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... o Kamijou Touma could easily be called a false start.
That was oftentimes how reality worked.
“Kyah!?”
“S-sorry!!”
The loud cries of cicadas and the great heat of midsummer filled a completely ordinary intersection in a completely ordinary district.
When a pointy-haired boy ran against the flow of people and crashed into Shokuhou Misaki, a short and slender girl who was still developing, the contents of their bags audibly scattered all over the asphalt. He ...
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