, but they seemed so much farther than that. They’d never make it out like this. Not going as slow as a caterpillar. Not when a powered suit was hot on their tails. Considering the pilot was more than happy to attack Anti-Skill, fleeing into a populated area wouldn’t be enough to make them give up. The pursuer was trying to make absolutely sure he killed Fremea. The creaking of the spider mech reached his ears. A massive shadow slid in from around the corner, crushing some building debris as it came. The way its face peeked around at them was weirdly human, sending an even greater chill down Hanzou’s spine. Naturally, no words were exchanged between the two parties. The powered suit simply took aim at Hanzou and Fremea with its left arm. Not the right arm with its smoothbore cannon, but the left arm, which held a machine gun expressly for gunning down human targets. Gah…!! In all honesty, there was no need for Hanzou to go this far. Ritoku Komaba had wanted to protect this girl. But that had just been sentimentality speaking. Nothing had forced Hanzou to do this. Normally, his sense of logic would have told him to eliminate any disadvantageous conditions to ensure his own survival. And yet… Despite knowing how meaningless it would be against the machine gun’s barrel, which was over 18mm across, Hanzou immediately put himself between the suit and Fremea. Why had he done that? What was he hoping to accomplish? He didn’t even have time to consider. Because a moment later, the powered suit’s machine gun opened fire. With accuracy. And without mercy. But one thing was strange: The gun wasn’t aimed at them. Grr-wrrrrrr!! It was aimed at a four-door sedan that was speeding down the underground-mall staircase toward them. An 18mm bore was even larger than the stuff used for antitank rifle rounds. This powered suit could fire fifty rounds in ten seconds. A family sedan against that? The outcome wasn’t even worth a second thought. Once the car came down the stairs and its front wheels hit the floor of the underground mall, its hood immediately crumpled. The engine compartment shattered, and the oil ignited. It exploded all at once. The car hadn’t even reached Hanzou, much less the powered suit. Heat, smoke, and wind hit his skin. Shit! What moron did that?! I didn’t ask for someone to suicide into the damn thing…!! But the metallic frame—now all that was left of the vehicle—kept on shooting forward thanks to the momentum it had built up. Its wheels kept on turning, their tires gone. The spider mech silently readied its right-hand smoothbore. At the speed it was going, the car wouldn’t damage the powered suit, even if it slammed directly into the mech. The greater concern was the possibility of explosives inside the vehicle. The pilot fired without hesitation. With a brilliant flash of light, the shell soared over Hanzou’s and Fremea’s heads at the wrecked vehicle behind them, causing it to explode a second time. This time, the car went no farther—the frame itself had blown up hard enough to rip itself to pieces. Hanzou, already crouching on the floor, was knocked down again by the blast wind. The destruction was horrible. He felt the urge to cover his eyes. He shuddered to even imagine what had happened to the driver. However… …What…what? He could make out what used to be the driver’s seat in the wreckage of the volcanically erupting car—and there was nobody in it. Hanzou wondered if they’d been torn apart by the cannon fire, but that wasn’t it, either. It was… It’s…it’s unmanned…? But how? The flames burned even brighter, their heat licking at Hanzou’s cheeks. He looked away despite himself. And maybe that was why he’d realized it. Because as it happened, Hanzou had been made to face not the exit, but the powered suit. And then… …another person came up from right behind the suit. Shiage Hamazura. A young man wearing Anti-Skill gear had sneacked up behind it. Now, normally… …no matter how quiet Hamazura was, the spider mech had three-hundred-sixty-degree vision. It would have known exactly how many entities were in the vicinity and where they were—whether vehicle or human. These days, it wouldn’t be strange to see radio-controlled cars not more than a few dozen centimeters long, equipped with rocket launchers roaming the battlefield. The spider mech would have been designed to accurately detect these lunchbox-sized land mines even if they were hidden in tall grass—it could never have overlooked some high school amateur walking up to it. But one part of the situation was exceptional. For just a moment, all those perfect sensors were not functioning perfectly. And that moment was… Right after it fires…when it’s still recovering from the recoil and the shock wave…?! Hence the purpose of the empty car—it was to give Hamazura a chance to get right up to the powered suit. And Hamazura was now cradling an item in his arms, one he must have grabbed from a downed Anti-Skill officer in the underground mall. Its name was… …HsLH-02. A linear ram that applied electromagnetic force to break down steel doors. At first glance, the weapon looked like a bazooka. But the interior housed a flat-tipped piston. Hamazura first swung it back like a pendulum, then slammed the tip of the barrel into the powered suit. It didn’t need a trigger. The proximity