Overwhelmed by her gaze, they stumbled back."There's a Judgment psychometer nearby who can't be lied to. Want to cry to them? After you ganged up to rob someone and tried to intimidate a lone girl?"
Her emphasis on "girl" and "can't be lied to" made it clear: they were out of moves.
She'd just dislocated a jaw with ease, yet wielded her femininity like a weapon. This was no ordinary girl.
"One more time: give back what you stole."
Her tone brooked no defiance.
The three, who'd planned to overpower her, faltered. The extortionist tossed the wallet back, stuffed with the "borrowed" cash, and fled with the lookout, leaving their jaw-dislocated friend behind.
She let them go without a chase.
"Judgment can handle the rest. With one caught red-handed, no lawyer can save them. In Academy City, the right to remain silent doesn't exist. Theft and extortion can't be erased."
She struck the abandoned thug once more, resetting his jaw with a light tap before turning to me.
My glasses had been kicked off during the robbery, so she was just a blur. Without a word of comfort, she handed me my wallet and coolly checked my bruises and cuts.
When she tried to wipe the blood from my nose with her handkerchief, I resisted, but my battered body was no match for her firm grip.
"Leave me alone," I muttered, but she ignored me.
A frog-patterned bandage was slapped onto my split lip. She picked up my glasses from the ground, but the frame was loose, wobbling from the impact.
Damn it, the screw's shot. This junk's useless now.
I didn't carry a tiny screwdriver, and glasses that kept slipping were a liability. With my blurry vision, even walking was a challenge without them.
The humiliation was unbearable. I'd rather not have been saved if it meant looking this pathetic.
"Lend them to me."
She held out her hand, her tone soft but commanding, devoid of mockery. I tossed the glasses to her, figuring they were trash anyway.
"Keep it a secret. This kind of thing is technically against the rules at my school."
From her bag, she pulled out a bottle of nail polish. She applied a dab to the screw, blew on it to dry, and handed the glasses back.
"Try them on."
Skeptical but oddly unable to resist her voice, I slipped them on.
My eyes widened.
The screw held firm.
For the first time, my surly scowl softened in surprise. She gave a small smile.
"It's just a temporary fix. It'll hold for half a day, but the hinge won't fold. Hot water will loosen it."
She stood up.
In my newly cleared vision, I saw her.
Long, glossy black hair. Piercing, resolute eyes. A face so radiant it could blind a mole like me, yet somehow approachable. Gentle, graceful, with a hint of childlike innocence.
My chest tightened, tears welling up. I heard myself sob.
"Stay still for five minutes until the medicine kicks in," she said calmly. "After that, you'll be able to stand on your own."
I couldn't respond, just stared at her, transfixed, as if trying to burn her image into my eyes. Her entire being glowed faintly, like a soft, ethereal light.
In that dreamlike moment, I realized my heart was caught between awe and melancholy.
The next day, I gained "power."
On the Way
June brought the chaos of final exams and ability assessments.
Academics aside, Touma had long given up on his abilities. In Academy City, scholarship amounts fluctuated based on ability strength, unlike his fixed Level 0 status.
Most students in his average high school were cramming, but slacking as a Level 0 could drag down the class average, earning him scoldings from Fukiyose or tearful pleas from Komoe-sensei, who'd try to help with her "See-Through Milky-kun" one-on-one sessions.
It was mentally exhausting.
Though it was only June, the summer solstice made it feel like midsummer, with long, sweltering days.
Experience taught Touma that nighttime brought dangerous levels of misfortune.
After-school remedial classes meant the city was still bright when he left, a blessing for a guy like him who shopped for groceries on his way home.
"Maybe I'll hit that new supermarket in the shopping district. They're having an opening sale," he mused, housewife-like, and headed toward the station.
To avoid the crowded student routes, he took a back alley.
Lined with yakitori and oden stalls not yet open for the evening, it was dirtier than the main streets, with only stray cats, crows, or the occasional delinquent loitering.
Ignoring their glares, Touma found these shortcuts handy.
Unlucky as he was, he'd once stepped on a golden retriever's tail and gotten bitten, but today, no such trouble.
"Lucky," he yawned, trudging on.
A shadow flickered in his teary, yawning vision.
At the alley's intersection, a figure darted out, blocking his path.
A sharp, piercing gaze stopped him cold.
Bracing for a rough Skill-Out attack, he shifted his weight to flee but paused.
It was a girl, younger than him, in a familiar middle school uniform—white shirt, summer sweater.
About the same height as someone close to him, but with brown hair, not black.
Her athletic, balanced frame radiated a bright, lively aura, unlike the delinquents who haunted these alleys.
Her striking features naturally drew attention, exuding charisma.
And to Kamijou Touma, she seemed vaguely familiar, like a name stuck on the tip of his tongue.
(Hmm… is she here for me?)
To confirm, he glanced back—nothing, no one.
If she just wanted to pass, she wouldn't be standing there.
That left one possibility: she was here for him.
What did she want?
The situation reeked of trouble, but running without a word felt rude.
Her type would likely escalate if ignored. Resigned, he stood his ground.
The girl smirked, muttering, "Not running? Got some guts," before glaring at him.
"Long time no see. I finally found you, you jerk."
Her greeting was less a polite salutation and more a declaration of war.