To Aru Majutsu no Index part 2

Vol 15 Prologue: The Finest Lead Bullet for You, My Dear. Management.

There were blind spots.

For example, the cleaning room of a large department store.

The store's employees thought a contract crew used the room, while the contractors believed the employees utilized it. Visitors to the store wouldn't enter a place like that, so there weren't any surveillance cameras inside. Nobody paid any attention to it. As a result, you were left with a room everyone knew about but nobody had ever entered, let alone known where to find its key.

Normally, its iron door was kept locked at all times.

But today was different.

Using a key he'd received in advance, Tsuchimikado Motoharu opened the door in the back of the store. The room was stylishly decorated, resembling a bar. Before him was a sofa large enough to seat at least ten people, with an incongruously small table beside it. At the back of the room, there was a counter. This was clearly a different world than the one outside the door.

A man noticed Tsuchimikado enter and cheerfully said, "Come on in."

A college-aged man, who was shorter than Tsuchimikado, stood behind the bar. He appeared somewhat comical, wearing a brand-name suit but no necktie, and he had a few shirt buttons undone to show off his chest.

The man, with four or five cell phones hanging from his neck, had a nickname: Management.

As he put an elbow on the counter, he said, "Ah, my bad. I do things casually because this is the service industry. Makes it easier for people to talk to me, y'know? I can stop if you like."

"No, you're fine," said Tsuchimikado, causing the man to grin.

Tsuchimikado threw his key to Management, and he caught it with one hand. Despite what he'd said, once this job was over, the man would take all the furniture and move somewhere else.

"Now then, what might you be after today? I've got a great deal on the lock pickers known as Sensor Breakers—cream of the crop, I might add. If you're here for something a little more risqué, I have a few money launderers. We're running low, though, after the new regulations from that September 30 incident. Other than that, it's what you'd expect."

Some robberies and larcenies took more than one person. When they did, they'd assign roles such as driver, lock picker, burglar, and money launderer, but some ran into a problem where they didn't have enough people. Management would supply the people and profit off the finder's fee.

"I have to say," remarked the man, "I mostly get emails and texts these days. Don't have many coming here personally like you."

"Should I not have come?"

"Oh, no, you're fine. It's not much risk. Oh, right—do you want something to drink?"

Tsuchimikado glanced at the shelves behind the counter, saw the thick cans lined up on them, and frowned slightly.

"Not a fan of drinking paint thinner."

"You misunderstand. Those are cleaners for getting rid of oil-based ink. Gotta have 'em in a business like this. The alcohol's over there, in the fridge. Some good stuff in there, have to say."

"Either way, I'll pass."

Despite the refusal, Management's face remained mostly the same. "Too tense to get drunk? Suppose that's how it is before a job. Let's get down to business, then. What are you looking for?"

"Sorry, that actually isn't why I'm here."

"Hmm?"

Management looked at him dubiously.

Without skipping a beat, Tsuchimikado said, "I'm not a customer. I'm the guy who's bringing you in."

For just a moment, Management gave him a blank stare.

But when he saw Tsuchimikado pull a handgun from his belt, he quickly dove behind the counter.

Tsuchimikado pulled the trigger anyway.

A series of gunshots followed. A hole appeared in one of the cans of thinner, immediately filling Management's nose with a terrible stench.

(Bastard...!)

The man, still hidden, reached for a bulletproof jacket and a submachine gun underneath the counter.

He popped a magazine into the gun, then cocked it to load the first bullet, when suddenly the enemy gunshots stopped. Management slowly looked around the edge of the counter to check.

(Out of ammo?)

Management, now covered in thinner, thought that—but a moment later, he got a different answer.

The scrape of an oil lighter.

"!?"

Management's throat dried up.

Before he could say anything, Tsuchimikado threw the lit lighter behind the counter.

He had no time to think. Management flung the jacket and gun aside, then jumped out from behind the counter to get away from the chemicals.

The lighter dropped into the puddle of paint thinner, and an explosive flame hurled up.

Management had barely escaped its range, but now, unarmed, he noticed the gun pointed at him.

He raised his hands and cried, "Wait, wait, wait! Okay, okay, I won't resist—"

Tsuchimikado pulled the trigger anyway.

After he heard the sound of the gun discharging, Management looked at his side in surprise to find a dark-red hole.

"Wh-why, you...I said I wouldn't..."

Before he could finish whatever he was saying, he collapsed to the floor.

Tsuchimikado, expression mostly unchanged, made sure Management was at least breathing, then took out his cell phone.

He dialed a number in his contacts, and when someone picked up, he said simply, "Collection."

The voice on the other end of the phone said something.

Tsuchimikado continued, "Look for where this guy lives. We've got a lot to investigate. Notify our ancillary. Actually, wait. We don't need an ambulance, just a patrol wagon. I'll snoop around using his registered address, but I want Accelerator to—He's not around?"

He clicked his tongue in frustration.

"Right. He's over there at the moment. No choice, then. Unabara, you go out. Have Musujime switch to backup. Call you later."

He hung up.

Tsuchimikado Motoharu, Accelerator, Unabara Mitsuki, and Musujime Awaki.

The four together were simply called Group.

A small team, working in society's shadows to protect its light.