The next day in the extravagant dorm dawned with an artificial, perpetual shade.

Any other morning and the curtains would have been drawn open by a diligent and responsible teleporter, but as morning transitioned to afternoon, they remained firmly shut.

Misaki laid in bed by Kuroko's side as the teleporter struggled to wake herself up from her trembling slumber. They were both utterly exhausted, but Kuroko's condition was clearly poorer. Her restless sleep was punctuated by sudden and involuntary jolts, and her breath left her mouth or nose in a ragged and scratchy whisper. Sometimes it came out as a strained hum, her chest too weak to allow her breath to leave her body in a calm and orderly manner.

Kuroko's instincts were pushing her to get out of bed, but she simply could not comply. Her years of discipline regarding her sleep schedule, school work and Judgement duties would not override the sheer exhaustion that plagued her battered soul and bruised body.

On the other side of the bed, Misaki fared little better. Through the night and into the early morning hours she kept a watchful vigil over her lover. She went so far as to tap into her girlfriend's mind when she needed to rest her eyes, but she was met with a buzzing static and a sense of nausea in her stomach, as if her overactive mind was rejecting Misaki's presence.

Now watching Kuroko struggle to wake beside her, Misaki cast her mind back to the night prior. The revisiting of Kuroko's past felt raw and lucid to a degree that the blonde had never felt before. Misaki could have sworn she felt that cutting electricity in her own heart. Even now, Misaki could still feel that solitary tear that had rested at the corner of one of her eyes when she looked down upon her tortured and battered girlfriend.

Misaki had been privy to the memory before, seeing it when she had visited Kuroko the night after the event, recuperating in the hospital. At first it was without permission, something she later admitted to as she slowly and unwittingly filled the void that Mikoto had left behind in Kuroko's damaged heart.

But this time it had been so vivid, so real.

One moment she was watching, and the next it was a point of view. At times it blended together, but it was all the same. The starry-eyed Level 5 could not help but replay those thoughts in her mind, her powerful brain as of yet unable to fully process and digest those sensations.

Without that night so many years ago, Misaki probably never would have had the chance she had to get so close to Kuroko. She would never have been given the opportunity to become a proper, actual friend to the girl, growing from a curiosity that had blossomed from the Level 6 Shift Attempt.

Originally Misaki had cynically seen it as a blessing.

But, as her feelings progressed, she knew that the night was also a curse.

She realised that when she had first rested atop of Kuroko; their first tentative steps into a relationship. It should have been a happy memory for Misaki and Kuroko, one to cherish and giggle and tease each other with as the days, months and years progressed.

But when she heard that irregular heartbeat, glancing up to see the grimace on Kuroko's lips, she knew that the damage Mikoto had inflicted upon Kuroko was more than just mental. Every night Misaki would hear or feel Kuroko's heart pulse in weird skips, as well as see the mental echoes that irradiated off of her dreams. Medicine could help with both pains, as well as the comfort of each other, but the condition would never go away.

It would always be lurking and threatening..

The Railgun had attempted to cripple Kuroko by inducing heart arrhythmia. Misaki originally thought that it was to avoid the future confrontation that had, inevitably, happened tonight, but she was never certain. Regardless, Mikoto had permanently hurt her best friend, mentally and physically, for her own selfish reasons.

The realisation, both then and now, enraged Misaki.

But it also devastated her.

Misaki remembered trying to bring Kuroko even closer to her, to comfort her even more as her own tears escaped from her starry eyes last night.

And they fell for many, many reasons.

Misaki, given Kuroko's current state of being, was awfully tempted to use her remotes on her. Her fingers would twitch at every jolt of worry and panic when Kuroko was torn out of her sleep by a nightmare or body palpitation, or whenever a pained and pitiful noise emanated from the teleporter. It was not enough to simply peer into her girlfriend's mind, nor was it comfortable to, but the urge to delve deeper and do the unthinkable was itching at her more baser nature…

The nature of a Level 5.

So many factors were swirling in her weary head, urging her to take the way out that was possible with her abilities as a Level 5. Mikoto Misaka rang out like an exclamation mark between every other thing that Kuroko was currently going through, everything that was wearing her down to her metaphorical stubs. For Misaki there was an emotion, laced with fear, that was quickly associating itself with the returning Railgun…

But Mental Out refused to admit to it, to give it any credence at all.

