His right arm grew warm, slowly and steadily. Kamijou Touma had begun to grow accustomed to that sensation. Not that he wanted to. But three months was enough time for the body to adapt on its own. He clenched his bandaged right hand gently, then opened it again. The pain hadn't disappeared. October's sky was still high and blue. In Academy City's Seventh District, Touma walked along the main street where reconstruction continued. Each time the wind blew, white dust rose in small clouds. Looking up, he could see two cranes, then three, stretching their arms toward the sky. The skeletal frames of buildings under repair cast metallic shadows in the light before dusk. Three months ago, this area had been devastated. The Belfast Conflict—the aftermath of that battle, which had drawn in both science and sorcery, had spread widely from the southern reaches of the Seventh District all the way to the Eighteenth. Even now, temporary barriers cordoned off certain blocks, and local residents took detours on their commutes. Some of the street trees remained snapped at their roots, not yet removed. Reconstruction was progressing. But things hadn't returned completely to how they were. Touma glanced sideways at the wind turbines. The white wind generators that shaped Academy City's landscape continued their slow, expressionless rotation as always. It should have been an ordinary sight, yet it seemed as though a thin membrane had settled over everything. He knew it was just his imagination. Still, he couldn't help but feel it. "[surprised]Oh, Touma!" The moment someone called out to him, something moved swiftly in Touma's mind. Who is this person? He knew the face. They were in the same class. The name came to him. That wasn't the problem. What did I do to this person during that battle? He couldn't remember. Fragments of memory were cleanly erased. Had he hurt someone without realizing it? Had some version of himself he didn't know destroyed someone's ordinary life? That fear rose up in him suddenly, and he couldn't manage a smile right away. "[gentle]Hey. It's been a while." He answered a second too late. His classmate didn't seem to notice anything amiss, simply telling him, "You heading out of the reconstruction area? That other route's open now too." Touma thanked him and they parted ways. As he walked, the burning sensation in his right arm returned once more. Imagine Breaker was still intact. Any superpower or sorcery would be nullified the moment he touched it. That hadn't changed. But the gaps in his memory—his right hand couldn't fill those. What had he been doing on that battlefield, he who was judged a Level 0 powerless person by Academy City's system scan? Precisely speaking, there were parts he no longer understood. Without understanding, he was spoken to by someone new each day. That had become a chronic unease. He returned to Room 702 of the Comus Student Dormitory just after five in the evening. Even before he unlocked the door, a pleasant aroma drifted from inside the room. "[excited]Touma, welcome home! It's stew today!" When he opened the door, platinum-blonde hair swung around with momentum. Clear aquamarine eyes looked straight at him. She was a head shorter than Touma. Her white, compact nun-like outfit somehow never got dirty, no matter what kitchen work she did. It was always a little mysterious to him. Index. A girl who perfectly memorized 103,000 grimoires. A walking library managed by the English Puritan Church. And a fourteen-year-old staying in Touma's room. Her face, holding a small ladle with a smile, looked like any child you might see anywhere. That bottomless brightness melted something in Touma's chest, just a little. "[gentle]I'm home. Stew sounds good." He said this while removing his shoes. Index made a satisfied sound through her nose and turned back to the pot. Sphinx slipped past her feet and pressed her head against Touma's leg. He crouched down and stroked the cat's head once. He set his bag on the table and sat in a chair. Watching Index's back, Touma thought: For these three months, she had been here the whole time. Even after that battle, even after he left the hospital, she had been here like this, cooking dinner and waiting. But that was precisely what frightened him. Every time his memory disappeared, he had put this child in danger. There was a possibility he had hurt her without knowing. And yet Index kept smiling. She kept being here. The fear that he might one day truly break that innocent, radiant smile—it hadn't faded even after three months. He was dependent. On her. But at the same time, there was also a guilt about making her dependent on him. It was there, real and solid. Touma couldn't quite tell which was his true feeling. "[excited]Here, it's ready!" A steaming bowl was placed on the table. Touma said "thank you" and picked up a spoon. Outside the window, he could see the wind turbine turning slowly. A little while after dinner ended, his phone rang. When he checked the screen, Misaka Mikoto's name appeared. "[serious]Hello?" "[casual]Oh, you picked up. I was just bored." Her voice through the phone was casual and straightforward. Misaka Mikoto. A girl with chestnut-colored semi-long hair who attended Tokiwadai Middle School. Her bright brown eyes always carried a sharp glint. At 158 centimeters tall, she was the third-ranked Level 5 esper among the seven that Academy City boasted, bearing the title of Railgun. Her electricity-manipulating power was said to rival military weapons. But now, her voice on the phone carried none of that intimidating presence. "[casual]The south side of the Seventh District—have they started construction yet? From our district, I can still see the temporary barriers where I look." "[serious]Yeah, I walked through today and the cranes were moving. Looks like it'll take a while longer before everything's done." "[casual]I figured. The construction noise near us