Before we begin, quick disclaimer: I do not, in any way, shape or form own, or claim ownership of anything within the franchise(s) written and owned by Kamachi Kazuma. This piece is a fan-made love letter to my favorite pairing from his absolutely wonderful Toaru Majutsu no Index series; though it brings joy to myself, and hopefully to those who read it, this piece will generate no gain, monetary or otherwise, for me in any way, shape or form. Toaru Majutsu no Index is written and owned by Kamachi Kazuma, and illustrated by Haimura Kiyotaka. Toaru Kagaku no Railgun is written and owned by Kamachi Kazuma, and illustrated by Fuyukawa Motoi.
Welcome! Whether you're a new reader, or a reader who's currently following my main piece, I'm so glad that you decided to pay this piece a visit! Thank you! If you clicked or tapped your way to this piece by mistake… well, this is awkward. If you decide to stay, thank you!
This piece is a spinoff of the aforementioned main piece, A Certain Strange Scenario. While the main piece is centered on a darker, plot-driven narrative, this piece will fall into the genre of "slice of life"; that's not to say that this piece won't have its fair share of action and adventure, and that's not to say that it won't have dark moments. Many characters who don't, or won't make appearances in A Certain Strange Scenario will appear in this piece, and I'd like to develop as many characters as I reasonably can over the course of the narrative. Like A Certain Strange Scenario, this piece takes place ten years after the events of the Index Arc, in an alternate timeline in which Misaki and Touma's encounter with Deadlock didn't end in great tragedy; instead, it gave rise to something beautiful.
I won't dump an absolute load of exposition in this introduction; rather, I'd like to carefully sprinkle tidbits about the alternate timeline this piece takes place in. So far, I've said alternate timeline as not to invoke confusion. While A Certain Strange Scenario takes place in an alternate universe that differs considerably from Kamachi Kazuma's wonderful canon, this piece takes place in an alternate timeline of that alternate universe.
October 8th, 2014. 1:38 PM. Present time.
All heads turned to the mysterious, bandana-wearing figure who had pushed open the heavy metallic door. A trio of young men dressed in garbs identical to the newcomer's sat on the hardwood floors of a spacious bedroom, situated in a semicircle. Each wore a crimson red, hooded sweatshirt, baggy crimson sweatpants with deep, spacious pockets, and shoes of varying colors and styles. They didn't have bandanas around their necks, which seemed to separate them from the newcomer. The newcomer kneeled in front of their cohorts, put their hands in their lap, and began to speak.
"Do you have the stuff? Where are your backpacks? Misaka wants to see backpacks filled with supplies, or Misaka is going to be terribly disappointed. Disappointing Misaka is what you do best, but Misaka would like to be proved wrong for once," the newcomer critiqued.
One of the larger young men, who had the sides of his head shaved and a bit of stubble on his face tossed his backpack before the newcomer. Of North American descent, his eyes were dark green, a rarity in a place like Academy City where most of the population was Japanese. The young man's bag was large, considerably larger than most backpacks a student would use to carry a heavy load.
"I've got my stuff right here, boss. It was a bitch to find! Everyone and their grandma wants a Mega Soaker 6800!" The young man complained. He swiftly attempted to unzip the backpack, fiddling with the zipper at the halfway point to 'help' it over some unseen obstacle, and then produced what appeared to be a large firearm. On the side of the weapon, there was a translucent plastic nozzle, as well as a strap that would allow the weapon to be carried on one's back. The young man placed the weapon on the floor, and then dug to the bottom of his backpack. Moments later, his arm re-emerged. In his hand, he tightly gripped a bottle of red wine. "Got the wine too, boss."
The newcomer nodded their head in satisfaction. "Misaka is pleased by your success, maggot. Misaka wants to see what your partners in crime brought for her."
The newcomer's other two henchmen opened their backpacks, both of whom struggled considerably less than the first, and produced their goods. Both had weapons identical to the first young man's, though their 'ammunition' was different. The second produced a bottle of cooking oil, and the third produced multiple cans of coffee.
The newcomer, and apparent mastermind of the group looked over the supplies, their amber eyes making note of each individual item. They occasionally stopped, nodded, and continued with their inspection, until their requirements, whatever those might have been, were met.
"Good, good! Misaka is proud that her idiot goons can at least do something right. The time is nigh! Misaka will lead you into battle!" The newcomer tossed their head back and laughed manically as they wrung their hands together.
It was then that a dark, irritated presence invaded the group's evil lair. Two of the newcomer's three henchmen shied away; they moved as far away from the metallic door as they could, abandoning their weapons and their leader. The third, however, didn't move. Instead, he looked up to the unwelcomed guest quizzically.
"Damn brat. You and your friends need to keep it the fuck down. I'm trying to fucking sleep. Don't let it happen again." Accelerator commanded. Seconds passed, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance as he registered exactly what the group of brats were wearing. "Tch. Why are you dressed like that? You look like you're fucking retarded."
