---
Index sat on the edge of the futon, knees drawn up to her chest, fingers clutching the corner of her shredded robe like it could anchor her.
The room had gone quiet. Too quiet.
Touma stood a few steps away, his face pale, hands limp at his sides.
Kazuki watched from the doorway. Not interfering. Just watching.
The air felt heavy.
Like truth had finally shown up—and it wasn't kind.
"I'm not supposed to stay with people," Index said softly, almost like she was reciting something from a manual. "They always end up asking questions."
Neither boy spoke.
She looked down.
"I can only store up to 85% of my brain's capacity. The other 15% is reserved for daily function—walking, talking, breathing... that stuff."
"So what happens when you reach the limit?" Touma asked, his voice tight.
Index smiled.
Not the happy kind.
The kind you wear when it's too late to cry.
"They reset me."
Touma's breath caught.
Kazuki shifted slightly. His brain ran the math before she even finished.
If she held 103,000 magical texts, and none could be deleted…
Then the only thing they could erase—
"Your memories," Kazuki said quietly.
She nodded.
"Every year. If I make it that far."
Touma sat down heavily beside her, disbelief cracking through every muscle in his face.
"You're telling me they wipe your memories? Like... all of them?"
"It's the only way to keep the Index functioning." She laughed weakly. "I'm not a person. I'm a tool. A storage unit in a nun's skin."
Kazuki stayed where he was. He didn't know how to comfort her. He barely knew how to process it himself.
She looked at Touma.
"That's why I try not to stay with anyone too long. It hurts less that way."
Touma's jaw clenched. "That's not—No. That's wrong. You're still a person. No matter what they say."
Index didn't respond.
She just looked tired.
So, so tired.
---
A few minutes passed in silence.
Eventually, Index fell asleep, curled into the blankets like she was trying to hide from her own thoughts.
Touma stood, ran a hand through his hair, and walked to the kitchen.
Kazuki followed.
The sink was empty. The pantry was not.
Because the pantry was gone.
Touma opened the cabinet.
Closed it.
Opened it again, like it might change the second time.
"There's nothing left."
Kazuki glanced over. "She ate five days' worth of food."
"I noticed."
Touma grabbed his wallet with the grim determination of a man about to be financially assassinated.
"Come on. Grocery run."
---
The sun was starting to dip when they left the apartment, streets glowing gold as they walked side-by-side.
Kazuki adjusted the reusable shopping bag over his shoulder. "You okay?"
Touma exhaled hard.
"No. Not really."
"You didn't look okay."
"How do you even deal with something like that? A person whose whole life gets wiped like a whiteboard?"
Kazuki was quiet for a moment.
Then said, "You don't deal with it. You fight the system that does it."
Touma blinked at him.
Kazuki didn't say it with any fire or edge. Just fact.
Just a simple line of logic his mind couldn't shake.
"You think I can fight a church?" Touma asked.
"I think you've already started."
They stopped at a red light. The crowd moved around them.
Touma looked up at the darkening sky. "I don't want her to lose her memories."
Kazuki nodded. "Then don't let her."
Touma looked at him, a little surprised.
Then laughed, just a short breath of disbelief.
"You say that like it's easy."
"It's not. But if anyone can defy divine bureaucracy, it's probably the guy with a miracle-erasing hand"
"...Thanks?"
They made it to the store and grabbed the essentials, rice, eggs, toast, milk, curry packs. Kazuki snagged a few apples. Touma threw in some strawberry jam with a muttered, "She'll ask."
At the checkout, the total made Touma flinch.
Kazuki handed over a few coins without comment.
Touma didn't argue.
---
By the time they got home, Index was still asleep, her tiny form curled under the blanket like a paperweight on a fragile story.
Kazuki watched her for a second.
Then glanced at Touma.
"If she's going to stay… she deserves more than survival."
Touma nodded. "Yeah."
"She deserves memory."
---