Chapter 9: The One Who Changes the Reason for Tears?

And just like that, three days passed in the blink of an eye.

Personally, I wanted to move forward with the plan immediately, but we needed Index’s help. And she’d been running a fever and bedridden for the past three days, which meant we couldn’t make any progress.

By the way, I was the one who had to wipe her body during that time, but I didn’t feel anything particularly arousing about it. Sure, her body was childlike, but more than that—on the first day, I saw something outrageous. I guess that gave me some kind of resistance to the female body.

…Though calling it “resistance” might be off. It’s probably closer to PTSD.

---

Chapter One: I Don’t Know What ‘Predetermined Harmony’ Is
Theory_is_broken.
Episode 7: The One Who Changes the Reason for Tears?
Flere?

---

“Bath time, bath time, it’s baaath tiiime♪”

Night.

With washbasins in hand, Kamijou and I followed behind Index as she cheerfully skipped ahead toward the public bathhouse.

That was the first thing she wanted after three days of being sick in bed. Watching her back as she walked ahead, the two of us started talking.

“…You think we’re good? I haven’t seen any movement from the magicians yet, but still.”

“They could show up at any moment. Sooner or later, they’re bound to make a move.”

“Yeah... and for Reicia’s plan, we’re gonna need their cooperation, whether we like it or not—”

To Kamijou’s words, I silently nodded.

“Tohma, Tohma! Hurry up, come on!”

While we were talking, Index kept trotting farther ahead. Kamijou responded with a casual, “Yeah yeah, we’re coming.” And just as he did—

We both noticed something strange, almost simultaneously.

There’s no one around.

This area was near the heart of District 7. Even if it was past curfew, there should still have been some foot traffic. And yet, not a single soul in sight. Now that I think about it, we hadn’t passed a single person since we started walking with Index.

The next thought came to both of us at the same time.

“They’re here.”

“Indeed.”

“Looks like you’ve kept us waiting.”

Click—the sound of boots on pavement echoed behind us.

Snapping our heads around, we saw her—an East Asian woman with a black ponytail longer than my hair.

She had the hem of her T-shirt tied up to show her midriff, tight jeans with one leg slashed clean at the thigh, Western-style boots and belt, and a holster holding what looked like a Japanese katana—two meters long—strapped to her hip like a gun. She was, without a doubt, abnormal.

“A new magician?”

“Don’t worry. I’m the only one this time.”

The woman—Kanzaki Kaori—answered flatly, her voice devoid of emotion.

Of course, I knew who she was. I also knew her real personality, what kind of magic she used, and—most importantly—that there’s no way we could ever beat her, no matter how hard we tried.

“‘Divine Punishment of the Saint’... Huh. That’s a nice True Name.”

Kanzaki murmured, rolling the words around in her mouth. …Come to think of it, what does Divine Punishment of the Saint actually mean? I know it comes up later, but still. And isn’t Kamijou kind of embarrassed that it includes his own last name?

“…You.”

“My name is Kanzaki Kaori.”

Kanzaki placed a hand on the sword at her waist.

“I’d prefer not to give my other name, if possible.”

“…Other name, huh?”

“Yes. It’s what we call a Magic Name.”

Hearing that, Kamijou clenched his fist tightly.

He wasn’t going to back down. What we were after couldn’t be gained by retreating now.

“To be blunt—before I state my Magic Name, I want to take her into custody.”

“Before that, I’d like to talk. …Kanzaki-san.”

I stepped forward.

“…Are you saying you’re willing to hand her over?”

“Depending on the terms.”

At that moment, I saw some of the tension drop from Kanzaki’s shoulders.

From her point of view, it might have looked like we were scared of a magician attack and were willing to sell Index out—but even so, Kanzaki didn’t show any sign of contempt for us.

Well, maybe she just didn’t expect much to begin with.

“So then, what are these ‘terms’?”

“You could also call it a ‘condition.’”

And then, I dropped the bomb:

“You and your people must agree to help save Index-san. That’s our condition.”

Kanzaki’s breath stopped.

“Forming an alliance with Stiyl and the others before the deadline.”

That was the whole idea behind my plan. Nothing more.

“Just think about it for a moment.”

That’s what I told Kamijou that day, holding up my index finger.

“Index-san was lying there, slashed across the back. That much is undeniable. But if their only goal was ‘retrieval,’ then why didn’t they just take her the moment she went down?”

I already knew the answer.

It’s because Kanzaki never had any real intention of hurting Index. The only reason Index was injured at all was because Kanzaki accidentally harmed her—and that shook her to her core. So much that she ended up losing track of Index in the chaos.

Then, in Kanzaki’s emotionally drained state, Stiyl took over the retrieval mission.

Knowing that, I could present this foregone conclusion as if it were a brilliant deduction.

“Most likely... they don’t want to hurt Index-san. Not because their objective is simply retrieval. On an emotional level, they genuinely don’t want to hurt her. That’s why, when they accidentally injured her—someone who’s supposed to be protected by that so-called ‘Walking Church’—they were shaken to the core.”

“I see… If she’s really with the Church of England, then that logic checks out.”

