He couldn't remember why he was running. All he knew for sure was that he had been running for about ten minutes.
By the time he noticed, Kamijou was already sitting in a bus stop in the business district. As he sat there dead tired, he gazed up at the August sky lit by the flaming-colored sunset. A blimp floated in the orange-dyed sky, the X-Vision display attached to its belly showing the Academy City news: "Mizuho Organization Withdrawing from Muscular Dystrophy Pathological Research."
"Don't go off into some kind of happy dreamland, and carry some juice. Wasn't this originally meant for you?" sighed Mikoto as she sat down beside him, tossing can after can into his lap. She looked peacefully at the wind turbines turning round and round nearby.
She was probably feeling a bit down from messing up with controlling her power.
"...I'm scared that the moment I accept the juice, I'll become an accomplice. What should I say, don't throw it at me—Ow! Hot! Why is this hot shiruko[1] mixed in?"
"When there's a malfunction, so you can't even choose what juice will come out!"
"Do you feel clear malice in black soy bean cider and soy milk?"
"Huh? That's nothing. You should be thankful. We're lucky that the two juices from hell, guarana green juice and strawberry oden, didn't even come up."
To put it another way, Academy City is also "Experiment City".
With numerous universities and research labs sending out test models of their products, the streets overflowed with experimental items like garbage disposal automatons and autonomously running security robots. That meant that the product line-up in both convenience stores and vending machines were different, but…
"…In spite of this, it's a fact that students still pay with the same money, so I'd like to ask why the bigwigs don't know about this."
"Fine, fine; even a small step towards achieving your dream means that you're full of ambition. Ah, I want that plum cider," said Mikoto as she took a can from Kamijou's arm without warning. "You know, even if it's only one can, you shouldn't always be running away. Even if I happen to be really strong, can't you just think of me as some weakling and look down on me? Try to see it that way and call me Mikoto-san, okay—?"
"…What's with this girl, saying such nonsense while acting so proud?"
"What?" Misaka looked at Kamijou, sporting a bad drunkard's look. "…Hm, maybe I shouldn't say that. But as long as the weak whimper, the strong will swagger… that's what I believe. Why are you different? There are only seven Level 5s in Academy City, so why were you chased all over town by street rogues on the level of an unleashed chihuahua?"
"???"
Despite all of Mikoto's confidence in her words, Kamijou couldn't remember anything like that.
If that were the case, were Mikoto's words wrong, or did she know some of Kamijou's unknown past? Unable to ask either question, Kamijou let it slide.
"You, you shouldn't have shown off the fact that you defeated me, Misaka Mikoto, the Railgun. But since you did, you shouldn't have apologized publicly in front of me. But now you did that, right? From then on, everyone will always remember it. They'll say, 'Ah, that Misaka Mikoto, wasn't she defeated by a boy who looks like he's been chased by a chihuahua?'" said Misaka as she downed the plum cider.
"Because you defeated me, you should take responsibility as the winner. I, one of only seven known Level 5s in Academy City, was defeated by such a boy… I could stick to that and announce it openly, you know."
"What the hell is that? This isn't the Edo period with its Bushido spirit…"
But once he began to say that, a single phrase stuck in his mind made him uncomfortable.
(You defeated me?)
(While I have no memory of it, exactly what did I do that would make a girl tell me 'you should take responsibility'—!!)
"Uh, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…"
"Why are you groaning like that?" Mikoto asked, exasperated. "Then again, you must be irritated, too. After all, it seemed like it was pulled from some shounen manga."
Mikoto folded her arms angrily and sighed, though Kamijou didn't see it.
"I never intended to actually hit you, but you guarded perfectly against all attacks as if expecting them to hit you badly… such great technique. Putting aside my being snobbish and annoyed, the fact that it has an effect is unforgivable."
"…Uhhhhh… huh?"
Again taking notice of Mikoto's words, Kamijou groaned.
(She never expected to hit me? Does that mean our power relationship is like that of a parent laughing while he's calming down his child who is recklessly flailing his hands?)
Even though he was facing an Electromaster, he never once surrendered to this girl?
…
…Too bad, Kamijou Touma.
"Somehow, you're the kind of person who loses confidence under pressure," said Mikoto disinterestedly. "Hey, enough already, drink it up. If you were a kouhai who was presented with Mikoto-sensei's personal gift, you would have swooned in delight."
"'Swoon'? As if anyone would gratefully accept this barely-hygienic juice! This isn't a shoujo manga; there's no way we're in a girls' school-type romance—I think."
"—No. It would be lovely if it were a shoujo manga." For some reason, Mikoto averts her eyes. "It would be more varied, you know—rather, it'd be muddled?"
"Onee-sama?"
A girl's bell-like voice unexpectedly resounded. Mikoto's face looked as if she had been hit from behind with ice.
Onee-sama? Onee-sama!!