of the impact to the muzzle caused the huge twenty-kilogram stake to drive into its target at a subsonic speed. Metal collided with metal with a whhheeeeerrrrmmmmm!!!!!! Hamazura had aimed for one of the suit’s legs—the one about to touch the floor so that the suit could put the rest of its weight on it. The side-swiping attack had kicked the leg out from under the suit, completely destroying its balance. The spider’s right half plummeted, and yet it managed to keep itself upright. So he hit it again. His linear ram delivered a brutal blow to the smoothbore cannon near the suit’s elbow, which would normally have been too high up for him to reach. There was an awful sound, like something inside the machine getting twisted up. Then that enormous, threatening cannon swayed like a fishing pole. But that was all. The cannon hadn’t ripped off—it wasn’t even warped in the middle. No good?! Hanzou gritted his teeth. That linear ram was for bashing, not piercing. The piston had a flat end, since it was designed to deliver a massive impact to a door to break it inward. It was fine for that purpose—but unsuited for punching through armor. The suit overcame the instability in its right arm and pointed its cannon at Hamazura. But then as if suddenly realizing something, it stopped moving. The issue was its right elbow—the spot where Hamazura’s linear ram had struck it. That had to be where the powered suit loaded new shells into the cannon. It was normally protected by a sliding-door mechanism, but now that mechanism was just ever so slightly bent out of shape. And if that sliding door couldn’t move, it would no longer open, no matter how minor the warping was. If the powered suit couldn’t load the shells, then it couldn’t fire the cannon. Even if it already had a shell in the barrel, any issues with the chamber’s seal could send the whole mech up in smoke. The powered suit’s shoulder moved up and down irregularly. It almost seemed enraged. But Hamazura wasn’t just going to sit around. As the spider mech brought its left-arm machine gun around, he hurled a box into the air with one hand—a box-shaped ashtray—then slammed the linear ram into the bottom of it. The ashtray, which was very heavy to prevent theft, crumpled under the sheer force, launching out at a ferocious speed. It slammed directly into the powered suit’s left wrist directly, knocking its machine gun off target. Whap-pap-pap!! came the short burst of fire as the bullets sprayed a wall that was nowhere near Hamazura. With the few moments that bought him, he deftly swung the linear ram twenty-kilogram piston right at the barrel. This time, he did so in a scooping motion, from down to up, thrusting the hammer’s tip into the air. The electromagnetic uppercut landed a clean hit on the sensors dotting the spider mech’s underbelly. Notably, it destroyed the most important sensor on the entire suit—the radar receiver. But that was all he could do. One of the eight legs swung up at Hamazura’s linear ram. That was enough to knock it clean out of his hands and send it flying into the ceiling, where it got stuck. Using precise, electronically controlled motions to steady itself, the suit moved its useless right arm again. While the smoothbore cannon on it had been neutralized, the arm itself was still a very big chunk of composite armor that it could swing around with mechanical force. Hamazura bent inward at the gut; the strike was more like a strange clothesline than a fist. It sent him careening across the floor, bouncing several times. “Gaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!” “Hamazura!!” “Egh…ugh… Run… Run, Hanzou… We can use this chance to get away…!!” After he rolled over to Hanzou, Hamazura still managed to get himself back on his feet, then grabbed Hanzou’s unmoving arm and started moving. He noticed that Fremea was about to slip out of his arms. “Hama…zura,” Hanzou said. “Take her. Take Fremea!” “No, you dumbass! You’re coming with us!!” Braving the hot winds, the pair dashed past the obliterated vehicle and up the stairs toward the exit. The spider mech moved its left arm. Its 18mm machine gun. But without its precise radio-wave targeting, it had to rely on its backup infrared cameras—which were messed up because of the heat emanating from the still-burning wrecked car. Even its optical sensors weren’t able to correct its aim because of all the dark smoke. In the end, it was mostly luck that had saved them. Hamazura, Hanzou, and Fremea burst out of the stairwell back to the surface. 