“If that’s the case, then for them to hurt Index-san at all, there must be some unbearable reason behind it. And if so—then what if we involve Index-san herself and frame it as all of us working together to solve the problem?”

“………………Yesterday’s enemy might become today’s ally, huh…!”

If all we did was ask for their cooperation, that alone wouldn’t sway them.

If that was the extent of their resolve, Stiyl and Kanzaki never would’ve become Index’s enemies to begin with.

But what if—what if Index herself were to see through the fact that they’d turned against her for her own sake?

And then, what if she looked them in the eye and said, “Help me”?

……………………There’s no way they could refuse.

I know it’s a manipulative plan—one that plays on their conscience. It’s not noble.

But—

Being treated like enemies until the bitter end, and still choosing to save her—that’s certainly heroic. But from the perspective of a so-called “irresponsible outsider,” wouldn’t it be better if we could overcome all misunderstandings and reach a happy ending together instead?

…Not that I think something this simple could erase all the bad blood.

Even so, maybe—just maybe—it could serve as the first step to healing.

---

“What... are you saying...?”

“Judging by your reaction, looks like Reicia’s deduction was spot-on.”

Kamijou grinned defiantly as he spoke.

Now that he was fired up, Kamijou’s mouth wasn’t about to shut up anytime soon (probably).

“You guys aren’t some agents from the Magic Cabal targeting Index. You’re from the Church of England. Index just misunderstood.”

“………”

“The truth is, you’re desperate to save her, aren’t you? But you can’t, so you’re doing this instead—this ‘second-best’ solution—for her sake.”

“………………………”

“But you know, don’t you!? This isn’t right! No matter what your reasons are, having her crying, suffering, and running away all alone, desperately holding back her tears—that can’t be the right answer—!”

“…………Even if it’s to save her life?”

Kanzaki interrupted Kamijou with a voice that sounded like she was choking on blood.

…Yup. That shut Kamijou up.

“Yes. Your guess is exactly right. We are her colleagues—and her friends.”

“Then why—!”

“…We couldn’t take it anymore.”

Lowering her gaze with a bitter, self-deprecating smile, Kanzaki began to speak.

“That girl has 103,000 grimoires stored in her head. You know that, right? …Her brain’s storage capacity has been consumed—eighty-five percent of it—by those texts.”

“………………!!”

Both Kamijou and I reacted instantly.

Kamijou—shocked by an unexpected and terrible truth.

Me—elated, because it was the opportunity I’d been waiting for.

“In other words, she only has fifteen percent of her brain left for anything else. And yet, with just that fifteen percent, she operates at the same level as the rest of us. You could call her a true genius.”

“But still—why go this far!? Why are you chasing her down!?”

“‘Chasing her’ isn’t quite accurate either. Our goal isn’t that. Our goal is—to erase her memories.”

At that, Kamijou fell silent again.

He must have remembered. That Index had no memories from over a year ago.

And judging by his face, which flushed with sudden fury, he’d remembered it vividly.

“…If we don’t, she’ll die.”

Kanzaki cut him off before he could shout again.

“Her brain has only fifteen percent of its capacity left. And yet, thanks to her perfect memory, she retains everything, even trivial details like the number of leaves on a tree or empty cans on the street. Because of that, if we don’t wipe her memory once every year, Index will die.”

“…………”

“We’ve stayed by her side many times. Even knowing she would forget, we still tried to give her a happy year. …But in the end, all that awaited us was the hell of another goodbye. We realized something… The more we tried to make her happy, the more unbearable the pain became at the end.”

“………………So now, you’re trying to make her suffer all year long, just to make the final goodbye a little less painful…? Is that what you’re saying…?”

“…Yes.”

“Don’t give me that crap!! That’s just your own selfish delusion!! If you can look at her—at the way she lives—and seriously say ‘the happier she is, the worse it ends,’ then you’re the biggest fool alive!! You know better than anyone else that Index—that she—isn’t the kind of girl who’d ever accept something so damn hollow!!!”

“…!!”

“Kamijou-san, I believe that’s quite enough,” I said, stepping in.

Judging it to be a good stopping point, I cut into the conversation.

This was something only those who had failed—like Kanzaki and the others—could truly understand. To someone like Kamijou, who hadn’t failed yet, it would just be a pointless argument that goes nowhere.

More importantly, I’d already heard all the information I needed for the "shortcut."

As I cut her off, Kanzaki seemed to regain her composure, and with a calm expression, she spoke.

“Do you understand the situation now? If you're truly trying to save her, then I’m acting for no reason other than to save her as well. If you're willing to cooperate, then hand her over to me.”

“That won’t be possible.”

I denied her calmly, almost coolly.

“In that case—”

“Because the story about her only having one year left with fifteen percent remaining capacity is a complete lie.”

This time, both Kamijou and Kanzaki froze in shock.

“Wha... Just because I’m not well-versed in science, you thought you could make something up and brush me aside—”

“That’s not it. …Think about it for a moment. This is just basic math. Let’s assume that 103,000 grimoires make up eighty-five percent of Index’s brain capacity—”

The only reason I could reach this conclusion was because I already knew how this story ended, as a narrative.

