Quick thing: thanks, Geust's Account for favoriting! It's great to have you on board, and I hope you enjoy your reading of a Certain Broken Testament!
Let's get into response time, shall we? This chappy round, we have a lot to cover!
Guest: apparently, Tsuchimikado Motoharu has either forgotten, or simply doesn't care about Index's friends, both of whom are quite powerful and quite influential. I suppose the Backstabbing Blade might feel that both could be reasoned with? Absolutely not. When (and if) both find out about the 'stunt' Motoharu decided to pull, Hell itself might just break loose, and that's not counting what could happen if Kamijou Touma learns of the happenings between the spy and his co-habitants.
I do get your point, there, friend. Not all things can go according to plan; Touma and Seria's crossing of paths with Musujime Awaki is among those things that simply don't go according to a set plan or schedule. Fate is a strange thing, isn't it?
321jaz: something, something, Eminem reference. I'm running out of pop culture to steal from.
Absolutely. To me, Leivinia Birdway is an extremely interesting (and adorable) character, especially with the recent developments she's experienced over in Kamachi's prime canon, regarding her sister's near-death experience.
I can fully admit that a fair amount of the Spring-heeled Jack Arc was devoted to setup and establishing a setting. I suppose that's the purpose of an initial story arc, huh? The Index Arc over in Kamachi's prime canon served a similar purpose. What a mouthful indeed? "Dark side of the moon", eat your heart out!
You won't be kept waiting for too long. I'd like to be able to reveal bits and pieces as the narrative progresses; I think such mechanics would be preferable to a great info-flood.
Chaos. That's the one thing I can say without unleashing too many spoilers. There's going to be chaos.
That it does! Our hero and a certain Beauty-Senpai seem to be a collision course with "The Mating Ritual of Beauty-Senpai (TM)", if current events are any indication. I can't say too much about the potential team-up between Touma, Seria and Awaki, but what I can leave behind, here, are these words: read on!
Correct!
As always, it's great to know that I'm able to consistently gain your approval, friend! I hope to continually do so in the future.
whwsms: AY CARAMBA indeed! Our unfortunate Kamijou-san always seems to be getting himself sucked into these incidents, doesn't he? Even if it's not necessarily of his own volition, he still ends up among magicians, dealing with some magical problem. Perhaps his misfortune is linked less to Imagine Breaker and more to some great cosmic force that enjoys pulling the strings of his life?
As you suggested. there's always the possibility that some of the powerful parties involved are keeping information to themselves.
As we progress closer to the "Mating Ritual of Beauty-Senpai (TM)", I think I can safely say the following: dirty dancing confirmed.
The potential for a "Mating Ritual of Move Point (TM)" is... there. It's something that's possible. I suppose it all depends on the ways in which our narrative bends while it's weaved.
Quite! It would appear that, as it stands, Kumokawa Seria is indeed the leading contender for the 'number one' position within the fledgling Kamijou Faction, even if such a position doesn't exist within Touma's mind.
I don't want to say too much, here: but I can promise that both Misaka Mikoto and Mitsuari Ayu will show up, the former sooner than the latter.
I'm very glad to hear that, friend. I hope to be able to consistently gain your readership, as well as your continued approval!
February 7th, 2004. 2:06 PM.
From the depths of Tokyo Bay a certain white beetle rose, the water's waves crashing against its form. Only the size of a small dog, the queer, green-eyed existence blinked away droplets that splashed up from the currents. It struggled to beat its wings as they emerged from beneath its armored shell.
Soon, a person once thought deceased, Kakine Teitoku, would make himself known once again. He was no human, not in the present, but he would be again. The pathway was paved.
No matter what, the number two ranked level five would prove that he was more than a mere backup plan. Unknown variables such as physically appealing Norse gods be damned.
There was no force on planet Earth that could kill him.
February 7th, 2004. 2:26 PM.
"Olivia-chaaaaaaan."
"Stop."
"Olivia-chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan."
"I'm only asking you in a polite and civil manner one last time. Please stop. You're making me feel very uncomfortable, and I would much prefer it if you ceased this childish behavior."
"Sorry… Olivia-chaaaaaaaaaan."
"It this my punishment? Is this the suffering I must endure in exchange for the horrors I bestowed upon the Imagine Breaker? "Aogami Pierce" is my karmic retribution personified, isn't he? His perversions are sick and the deep corners of his twisted mind are surely sicker."
With Komoe-sensei taking a bathroom break that was supposed to have been brief, Aogami Pierce apparently saw the situation as one in which he could pester the unfortunate object of his affections. She couldn't have hoped with more passion for the class's teacher to return in a timely manner.
