Quick disclaimer: I don't own a dang thing involving the To Aru Majutsu no Index franchise. Not the characters, not the setting, not the names, not the universe's terms and lore. Nothing at all. This work is a fan-made labour of love and will not generate any form of gain for me, monetary or otherwise. To Aru Majutsu No Index is written and owned by Kamachi Kazuma, and illustrated by Haimura Kiyotaka.
A/N: It may interest you to know that I forgot to mention something in this piece's description: not only does A Certain Strange Scenario occur in an alternate universe, but it also occurs ten years in the future, post-canon. In this universe, certain events didn't happen, whereas others that didn't or haven't yet in Kamachi's canon did. For example, Misaki's tampering in Touma's mind didn't destroy his ability to make lasting memories with her during the events of this universe's NT 7. The result was the two eventually entering a functional relationship later in their lives. If the plot of this piece were any different, I would have explained it within the story. Unfortunately, that wouldn't work without entire chapters consisting of exposition dumps, and enough exposition as to past events is going to have to be carefully placed into a few chapters as it is. So, I instead decided to stick all of that information up here.
With all of this in mind, let's get started.
September 15th, 2014. Present day.
The warm morning breeze caressed Touma's dark, as of yet un-spiked hair. Touma wore his usual morning attire; a knee length housecoat, checkered pajama pants to match and a pair of slippers that desperately needed to be replaced. They had served the twenty five year old loyally until the end. A cup of coffee sat on the balcony's little table, forgotten. The sun had been given full reign over the sky, and not a single cloud, white or grey, had the gall to invade and challenge its dominance.
And yet, Touma didn't feel all that well.
He looked down at his phone. Entering the passcode he assigned to the device, Touma tapped on the 'gallery' app; instinctively he went for his favorite picture. It was a selfie he took with his best friend, Index, and his wife, Misaki. Index's azure eyes were alight with a carefree sense of joy, a broad smile on her face. Misaki looked as beautiful as ever. Her starry eyes looked thoughtfully into the phone's camera, a small but content smile on her face, as well.
Sadly, due to circumstance, Touma had been forced to give up one of those smiles, and it still ate away at him.
Some years ago, after the Fall of the Director, as it had come to be known around Academy City, there was a period of time in which Academy City's security was less than stellar. Due to the internal commotion caused by the demise of Aleister Crowley (an event Touma was forced to have a hand in orchestrating, so to speak), intruders and illegal aliens were able to enter the city with little retaliation, and those wishing to flee Academy City's walls found sympathisers who were willing to smuggle them out (for a fee of course).
Many of those forcing their way into Academy City were magicians of the unfriendly variety, many of whom had been hunting for the fabled Index Librorum Prohibitorum. The location of the relic's keeper had been leaked around magical circles. Break-in attempts were made, and illusions were shattered. Some magicians were turned against one another and knocked each other into a bloody pulp, as if their minds were suddenly ripped from their control.
But in the end, it resulted in the relic's (heavily protected yet surprisingly incognito) return to England, where it could better be protected.
"To Misaki and me, you were so much more than a magical relic that needed protecting," Touma thought as he stared down at the picture, memories rushing back to him like a stampeding herd of uncontrollable beasts.
"You were our friend, our partner in crime, part of our family."
Emerging from the half-dream, Touma noticed a droplet of transparent liquid suddenly appeared on the tempered glass screen. "Looks like rain," Touma muttered to no one, except maybe himself. The only problem with Touma's attempted avoidance of reality was the undeniable fact that there wasn't a cloud to be found for him to place the blame on. Struggling to put a smile back on his face as he locked his phone and placed it snuggly back in his pocket, Touma closed the balcony's door behind him.
The young man walked into the living room. To his relief, he wasn't alone any longer on this dreary morning. Misaki laid sprawled out on the couch, a TV remote, (thankfully) not the one she used as a focus for her Mental Out ability, was clutched in her hand. Her other available arm was being used to prop her head up on the arm of the couch. Touma's male instincts, despite his melancholy mood, quickly perked up at the sight of his beloved mate. Her long blonde hair fell in perfect locks despite the fact her drowsy-looking face suggested she had woken up mere minutes ago. Misaki wore her trademark pair of white, lacy gloves and a short green nightgown that greatly complimented her curves, catching Touma's eye and filling his mind with inappropriate thoughts only a man could conjure.
Upon hearing the balcony door sliding closed, Misaki looked away from the television and smiled at her husband. Despite living with Misaki for just over five years now, Touma's stomach still twisted and filled with butterflies when her starry eyes looked into his.
"Good morning, handsome." Misaki said as she rolled onto her back and extended her hand, inviting Touma to join her.
"Morning, you," Touma replied with genuine enthusiasm as he accepted his better half's invitation.
Their hands locked together, fingers interlocking. Touma leaned down and gently pressed his lips against the blonde's forehead, making her giggle and blush.
"Have a good sleep?" Touma questioned, still looking down at Misaki.
"Well enough," Misaki said, placing a finger from her free hand to her lips. "What about you? You spent a good deal of time rolling around last night. It didn't keep me awake, but it does worry me. You haven't been sleeping well lately."
Touma rose back to a sitting position and offered a shrug of indifference. "Can't say I did, but sleeping is what counts in the end. The way my misfortune in this right hand likes to smack me around, I can't really complain."