"Guh" went Kamijou's as he was muted by the shock. (What the hell...!?) Turning around as quickly as he could, he saw a girl—probably a freshman middle schooler—standing a short distance away, wearing the same uniform as Mikoto. That twin-tailed brunette, with both hands together in front of her and eyes sparkling,
"Well, Onee-sama! Well, well, well, Onee-sama! Just when I was wondering why you're no longer into summer classes, this turns out to be the reason, eh!?"
As Kamijou looked at the girl beside her, Mikoto had her hands on her head, greatly troubled. But for a powerless Kamijou, he felt that Mikoto's heart was mysteriously telling him to forget the tsukkomi routine.
As Mikoto was piercing her head with her hands to ease her headache, she began talking to the mysterious girl.
"Weeell, I want to make sure, but I was wondering whether you're saying 'because of this' or 'because of him'."
"Of course I'm referring to you secretly meeting with that gentleman over there, right?"
A spark emerged from Mikoto's hair, but the twin-tailed girl didn't seem to mind. Dumbstruck, Kamijou watched as the sweetly smiling girl approached the bench at a frightening speed.
(Oh, shit, it's coming here!) But before Kamijou could move away, she strongly grabbed Kamijou's hand with both of her own.
"Nice to meet you, sir. I am Onee-sama's squire; call me Shirai Kuroko."
"Wha?" Kamijou looked down at the hand she was holding, worrying about his reaction.
"By the way, is this degree of nervousness a warning sign of flirtatious tendencies?"
"Pfft!" Kamijou burst into laughter. Mikoto who was sitting beside him slowly stood up, and…
"W—H—Y— Y—O—U—! This weirdo is not my boyfriend!"
Accompanying the words of an injured heart, a lightning bolt leapt from Mikoto's bangs.
Shirai Kuroko let go of Kamijou's hand and stepped back, the bolt hitting nothing as she vanished into thin air.
"Tch, and she had to use teleportation at such a bad time. If this rumor ever spreads, I won't acknowledge it, dammit!"
Mikoto furiously attacked the empty space with her explosive lightning attacks, looking hell-bent on giving somebody a good electrical shock. Dammit, how am I supposed to calm her down? pondered Kamijou, when suddenly a voice came from behind the bench.
"Onee-sama?"
(Again!!!) Kamijou turned around…
And saw standing behind the bench another Misaka Mikoto.
"Wha?"
From what he could tell, the girl behind him looked no different from "Misaka Mikoto". Shoulder-length light-brown hair, good looks and features, a white short-sleeved blouse, a summer sweater, and a pleated skirt. From features and uniform to accessories, there could be no doubt about it: "Misaka Mikoto" was standing there.
But…
Kamijou returned his gaze to the girl sitting beside him. Shoulder-length light-brown hair, good looks and features, a white short-sleeved blouse, a summer sweater, and a pleated skirt. While not unexpected, he was looking at a seated "Misaka Mikoto."
There were differences, though. The girl standing behind the bench had what looked like night-vision goggles on her forehead like unused swimming goggles, and her eyes seemed emotionless. Her unfocused gaze fixedly followed the back of the seated Mikoto's head.
"…Eh? They've multiplied!? It's Misaka number two!"
Kamijou was startled and looked back and forth between the two "Misaka Mikoto"s. Compared to the also surprised face of the one sitting beside him, the one standing behind the bench was staring back expressionlessly.
"So," murmured Kamijou as he looked back, "who might you be?"
"Imouto, says Misaka in a flash."
"…"
(That's one strange way of saying it,) Kamijou thought to himself. There were too many people around Kamijou who talked strangely for him to even tell if they were strange or not.
"You, Misaka, refer to yourself as 'Misaka' when talking about yourself? I don't refer to Misaka as 'Misaka' since we don't use our formal names. Wouldn't it cause chaos even at home if you call yourself 'Misaka'?"
"But Misaka's name is still Misaka, answers Misaka immediately."
"..."
There's no way Misaka would call herself "Misaka"; there must be an unwritten rule for this. Kamijou looked to Mikoto sitting beside him for assistance, but he was surprised once more; Mikoto was glaring at her silent sister.
"I, I see, Imouto. But you two sure look identical—identical as in same height and weight, right?"
Mikoto kept glaring at Imouto.
"Our genetic makeup is the same, answers Misaka. Moreover, inquiring about a girl's body weight is rude, says Misaka while speaking her mind."
Mikoto was still glaring at Imouto.
"…"
(What a strange person,) thought Kamijou.
"Then I guess you must be twins. Hmmm, it's the first time I've seen identical twins, but you two really do look identical. Well, what are you going to do, Futago-chan? Return to Nee-chan?"
Mikoto had been continuously, continuously glaring at Imouto for some time.