"Misaka can take it all off, if you want." Worst purred. A groggy, barely awake Accelerator growled. "Fuck off. Keep it down, brat. You're worse than the other brat, and that's really saying a lot." Worst shrugged nonchalantly and returned her attention to the cohorts that had left her to the mercy of the number one strongest esper in Academy City. "Go get your beauty sleep, tou-san. Misaka will jump your bones later," Worst taunted. Accelerator gently flicked Worst on the back of the head and left the room, mumbling to himself about "goddamn brats".
"I-Is he gone?" The second cohort nervously questioned. The young man tugged at his blue baseball cap, which he wore backwards. He either wasn't aware that his hat clashed with the rest of his outfit, or he didn't care. Of Japanese descent, he had bushy eyebrows and light brown eyes, whose pupils had shrunk as fear coursed through him.
"Tou-san is tsundere; tou-san actually likes you. Tou-san wouldn't hurt Misaka or you idiots. Focus! Misaka's plans aren't going to enact themselves." Two of Worst's hired guns nodded their heads reluctantly as their leader rose from her kneeling position. Each filled their weapons with the 'ammunition' they had brought.
"Where's your weapon, boss? Aren't you bringing anything with you?" The first cohort inquired. He had strapped his weapon across his back, and had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants.
"Weapons?" Worst laughed. "Misaka doesn't need weapons!"
Worst held the door to her bedroom open, and encouraged her hired guns to proceed by waving her arm impatiently. "Ladies first; Misaka was taught always to be polite."
The first cohort, followed by the second, and finally, the third, took their leave. Worst wasn't far behind. She closed the door of her bedroom, and proceeded to lock it with a key she had produced from the pockets of her sweatpants.
Worst and her minions took a right down a short hallway, which lead to a flight of stairs. The left lead to an upstairs bathroom, as well as Last Order's bedroom; Worst had no business to attend to in either of those rooms. The group descended the stairs, and entered the cozy television room of her school district eight home; in Academy City's past, school district eight was used almost exclusively to house the City's teachers and other staff, but as the student population aged, accommodations had to be made.
A leather couch, spacious enough to easily fit five or six people was pressed against the southern wall of the television room, along with a fluffy, white carpet that sat in front of it. A wide flat-screen television hung on the wall to the north of the couch, and in the space between the couch and the television, there was a coffee table; crumpled cans of black coffee littered its smooth-looking surface. Framed pictures of the family that dwelled in that home were carefully and purposefully placed about, not only on the walls, but also on the coffee table, as well.
Worst turned her attention to the figure sprawled out across the couch. Shoulder length, messy white hair, a half-open, black button-up shirt, a pair of tight-fitting black jeans, and cheap white trainers. This was Accelerator's typical look; the number one strongest esper in Academy City never particularly cared about his appearance. He had more important things to concern himself with.
"Tou-san, Misaka is going out." Worst announced as she loomed over her guardian.
Accelerator groaned impatiently as he rose up; his long, unkempt bangs hung in his face, obscuring his crimson eyes. The number one glared at Worst's cohorts, two of whom instinctively stepped back uncomfortably. The third remained standing, undaunted, with his hands in his sweatshirt's front pocket.
"Tch." Accelerator looked past Worst, and to the stalwart young man that stood near her. "Guy behind the fucking brat. You aren't shitting yourself, by the looks of it. Or maybe you are, and you're just a really good actor. What can you do? What's your ability? Don't fucking lie to me." Accelerator demanded. He rose up without the aid of his crutch; his upgraded choker allowed for constant use of his ability for up to one hundred and sixty-eight hours before the device's batteries ran dry.
"Pyrokinesist, level three; just advanced from two a couple of years ago," The taller, bulkier young man responded. He appeared to be of Japanese descent, with short, hastily combed black hair. The stubble that dotted the lower halves of his cheeks, chin, and upper lip was thicker than that of the first of Worst's henchmen.
"That's all? What the fuck is this?" Accelerator grumbled. "The last person who dared to stand against me like this had an impossible power… but that was a very long time ago. You're not another goddamn hero, are you? Between that bastard and the seventh ranked, the world's supply of painkillers wouldn't be enough to soothe my fucking headache."
"No idea what you're talking about, at least with the number seven." The pyrokinesist replied nonchalantly. "Level three doesn't sound like a lot, does it? But, in the end, it's not your level that counts; it's how you use your ability. I'll answer your question, Accelerator-san. I'm not what you'd call a hero. I don't go looking for damsels in distress to save, but I'm down to help people I consider to be friends. This one?" The pyrokinesist pointed his thumb at Worst, who proceeded to stick her tongue out at Accelerator, "This one's my friend."
"Tou-san is jealous that his fuck doll might be taken away from him! Misaka is flattered!" Worst cried in mock-pleasure as her lips curled into a devious, shit-eating grin.
Accelerator's facial expression was unreadable. He blinked, disrupting the pyrokinesist's view of his crimson eyes momentarily. The albino cocked his head, stood up from his seat on the couch, and began to walk forwards. Still, even then, the Pyrokinesist's will never wavered.
The number one strongest esper could acknowledge a strong-willed person. Accelerator smirked as he thought back to his first real encounter with a certain spiky-haired boy, and that Mental Out brat; a couple of goddamn heroes who had changed everything. "Worst, you two. Beat it. Don't go far. Don't forget your fucking cellphone again."