2 After checking the status of its right arm, the eight-legged powered suit started off toward the stairwell to go after the escapees. But then a message came in. “That’s enough, Silvercross.” “You sure?” “We’ve achieved the mission objective.” “Wait a minute. I thought we only needed the two of them.” In contrast to the person giving orders, the pilot of the spider mech sounded doubtful. “Fremea Seivelun and Shiage Hamazura. We don’t need the third one. He’s protecting them. If we let him live much longer, we might make it harder for ourselves down the line.” “No, you’ve done enough. I doubt they’ll part ways again at this point.” The woman over the radio gave a nasal laugh, her breath coming through the mic. “Must be tough being cannon fodder.” “You’re telling me. A canister shot would have ended them in one go.” “Or maybe that model was simply unsuited for this task. It was made for open-field combat on the Russian plains. The wide-range radio-wave sensors aren’t as precise in complex urban environments. And it must have been difficult not to kill them with all the firepower at your disposal.” “The important part was the impact of the cannon. And when it comes to impact, this model—the Enemy Blaster—is ideal. I put a lot of consideration into which would be most appropriate for the time and place, you know.” The powered suit pilot gave up on trying to restore the mech’s right arm. “I’ll come back now. But how are things on the other end? This operation won’t get off the ground without them.” “No need to worry on that front.” As the powered suit’s operator listened, he contacted the support personnel standing by aboveground. The mech was a bit too conspicuous for a nice stroll on the town. They would use a special vehicle disguised as a big tourist bus to blend into the cityscape. However… “Come in. Chameleon, what’s wrong? Come in… Shit. What’s going on?” “I told you. No need to worry. They’ve begun taking action.” Then in a scornful tone, the woman over the radio added: “Must really be hard, being cannon fodder.” “What do you think?” asked Misaka Worst quietly. A pillar of dark smoke was rising from an entrance to the underground mall, about two hundred meters away. But her eyes weren’t on the obvious site of the incident— No, they were on the interior of the large bus in front of her. More precisely, it was a spy vehicle from the underworld. They’d taken it out within moments, and now Accelerator and Misaka Worst were observing the disabled vehicle. At a glance, it looked like a sightseeing bus with dark tints on the windows. In actuality, though, it was mostly empty inside, probably spacious enough to transport an entire tank—whose weight it was equipped to handle, considering the engine and suspension in the thing. Some men in work clothes lay scattered inside surrounded by unique tools, several types of rifle ammunition, armor plating, and a huge battery pack, all still safe. This vehicle had clearly contained something large; there were clasps on the floor, walls, and ceiling so that whatever it was wouldn’t fall over from a bump in the road. Judging by those tools and clasps… “A powered suit,” muttered Accelerator to himself. Naturally, it didn’t belong to Anti-Skill. They wouldn’t need to hide it. His eyes moved between the men he’d defeated and the black smoke billowing a short distance away. Eventually, he clicked his tongue. “…Looks like this is gonna get annoying,” he said. “Again.” “Urgh…,” came a groan. One of the men lying inside the undercover vehicle had made the noise. Not because he possessed superb stamina, of course, but because Accelerator had left him with just enough. “I thought the darkness had been broken up?” asked Accelerator. “All the hostages and other bargaining chips should have been let go at the end of the war. I was the one who set it up that way. So who the hell are you people?” “…We’re the Freshmen.” “Eh?” “You’ll find out soon enough,” said the man as his arms and legs went limp. His eyes were still open, but he was clearly unconscious. Misaka Worst cackled. “Scar on the head. Looks like a chip—which someone just used to knock him out. To prevent torture, Misaka would guess. Misaka bets that if we, you know, shake him really hard, he’ll wake up. Want to?” “No, leave him.” “Time for a little oil-based magic, then.” Misaka Worst seemed to be attempting to make the unconscious man into a version of Hoichi the Earless that really wouldn’t be allowed on broadcast television, but Accelerator didn’t bother continuing the conversation. He looked at the walls of the vehicle. Several maps were hung up on them, with buildings and roads marked in different fluorescent colors. From what it looked like, they’d been marking out someone’s area of activity. Accelerator peeled a photo off the wall next to the map. Printed on very expensive photography paper was a picture of a girl who looked about ten years old with blond hair and blue eyes. Her name was written in the same marker next to the face. Fremea Seivelun. 3 Hamazura, Hanzou, and Fremea ducked into alleyway after alleyway. The idea was to throw off the powered suit, but eventually, they came to a stop. They didn’t have much of a reason for that, though, other than their stamina simply running out. All three of them were out of breath. “Hamazura…,” Hanzou said to his friend in a low voice. Hamazura was clearly exhausted but still trying to maintain a smile; Hanzou grabbed his collar and shoved him up against a building. “Shit, man!! What were you doing back there?! Why the hell did you get involved with this?!” Hanzou was gritting his teeth. He wasn’t angry at Hamazura—he was angry at himself for letting his friend get mixed up in such dangerous business. Like he was regretting even eating at the restaurant after they’d bumped into each other earlier. “…You were trying to get something that was always out of reach for the members of Skill-Out, right?” Hanzou calmed his voice somewhat, but then it exploded again. “You’ve got a girl! I thought you were thinking about the future now! Putting yourself