has been annoying too." The conversation continued. Talk of school. Changes in the reconstruction areas. A new family restaurant that opened nearby. How Josephs was too crowded to get into. Touma made agreeable sounds while gazing vaguely out the window. He wondered what was happening in that room he couldn't see, where Mikoto was. On the phone, Mikoto kept talking about ordinary things. But there was something that caught. Between the words, there seemed to be something small, something compressed into the spaces. Whether Touma noticed this or not, he himself wasn't sure. Without quite understanding, when the conversation paused, he said: "[gentle]Well, be careful. There's a lot of dust near the construction areas." "[casual]...Yeah. I will." The call ended. At the same time, in the Tokiwadai Middle School dormitory. Misaka Mikoto sat in her dark room, gripping her smartphone with the screen now dark. She hadn't been able to say it again. Since the Belfast Conflict ended, they hadn't properly met. Every time she tried to make an excuse to see him, she found herself pulling back for some reason. Even when she called, she could only manage trivial conversation. That wasn't what she really wanted to say. After the Belfast Conflict, spending nights alone had become frightening. On sleepless nights, when she called and heard his voice, her breathing became a little easier. When she realized that, she felt troubled. She had never imagined that a girl as strong-willed and competitive as herself could become like this. Mikoto tossed her smartphone onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling. Meanwhile, in Room 702 of the Comus Student Dormitory, Index washed dishes while vaguely listening to Touma's voice on the phone. She didn't think anything was wrong, exactly. But something felt different. The way Touma's voice sounded when he spoke to her—something about it was subtly different. Index couldn't quite put it into words. When she tried to, it slipped away. But her chest tightened. As she wiped the plates, Index stroked Sphinx's back lightly without understanding what that feeling was. The cat narrowed its eyes contentedly. As the night deepened, the view outside the window changed slightly. The wind turbine stopped. Not just one. Every white blade visible from outside came to a halt all at once. For a few seconds, the city seemed to go quiet. "[surprised]A blackout?" He muttered this and checked the room's lights. The electricity was on. The convenience store outside the window was lit normally. It wasn't a blackout. Then why had the turbines stopped? As Touma tilted his head in confusion, Index stood up. Her expression had changed from moments before. "[scared]Touma, just now..." Index kept her eyes on the window as she continued. "[serious]It had the same pattern as magical interference." Her voice was quiet. If she, who had memorized 103,000 grimoires, said so, it wasn't mere intuition. But Touma, looking at Index's expression, paused before saying: "[gentle]It's probably nothing. The turbines are already starting to move again anyway." Outside the window, the turbine had resumed its slow rotation. White blades moved quietly through the night. As if nothing had happened. Index said nothing. She kept her eyes on the window, her lips pressed slightly together. Touma stood and went to the kitchen, pouring water into a cup. Index's unease hadn't faded. But she couldn't find the words to voice it again. As the night deepened, only silence remained in the room. At the same time, in the southwestern Eighteenth District of Academy City. The Visitor Management Bureau building was four stories above ground, the place where every person entering Academy City from outside had to pass through. Even at night, the windows remained staffed, white fluorescent light stretching down the hallway. Wilma Cross stood facing a middle-aged administrative official holding documents. Her silver-long hair reflected the fluorescent light. Her golden eyes were straight and true, despite the exhaustion they carried. She was slightly shorter than Touma, around 162 centimeters. Her clothing was simple and travel-worn, a large bag placed at her feet. "[serious]A temporary residence permit application, then. What is your purpose for staying?" "[serious]I wish to visit an acquaintance. There is someone named Kamijou Touma I need to meet." She answered matter-of-factly. But something was compressed beneath her voice—sadness, or perhaps strong resolve. Probably both. She had come alone from Europe. Three months ago, in the Belfast Conflict, she had lost her teacher. In the memo her teacher left behind—the Garcia Note—Touma's name appeared. That alone had guided her here. The examination proceeded methodically. The official typed while glancing at Wilma's face to confirm her identity. In the corner of the ceiling, a surveillance camera watched. That footage should have been recorded in the management bureau's system. But the same image was also being displayed on a monitor in some room elsewhere in Academy City. Multiple screens lined a dimly lit room where someone watched silently. Only the screen light vaguely illuminated that person's outline. Wilma Cross's entry into the city was already being tracked as a surveillance target. At that same moment, in the Seventh District. A figure stood on the rooftop of a building under reconstruction. Wind rustled the hem of their coat. They held binoculars to their eyes. Through the lenses: the window of Room 702 in the Comus Student Dormitory. The curtains leaked faint light, and two human silhouettes floated vaguely in the window—Kamijou Touma and Index. The person slowly lowered the binoculars. On the back of their hand, a twisted mark like flames was carved. A scar-like, contorted line forming a seal. Remnant Covenant—the brand of the underground organization formed by the remnants of the Belfast Conflict. The person's