Worst produced the device from one of the pockets in her sweatpants and waved it triumphantly at her guardian. "Misaka will be waiting to dirty talk with tou-san, whenever he pleases," Worst taunted as she and her two henchmen left the television room. Once Accelerator heard the front door of their home close, he returned his attention to the pyrokinesist.
"What do you know, and how do you know it? The stupid speeches they make all the time about 'clone lives' never fucking mention her. You know more than you're letting on; I've seen you around here a lot. She's close to you, more so than she's been to anyone, aside from me and the other stupid brat, and I want you to fucking tell me why that's the case."
"Why should I?"
"Because it's my goddamn job to know. Don't give me backtalk."
The pyrokinesist smirked, but there was little humor in his expression. He sighed, removed his hands from his sweatshirt's pocket, and crossed his arms. "She's told me bits and pieces over the years, Accelerator-san; about herself, about you, about the Misaka Network, about her sisters, about the younger one named Last Order, and about some supposed "Savior". The sisters' existence might be common knowledge, but… she's told me that there's a lot that people don't know. It upsets you that everyone likes to pretend that everything's okay, now that the cat's out of the bag. It upsets me, too."
Accelerator's expression remained unreadable. He raised one of his snow-colored eyebrows, and made an annoyed sound with his tongue. "You'd better not be trying to fucking use her. If I find out, or if you hurt that goddamn annoying brat in any way, shape or form…"
Accelerator further closed the distance between himself and the pyrokinesist. The albino's face was mere feet away from his conversational partner's.
"I'll stomp on your head until it fucking explodes. I can't take away either of the brats' lives. I can't stop them from making stupid friends, or from annoying every other goddamn person on the planet. I can't hold them here like prisoners… but I can prevent harm from coming to them."
The young man standing before Accelerator lowered his head ever so slightly, and sighed. "If I didn't know any better… I'd ask, "why is that your first assumption, Accelerator-san?" But I know exactly why it's your first assumption. Everyone likes to think that the Darkness is gone, but it's not. It's hiding, playing possum. The UN can try and keep the peace, and pump as much money into this City's economy that they want, but they'll never well and truly kill Academy City's Darkness. Worst, the younger one, and their Sisters are a testament to the Darkness, and living proof that people do terrible, terrible things in the name of science. Notice how I said "do" as opposed to "did". We're not stupid, you and me. We know things. We've seen things. We've both experienced the Darkness in its purest, rawest form." In response, Accelerator's eyes uncharacteristically fell to the floor. His arms hung limp at his sides.
"Did the brat tell you? I slaughtered over ten thousand people. I, Accelerator, the "top dog" of this City… I'm a monster. I'm a fucking monster, brat; a butcher. I'm forced to live with that as a reality. I have to wake up every morning, look at myself in the mirror, and know that I'm a monster. What've you done? What did they make you do?" Accelerator quietly grumbled.
The pyrokinesist shook his head from side to side. "It's not what I did, Accelerator-san; it's what they did to me. Things could've gone… really bad. I don't like talking about it."
Accelerator shrugged indifferently. "Fuck, whatever. Fine. You're free to go, brat; but I'm watching you like a fucking hawk." As Accelerator returned to his seat on the couch, he looked at the pyrokinesist with a serious expression.
"You and those other brats had better keep her safe, or I'll tear you and this fucking City apart." Before the Pyrokinesist had the chance to leave the television room, Accelerator addressed him one last time.
"What's your name? Worst probably told me at some point, but I try my best to block the goddamn brat out."
"Yamashita Junichi. What's yours? Your real one."
"Don't remember."
Yamashita Junichi, the level three pyrokinesist, took his leave. Accelerator heard the sound of his home's front door being gently closed. He returned to, and laid back on the couch, his head propped up against the couch's left arm. Accelerator crossed his legs, and closed his eyes. He hadn't intended for his confrontation with the brat's friend to go that way.
"Accelerator? MISAKA MISAKA asks, speaking timidly as not to evoke Accelerator's rage."
Accelerator's brow furrowed in irritation. He was trying to fall back asleep, not deal with the other brat's bullshit. He hadn't even heard Last Order this time; usually, he heard her footsteps coming down the stairs.
"What the fuck do you want now, Last Order? I just got rid of the other brat," Accelerator grumbled, annoyed.
"MISAKA is hungry, MISAKA MISAKA announces, attempting to subtly inform Accelerator that she's feeling too lazy to prepare her own meal," Last Order stated. She placed her hands over her stomach and rubbed them around to illustrate her point.
Accelerator opened his eyes, and looked up at Last Order's tall, slender form. Accelerator remembered when she had once worn little more than a blue, white-spotted dress with white sandals, an outfit she had been given. Now, Last Order had developed her own taste in fashion, from seeing the way other women dressed, from watching television, and even from playing certain life simulation video games. Last Order had chosen to wear a warm, fuzzy-looking light grey sweatshirt that lacked a hood, and a pair of baggy denim jeans that reached well past her ankles. Her chestnut colored hair, which fell to her shoulders if she wore it straight, was tied up in a bun. Accelerator stared at the clone of Misaka Mikoto for a moment, and something hit him; Last Order had grown so much… too much.