Her hand tightened in his, and a look of concern rising on her face. Responding to the sudden change of mood in their household, Misaki rose up, too. She took her hand back and wrapped her arms around her prince's broad shoulders; shoulders that, for too long, have had to bear the weight of an entire world.
"I know there is something troubling you, and I think – no, I know you need to tell me," Misaki said with an uncharacteristic sternness. "Don't tell me 'nothing is wrong'. I can see it, I can see you. I know you better than you know yourself, when it comes to certain things, especially when it comes to your feelings. Please, Touma, don't hide from me."
For a few fleeting moments, Touma was able to hold up his front. He felt like a lone warrior struggling to hold a ten thousand pound shield with one arm, battering back an onslaught of foes. Like all things, what went up was forced to come down. The opposition won. Touma's triumphant half-smirk faded, his chin buckled, and he felt his lower jaw begin to tremble.
"Keep it together, Kamijou Touma. Keep it together!" The mental critic screamed inside of his head.
"Let it out. Holding all of this crap in is going to kill you," the rational, reasonable Touma said. "Misaki's only trying to help. Let her be your shoulder to cry on. You know you would do the same for her in a heartbeat."
"Fuck me, why does she always do this? Can't she just fuck off for a minute?!" Anger Personified roared, a volcano erupting beneath him as his hands were outstretched, grasping at darkness.
As a response to Anger Personified's mental outburst, self-loathing Touma took center stage.
"You don't deserve her. You don't deserve this. None of it, you're a selfish piece of filth who has done nothing but force your own idiotic ideals on others."
"You've grown up. That's in the past, and every trial and tribulation has made you a better person," rational, reasonable Touma interjected.
"Shut up. You should die. I should die. Let us all die. Let this fucking cursed hand and its fucking misfortune infect someone else."
It was rational, reasonable Touma, the truth that had been pushed so deep that crawled to the surface, locking the rambling opposition within the confines of Touma's higher mind. With the mental debate settled, Touma let loose a raging torrent of emotions.
The man gave in. Wet, salty tears began to trickle down his face. Slowly, at first, but they slowly gained momentum. He felt his entire lower jaw trembling, as if it had just been blasted by a wave of ice. Touma tossed himself into Misaki's loving embrace. Her arms tightened around him and he found his head buried in her bare shoulder as he made a series of pathetic noises. To Touma, who had lost all control but was consciously quite lucid, he sounded like some sort of injured animal caught in a trap, dying.
Misaki's fingers ran through Touma's hair as he felt warm, wet drops fall through his matted hair and onto his scalp.
"Touma," Misaki began; her voice unsteady. "You are hurting so badly. You've been holding all of this pain, all of this suffering in for so long. Your weeping is full of so many emotions. I hate seeing you like this. I love you so much, my prince, and your suffering makes me die on the inside." She whispered, struggling to maintain her own composure. "Touma needs me to be strong. I need to be his support." Misaki thought.
Slowly but surely, having regained enough of his fractured stability to form coherent sentences, Touma spilled the beans. From Index's forced departure from their beloved family to the continued (albeit lessened) attacks on their home and the threats it posed not only to his well being, but also equally as important, to Misaki's, and finally, to the state of Academy City itself.
"Academy City has always had its troubles," Touma half-muttered, still being cradled by his beloved, "but now everything just feels so much worse. You step outside of the "safe" districts and someone tries to turn you into a corpse. Criminals and creatures that don't even have the right to exist roam the streets that aren't constantly patrolled by Anti Skill. I thought that, all those years ago, when I put an end to Aleister and his plans to make some sort of artificial Heaven on earth, I did the right thing. Now I know I should've just let that bastard do whatever he wanted. He was a monster, for sure, but his existence kept everything stable, even though I can't understand how. It feels like everything I did, everyone I ever saved, for whatever reason, wasn't my own actions. It's like I was being controlled by him. Knocking some sense into Accelerator and saving Misaka's sisters, stopping God's Right Seat, beating and seeing the imprisonment of a Magic God... It's like everything I did, every victory I ever had, every step I took just helped to advance that bastard's schemes. Even killing him somehow just made everything play out in his favour."
Frustration and a poorly masked tone of helplessness were clear in her prince's voice. It made Misaki's heart ache.
For a while, the two humans sat there on their couch in one another's arms, the television and the outside world forgotten. They sat in silence, simply enjoying the animal comfort that their embrace brought.
Misaki broke the silence, "we haven't been out in days. You've been working a lot, you know. Maybe, if we were to take a short walk, we could help push your woes away. We need some things at the store, regardless. Why shouldn't we go together? I think it will be good for us."
Touma quickly nodded, jumping at the chance to escape their apartment for a short time. Misaki was right, of course; Touma's insistence that he work a part-time job, despite the fact that the income Misaki received from her co-operation with Academy City's scientists easily covered their living expenses, may have been taking an extra toll on him. "Alright, I'm game, I think. I'm going to need a few minutes to get myself together.
Ugh, I'm sorry, Misaki, for..."
But the blonde shushed him. She placed a hand over his mouth and shook her head dismissively.
"No. No "sorry"! You have nothing to be sorry for. But you should really talk to me about your feelings more often. Just, please, think about it, at the very least. Not only for me, but more importantly, for you."
They embraced quickly and pecked their lips together one last time before Touma headed towards the bathroom.