A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 1 by Kazuma Kamachi

Author:Kazuma Kamachi [Kamachi, Kazuma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2016-02-23T05:00:00+00:00

“Ah, uhh, okay. Look, I’ve got my right hand, so sorcerers don’t stand a chance!”

“…But,” she sobbed, “you said you had makeup classes.”

“…Did I?”

“You most certainly did.”

The girl’s memory seemed perfect. Well, she could memorize every letter in 103,000 books, after all.

“Don’t you dare start apologizing for interfering with my life or something. I don’t give a damn about makeup classes. The school doesn’t want to create more dropouts. If I cut makeup classes, I’ll just have to go to makeup makeup classes. I can put it off as long as I want.”

Miss Komoe probably would have given him hell for saying that, but he pushed the thought aside.

“…” Index, still teary eyed, silently searched Kamijou’s expression. “…Then why did you say you had to hurry and go to makeup classes?”

“……………………………………………………………………………………………Uhh.”

Now he remembered. It had been right after he’d destroyed her habit, the Walking Church, with his Imagine Breaker, rendering her completely naked. The silent tension in the room had been worse than in an elevator, and then…

“…Uh, I, uhh…”

“So you felt uncomfortable because of my presence.”

“…”

“You did.”

After she said it a second time, tears in her eyes, he realized it was utterly impossible to evade this.

“I’b sowwy!” Kamijou shouted, shoving his face into the floor, having instinctively dropped into his apologetic bow again.

Index sat up from the futon slowly, like a sick person would, and grabbed Kamijou’s ears with both hands. Then, as if taking a bite out of a giant rice ball, she chomped onto the top of his head with all her might.

Six hundred meters away, on the roof of an office building, Stiyl took his eyes from his binoculars.

“We’ve found the location of the boy with Index…How is she?”

Without turning to face the lady approaching behind him, Stiyl reported:

“She’s alive…but since she’s alive, they must have a magic user as well.”

The woman was silent. She seemed pleased no one had died, as opposed to concerned about the prospect of another enemy.

Though the woman was eighteen, she stood a full head shorter than the fourteen-year-old Stiyl.

Of course, Stiyl was more than two meters tall, which still made her taller than the average Japanese.

Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail that reached down to her hips, and a katana more than two meters long, called the Command Sword, rested in a sheath at her side; it was the kind used for Shinto rain prayers.

However, the label Japanese beauty didn’t seem to quite fit.

She wore worn jeans and a short-sleeved white T-shirt. For some reason, the left leg of her jeans had been cut off to reveal her thigh, and the bottom of her T-shirt was tied across her stomach, exposing her navel. Her boots reached up to her knees, and the sheath housing her katana hung from a belt like a handgun in a holster.

It dangled there as if she was the sheriff in a Western, but with a katana instead of a gun.

Neither that nor her priest robes smelling of sweet perfume could be called proper attire.

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