At first, when Last Order's body, and then her mind, first began to show signs of maturation, Accelerator had been surprised that she was capable of growing at all; he assumed the clones had been pumped full of some sort of anti-aging drug at birth by Academy City's faculty, but that apparently hadn't been the case. Last Order's growth into an adult had been, and still was bittersweet for the number one ranked esper; as Last Order grew, both mentally and physically, Accelerator had found that the figurative leash he had been able to keep on her had broke, and that she naturally began to outgrow her need for a guardian. Soon, Last Order wouldn't need Accelerator's protection. It was a reality that silently gnawed at the foundations of everything Academy City's 'top dog' had built his redemption around.
Accelerator gave a sigh of defeat, and stood up from the comfort of the couch. Last Order's eyes glowed with joy at the realization that her lunch would be prepared for her. "Thank you, Accelerator! MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, overjoyed at the prospect of indulging even more in her sloth-like behavior!" Last Order happily said with a wide, beautiful smile on her face.
"You're welcome… spoiled goddamn brat."
Kamijou Touma stepped out from the public transportation vehicle that had dropped him off some blocks away from his apartment complex. He struggled to keep his eyes open, and he felt like he was going to fall asleep right then and there.
It had been a tough, misfortune-filled day at the shipping and receiving warehouse Touma worked in. It was one of the largest in school district seven, and there was never a shortage of duties to be performed. Ten years ago, the idea of people in Academy City working average, everyday jobs would've been scoffed at; but as the City's population aged and their academic studies came to an end, employment opportunities had become an obvious necessity.
To an outsider, Touma didn't look like the type to be so easily bested by his body's biological needs; he was something of a giant. Kamijou Touma stood well over six feet tall, his arms and legs were powerfully built from years of mixed martial arts training and intense workout sessions. His neck was thick and strong, and though he had never put a lot of time into developing abs, his barrel chest was enough to deter almost any potential troublemakers. Despite his outward appearance, however, Touma's athletic body felt like lead to him.
"We really need to invest in a car… so long as Index never gets her license. Then again, would I really be able to drive like this?"
Touma's walk would be a considerable one; he had six city blocks to traverse. To a rested and alert person, struggling to walk six city blocks might've been considered a problem that was exclusive to the morbidly obese or the physically handicapped, but someone who was rested and alert wouldn't have understood the trials and tribulations of a sleep-deprived Kamijou Touma.
Index and Misaki had gotten far too into the video game that they had been playing the night before, and Othinus' cheering and snide, pseudo-motivational speeches didn't help the young man get to sleep any faster.
His walk home thus far had been surprisingly peaceful; the misfortune that followed him like a cloud had given him something of a reprieve. He had encountered swarms of Tokiwadai students, both male and female, which surprised him; most Tokiwadai Ojou-Samas stayed in the 'safety' of the School Garden. Perhaps the influx of male students who attended Tokiwadai had changed things.
"Maybe whatever evil force causes my misfortune feels bad for what it did to me earlier; having a damn crate fall on my foot from a platform twenty feet high, or more?! If I weren't so tired, I bet I'd be feeling it more…"
The last of school district seven's high-rise apartment complexes, dorms, and stampeding herds of loud and obnoxious students and chattering adults on their daily commute were left behind as Touma struggled with the tall, ornate glass door of his own apartment complex. His fingers wrapped around the door's metallic handle. Touma pushed on the door, but it didn't budge; he grunted in frustration, and pushed harder. The door fought back, and still wouldn't give way.
"Come on… fucking piece of…"
The door opened as his exhausted mind reverted to subconscious instinct; his arms pulled the door open.
"Such misfortune."
With his first challenge conquered, Touma reached deep into the pocket of his khaki pants and produced his key. He inserted it into the second door's lock, tried to turn it the wrong way twice before he turned it the right way, and stumbled into the apartment complex's spacious lobby. There was a vending machine that offered carbonated soda to any yen-holding parties interested, as well as a number of benches spread around the lobby, all of which sat in front of the lavishly decorated walls. A series of carpets lead from the lobby's front entrance to the two elevators adjacent to the vending machine.
Touma weakly pressed his index finger against the first of two buttons on a silver panel situated between both elevators. Upon releasing his finger, the elevator's button began to glow bright red.
"At least the elevators work…"
After some time, a sweet, merciful elevator came to his rescue; Touma willed his legs to enter. He searched for, and then reached out and pressed his floor's number on the panel inside of the elevator car. To his blurry, unfocused eyes, each of the numbers looked the same, unless he focused deeply on them. The young man allowed himself to lean against the wide railings of the elevator car as it took him to the eighth floor, which his apartment was on. He crossed his arms, and demanded that his body remain awake, at least until he was able to greet his family.
Seconds, which felt more like hours to the exhausted Kamijou Touma went by, before the elevator car came to an abrupt stop. The doors slid open as the elevator's interior speakers produced a startling beep, followed by an obnoxiously loud, synthetic, female voice.
"You have reached: floor eight! If this is your destination, please exit now! Thank you, and have a wonderful day!"