She watched on a little longer, watching Kuroko's shoulders shudder and vibrate. Her starry, golden eyes once more traced the scars that littered her girlfriends back, denominators of her line of work. Some were light, small and barely noticeable, while others had a darker shade or were wider, unable to hide away from a lover's eyes.

Upon gazing at what seemed to be a burn mark, likely from a concentrated spark of electricity, a hardly contained, angry grimace appeared on her lips. She bit at her lip as she controlled her rage and forced herself to look around to the digital clock on her side of the bed.

With the afternoon sun already deep in session, Misaki felt compelled to leave the comfort of the bed and the darkness of thier bedroom. It was not something that the blonde did without an extreme reluctance, but she was the only one with even a shred of functionality between the two. Misaki was more than accepting in resigning herself to be the watcher and water bearer for her traumatised girlfriend, but it did not mean that her body did not feel awful, nor her eyes heavy or head aching.

But she needed to escape the darkness, and she needed to drink some water and nibble on some toast or pastry. If it wasn't for her sake, then it was for Kuroko, as the Level 5 needed the strength to take care of the ailing Level 4.

And such was how the day went, supplying fresh, cold glasses of water for the sick and injured Kuroko, trying to get some soft food in her mouth and down her throat, as well as the tender loving care that Misaki knew that the teleporter needed. It was difficult, and Kuroko struggled to cooperate through every bit of aid offered and given. Misaki knew that Kuroko was trying, trying to at least stay hydrated in the dim and air-conditioned room, but her mind and body refused to work together.

Misaki, along with providing a pseudo-supply train to her girlfriend, had a silent and fretful day. She passed the time in an uncomfortable silence when she was not providing food, water and comfort, alternating between sitting at the kitchen side or lazing at the sofa to think and plan. Evening was starting to approach.

Following a phone call to Kuroko's assigned student manager, and a quick recorded message requesting Kazari Uiharu to visit her discreetly the following day, Misaki found herself unable to stave off an hour or so of sleep on the sofa. The nap did not have much of an effect on her, besides from making her panic when she awoke, followed by a wave of grogginess.

When she then heard Kuroko retching she rushed towards the cabinets to find a suitable bowl before dashing back towards the sofas and into the bedroom. Misaki ran in to see Kuroko's back shuddering and sweating with her head over the side of the bed, preventing herself from soiling the sheets that she needed to rest in. Misaki walked over to the teleporter's side of the bed, thankful that nothing had yet come up, before placing the bowl on the covers atop her girlfriend's knees. She then adjusted Kuroko's positioning, making sure that she could sit up.

After that episode where all Kuroko could throw up was, essentially, a small foamy bile, Misaki opted to shift her towards her side of the bed. Compared to Kuroko's sheets it was brand new, and the blonde hoped that her scent would calm her partner down into a more prolonged and restful slumber. With the state that the bed was in, Mental Out would have to figure something out with one of the few remaining maids on the night-shift in order to change the sheets without putting too much stress on Kuroko. But, in the meantime, Misaki would allow the teleporter to rest.

To keep her busy, Misaki would start prepping some chicken soup. Over the years she had become a pretty decent cook, so she knew how to rustle up a nice meal for when Kuroko was too busy or too late to cook herself. The blonde resorted to using a whole chicken that had been bought for a roast dinner. With how ill Kuroko was, Misaki figured that it would be put to better and easier use in helping the Level 4 to eat and ultimately recover.

Letting the chicken slowly stew in the broth as if it were taking a long, hot bath, Misaki sat at the kitchen worktop, taking the seat closest to her bag of remotes. She took out her phone and turned it on, tapping on her contacts for a certain someone.

Misaki was not one to just sit back and do nothing.

Mental Out scrolled down and down, past the many contacts with photos and selfies taken for the profile pictures, as well as the few that simply displayed an emblem or the first letter of their name. She zoomed past Kuroko's Judgement contacts and skipped over the members of her clique - even the most important ones - before she settled at the bottom of the list. She paused, eyeing up the contact which was simply tagged as 'Z#', her thumb hovering over the number as if she was being magnetically repulsed by it.

Her heart was beating a little faster now, a little harder.