back on the straight and narrow! What about all the stuff about studying road service?! Why are you here messing with the darkness again?! You… You might have just ruined your chances of fulfilling your dreams!! Do you get that, Hamazura?!” “…I don’t know, man…” Hamazura’s eyes, however, had no clear intent behind them. He just weakly shook his head. “I didn’t want to get involved in any of this stuff again, either.” He wasn’t trying to look cool. His words were unclear, uncertain. And that actually showed how honest he was being. “But I just couldn’t let it go.” “……” “When I realized you were getting mixed up in some dangerous stuff, and Fremea Seivelun being involved…I couldn’t get Komaba off my mind, and… And I’ve got a history with the last name Seivelun, too…” He was speaking in fragments, as though he hadn’t figured all this out himself yet. Eventually, he gave up on trying to make his motivations crystal clear and repeated the most important thing once more. “…I just couldn’t let it be…” Hanzou swore, then let go of Hamazura’s collar. Hamazura slid down the wall to the ground, then looked up at him and asked a question. “What now?” “We have to assume none of my hideouts are usable anymore. We might be able to manage if I get in touch with Kuruwa, but we’ll still need a safe place to wait for her… Hamazura, do you have anywhere to lay low? Doesn’t need to be for long.” “…A hideout? You’re asking some random delinquent about a…” Hamazura trailed off, seeming to think of something. “Actually, I do.” “Where?” asked Hanzou. Shiage Hamazura had ties with another organization besides the famous delinquent one. Item. They weren’t serving as the city’s pawns anymore, but they still had a connection or two from back then. And Item’s hideout had been… “The private salon in District 3. Costs a pretty penny, but we should be able to use the place.” 4 Accelerator and Misaka Worst hadn’t turned up any more information from combing the vehicle—including anything about the powered suit or what organization was behind all this. Their search finished, the two of them left the bus and discussed matters. Misaka Worst, waggling the picture they’d swiped from the vehicle, said, “Definitely looks like they were trying to attack this kid. Not that it has anything to do with us.” “……” She’s… Accelerator recognized the girl in the photograph. Actually, she’d been in a picture on the phone belonging to Ritoku Komaba, whom Accelerator had eliminated as a threat to Academy City’s peace. Komaba had turned against the city to protect a lot of Level Zeroes from violence. And this girl was one of the people he’d wanted to safeguard, right up to the very end. “But who the hell would bring out a military powered suit to kill one little kid?” mused Misaka Worst. “Sure, ability development sometimes makes people in this city a lot more dangerous than they look, but you’d expect there to be a report on her ability and how to deal with it somewhere in the bus. They’re taking so many precautions for a Level Zero… Hmm? What’s up, Number One?” “Go home.” Accelerator handed his shopping bag to her, then glanced at the marked-up maps he’d brought out of the undercover vehicle. “I’ll try following up.” “Whoa, whoa!” Misaka Worst shook her head, sighing in exasperation. She thrust the photo of Fremea Seivelun in his face. “This Level Zero isn’t Last Order, you know.” “Yeah? So what?” he spat. “I don’t have any reason to protect her. But I don’t have one to abandon her, either.” “Your whole expression just changed! You lech!! She’s tiny, so you want to keep her safe!! Even though you broke this Misaka’s arm without batting an eyelid!!” “…Something about the darkness in this city is changing, but I can’t get a good read on how. That shithead called himself one of the Freshmen, and that name bothers me, too. They could always decide to come after us, so I need to look into them. I didn’t realize you were so dumb that you needed me to explain every little thing…” “Still, if they’ve got a powered suit, the ‘darkness’ or whatever must be pretty big. Makes you wonder why they’ve got their eyes on this Fremea kid.” “Hell if I know. Some digging around will turn up the answer.” Accelerator moved to leave right then and there, using his sleek-looking crutch to walk. Misaka Worst organized the contents of the shopping bags, emptying out one of them. Then she came up behind Accelerator and put the bag over his head to stop him. “Now, just hold on a minute.” “Grphhh!!” “You’ll have to excuse Misaka for making you look like a burglar with pantyhose on his head, but—” “!!!!” Accelerator flicked the switch on the electrode choker he wore around his neck. Normally, he was weak and needed a crutch to get around, but once this switch was flipped, he could use the most powerful ability in all of Academy City. A terrible, wicked power that let him manipulate any force vector he wanted, which he now used to rip the bag off his head. “…You wanna know what it’s like to be a vinyl bag yourself…?” “Huh. When you go past good and evil, you get an amazing smile on your face.” “Just tell me what you want.” “Misaka wants to know why you think you have a duty to go that far,” asked Misaka Worst, smirking. “Like Misaka said, Fremea Seivelun is not Last Order.” “Are you stupid or something?” spat