On the very first day after transmigrating, Kurokami Gen was baptized by the Railgun.
He felt the current surge through his entire body—tingling, numb, humming beneath his skin.
It had been a long time since he'd felt anything like that.
There had been a similar incident once.
As a child, he'd been curious about the electrical outlet at home. He had stupidly stuck his finger inside. Even when the current charred his skin black, he hadn't let go. It wasn't until his parents rushed in that his life was saved.
Years later, he finally understood the tears in their eyes.
That was when he first realized what kind of freak he was—someone without pain. From then on, he learned how to protect himself in a hollow, numb world devoid of sensation.
"Electricity was just a childhood toy of mine."
When the black-haired young man opened his eyes, the delinquents who had surrounded him were already sprawled across the ground.
Thud—
They convulsed like frogs struck by lightning, unable even to groan.
Instinctively, Gen raised a hand, half-expecting to find himself reduced to charcoal. But to his astonishment, the scorched sensation was already fading. The affected areas were restoring themselves at visible speed.
Did the Railgun's electricity just open up my meridians and awaken something?
No… that's not it.
Think carefully.
There was something new in his mind.
From the very beginning, the usage of [Heal] had been etched deep into the transmigrator's consciousness.
I was chosen by this world to be the "Healer Hero."
Even if the world of Toaru didn't technically have a "Hero" class.
"You can withstand my electricity too?"
Mikoto Misaka looked genuinely surprised at the only person still standing.
"No… it looks like automatic regeneration? A physical restoration-type esper? That shouldn't cancel out electric current. Seriously… in one night, several people immune to my electricity just pop up out of nowhere."
A living 100,000-volt Pikachu—no, the Railgun herself.
Seeing an anime character alive and breathing stirred something in Gen's chest.
When he tried to respond, a cruel truth struck him.
I can't understand her.
"Hey! Why are you ignoring me? Is that how you treat someone who just saved your life?"
The chestnut-haired girl's expression darkened in irritation.
In a galgame, this would be the moment the affection meter drops.
Gen gave a helpless smile. "I… don't understand Japanese…"
"Chinese?" she muttered. "A student from mainland China?"
In international Academy City, blond and blue-eyed foreigners weren't rare. Visitors from the mysterious East, however, were far less common.
Misaka forced a polite smile and said, in heavily accented Mandarin, "Ni~ hao~."
An elite of Tokiwadai, accustomed to university-level coursework and brain development programs, she displayed astonishing linguistic aptitude—fluent in English, French, Russian, Italian, and more.
But Chinese?
Not her forte.
Gen racked his brain and answered awkwardly:
"Ko… konnichiwa…"
That was the extent of his lifetime Japanese knowledge.
She must have held back.
With a Level 5's control, she could have precisely avoided him entirely. Instead, she'd allowed a bit of "friendly fire."
Gen scratched his head. Static residue had turned his hair into a frizzed explosion. Strands stuck straight up like an electrocuted hedgehog.
A certain spiky-haired protagonist would feel validated.
So that's why anime hair never changes shape.
The arcs of electricity visible to the naked eye looked like terrifying high-voltage discharges, yet they remained within survivable human limits.
The Railgun subdued delinquents with taser-level output—just enough to incapacitate without causing lasting harm.
She was too kind.
"Onee-sama!"
Another brown-haired girl appeared out of nowhere and threw herself into Misaka's arms, voice dripping with saccharine affection.
That, at least, Gen understood.
Same Tokiwadai uniform. Twin drills. Naturally curly hair.
Level 4 Teleporter—Kuroko Shirai.
Written "Kuroko." Read: pervert.
"As Tokiwadai's Electromaster Princess, wandering around after school is unacceptable, you know~"
"That's not true!" Misaka protested. "I was helping someone. A Chinese student was being bullied—"
"That's Judgment's job. As a civilian, Onee-sama must not abuse her power!"
The green armband on Kuroko's shoulder marked her as a member of Judgment. Even facing the third-ranked Level 5, she showed no fear, hands on hips in full lecturing mode.
"It was only attempted extortion. Even if arrested, they'd just receive a warning and be released… though I'd love to detain them. Still, curfew is approaching."
Her speech ended in that distinctive "~desu no," aristocratic flair intact.
"Ah! The dorm supervisor—!"
At the thought of Tokiwadai's terrifying dorm matron, Misaka panicked. Before she could even speak, Kuroko grabbed her hand—
—and vanished.
"Let's hurry back~"
Only the echo of her voice lingered in the wind.
The poor transmigrator had been gloriously ignored.
Gen rubbed his eyes.
They were gone.
Teleportation.
An ability as absurd as stage magic. Yet here, it was merely the Railgun's "mount."
I'm really in a two-dimensional world.
Closing his eyes, he replayed the image.
Sunset.
Alleyway.
