A Certain Magical Index: The Primal Spirit Descends to My Side

The light of the magic circle gradually dimmed, and the invisible wind in the room, carrying a healing power, slowly subsided and eventually dissipated into the air, leaving only a faint scent, similar to grass after rain.

On the low table, the simple model representing the "temple" had lost its luster, and two toy figures lay quietly, their postures subtly synchronized with the two real people in the room.

Index lay on her side on the tatami mat. Her breathing was still faint, but much more steady, no longer the precarious feeling of it about to stop. The gruesome gash on her back had healed, leaving only a pale pink patch of new flesh and blood clots that had dried in the hot air and seeped from the surrounding skin.

A sliver of color returned to her pale face, and her long, silver eyelashes trembled gently with her breath, as if she had fallen into a deep slumber.

Tsukuyomi Komoe knelt to the side, her hands still in the same position as when she performed the spell, trembling slightly. She looked at Index's sleeping face, then looked down at her own hands and pajamas, which were stained with a little blood. Her short pink hair was a little messy, and her childlike face was filled with shock and disbelief.

"Is it... over?" Tsukuyomi Komoe murmured to herself, her voice unusually clear in the suddenly quiet room. She carefully reached out and touched Index's forehead with her fingertips. Feeling the warm touch, she let out a long, complete sigh of relief, her whole body almost collapsing.

"Magic...it really exists..." she murmured absentmindedly, her gaze sweeping over the ordinary objects on the low table with a complex mix of emotions.

Memory cards, pen refill boxes, empty chocolate boxes, library books, and dolls. These ubiquitous items, combined with incomprehensible incantations and incomprehensible "imagination," accomplished a healing process that transcended modern medicine.

As a teacher in Academy City, she was well aware of the power of science and had witnessed countless miracles created by superpowers, but the power she was facing, rooted in a completely different system and almost like a "ritual" and "faith," still deeply shocked her.

"However..." Teacher Xiaomeng wiped the sweat from her forehead, then looked at Index's monastic robe, which was barely held in place with safety pins and was now soaked with blood and sweat, as well as the bloodstains on the floor of the room. "The wounds have healed, but this robe and this place... still need to be cleaned up. And, after this child wakes up, we need to ask her properly what exactly happened..."

She sighed and began to think about how to clean up the scene and Index's clothes. Suddenly, an idea struck her, and she opened the cardboard box she had sealed with tape.

Meanwhile, on the streets at night.

Touma Kamijou was running aimlessly, his heart pounding in his chest, not from exhaustion, but from anxiety, helplessness, and self-loathing. He gripped his right hand, the one known as "Imagine Breaker."

This hand can erase supernatural powers, but it can't even heal the pain of a young girl. In fact, because of its existence, it has to leave the room that might need it.

"Damn it! Bastard...!" he muttered under his breath, unsure whether he was cursing the magician chasing Index or his own incompetence. The streetlights stretched and shortened his shadow; the street was deserted, with only the echoes of his footsteps and heavy breathing.

Just as he turned a street corner, his steps slowing slightly due to exhaustion and a troubled mind, a figure silently appeared beside him and walked alongside him.

Kamijou was startled and turned his head sharply.

It was that gray-haired girl, whom he had temporarily called "White-Haired Little Sister" since he took her in. She should have been quietly staying at her teacher's house at the moment.

She was still wearing that slightly oversized casual clothes, her long gray hair swaying gently in the night breeze, her gray eyes calmly watching him, as if she had been by his side from the very beginning.

"You... what are you doing here?!" Touma Kamijou stopped in his tracks, staring at her in astonishment. "Didn't I tell you to stay at the teacher's house? Index, she..."

"Index is asleep." The girl's voice was calm and emotionless. "Teacher Xiaomeng is taking care of her."

Kamijou froze, scrutinizing her closely. There were no signs of a hasty chase on her; her breathing was steady, and even her clothes were perfectly neat. How had she found him? And when had she caught up with him? This silent and stealthy appearance reminded him once again that this girl was no ordinary person.

"Why...are you following me?" Kamijou's voice was weary and irritated. He wasn't in the mood to deal with another mystery right now.

The girl didn't answer directly, but continued walking beside him, keeping pace with him. After a few steps, she spoke, her voice very soft: "You're angry. Angry at yourself."