The beep caused Touma's brain to throb, and the disgusting, robotic voice only made him cringe even harder. He shambled out from the elevator car, whose doors slammed shut just as his pant leg escaped their grasp, and made the last, desperate trek towards his apartment. His goal was nearly in sight; it was the second door from the center, on the left side of the hall. Touma's right hand reached out, his fingers struggling with his apartment's key; he felt the key 'click' into place, and with one swift motion, he turned the key to the right, and pushed the door open.
"HIMISAKIINDEXOTHI-CHANI'MHOME!" Touma half-shouted; the words practically fell out of his mouth as he dragged his burden of a mortal shell to the refuge of the soft, welcoming, couch. He hadn't even bothered to try and take off his trainers or his backpack, which only seemed to become heavier and heavier as he moved; Touma let himself fall down upon the soft, cool leather cushions of the couch. Touma stuffed one of the couch's pillows beneath his head, which rested on the couch's right arm, and he sighed in relief. His torment had come to an end.
From the jewel-encrusted door of a luxurious-looking, beautifully and delicately decorated 'dollhouse' that was more like a miniature castle than a house, which was placed next to the television adjacent to the couch, a tiny figure emerged. Fifteen centimeters in height, she was dressed in a small, but very lavish white dress that reached her knees. Its appearance and size considered, the dress had likely come with some expensive collector's doll. Tiny, bare feet slapped against the carpeted floor of the Kamijou residence as Othinus made her way to her 'jailor'. Othinus' long, dutifully combed golden hair hung to her thighs. Barring the fact that such a small being existed and was well and truly 'alive', Othinus' standout feature was the dark, leathery eyepatch that she wore over her right eye, the center of which had a crimson diamond upon it. If she weren't so small, she might've been something of an intimidating figure to look upon.
"Misaki and the nun have gone out; they will return shortly. It would appear that you and I get to spend some quality time together." The former Magic God announced. She scaled the couch's left arm with skill and grace that suggested she was no stranger to this sort of adventure. Touma chuckled; she looked like an adorable little mountain climber. A look of determination could be seen on her face as she struggled to maintain her grip on the semicircular peak of the couch's arm, though she soon succeeded in her quest. Othinus clambered over Touma's head, stepped over his face, along his neck, and then proceeded to sit herself comfortably on his chest.
"Ugh… so tired." Touma grumbled. "Hi Othi-chan… how was your day?"
"Uninteresting; not even once did that overweight, flee-bitten mongrel attempt to lay siege to my abode," Othinus complained, looking to the mass of fur and fat that had curled up next to her fortress. "I must admit; I've grown used to fending it off. What of yours? You appear to be spent."
"Spent doesn't describe it…" Touma muttered in a state of blurry pseudo-awareness. "I didn't sleep at all last night; Misaki and Index, you too, that game… too loud. Didn't want to take away your fun, thought I could sleep through it. Guess I thought wrong. Hard day, lots of lifting, cranes were busted, all of them, we had to do everything manually."
The tiny former Magic God looked at Touma as if he was mentally deficient. She tossed her head to one side, effectively pushing away the golden bangs that had fallen into her face. "Then sleep. It's what you mortals do best."
"You sleep too," Touma pointed out. Even in his exhausted state of being, his lips were able to curl into a cocky grin.
Othinus pouted, utterly defeated, and turned herself to face the opposite direction of Touma's face, her arms crossed in defiance. Still, the former Magic God was curious. She felt more than she heard the rhythmic movements of Kamijou Touma's chest; he hadn't let himself fall asleep when he was so obviously in need of rest.
"Do you seek pain's company? Let yourself fall into unconsciousness, fool. At least then I'll be able to talk with you properly, once you awaken." Othinus commanded, still facing away from her jailor. There was a short delay before his reply came; "not until the rest of the family gets home. I want to see Misaki and Index, too. I love talking to you guys when I get home from work, all of you."
Othinus was taken aback at first. Sooner than later, she felt a thin smile force its way onto her face. "Family…? If you and your mate consider the nun and I to be your family, then we are a strange family indeed. Fate is whimsical. Ten mortal years ago, if this man tried to tell me that this would be my future, I would have crowned him a king of lies, and then I would have destroyed the very concept of his existence."
"Othi-chan? You're awfully quiet." Touma stated. "Everything good?" Othinus' body jumped in response as her mind surfaced from the figurative pool of contemplation it had found itself sinking deeper and deeper into. A shiver ran down the former Magic God's spine, and she shook her tiny head to collect her larger than life musings.
"Nothing's wrong, Touma. I was merely thinking," Othinus replied. She turned her body around to its original position, and faced Touma again. She raised her knees, and placed her chin on them.
"About?" Touma pried. The behavior of his miniature "prisoner" had gripped his curiosity. He wanted to learn more; as of recent, it seemed that Othinus wished to try and keep her thoughts to herself, and to leave the past behind them, despite the importance of the mutual understanding that brought them to this moment that they found themselves in. Touma wanted to dig deeper, but at the same time, he wanted to bury everything.
"The past. That's all you need to know." The former Magic God responded, ending the conversation.