Accelerator. “My goal is to assess the threat level those guys pose and where it’s directed. I don’t give a shit what happens to this kid. Though, if I need her to eliminate the threat, I’ll use her.” “Ha-ha. You’re such a good person.” “What are you doing, then?” “Ohhh? Misaka loves going ten times more evil. What if Misaka said she’d cooperate with the enemy on purpose? What would you do?” “Spank you about a hundred times, maybe.” For some reason, she put a hand to her mouth and wriggled her hips. “…What if Misaka said she was okay with doing that in public?” Accelerator ignored her and started walking off, searching for a refrigerated coin locker to stow their groceries in. Misaka Worst hurried after him. 5 Private salons were a unique facet of the service industry in Academy City. They were similar to karaoke booths, except they had way more amenities. Guests rented the rooms by the hour, and they could use the space for hanging out, throwing parties, or whatever else they wanted. Students made up 80 percent of Academy City’s population, and most of them lived in supervised dormitories. They were always under the watchful eyes of adults, whether during class or after school, which was a source of stress. Private salons were like secret bases anyone could buy for a price. They weren’t all good, though, because they did run the very real risk of becoming a hotbed for criminal activity. Still, the fact that renting out free spaces was a viable business was a telling reflection of the city’s social psychology. Hamazura and the others had fled into one of those rooms. This one took up an entire floor of a high-rise building. “……” He looked down at his cell phone screen. Takitsubo’s, Kinuhata’s, and Mugino’s numbers were in his contacts. The girls would be a much more reliable fighting force against their unknown enemy than the Level Zeroes currently in the room. Of course, they wouldn’t know about the situation, since they were playing a citywide game of find-the-Hamazura. While it would ruin their fun, he could just tell them where he was and bring them here. But… …No, I can’t get them involved in this. After clenching his teeth for a few moments, he turned off his phone. If Fremea Seivelun was the late Frenda’s younger sister, then maybe this did concern Item. But that wasn’t justification enough to drag them into the darkness. He wanted them to stay out of it for his own sake. Hanzou, who didn’t know about any of that, spoke up. “If you need to make a call, use a burner SIM,” he said. “I’ve got a few. Want one?” “Nah, I’m fine.” Hamazura shook his head, glancing over at Fremea, who had the giant TV remote control in her hand. He continued softly, “More importantly, what’s going on? The underworld’s clearly gunning for her. But why? All this just for one girl? It seems way too dangerous.” “Honestly, I don’t know, either,” replied Hanzou, voice hard. “It’s not like she’s worth killing. Her school’s System Scan marked her as a Level Zero, so I doubt her DNA data has any real value. And she wouldn’t ever have had a chance to fall into the true darkness here. The most she has is a connection with me and Komaba.” “……” “So the only real possibilities are that it has to do with Skill-Out or with its old leader.” “I feel weird saying this, but they know Skill-Out is just a bunch of delinquents, right?” A short distance away, Fremea was channel surfing on the TV. She didn’t seem interested in any of the programming, though. The variety news shows were all talking about boring stuff—about how despite Academy City’s belligerent attitude being a major factor in the outbreak of World War III, they’d contributed massive funding to postwar-reconstruction efforts once the fighting ended, so now most nations were more or less satisfied. “The city higher-ups…,” mused Hamazura. “The ones who’re in control of the government here. What could they possibly want so badly that they’d kill to get it?” “Well, you know how it was. Komaba was leading Skill-Out in an attempt to cause a large-scale uprising against theauthorities. I was pretty deeply involved in the planning stages. Of course, it didn’t turn out well.” One of the TV commentators was going on about a conspiracy theory; he claimed that the city was subtly manipulating the amount each nation was contributing to the restoration efforts in a ploy to recast global spheres of influence. But that didn’t seem to pique Fremea’s interest, either. She kept on scrolling through the channels, the sound from them washing away such theories. “Maybe Komaba had a plan B, too,” suggested Hanzou. “A scheme to exploit a different weakness of the city than the one we were trying to take advantage of at the time.” “That would mean…” “Yeah. The higher-ups would want to deal with it. Fremea was under Komaba’s protection. Maybe he gave her some kind of hint just in case things went south.” “But you saw how quickly the main plan got totally crushed. If plan B was so good, why didn’t he start with that?” “I think it’s more that the city wants to shore up where it was vulnerable, not crush our plans.” Is that what could link all this back to Ritoku Komaba? Hamazura wondered. But he knew of one other connection Fremea Seivelun happened to have. Frenda. And by extension, Item, the group to which she