Even as Himegami Aisa politely attempted to inform Aogami Pierce of the 'evils' of his ways, and even as Fukiyose Seiri repeatedly throttled him, whacking a metallic mug over his head over and over until a large, solid-looking bump formed on the crown of his head, Aogami Pierce wouldn't relent. He'd pulled up a seat directly next to "Olivia-chan", and he simply did not stop. Was there any stopping him? Was he some kind of perverted force of nature? Was he even human? "Olivia-chan" didn't quite know the answer to any of the questions that floated around within her higher mind's endless corridors.
That bothered her even more. It was the doubt that was eating away at the proverbial inner linings of her mind.
"Olivia-chan," Aogami Pierce pestered. He leaned to the left and attempted to wrap his arm around her shoulders.
This resulted in his arm being violently twisted in a direction it certainly wasn't intended to bend in, and the results showed; Pierce cried aloud in pain as "Olivia-chan" gave him a shove, with her foot, knocking him from his seat. With a grunt, she dusted either of her shoulders off.
"Why do you always hurt me, Olivia-chan?! I LOVE you!"
"Your feelings aren't being reciprocated. Please stop. Have my offerings of friendship not been enough for you?"
"No!" Aogami Pierce exclaimed, practically groveling. He'd attempted to situate his form into something of a proposal pose before Fukiyose Seiri forced him to the ground, pushing down upon his back with her foot and repeatedly stomping on him. "It's not! I LOVE YOOOUUUU! I WANT YOOOOUUUUU! Hold me, Olivia-chan! I'm DESPERATE!"
Komoe-sensei still hadn't returned. Perhaps it was time to take on drastic measures. Sometimes, when push came to shove, one's pride had to not only be pushed aside, but flexed as well.
A small remainder of the sadism she'd utilized against the Imagine Breaker was alive within her. She would wield it as a weapon.
"Olivia-chan" rose from her seat and knelt beside the crushed form of Aogami Pierce. Fukiyose Seiri repeatedly pushed his face into the floor, berating him for his 'horrid' behavior; the fact that he was squealing, seemingly in pleasure, that simply disgusted "Olivia-chan" even more. He was enjoying the torment being dealt onto him.
She placed her index and middle fingers beneath Pierce's chin, forcing his line of vision to fall in line with her own. Confused, Fukiyose Seiri relented, but kept a foot forced down upon Pierce's back, holding him in place.
With her available hand, "Olivia-chan" ensured that her uniform's skirt remained in place.
"You say you're in love with me, "Aogami Pierce"? What does that mean? Does it mean that you'd like to take me out on a date and spoil me? Something more, perhaps? Maybe you'd like to kiss these lips, or hold these hands."
Though they couldn't hear "Olivia-chan's" words, the entire classroom had fallen silent. All eyes were on her, and all eyes were on Aogami Pierce as well.
"Or maybe you'd be fond of attempting to engage in coitus with this body. Let me tell you something."
"O-Olivia-chan?!"
"My significant other fucks me like an animal every night. He pushes me against the wall of his dorm and he ravages me, thrusting into my femininity over and over. I love it. I love being ravaged by him. He can do anything he wants to me, you know... anything. I'm his bitch.
"I regularly encourage him to take me aside while I'm performing any number of trivial tasks that I may or may not be performing and rape me. He does so quite often."
Like a woodland creature caught in a trap, Aogami Pierce squirmed in place. He writhed and flailed his limbs about as if he was a poorly-raised child thrown a temper tantrum in a shopping mall.
"I don't get off to this! OLIVIA-CHAN! YOU'VE FOUND MY ONE WEAKNESS! STOP! STOP I SAY! HALT! UHH… WE NEED A SAFEWORD! SPAGHETTI! RAMEN! TURTLE SOUP! OLIVIA-CHAAAAAAN!"
"His massive, bulging, throbbing masculinity strokes the walls of my genitalia and has full, unrestricted access to my womb."
"NOOOOOO! DON'T NTR MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! NTR IS THE WORST FETISH! IT'S SO LOW-GRADE!"
"He's even ejaculated inside of me. He does so regularly, in fact."
"… wait, what? YOU'RE…"
"No, not that. Protection is regularly used to ensure that I don't become pregnant. With his seed constantly being ejected inside of me, however, I am officially owned by him. I'm my significant other's little cock-slut, and I only take his. It's ejaculated inside of me, I swallow it, I let it run down and drip between my breasts when it drips down from my chin as well. Now, please, silence yourself, or I may have to provide you with one of our sex tapes, free of charge."