The curled up, obese, calico bundle of unconditional love and empty calories named Sphynx raised its head; its eyes were only half-open, and its ears twitched as it stared at the young adult human and the tiny former Magic God.
Othinus quickly moved to put an end to the moment, which, to her, had become rather uncomfortable. "My nemesis awakens; the time to strike is now. I will return, and we will finish this, when my feline foe is vanquished!" Othinus exclaimed. She climbed to the edge of the couch's cushions, leapt to the carpeted floor beneath her, and charged into battle.
Touma watched on, entertained as Othinus closed the distance, which was only a few feet from his perspective, between herself and Sphynx. She bent her little legs, and leapt into the air, arms outstretched. The swift, sudden movement of Othinus' small frame generated an equally tiny gust of air, which caused her golden hair to flutter. Closer and closer Othinus came, the pupil in her visible emerald green left eye widening in excitement…
Swoosh.
Othinus was swatted away by a gentle slap from Sphynx's paw. The carpeted floor cushioned Othinus' impact; the only part of the former Magic God that found itself damaged was her pride. Othinus rose up from the floor, and angrily pumped her tiny fist in the air. "Curses! Foiled again!"
A burst of energy came over the usually lethargic elderly feline; Sphynx rose up to its feet, opened its mouth, and produced a long, silent yawn. Carrying itself with the grace of a drunken househusband, Sphynx went on the offensive. Without so much of a second of hesitation, Othinus fled in fear. "Touma! Fool! Deaf mortal! Come to my aid! HELP!" Soon, both were gone from his sight, though Touma could still hear Othinus' complaints from elsewhere in the apartment, as well as Sphynx's meows of what he assumed was challenge.
Touma wasn't alone for long, however. His heart jumped into his throat as he heard the door to the apartment being unlocked. Touma focused all of his strength into one singular movement; he willed his body to sit up, rebelling against its pleas for sweet unconsciousness.
Index was the first to step in; in either of her hands, she tightly gripped a single plastic bag of what looked to be groceries, given their logo and the slogan beneath; "why visit a supermarket, or even a megamarket, when you could visit an ULTRAMARKET? ™"
The nun wore a Walking Church better tailored to her adult body's proportions; unlike her first robe that she had worn as a teenager, Index's new Walking Church actually guarded her. So long as Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker didn't come into contact with the protective garb, it made Index nearly invulnerable to most forms of harm that could potentially come her way. Though Touma knew that Index likely would've needed a new Walking Church as her body grew, he continued to feel bad for accidentally destroying the original ten years prior.
Following not far behind was Touma's beloved soul mate, Kamijou Misaki, who carried at least three or four bags of groceries from the same Ultramarket, which was very likely Ken's Ultramarket; a new chain of superstores that had opened their doors worldwide some months ago.
The visible muscles in Misaki's toned arms were slightly more pronounced than usual, though she didn't appear to be struggling. Long gone was the out of shape, ability-abusing Ojou-Sama that Kamijou Touma knew when he had first met this beautiful woman, when she was still what he called the 'Mental Out girl'. At the time, he had no idea that the 'Mental Out girl' would go on to become his wife.
Years ago, the seeds of her changes, physical and mental, were planted in Misaki's mind by the desire to protect those she loved. Kamijou Misaki had become a powerhouse of strength and endurance that very few could truthfully claim to rival.
Misaki had apparently decided to wear one of her favorite outfits; a bright yellow and white striped blouse, a pair of bright yellow leggings, and white flats. Her long, majestic blonde hair was neatly tied back, and her bangs were placed carefully behind her right ear. Misaki's starry eyes were revealed as she removed her designer sunglasses. Upon her hands, Misaki wore a pair of stylish, lacy white gloves.
"Touma! You're home!" Index happily exclaimed as she kicked off her loafers and ran excitedly to her adoptive guardian's side, her bags of groceries left behind for one of her guardians to look after. "Me and Misaki missed you! So did Othinus, but she didn't come with us. Misaki took me shopping! Look at all the food we got!" The nun beamed.
A wide, peaceful, absolutely content smile formed on Touma's face as he rose up from the couch; having momentarily forgotten his debilitating fatigue, he lurched forward. Once his feet touched the ground, Touma found himself nearly tripping as his head spun. His vision became blurry and unfocused.
Without so much as a word, Misaki dropped her groceries, and, with lightning-fast reflexes, was at her husband's side; she had prevented an untimely meeting between Touma's face and the floor. Index took to his other side, and the two worked in unison to hold up the imposingly tall, and equally heavy bundle of muscle and heroism.
"Baby? Baby?! Are you okay?! Please talk to me! What happened?!" Misaki anxiously demanded, her arms wrapped around her husband's own arm.
"Don't worry, beautiful, just tired. Really tired. Didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Already said hi to Othi-chan. Wanted to wait for you and Index to get home before I…"
Touma's body had just about enough; his higher mind's emotions and desires were brutally beaten into absolute submission as his body revolted. Touma fell asleep. His head drooped, and he began to quietly snore. As he went limp, Touma became even heavier, and Misaki found herself supporting most of his weight; Index valiantly tried, but seemed to fail.
"My prince. My gentleman. God, I love you." Misaki whispered more to herself than to her slumbering husband or Index.