Even if I had Reicia-chan’s knowledge, without the memories from my past life, I probably wouldn’t have noticed this truth so quickly.

Because things like magic exist, we start to believe that anything could be true. That mindset makes it hard to link the scientific knowledge we rely on in our daily lives with the reality in front of us.

So really, it’s all thanks to Kamijou.

That version of him, in a world where I wasn’t by his side, desperately thought it through to the very end—and found the right answer. And now that answer, spoken through my mouth, is laying the groundwork for a better future.

“If she loses fifteen percent in just one year, then by that math, she would’ve died at five or six years old without anyone doing a thing.”

A soft ah escaped someone’s lips—but whose, I couldn’t say.

If someone truly had such a trait, it would be recognized as a serious, incurable disease. It would be known far and wide. The fact that it isn’t means—well, exactly what you’d expect.

“Besides, the human brain naturally has enough capacity to store about 140 years’ worth of data. Even with perfect memory retention, there’s no way she’d die from her brain being overfilled.”

“B-But! Inside her head are grimoires! That’s not something you can measure with normal logic—!”

“Then are those grimoire memories stored in some kind of special way?”

“………………!!!”

Of course they’re not.

Reading grimoires falls under the category of ordinary behavior—neither magical nor scientific. Maybe she uses some religious barriers for protection or the like, but even so, that wouldn’t cause an abnormal strain on her brain capacity. And Kanzaki, being a professional, knows that better than anyone.

“Besides, memories aren’t all stored in one big clump. There’s semantic memory, which stores language and knowledge. Procedural memory, which handles habits and motor skills. And episodic memory, which contains personal experiences. Each type is stored in a different region.”

“N-No way, then...”

“Yes. Even if she has 103,000 books in her head, that’s just semantic memory. It doesn’t endanger her life, and it absolutely does not interfere with her episodic memory. That’s something brain science clearly, unequivocally proves.”

Kanzaki appeared to be chewing over the truth I’d laid out.

Though perhaps "chewing" isn’t even the right word—this wasn’t something that could be easily swallowed in the first place.

“No... but! Index has suffered so many times already! Even if what you’re saying is scientifically sound, the fact remains—she’s been suffering all this time—!”

“Maybe that’s because your bosses did something to her, huh?”

This time, Kanzaki's voice completely fell silent.

“Think about it. We're talking about a group that’s totally fine forcing the poison of grimoires onto a little girl, right? A group that can supposedly create ‘Magic Gods’ capable of reshaping the world however they want if they use things right. …And you seriously think they didn’t put any kind of collar on Index?”

“……………………Ah,”

Kanzaki's hand dropped away from the katana at her waist.

And then, as if all her strength had drained out, she sank to her knees on the ground.

Far off in the sky, a great blaze roared, but she didn’t have the mental space to notice, let alone care.

“No… No way… Then all this time, what have I… what have we even been doing…?”

That wasn’t the voice of the sharp, composed magician who had stood against us all this time.

It was the voice of a girl who had been thinking only of her friend, and had just now broken under the weight of deep, overwhelming grief.

Tears began to fall from Kanzaki’s expressionless eyes—tears of despair.

What they’d done had never been about saving Index. They’d been placed on a prearranged track, convinced themselves they were trying, despaired when it went wrong—and ended up hurting the very friend they’d meant to protect.

Maybe she was thinking that she’d just been a pitiful clown, struggling all by herself in a one-sided performance.

And maybe I’m the one who made her think that.

“…Don’t go acting like it’s all over.”

At some point, Kamijou had stepped in front of Kanzaki.

Then, grabbing the hand she had planted on the ground, he yanked her to her feet with his right hand, almost rough in how forceful he was.

Their faces were so close they could’ve touched. And from that distance, Kamijou said—

“Are. You. Really. Fine. With. Ending. It. Like. This?”

…Good grief.

In the end, it was Kamijou who would take it from here.

Well, not that I mind. My whole line of reasoning was built off an idea that originally came from him, after all. If he’s the one who delivers it, that actually sits better with me.

“You’re really okay with being the pathetic idiot who got tricked by some evil boss and spent all this time chasing after her dearest friend for nothing? That’s what I’m asking.”

“…But, still… even if we know the cause now, what can we do about it!? There were times when we searched for ways to save Index! For a whole year, we kept looking! Even Stiyl created entirely new rune symbols! And still, we couldn’t find anything! The collar the Church put on Index is that powerful!! We couldn’t break it no matter what we tried!! And there’s no way you, from the science side, could do anything about it either! That’s just how it is! That’s how the world works! This system’s designed so that no one can ever actually get what they truly want—!”

Before she could finish, Kamijou raised a finger and gently tapped Kanzaki’s forehead.

She flinched, startled, and her words cut off mid-sentence.

And then, Kamijou said,

“Did you already forget? What my right hand kills?”

Tears fell from Kanzaki’s eyes once more.

But this time, they weren’t tears of sorrow.

No—the reason behind her tears had changed.

…It’s kind of a certain mercenary’s trademark line, but I’ll borrow it just this once.

“A world where you can never get what you really want? …I’ll destroy that ridiculous illusion, down to the very last scrap.”