had belonged. Item was a conglomeration of very rare individuals: a Level Four effective in real combat, one of only seven Level Fives in the city, and a girl who could potentially become the eighth. Academy City had originally formed this small, elite underworld group to annihilate rebellious factions within its jursidiction. If Fremea was Frenda’s sister, then it was possible Fremea had acquired something related to Item through her. Or… Frenda was one of Item’s members…but I don’t know what she was up to at every hour of the day. Maybe she had a side gig or was part of another project…? He had too little information to go on right now. How big was the group that was after Fremea? Why were they after her? How serious were they about taking her out? If the two of them could figure out the group’s goal, it would go a long way in helping build a survival plan… “…I have no ideas about Fremea,” said Hamazura. “But the darkness has a powered suit ready to go after her. We need to figure out that part. While on the run, if need be.” “We can launch a counterattack once we’re safe,” said Hanzou, heading to the door. “Where are you going?” “To contact Kuruwa. This place isn’t exactly safe, either—it’s a relay point. We’re better off using her network to get to a safe hideout.” “You sure you should call her?” “I’ve got empty SIMs, remember? I’ll switch my phone’s out for one. Even if they’re actively watching for activity coming from my number, they’ll never be able to listen in or trace it back to an antenna base.” Hanzou grabbed the doorknob. As he opened it, he turned back. “Hamazura?” “Yeah?” “It’s a good thing you came. You saved our asses. I don’t like it, but I’ll admit it.” Before Hamazura could reply, Hanzou left the room. Feeling weirdly awkward, Hamazura shifted his gaze. Eventually, though, his eyes met with Fremea’s. Komaba had given his life to protect this girl. The sister of Frenda, who had once been an official member of Item. “Hello again,” the girl said. While Komaba was still alive, Hamazura and Hanzou had spoken to her a couple of times. They hadn’t known her name back then, though. “You remember me?” Hamazura asked. “Mm-hmm. You’re with Koma a lot anyway.” Her way of remembering things put a little smile on his face. He couldn’t remember Komaba in anything but the past tense anymore. But he couldn’t let her know about the pain that came with the passage of time. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m Shiage Hamazura.” “I’m Fremea. Fremea Seivelun.” I wish I’d known her last name sooner, thought Hamazura, but he didn’t say it. “Looks like things are getting crazy. Are you all right? No injuries?” “I’m okay. My ears hurt for a while, but now they’re basically fine. Nya.” …Where in Japan did she pick up ‘nya’? he wondered. She hadn’t talked like that the other times he’d seen her. Though he was curious about this, there was no point in pressing the issue. The fact that she could speak Japanese at all was a stroke of luck. “What should we do now anyway?” she asked. “Hanzou’s calling up a friend, so there’s nothing to worry about.” “What about Koma?” She looked up at him with her blue eyes. “I haven’t seen him. He won’t pick up the phone. I tried going to where he usually is, but he wasn’t there, either. Do you know where he might be?” Hamazura tried his hardest not to let his breath catch. He didn’t know if he succeeded. “He’s, well. You know.” He could fake a smile. But her blue eyes were so much clearer than any lie detector. “He’s not the smartest guy, y’know?” he said. “I mean, I’m pretty dumb, too. But he’s been making up for classes he missed. He’s gotta finish those up, or else he’ll be held back a year. Could you give him a little time?” “…Okay,” she said, looking down slightly. She was clearly sad, but only to the degree when someone couldn’t keep a promise to hang out over the weekend. “I get it. Thanks.” Fremea plopped down onto the couch, which was far too big for her. “Hmm,” she said. “?” “My tummy wants to growl, but it won’t.” She put her palm to her stomach for some reason as she leaned back on the couch. Hamazura frowned a little. “…Do you want something to eat?” he asked. She gave him a slight nod. Like karaoke booths, private salons had an internal phone system guests could use to order food. Plus, there was already a refrigerator stationed in the large room. Since he didn’t know what Fremea liked, he ordered something random off the menu. As he was speaking into the wall-mounted phone, Hanzou came back. “Kuruwa will be here soon… What are you doing, Hamazura?” “Ordering food.” “Didn’t you just eat?” “It’s for Fremea.” “Oh. Get me some Satsuma age, then, would you?” The order came after about ten minutes. It was light fare, without any staples—just some french fries, veggie sticks, and the like. “…The Satsuma age really stands out, huh,” mentioned Hamazura. “Oh, be quiet. I’m gonna take it all anyway.” Hanzou moved the fish cakes from the large plate to his smaller plate. But Fremea was acting strange. She’d put some egg foo young on her plate—the Japanese kind, with crab meat in it—but after seeing the small green peas in it, she pushed her plate toward Hamazura and said, “Green peas.” “Wh-what? Why are you supply-dropping all the peas on me?” Shh-shh-shh-shh-shh came the