"Poor Touma… I'll get a blanket!" Index offered, as she took off for her room. Misaki sat her sleeping husband down, leaned in, and, as softly as she could, pressed a kiss to his cheek. Though not quite satisfied for the time being, her body's increased rate of breathing, no doubt caused by the sudden wave of anxiety that had washed over her, began to slow as she slowly, carefully lowered her husband into a position on the couch that, at the very least, she knew looked comfortable.
Index returned shortly after with a long, wide, warm-looking comforter draped over her form. If the comforter had been white, as opposed to lavender and navy blue, she would've resembled a cutesy paper ghost. Apparently able to see beneath the veil, Index passed the comforter to Misaki, and the two let it fall upon Touma's sleeping form.
"How did Touma get home? He couldn't even stand!" Index stated in a hushed voice. As Misaki moved to pick up her groceries, Index did the same.
"Touma was born with an unbreakable will… well, an almost unbreakable will." Misaki replied, not caring if the context of her reply was detected by Index.
Despite herself, and despite the anxiousness that still existed within her, Misaki yearned for her husband. Her desire felt out of place, but she knew it to be perfectly natural. Misaki hadn't been able to become intimate with her husband for nearly the entire week, and a mountain of sexual frustration was building up within her.
"Almost?" Index inquired. The nun had raised her eyebrow suggestively, and her lips had curled into a snide, knowing smirk. Misaki grumbled as she and Index entered their apartment's spacious, tidy kitchen. From the kitchen's entrance, there was a long, wide counter, with two sinks, as well as numerous drawers beneath the counter's surface. Opposite the counter, there was a large, white and silver stove with six burners, a dishwasher, and a tall, spacious refrigerator. On the other side, there was a metallic dinner table, long and wide enough to easily serve a large group of people. A few feet away from the kitchen, there was a beautiful, tall and fairly expensive-looking cabinet that held many dishes and plates. It had belonged to Kamijou Touya and Kamijou Shiina at once point in time; Touma's parents had passed it onto their son and daughter-in-law days after their wedding ceremony.
"It was always so easy to be sneaky around you when we were teenagers." Misaki jokingly mock-taunted.
Index giggled, and wagged her finger at her adoptive guardian, as if to reprimand her. "You slipped up one too many times, Misaki! Now, I know your secrets! You can't hide anything from me!"
As Misaki began storing the appropriate goods in the refrigerator, she shook her head. "I have taught you too well; I have created a monster. To be frank, I still prefer this to watching my partner being bitten." A small giggle came from the Mental Out user, which was responded to in kind by Index's own hushed laughter.
Index took to Misaki's side, and began aiding her with putting away the groceries. She took a large bottle of orange juice, and placed it carefully in the corner of the fridge's top shelf. "We do silly things when we're jealous, Misaki. I'm just glad envy didn't create a lasting rift between us," Index stated, with seriousness in her voice. "But that was then, and this is now!" She beamed, and her positive outlook practically shined from her form.
Kamijou Misaki, despite having had this conversation with Index before, still found herself bewildered at just how much Index had grown; not only mentally and emotionally, but physically, as well. It didn't often occur to Misaki that Index, like herself, was an adult now. It had all happened so fast; the last ten years, in retrospect, seemed like a blur to the fifth ranked esper in Academy City. One minute, Index had been a blushing, less-than-talkative mess who was constantly biting into her boyfriend's head to 'cleanse him of his sins', the next, Index supported her guardians in every way, shape, and form.
As she continued to work, Misaki recalled everything that she and her husband had been through over the years, and how much it had changed everyone. From the events that had brought Index to Academy City, to Accelerator's all-consuming psychosis, to the events of the English Civil War, which lead to the Third World War, and, eventually, a conflict with Fiamma of the Right himself. Misaki's will had never wavered as she and her then-boyfriend stood against the Magic God that ended up living with them. They had faced every challenge together, even the events that lead up to the singular scenario that changed everything; October twenty eighth, 2009, the day that the historic Fall of the Director took place; a day in which the great and terrible illusion of an artificial Heaven on earth had been shattered.
Things could have gone much, much worse; and yet they didn't. The rest of the world, despite having no real reason to do so, stepped in at the behest of the United Nations and saved Academy City from certain doom once its 'heart' had perished. Misaki recalled, in that moment, the massive data leak that occurred not long after. It had been the largest in history; everything Academy City had ever hid from the world came to light, and through it, the Darkness had been exposed, hunted down, and systematically purged… supposedly. But Kamijou Misaki knew better. The Darkness survived, somehow, and somewhere. In some dark crevice, she knew that the Darkness was biding its time; she knew that the Fall of the Director was merely a setback for the so easily dehumanized legions of Academy City's Dark Side. If Magic could remain hidden from the world, even after a data leak beyond compare, other matters could be hidden, too.
Some time had passed; Misaki and Index had finished their lengthy errand, and both could rest satisfied, knowing that the refrigerator was well stocked, at least for a few weeks. Since Index possessed a fully developed adult body, her stomach didn't crave nearly as much food as it did when she was younger. Either that, or whatever nutrition-demanding force that dwelled within the nun had fled once her body reached maturity.
