---
The girl ate like she hadn't seen food since the invention of fire.
In less than twenty minutes, she had devoured six slices of toast, two boiled eggs, one container of strawberry yogurt, and most of Touma's secret stash of jam which Kazuki didn't even know existed until now.
"You sure she's not a vacuum cleaner?" Touma whispered.
Kazuki leaned on the counter, watching as Index attempted to spoon peanut butter directly into her mouth.
"If she is, she's an efficient one."
Index licked the spoon, then sat back with a happy sigh. Her oversized white robes bunched around her like bedsheets.
"You're very kind," she said, addressing Touma. "Most people would think I'm crazy and chase me away."
Touma scratched his cheek, clearly unsure how to respond. "Well, you did show up on our third-floor balcony."
"I fell from a clothesline," Index said, as if that explained anything.
"How did you get to the clothesline?"
"...Divine intervention."
Touma gave Kazuki a look.
Kazuki gave one back. Don't ask.
---
Index talked fast, and a lot.
She went on about grimoires, magical churches, pursuers, and something about the Anglican Church using her as a living library.
Touma looked lost by paragraph two.
Kazuki listened silently, eyes focused, processing every word. Not necessarily believing it, but filing it away. Something about the way she spoke—like someone who didn't know how to lie, even if she wanted to.
She wasn't making it up.
That's what unsettled him.
She believed it all.
And somewhere inside, something in him did too.
---
It hit him about halfway through her rant about spirit-breaking spells and rune anchors.
That strange pressure.
The same sensation he got when he first stepped into Academy City.
Except now it was stronger.
Localized.
Her.
His brain began interpreting it in real-time.
Her body gave off no electromagnetic fluctuations like an esper.
No AIM field.
No sign of a personal reality.
Instead, there was a layered distortion—a subtle rhythm that didn't belong to science.
Kazuki narrowed his eyes.
It wasn't noise. It was something cleaner. Tighter. Like something being contained.
A presence with defined, non-physical boundaries.
This isn't science.
This is something else.
He didn't say anything.
But he stored it.
Filed it in a mental cabinet labeled "Definitely Not Normal."
---
Meanwhile, Touma had collapsed into a beanbag chair, staring at Index like she'd recited a thesis on Martian agriculture.
"So you're saying… you have 103,000 magical books in your head?"
"Yup!"
"And they're dangerous?"
"Extremely!"
"And you're being hunted by people who want them?"
"Correct!"
Touma put his hands over his face. "...Why is my life like this."
Kazuki tossed him a cold bottle of barley tea.
"You fed a strange girl. That was your first mistake."
"She looked like a damp bird."
"Now she's a magical information bomb."
Index blinked between them, chewing the last corner of toast.
"You two are very rude."
"We're very honest," Kazuki said.
She puffed her cheeks. "I liked it better when you were giving me food."
---
Later that evening, as the sun dipped low and Index took over the futon with the authority of someone who had always lived there, Kazuki stood on the balcony.
The city glowed in structured, orderly lines.
Science in motion.
Controlled, measured, predictable.
But the girl now snoring on their floor?
She didn't fit.
Not into the system.
Not into this city.
Not into the laws Kazuki had been unconsciously tracking since the day he arrived.
And that made his skin crawl.
"Touma," Kazuki said quietly, still watching the horizon, "something's coming."
Touma, halfway through folding laundry, didn't even look up.
"Yeah. I know."
They didn't say anything else.
Didn't need to.
The air had shifted.
Magic was real.
And now, it was inside their apartment—eating jam.
—