It had been a long time.

Misaki tapped on her desired person of contact, and allowed the phone to digitally emit the sound of it connecting to the caller. The rhythmic drone lasted for a dozen or so seconds, breaking the silence of the room with its distinctive beat, before the person on the other end picked up and answered.

"Why hello, Ojou-sama ~" Spoke a cocky voice laced with static, her tone laden with mockery. Misaki felt something raw and hot rise up her stomach and into her chest.

"What is your game, Misaka-san?" Misaki spoke in as level a voice as she possibly could; she would do what she could to stem the anger in her body from seeping into her voice. Her voice was still quite haughty, but she carried an air of seriousness. The blonde then heard a chuckle on the other end of the line.

"Aha, so it is you! Though who else would call me today?" The Railgun started, sounding rather proud of herself. Her tone shifted instantly to one of curiosity, however. "I wonder how you got my number…"

"Unlike yourself, I have people around me to see to that, it's something you should try." Misaki responded with an uppity vibe, condescending and spiteful, playing on the lonesome situation that she knew The Railgun was in. Mikoto hummed.

"Hmm, I thought as much. Please don't be too upset if you find a member of your clique fried on the street soon, ne?" Mikoto threatened casually, producing a frown on Misaki's brow at the brazen and warped nature of her former frenemy. Her grip on her phone tightened, her soft and bare hands firmly grasping on the device as a means of venting her increasing rage.

"Let us not start a war over a phone number, Misaka-san, I-"

"Ah you don't seem to understand, Shokuhou-san, this war has already started." Mikoto interrupted Misaki, feeling humoured at Misaki's appropriate choice of words. On instinct, Misaki reached for her bag of remotes. She stopped herself midway through, her hand hovering in the air before she brought it back to the table.

"You cannot be serious…" Misaki said purposefully. Half of the reaction was genuine - anger, astonishment, apprehension - but another half was her wanting to probe her apparent rival, to confirm what Mikoto wanted to attain through this so-called war.

"Oh I am, Shokuhou-san. It's not like I don't have the time for it either, so there's no point trying to convince me otherwise." But Mikoto would not budge, as Misaki had feared. The Railgun had clearly remembered her time with Mental Out, and it was not like the blonde could use her remote to ascertain the information she needed. With resignation, she brought up the most obvious objective that Mikoto surely had.

"Why now? Why the interest in Kuroko now?" Misaki started, attempting to keep her voice down so the bedridden teleporter would not be awoken (or hear the conversation at all for that matter). "You abandon her, literally break her heart, and come back like… this?"

"Kuroko is important to me."

"And she is important to me ." Misaki quickly bit back against the suddenly calm and almost monotone voice of The Railgun, the flow of her anger into the conversation now beginning in earnest. "She was ill enough before you decided to appear before her and then electrocute her. How is crippling her meant to show how suddenly important she is to you?" The starry-eyed blonde argued passionately, her eyes staring daggers into an imagined image of Mikoto before her.

"That's nothing a trip to the hospital can't fix, Kuroko is tougher than that." Mikoto countered as if it should be normal for Kuroko to be in the back of the ambulance. Indeed, it was a common occurrence for the teleporter, but the manner in which it was spoken rubbed Misaki in all the wrong ways.

"She is in hospital, right?"

But then Misaki found herself stumped as Mikoto continued.

"Because, you see, I've been checkin' the admittance records for the past twenty-four hours and I don't see a 'Kuroko Shirai' anywhere…"

Misaki swallowed, and it was not only because of the stalking.

"...and you two haven't gotten married, thankfully, so that combination doesn't work either." Mikoto added. "Would have made things awfully complicated for later too…" She then added, another veiled threat that Misaki easily picked up on.

"...I can take care of her." Misaki replied rather weakly, making her curse internally. It was so unbecoming to feel so cornered so quickly, but Mikoto was always a difficulty for her. She heard a bout of laughter erupt down the speaker.

"You?! Look after anyone?! You really are smitten with her, huh?" Mikoto teased, though it was not in a friendly manner. She decided to twist the knife in before Misaki could reply.

"All this for someone under the whims of your power…"

That was Misaki's breaking point.