Index smiled triumphantly as she and Misaki walked back into their warm, cozy living room. Othinus had emerged at some point, riding upon the back of a certain amused-looking calico cat.
"I have triumphed over the feral beast! Behold my power, mortals!" Othinus squeaked from atop her mount. Misaki rolled her eyes at the antics of the former Magic God; Othinus' presence was something she hadn't quite come to grips with, despite living with her for close to a decade. Misaki knew all too well of her husband's bizarre friendship with the tiny, irritating faerie, and she respected it, and to a degree, Othinus herself, but there was a deep-rooted sense of anger, though not quite hatred, that Misaki held for the former Magic God. At the very least, Misaki could admit that Othinus was agreeable.
"Hyaah! Charge, beast! Into battle! We will defeat Misaki the Usurper and the nun, and we shall have Touma for ourselves! Victory or death! For honor and glory! F-"
A dark aura fell upon the Kamijou residence. In two strides, Misaki had covered the distance between herself and the suddenly less agreeable Othinus. She reached down, and plucked the tiny being from her mount's back. Sphynx didn't seem particularly concerned; it simply laid down and quietly purred as it began to wash its tail.
"Oh?" Misaki asked, irritation evident in her voice. A vein throbbed in the Mental Out user's head, and she held Othinus up, so that the former Magic God's singular remaining eye could peer into her own starry eyes.
"You know deep down in your mortal heart that you can't harm me, Misaki." Othinus said, completely confident. Though she found herself in the grip of a giant foe, Othinus had learned many tricks over the last decade; her tiny stature was barely an inconvenience at this point. Through her own ingenuity, Othinus could perform many, though, not all of the same tasks that a full-sized human being could perform.
Despite her ingenuity, in that moment, Othinus knew of only one way out. It was savage and far below her, but it was her only option. Othinus opened her mouth, beared her fangs, and…
Misaki sighed. She would allow the tension to break; Misaki knew Othinus didn't mean it. She allowed herself to go as far as to softly giggle as she slid her left hand beneath her closed right fist, and released her grip on the former Magic God. Othinus stood tall in the palm of Misaki's hand. She dusted herself off, and shook her golden hair about, as if to force filth to fall from it.
"I nearly resorted to unleashing my ultimate ability upon you; the Bite of Doom. Your choice was a wise one," Othinus stated triumphantly. Misaki raised her right hand to her mouth, and sarcastically gasped. "How scary!"
Minutes passed, and relative silence had descended upon the living room of the Kamijou residence; all that could be heard was the exhausted Touma's soft snoring. The atmosphere had long ago become awkward. Misaki and Index sat in front of the living room's television, which remained turned off. Othinus had scaled Misaki's body, and stood on her shoulder.
"Let us go forth and 'play' on that… box in the nun's sanctum; I would like to observe as you play one of those 'video games', as you call them. I consistently find satisfaction in watching you mortals spectacularly fail. Let us journey there immediately, so that I might find entertainment until Touma awakens," Othinus suggested. Index offered a shrug of indifference, and Misaki didn't have any better ideas. Though she wanted her husband, she knew she'd have to be patient.
"I want to climb in with Touma, and snuggle up to him… but I do not want to wake him. I suppose playing videogames with Index and Othinus will help speed things along. Besides… Index and I must break our tie, after all."
"About time you got here; Misaka thought you bitched out," Worst taunted as Junichi turned the corner from the spectacular-looking high rise condominium that Accelerator and his family lived in. Worst stood on the opposite side of the street, in front of a series of lavish-looking dorms; Worst and Junichi knew they were dorms only because she had seen students pouring in and out from them. To anyone who didn't know, they'd look like towers of brightly-colored metal and glass. Though their architecture wasn't nearly as unique as the architecture found in a place like the School Garden, it could certainly be considered eye candy.
When the pyrokinesist had come to this part of school district eight for the first time, it came as something of a surprise to the him that the number one strongest esper, known to be anything but a people person, lived in a neighborhood like this; while all of school district seven was impeccable in its outward appearance, this area in particular seemed to have an even higher standard of living than most.
"Accelerator-san is a mother hen," Junichi grumbled, after he had crossed the street. He stood adjacent to Worst, and looked to the young woman expectantly.
"… where are those two idiots?" Junichi asked. "Kinda just noticed that they're gone."
Worst rubbed her temples with her index fingers as a scowl appeared on her face. "Those maggots left Misaka behind; tou-san spooked them. All the better, let the weak be culled! Misaka has no need for weaklings."
The pyrokinesist chuckled. He stuffed his hands back into his sweatshirt's front pocket and looked out into the distance. As far as his eyes could see, Academy City, the land of science, skyscrapers and shady, backdoor experiments was a land ripe for plundering, and an even riper land for pranking. Junichi took the lead, slowly walking away from Worst. "Good thing I brought extra coffee… soon, all of Academy City will know our name… PRANK."
"Is that really what we're calling ourselves? Misaka thinks it sounds stupid. Misaka suggests a better name, like… actually, Misaka can't think of anything better. "Misaka's Prank Army" just doesn't sound good inside her head, and it sounds worse out loud. PRANK it is."