sound as Fremea deftly eliminated all her green peas. Hamazura, for his part, just asked, “Oh. You don’t like peas?” “Nya-mmmm.” “Now I’m worried about you trying to charm me at your age. Best you learn now that the world isn’t always that easy. Here, have them back.” “Hrrrgyaaaaaaahhhhhh?!” screamed Fremea, receiving twice as many as she’d picked off. After that, Hanzou sprinkled salt on the big plate of french fries and got into a tug-of-war with Hamazura about them, and they argued over whether mayonnaise or dressing went better with the veggie sticks. The bleak atmosphere had mostly dissipated. Though it hadn’t been long since the spider mech had attacked them, Fremea didn’t show any signs of mental distress, either. Of course, the circumstances being what they were, they might not have had time to process everything yet. 6 Meanwhile, several people were growing concerned about Hamazura’s movements: Shizuri Mugino and the rest of Item. They had split up to look all over the city for him, but each of them had sniffed out that shady, yet somehow alluring, scent of the darkness. Take Mugino, for example. She was leaning against a building wall to gather information. More precisely, she’d connected a long, thin cable coming from her false eye—which was part of the eyeband—and plugged it into the nearby building’s surveillance camera. Naturally, the building itself was of no interest to her. The camera was just a way in. She had hacked into the security company’s network and was now fishing through their video archives to look for any sign of Hamazura. Her brain was directly connected to her mechanical eye, which gave her an additional advantage—she could receive information and data directly from the machine interface. Obviously, the information would need to be translated into something the human mind could perceive and understand, and using the false eye’s systems meant this would mostly depend on the video data. The setup wasn’t perfect, but it could accomplish things impossible for an interface designed to be manipulated by ten fingers. As Mugino continued her high-speed search through videos at a spot behind her brow, she used her free hand to mess with her cell phone. She was on a group call, where several people could connect at the same time. “A powered suit is running amok in the District 7 underground mall,” she said. “After a few hours, the city will smooth over all the video evidence and rumor mills to make it like it never happened, won’t they?” “It would be, like, way faster to just intercept Anti-Skill’s radio signals, but whatever,” said Kinuhata. “Initially, they were after a boy and a girl. Then one more boy joined them. The three shook off pursuit and fled aboveground. Can you, like, make out their faces on the cameras?” “The first two aren’t Hamazura. As for the third…I’m not sure. The smoke is going to the ceiling, so I can only see shadows of people,” said Mugino. “But…the other boy—isn’t that someone Hamazura talks to sometimes? And that little girl… It feels like I’ve seen her before…” “Oh, wow. Despite what you say, you’ve been totally looking into his personal relationships, haven’t you? A woman who cares that much is scary indeed.” “…I know you’re nearby, Kinuhata. Want me to smash you with a real thick one?” “I, like, don’t have any interest in the thickness or the size, so no thanks. Anyway, we should totally keep up the search. Hee-hee-hee. It’ll be interesting to see which method gets us there first—going off surveillance cameras or radio info.” “Eh? Sounds like you’re counting out Takitsubo. She’ll be the bunny, then?” asked Mugino straightforwardly. Rikou Takitsubo, the bunny-type girl who hadn’t said a word until now, then spoke up in a shaky voice. “…Signal from north-northeast… I’m getting a premonition that Hamazura is flirting with another girl…!!” “No, no, Mugino. Our super-imprecise channeler is, like, the one we should fear the most. Let’s both do our best not to have to embarrass ourselves by dressing up like a bunny in front of that idiot.” 7 “Where is she? She’s late,” said Hanzou, reclining on the couch of the private salon. Hamazura and Fremea were examining the spacious room’s furnishings. A few card games and board games sat on the shelves, and there was a game console hooked up to the big-screen TV. You could also use it to browse the internet. The TV even had cable service and over three hundred channels to choose from. But with so many options, Hanzou was finding it pretty tough to locate a specific one he wanted to watch. He gave up halfway through this endeavor; now left alone, the TV was showing a news broadcast on the end of World War III. Something about surplus weapons being moved to District 2 and District 23 since the fighting was over. Quickly giving up on the TV altogether, Hanzou had just taken a seat on the couch and started flipping through a road-service reference book, when he felt a tug on his clothes. He turned and saw Fremea, who seemed pretty bored. At her request, the two of them started looking around for a game they could all play together. The salon had several party items meant for large groups, which was part of what made these establishments so unique. It was probably irresponsible to turn to hobbies and time-killing games at a moment like