"How dare you!" Mental Out erupted from her seat, the kitchen chair falling over behind her and her free fist slamming onto the granite of the kitchen worktop. "You know nothing about-"

"No, I don't." Mikoto interrupted loudly. "But there must be something going on for you to avoid a much needed trip to the hospital." The Railgun concluded, leaving Misaki blindsided once more. Her anger slipped from her face, and now her mouth was agape in shock, a strangled breath escaping her throat. Mikoto was always an intuitive one, but even in her changed state she still had that spark to investigate even the slightest oddity.

What was worse for Misaki is that Mikoto would have been doing this regardless. Perhaps there was something to salvage from this confirmation, but feeding Mikoto's curiosity did nothing to calm her own nerves.

The Railgun was always, always her weak point.

"I know I broke her heart, I targeted it specifically last night too." Mikoto continued, still unnervingly calm. "Though the right medication would mediate the aftereffects, sure…"

"How can you speak about her like this… to do these things…" Misaki asked, baffled and appalled. For any other person, she could find the answer from her remotes or determine it via prior mental violations with them… but for Mikoto?

Misaki did not have that advantage, nor could she rely on the girl's past self anymore.

Mikoto Misaka really had changed.

"Because she can take it." Mikoto replied simply, effortlessly. Misaki could imagine The Railgun callously shrugging her shoulders as she said it too.

"You-!"

"And because she could not… clearly there is more to this, isn't there?" Mikoto snappily interrupted the once more enraged Misaki, and this time she had nothing to say back.

"..."

"Heh, I'll chat to ya later Shokuhou-san. Now I'm very, very interested in my Kuroko."

Misaki said nothing in reply, opting to throw her phone across the kitchen and into the tiled wall. The rectangular piece of technology clattered, smashed and clattered again in all manner of places, and was left in a barely fixable state. While this happened, Misaki had thrown her hands onto her face, appalled at how awfully the phone call had gone. It was a risky thing to have done in the first place, but not even Mental Out could have guessed how terribly it would have gone. It was a horrible experience for the blonde to feel so outclassed and out of control.

It was not just Mikoto Misaka who had changed, but herself as well; at least to some degree. But, Misaki concluded amidst her rage and despair, even the most subtle of shifts could have drastic effects. She felt so stupid for not accounting for her own shift in attitudes and motivations, and she began to worry that her ability to even read herself had waned.

Then she heard a door open.

Misaki's whole body twisted around at the speed of a bolt of lightning, looking towards the sound. It had come from the bedroom door, evident by the sickly, naked teleporter leaning against the doorframe with a slouch and barely open, bloodshot eyes.

"Kuroko, dear, you should be in bed!" Misaki said with a concerned voice, striding over the stricken kitchen stool and rushing towards her girlfriend. Kuroko hummed and rubbed her arm with her hand. She was particularly vulnerable right now, and that translated into her mental wellbeing too.

"Sorry…" Kuroko spoke in a croaky whisper, unable to look into Misaki's starry eyes. The blonde initially felt confused, but then she felt worried. Had she been too loud? Had Kuroko heard the conversation? She maintained her facade of confusion as she replied to the very ill teleporter.

"Sorry for what? You have nothing to be sorry for." Misaki said reassuringly, still hoping that Kuroko was none-the-wiser to her fraught phone call just now.

"'mm still pushing myself, not careful…" Kuroko slurred and mumbled, falling into her girlfriend's chest and grasp as Misaki reached her. Kuroko deeply welcomed the hug, snuggling into the comfort that her partner willingly and gratefully offered. She felt her damp hair and head being rubbed as Misaki comforted her.

"Please don't worry about that right now, let's get you back to bed." Misaki stated, slowly guiding Kuroko back into the bedroom. She was not strong enough to pick her up, so she had to make Kuroko walk backwards in tiny little steps, keen to avoid any kind of accident. Internally she was relieved that Kuroko had not overheard anything, but with Kuroko still in such a dire state it did little to make herself feel better.

They had reached Misaki's bedside, where the woman in question slowly guided her partner to sit down on the edge. The room was still dark, and despite the air conditioning felt a little musky. Perhaps it was from the sweating, but Misaki was not in a position to open a window right now.