A chestnut-haired girl lazily holding her bag, turning back with clear eyes and a perfect profile. Electricity bloomed at her fingertips—breaking through dimensional barriers, imprinting itself as the most beautiful scenery in his memory.
"The light on your fingertips is my eternal faith."
Lyrics from Only My Railgun echoed in his mind.
Even Bilibili—famous for danmaku culture—had once drawn its nickname "Biri-Biri" from her.
He was long past his chuunibyou phase.
Thinking about the barrage comments he once spammed made him cringe.
He wasn't some hero saving a beauty.
He was the "dog bear" saved by a girl.
An NPC.
An extra who couldn't even exchange a proper line with the heroine.
Gen looked at his hands—and clenched them tightly.
If I truly possess the ability from Redo of Healer…
Maybe I can even copy esper powers.
One day—
Even the Railgun.
"I see…"
He looked down at the unconscious delinquents.
A bold idea formed.
The Railgun had defeated these "wild mobs" without collecting loot.
For someone as weak as him, they were ready-made spoils.
Time to test [Heal].
He crouched beside one delinquent, ignoring the stench of smoke and alcohol, pressing a hand to his head. Green light shimmered faintly.
"Ping—"
Gen's pupils contracted.
His perspective shifted.
He was inside the delinquent's body.
Experiencing the Railgun's electric blast—
Again.
But this time—
The pain was real.
Not just that moment.
Every injury this body had ever endured. Every beating, every humiliation, every stab wound, every desperate night fight. Each negative emotion intertwined, flooding into his mind.
He lived an entire life—
From scratch.
As a powerless delinquent in Academy City.
"So this… is what pain feels like…"
From the delinquent's viewpoint, countless screams of despair echoed.
Gen had never felt that before.
The sting of electricity.
The cane of a teacher.
The burn of a blade.
Each sensation distinct, nuanced—like variations of spice in hotpot.
His brain trembled.
It hurt.
It felt incredible.
Stronger than any pleasure he'd ever imagined.
So good.
His entire body shook. His hand trembled as memories, knowledge, skills poured in.
Imitation (Heal).
Acquired: [Common Japanese].
The delinquent stirred groggily.
The "Biri-Biri" middle school girl was gone.
The Chinese student he tried to extort… was healing him?
"You're… kinda nice…"
The next second, Gen smashed a fist into his face.
The delinquent blacked out again.
"Learned: delinquent street-fighting technique."
Gen looked at his swollen knuckles.
"Ping—"
Another incantation.
His weak body was restored.
Like a dream.
Pain vanished the moment [Heal] ended, though faint traces lingered in his brain.
He rubbed his temples.
"Quantum micro-pain."
Too weak.
These delinquents were low-level espers. Few useful abilities.
Still—basic survival skills would suffice.
No smartphone. No usable cash.
Fortunately, Academy City's tech tree skewed oddly. Physical currency remained common.
Wild mobs dropped yen.
He methodically [Healed] each delinquent, checked abilities, confirmed none above Level 2, knocked them out again, and stripped their wallets.
Academy City's bills contained IC chips tracking ownership.
But delinquent money?
Dirty. Untraceable.
At this moment, Aleister Crowley was likely already observing through the AIM diffusion field.
An undocumented foreigner. A bizarre copying ability.
Suspicious.
Potentially an espionage threat.
He might be erased by the dark side at any time.
Gen no longer cared.
"Largest denomination—2,000 yen. Only one? Pathetic."
When he spoke again, his Japanese was fluent.
Anime universe lingua franca—acquired.
"If you choose to rob, you must be prepared to be robbed. Consider this compensation for my emotional damages."
His mind was clear.
The moment he arrived, he'd resolved—
To survive.
By any means necessary.
This wasn't the rule-of-law society he came from.
Everyone knew anime police were mostly useless.
Judgment had arrived late and done nothing.
At least he hadn't transmigrated into a war zone.
Or into some superpower's coast-to-coast looting simulator.
"Despicable outsider…"
The final delinquent fainted from anger.
Somehow, this felt like Cataclysm scavenger mode.
Thank you, Railgun, for the beginner's gift pack.
Gen rose slowly.
Emerald light flickered in his pupils.
Ten minutes.
He had mastered this game called "Transmigration."
His Elven Eyes assessed the situation coldly.
He shook out his hands. He'd punched everyone once—his arms were sore.
A spell.
Stamina restored.
In exchange—
A crushing mental burden.
"What if… I heal them, then beat them again?"
Endless loop.
Infinite pain extraction.
Pain hell.
I've finally found it.
The sensation of being alive.
He took a deep breath.
Academy City's purified air tasted sweet.
2D or 3D—didn't matter.
From zero—
Restart life.
"W-wait! You can't just take other people's money!"
A childish, loli-like voice rang out.
And on this day—
A tiny hero teacher appeared before the "Hero" whose brain was on the verge of collapse.