"How overly naive of this shallow rascal, so Misaka will answer your question so that you may catch on. Misaka came to see and confirm the one with the same power detected within a 600-meter radius of Misaka…"
If they were identical twins, then their similar powers manifesting was plenty enough to think about.
And though he thought about it… Kamijou was especially scared of Mikoto's gaze.
(Oh, shit, she's the type who hates her family being seen by her friends on parents' day,) Kamijou thought.
"...And in this place, I find a destroyed vending machine and you two carrying large quantities of juice. I never would have thought Onee-sama would take part in petty thievery, as Misaka would say with a tut-tut," Misaka-imouto continued while standing at attention. "Just what method will make Onee-sama change her ways? as Misaka would ask in a just-to-be-sure police interview."
Because of the strange accusal, Kamijou had no choice but to continue.
"Hey, she's the culprit, and I'm only an eyewitness, you know."
"Lies only prove crime, as Misaka would answer. From the measurement results of the outcome made on the front of the vending machine by the electric shock, it is established that the more recent fingerprints belong to you, as Misaka would thrust the evidence at you."
"No way! You can deduce that much as an Electromaster!?"
"Of course that's not possible, as Misaka would frankly answer."
"…"
"…"
Please help me! As Kamijou looked at Misaka-imouto, he continued to pull on the shoulder of Mikoto as she sat beside him.
But Mikoto didn't react at all.
(That's weird,) Kamijou thought. (We've met Imouto for only about ten minutes, but Mikoto's the type who would continue speaking automatically on her own initiative. Does Mikoto probably have something unspeakable about her?)
"…?"
Kamijou casually turned to the Mikoto sitting beside him. Then…
"…You! Just why are you loitering around here!?"
Without warning, the previously silent Mikoto raised her voice in explosive anger.
"Uwaaah!" went Kamijou, taken by surprise by the deafening scream from the side.
(This high-pitched scream unique to girls is piercing my eardrums; it feels like the pain I'd get after eating large amounts of shaved ice!)
Mikoto only shouted once before resuming her silence.
It's as if she's waiting for Misaka-imouto's view.
Just like after lightning strikes, empty silence enveloped them.
The blimp floated through the night sky. In the X-Vision attached to its side, today's news of "New Virus [HDC. Cerberus] Rampages Through Network" was repeatedly reported, its voice-over strangely making noise.
Within that state, as Misaka-imouto stood at attention and looked absently at Mikoto's eyes,
"One question or the other… training, as Misaka would briefly answer."
"'Training'."
Mikoto cut her breath short as if she were struck from behind, and turned her eyes away. She murmured something, but it didn't reach Kamijou's ears.
"??? If it's training, is Imouto-san entering Judgment?"
If a student's status was "vacant" and "in training", the first thing to come to mind would probably be "Judgment".
As one looking at Mikoto's power would understand, such a faculty would be far better at killing than a lowly knife. For the 2.3 million students under Academy City, there were special organizations that deal with the inevitable berserk esper.
There were two positions that take down berserk espers: the users of next-generation weapons, the teachers' corps called Anti-Skill, and the students chosen from every school called Judgment.
Both Anti-Skill and Judgment were originally ranked no higher than teachers and students, respectively. Accordingly, to join their professional ranks, one had to sign nine contracts, pass thirteen different types of aptitude tests, and complete four months of training.
Mikoto clapped her hands in front of her and averted her eyes from Kamijou.
"Ah, aaah, Judgment? Ah — ah — that, that. You've been doing this because of that, lots of problems, eh, the lot of them—or, should I say, worn out?"
She said in a lovely, yet suspicious tone of voice.
"Hey. Somehow, you're talking as if you're suddenly dismissing information like it's only from a crank call."
"Heh, I'm not dismissing it; I'm merely stating it clearly, properly, exactly." Mikoto then looked at her own imouto. "We've got lots of talking to do, lots of it. Hey, Imouto, can you come with me for a bit?"
"Ha? No, even Misaka has a schedule to stick to and—"
"Enough already." Mikoto looked at Imouto dead-on. "Get over here."
That strange, flat voice… Kamijou somehow sensed it.
Mikoto had no reason to do something special. She only saw her imouto's face and had said only a word with a laugh.
But that single word. He'd taken into that point, that swirl of suspicious feelings going through Kamijou's heart.
Mikoto looked at Kamijou. At that point, she was already back to being the ordinary noisy middle school girl.
"Well, then, we're going this way. You have to mind your dorm curfew, too, you know!"
Mikoto left a sitting Kamijou behind and wrapped her arms around her imouto's shoulder. The two ordinary-looking girls then began to walk onward down the wide avenue lane.
Kamijou instinctively began to follow after Mikoto—but stopped himself.
Sitting back down on the bench, he mindlessly muttered while gazing at the blimp floating through the night sky,
"How complicated…" he softly breathed. "What kind of family are they, I wonder…?"