this, but it did help them cope. Otherwise, they would go crazy if they just waited around doing nothing—and then what would be the point of all this? Their win condition was safely getting back to their old lives, not sharing the same fate as that unknown spider mech. “Anyway, Hamazura, I want to play this.” Fremea reached for a video game on a shelf, but it was too high for her to reach. “This one?” “No. Not something that boring anyway.” “What about this one?” “To the right. More to the right—no, wait, the left. That’s it.” Hamazura groped around on the shelf as Fremea gave him instructions, but then he felt something heavy on his back. The small girl had started climbing him like a ladder. “This one,” she said, plucking a game from the shelf. “…Huh? Wait, uh…that one is kind of…” “I want to play Blood and Destruction.” “That title has controversy written all over it! Come on, just look at it—the screenshot on the back is half covered in blood!!” It looked like a gory shooter where the player controlled stern-looking dudes, whose designs were definitely geared toward foreign markets, in battles against zombies. As Hamazura read more of the description, he realized the protagonist apparently ate like a horse. The big caption text read, CHASE DOWN THE HEROES OF JUSTICE!! Hamazura chose his next words carefully. “H-hey, doesn’t this fluffy pet game look neat?” “Blood and Destruction.” “Oh, and this one where you take a walk with a mermaid?” “Blood and Destruction.” “Or this one with fields—” “I wanna play Blood and Destruction!!” Fremea grabbed the bloodred packaging and hid it behind her, staring up at Hamazura. Hamazura froze for a moment. “…Sorry, not happening. But it does look interesting. Let me take a pic and send it to someone.” “Roooaaarrr!!” While the two of them horsed around, Hanzou got up from the couch. “…Kuruwa’s definitely taking too long,” he said. “I’m gonna try contacting her one more time.” While Fremea stared at her cell phone screen, Hamazura sent Hanzou a discreet gesture saying, We can’t stay here much longer, either. “I know,” said Hanzou, letting out a short breath. “I know.” 8 The driver’s seat inside the giant dump truck was over two stories high. While the back of the vehicle was large enough to hold a modest pool and was now loaded up with black rocks, that was all actually a disguise plastered on top of a hollow, domed space. And housed inside this space was a repair facility—one for a powered suit. Hydraulic springs creaked within, making a kreeeesh-kreeeesh noise. No matter what the pilot did inside a powered suit, it always produced mechanical sounds like those. It was kind of like clothing fabric rubbing together; rumor had it that the noise could make people go insane if they didn’t get used to it. “Silvercross.” “I’m all set. But why be so roundabout?” “There’s still too many links right now. We need to cut a few more branches off.” “Then…Kuroyoru?” “Yeah, I’ll be out there, too.” “If we want to limit the number of links, shouldn’t you wipe out everyone related to Item instead?” “It’ll be smoother and quicker to deal with things one at a time. And you just screwed things up, didn’t you? We don’t want the branches growing in different directions on us.” “I only messed up because you told me to withdraw.” “Even if I hadn’t, you were pretty far from perfect marks.” “Don’t forget what the pruning shears are for.” “I haven’t. The fundamental rule of pruning is to pick the biggest, strongest branches. In that sense, that branch is the thickest and easiest to control.” “What was it you said? Bloodshed and danger are the water in which trees grow?” “Let’s go over the schedule again. I’ll head for Shiage Hamazura. You run support with the bees. We’re not bothering with Accelerator yet—best to keep risks to a minimum. They’re starting to act now, too. As long as we clear away the obstacles, they’ll link up to each other like magnets.” “But are you sure? I still think it would be safer to ambush Item and wipe them out first. If we get Hamazura involved during our attack on Fremea Seivelun, they could come crawling out of the woodwork.” “If they do, then great. Saves us the trouble.” “Kuroyoru!” “Silvercross, which are you worried about? Shizuri Mugino? Or Saiai Kinuhata?” “Project Dark May.” “Hmph. Kinuhata, then. It’ll be fine. Your worries are unfounded.” There was a hint of contempt in the voice of the girl on the other end of the radio, like always. “After all, I’ve always had more pure offensive capabilities than her—right from the start of that project.” The girl’s voice was flat. “I’m beyond the realm of espers now.” “Are you?” “Yes. And I have to ask, but have you somehow gotten even more boring? I know you’re running support, but a two-legged mech? That’s not very you.” “Like I said before, I prefer to pick my tools based on the time and place.” The powered suit responded, its hydraulic springs going kreeesh-kreeesh. “I’ve gotten results, haven’t I? It’ll be the same this time. It’s not about which one is best. The Enemy Blaster is good for certain things, and the Bee Launcher is good for others.” “Then let’s proceed according to plan.” “Right.” “Fremea Seivelun, huh?” said the voice on the other end in scorn—before giving praise. “That kid is just what we needed.”
Chapter 6
46 min read