Kamijou was speechless. Having his feelings so bluntly exposed made him feel somewhat embarrassed. He turned his face away and continued walking, slowing his pace.

"I..." He opened his mouth, but finally let out a bitter laugh, "I'm just a hypocrite."

The word slipped out of my mouth, carrying a heavy sense of self-deprecation.

"I say I want to protect others, but I can't even stay by their side. Because of this right hand, even the most basic companionship and protection seem ridiculous. When Index was injured, I could only run away and find someone else to help me... no, even finding someone else to help me might fail because of my presence. What is my so-called 'protection'? It's just an excuse for self-satisfaction."

He remembered Index's parting words, "Will you accompany me to the depths of hell?", the image of her lying in a pool of blood, and his own powerlessness as he could only turn and leave. Hypocrisy—that word was like a thorn stuck in his heart.

The gray-haired girl listened quietly without interrupting. Only after Kamijou finished speaking and fell silent did she speak again.

"What is hypocrisy?" she asked, her gray eyes filled with pure confusion, as if she were trying to understand a completely new concept.

Kamijou paused, not expecting her to ask that. "It's... pretending to be kind, but not actually thinking that way, or being unable to do it, just to make yourself look like a good person."

"I don't understand." The girl thought for a moment, then shook her head. "You gave Index food. You wanted to save her. You're sad now. Is all of this fake?"

"I..." Kamijou was stumped. His actions and emotions were certainly genuine, but...

"You said you left the room," the girl continued in her straightforward manner, "because your hand might disrupt the 'treatment.' You left so that the 'treatment' could succeed. You left because you wanted to save her."

She stopped, turned around, and looked directly at Touma Kamijou. The light from the streetlamp fell on her gray hair and serene eyes.

"If you stay there, the 'treatment' will fail, and Index will die. If you leave, the 'treatment' might succeed, and Index can live." Her logic was simple to the point of being cruel, yet it hit the nail on the head: "You chose to let her live. Is that hypocrisy?"

Touma Kamijou stared at her, bewildered. The girl's words contained no words of comfort, only the facts she had witnessed. But it was precisely this raw truth that, like a bucket of cold water, jolted him awake from his self-loathing.

Yes, he left not out of cowardice or to escape, but because it was the best option he could make for Index's survival under the circumstances. His right hand was a double-edged sword; it could eliminate threats, but it could also destroy hope. Isn't recognizing this and acting accordingly a responsible form of "protection," even if it comes with pain and a sense of powerlessness?

"I..." Kamijou's voice was a little hoarse, "I just feel that true 'good' or 'protection' should be able to do more and better, instead of being like me, always caught in a dilemma, always forced to make these... painful choices."

"A dilemma?" The girl tilted her head. "You chose the side that you could see was better for Index."

She paused, as if recalling something. "Index said you're her friend. A friend will do what they can when the other needs them. You did."

She reached out and gently pointed in the direction they had come from, towards Tsukuyomi Komoe's apartment.

"Now, she needs rest and someone to confirm that she is really safe. Teacher Xiaomeng is taking care of her alone. You, her 'friend,' should be there."

There were no lengthy words of comfort, no empty encouragement. Just a simple statement of cause and effect, and a clear direction.

Touma Kamijou looked at the girl's calm face, then at the direction she was pointing. The knot of self-doubt in his chest seemed to have been loosened by this brief exchange. Hypocrisy? Perhaps. His actions could never be perfect; they were always accompanied by flaws and regrets.

However, if one gives up even trying to protect or help others out of fear of being called hypocritical, that is true hypocrisy and cowardice.

Index is alive, and her wounds have healed. This is the most important fact right now. And he, Touma Kamijou, as the one who was dragged into all of this by her and who promised to protect her, should indeed return to her side, confirm her safety, and face whatever comes next.

"..." Kamijou took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs and clearing his chaotic thoughts. He clenched his right fist, then relaxed it.

"You're right, thank you..."

He didn't press her about why she understood these things so clearly, nor did he ask how she found herself. At that moment, those questions were unimportant.

"Let's go back," he said to himself, turning and walking towards the apartment. The gray-haired girl nodded and silently followed, still walking beside him.

Their shadows intertwined again under the streetlights, steadily making their way back to the old apartment building, to the place where they were needed. The Academy City remained quiet at night, but the storm in the boy's heart had temporarily subsided, transforming into an even more resolute determination.