"ANYTHING BUT THAT! DON'T CUCK ME, PLEASE! I understand! I'll lay off! I-I… I was kidding, anyways! Yeah, I was just fooling around!"
Fukiyose Seiri looked quite disturbed. Olivia-chan simply smiled and returned to her seat, as a shaken Aogami Pierce retreated from the classroom at feverish speeds, moving like he was late for some very important occasion.
"W-w… where is Komoe-sensei? She should be back by now!" Seiri babbled, apparently attempting to divert the collective attentions of her fellow students onto herself, and away from an all too proud "Olivia-chan".
"Don't know," a young man responded.
"It is rather suspicious," a young woman remarked. "Maybe a search party should be formed? Maybe our sensei was kidnapped!"
Fukiyose Seiri's diversion attempt succeeded; the classroom's students began to debate the topic of their teacher's disappearance. Even the usually quiet Himegami Aisa joined the conversation, though she didn't make much conversational progress with anyone other than Seiri.
Then, an unknown variable joined the fray.
Seating themselves next to "Olivia-chan", they didn't even attempt to touch her. Whoever they were, they kept their distance. With their hands folded, they rested the extremities upon their pilfered desk's surface. Their right leg was crossed over their left, and their right foot bounced up and down repeatedly.
Such was fine by the golden-haired, one-eyed former Magic God. All the better that this individual understood the concepts of personal space and the meaning of the word "no".
"Ey. You alright? Guess the bastard really does have a thing for you."
"Perfectly fine. Please don't attempt to play the charming hero. I don't intend to be swept off my feet and carried into a castle to serve as a trophy wife."
"Heh. A fate I wouldn't want either. What woman would? Look, eight hundred yen a week and I'll keep the perverts off you. No drama."
Perhaps, if those exact words had been uttered by a burly Eastern European thug, "Olivia-chan" would've paid more mind to said words; this individual was neither burly nor of European descent, if looks were enough to go by. They looked to be Japanese, about as Japanese as Kamijou Touma, Fukiyose Seiri, and Himegami Aisa.
To boot, she wasn't even male, not that such a thing mattered. "Olivia-chan" knew from experience that a girl could easily put a boy on the ground. Fukiyose Seiri did it all the time.
Othinus had done it thousands of times, and she'd never forgive herself for it. Her mortal body would become frail and destroy itself before she'd forgive herself.
Standing only approximately five feet and a couple of inches, the girl was hardly anything impressive, at least physically. Of an average build, with a better than average bust size, which "Olivia-chan" felt herself becoming quite jealous of in the moment, her shoulder-length, honey-colored and equally honey-scented hair flowed neatly like a waterfall's currents. Her hair's fringe was parted in many sections while its bangs were neatly trimmed. Her eyes matched the color of her hair, strangely enough.
Her facial expression wasn't quite as elegant. Her brow was furrowed, her lips curled downwards into a scowl. Her knuckles were scarred and bloodied, her hands and arms dotted with visible veins.
Following a second short observation, "Olivia-chan" came to notice that the girl had rather toned arms, looking as if she regularly lifted weights, or perhaps regularly lifted some sort of heavy object, or objects.
"Is there a problem? You're awfully quiet. You don't need to take that shit from him. Fuck Aogami up, shove a broomstick in his rectum and make him squeak your name. Better yet, pay me to do it for you. Quick and clean. He won't squeal, I'll make sure of it. There are ways of keeping a person from snitching."
"You must be the life of the party."
The girl with the honey-colored, honey-scented hair leaned back in her pilfered seat. Folding her scar-dotted arms beneath her bosom, she produced a sigh, one ripe with aggravation.
"Fukiyose's got the right idea. You don't see him harassing her, do you? She asserts herself. Men are pigs that need to be controlled, Olivia. You assert yourself as a dominant force and they'll lick the ground you walk on."
She extended her hand in "Olivia-chan's" direction, tilting her head to one side and offering a nod.
"Shokuhou. Shokuhou Izanami."
Izanami's conversational partner took the hand extended out to her, briefly and briskly shaking the extremity.
"Olivia. Just… Olivia."
Just as an exhausted and spooked-looking Komoe re-entered the classroom, plopping herself down at her seat behind her desk, Shokuhou Izanami pulled her seat closer to the form of "Olivia-chan", and leaned in. Receiving the message, "Olivia-chan" leaned in as well, though not close enough to touch heads or accidentally invade the mysterious girl's personal space.