"I'm going to call a maid to change the bedsheets, okay?" Misaki told Kuroko, who weakly nodded in response. "I'm going to run a very shallow bath so you can still rest, then I'll use the shower head to clean you while the maid fixes the bed, alright?" Misaki proceeded to explain to her exhausted lover, who once more lightly nodded her head and hummed in understanding. The pair both knew that it would be a bit of a push on Kuroko's current limits, but it was the best thing to do.

"And I have some lovely chicken soup cooking too." Misaki said cheerily with a smile, placing her delicate hands on Kuroko's moist cheeks. The auburn-haired girl forced a very tiny smile, and once more nodded her head slowly.

"Mm, thank you." Kuroko replied with not a trace of energy. For a brief moment she felt happy.

"Now, just lay down for a little longer while I make the call, okay?" Misaki said while holding her partners back and chest, carefully guiding her down onto the slightly less ruined side of the bed. It was strange to be treating the strong, toned Kuroko like she was a delicate vase, but the situation clearly called for it. The hand on Kuroko's back drifted to the back of her head as she drew closer to the pillow, ensuring that the injured and ill woman landed back onto the bed with as little discomfort as possible.

With Kuroko rested and her eyes already closed, Misaki walked back towards the living room, departing their shared bedroom. With her primary phone now in bits and pieces, she rummaged around for her backup device hidden somewhere between the sofas. It did not take too long for her to find it and she went to boot it up, waiting for barely a minute for the device to be ready.

Once more she opened up her contacts list, it being a synced mirror image of her abused and mistreated primary phone. She scrolled down, but stopped way before she reached the bundle of maid contacts, stopping at the letter 'J'.

Her thumb tapped on 'Junko Hokaze'.

Hardly a few seconds had passed before Junko answered the call, greeting Misaki as she had done all the way since Tokawadai.

"Queen-sama?" Said the gentle voice of Misaki's most trusted friend and ally. She noted the neutral tone of her friend, who would always wait as to whether the topic would be casual or professional before changing the pitch of her voice.

Unfortunately, it would be the latter tonight.

"Mikoto Misaka is active again, and making moves." Misaki started, her voice low and quiet. She heard a hum of affirmation down the speaker.

"Would you like me to have someone watch over her?" Junko asked, her voice now firm. Misaki moved away from the sofas, returning to the kitchen worktop that she had just recently left. Her hand landed atop the handbag that rested upon it.

"No, she's far too dangerous right now." Misaki replied, flat out denying the suggestion. Her free hand unzipped the handbag, and she reached for a remote. "I am about to relay a substantial amount of information to you, Hokaze-san. Do you remember the procedure?" She pulled the remote she required from her bag, a purple one laced with an ill-fitting neon-green. Junko hummed in the background.

"I believe so, yes. Speaker by my temple correct?" Junko asked, receiving a verbal thumbs up from Misaki. "Mhm, let me just sit down…" Misaki could hear the clacking of her friend's shoes down the speaker of her phone as she found a suitable place to seat herself. A few moments later she heard the unmistakable rustle of leather.

"Okay, I'm ready."

With that, Misaki positioned her phone and remote so they could 'interact' with each other. In the click of a button, a technique that Mental Out had been honing for years began.

It was an incredibly intensive procedure for both Misaki and the recipient, who had almost always been Junko. Using the mobile phone connection as a conduit, Misaki would channel her memories and thoughts through it, achieving an instant long distance and completely covert method of information relaying. With the blonde often making herself unreachable to the majority of her clique, it was Junko with the responsibility of acting as Misaki's voice when The Queen herself was not present.

While it felt like minutes, the act was completed in mere seconds. It would leave them both with an uncomfortable headache and the unmistakable feeling of fatigue in their bodies. Misaki could already feel herself slouching.

"Mm, ah… I see…" Junko spoke with a weary moan. "I will insist to everyone that they keep a low profile, but…" She adjusted herself in her seat, a sigh akin to feeling the tinge of a sore muscle escaping her, "I cannot ensure that they all heed it."

"That's fine, as long as the message is sent. It is their responsibility to follow it in the end." Misaki admitted, knowing that not everyone would follow her instructions to the letter. It could be quite boring to lay low after all, even if it might save their life.

"Is there anything I can do though, Queen-sama?" Junko felt compelled to ask, wishing to be helpful to her close friend. Misaki replied as astutely as ever.

"Yes, there is something…"