"If you don't think I have experience dealing with pigs, I do. Between you and I, I run a faction of sorts out of Tokiwadai. I've been whipping those fuckin' pretty little princesses into shape, got me a bad-ass assortment of battle-girls that can lay out the City's Skill Out population in a New York minute."
"And… you're telling me this why, exactly?"
Izanami clicked her tongue; she was acting like she'd said something that should've been universally understood by the entire world's populace.
"The way you disarmed Aogami is exactly the sort of thing I'm looking for."
"Is it? I don't believe I did all that much. I merely spooked him," "Olivia-chan" suggested.
Shokuhou Izanami offered an indifferent shrug.
"Not all strength comes in the fist, or in a baton or an esper ability. Some people can disarm a pig with their speech alone. You emasculated him, humiliated him and assured your place as the dominant individual in the situation. In essence, you're someone I can associate with. Like I said, eight hundred yen a week and I'm yours. You won't even have to raise a finger, because I'll break all of his."
Othinus took over. The visage of "Olivia-chan" was cast to the wind as Othinus tossed her head back, causing her own golden locks to flow. With either of her hands she brushed her bangs aside and fiddled with her hair's fringe.
"I've been told I'm skilled in the art of domineering. While your offer is appreciated, I don't think I'm in dire need of your services, Shokuhou-san."
"Suit yourself. I'll be around if you change your mind. While we're on the topic, did you know that there's a special section of the male testes one can kick or otherwise assault that ensures the victim in question will find themselves unable to procreate? Fairly useful for causing permanent damage, only reversible through expensive medical treatments."
The remainder of the school day passed "Olivia-chan", Seiri and Aisa by; once the bell rang and class was dismissed, the trio fled the classroom together, leaving their teacher, Komoe to drink from whatever she was carrying around with her in that paper bag.
By the time the three had concluded their business at their respective lockers, each accompanying the other, the trio managed to leave the middle-high school proper behind in a rather timely manner. It was only some few minutes after three o'clock in the afternoon by the time they'd nearly left the grounds completely.
Then, something caught Himegami Aisa's eye.
She came to a grinding halt before one of many lampposts which flanked the cobbled walkway leading to and from the middle-high school.
"Eh?" Seiri inquired, coming to a halt as well. She grabbed onto the hand of "Olivia-chan" and pulled her back; she'd nearly left her companions behind, so wrapped up in her own thoughts about the life, the world and the universe was she.
Being able to wonder about it at all was almost a blessing to the formerly omniscient being.
A confused Seiri spoke aloud, further prying "Olivia-chan" from her inner thoughts, as other students passed the trio by, paying little attention to the oddities in pamphlet form.
"What… what is this? Who is this? I'm… lost."
Fastened with wads of clear industrial tape to the lamppost and to lampposts beyond the first that Aisa had laid eyes on were a series of identical pamphlets. An expressionless paper bag with human eyes jutting out from two holes cut into its surface, a human neck and human shoulders beneath it stared the girls down. Above and below the paper bag person's form, written text was scrawled.
"No more Lies, Secrecy and Oppression. Solidarity with the Sons of Taured."
"Find us. Liberate Your Mind from the Chains of Oppressive Tyrants. Oseltaeb."
Fukiyose Seiri looked quizzically at the pamphlet, like it was the perpetrator of some heinous crime rather than an innocuous paper construct. She raised an eyebrow and produced a soft, curious-sounding "hmph."
"… this looks like propaganda," Aisa stated, clearly and simply. She leaned in for a closer look.
"… wearing an article of clothing that obscure's one's face doesn't make one a reliable figurehead for any kind of movement… I suppose I'm saying that to the wrong people."
"Oseltaeb…. Oseltaeb… hmm… Esoltaeb? Beatleso? beatleso. be… at Leso?"
To say that both Fukiyose Seiri and Himegami Aisa found themselves feeling both confused and slightly concerned would be an understatement. The girls looked to one another and then expectantly looked to "Olivia-chan".
"Leso is a small island in Greece, only a few minutes' distance from the mainland," she elaborated.
Both Aisa and Seiri looked like they demanded further explanation. They weren't going to give up easily, evidently; the former tilted her head to one side while the latter placed her hands on her hips.
"I… erm, I studied Greece when I was… um, younger. It's a very interesting place full of interesting history and mythology. Therefore, it would make sense that I'd know such a trivial fact… hehe. Might the author of this pamphlet be urging interested individuals to visit this island? But, if so, then to what end?"
"Or, you could be reading way too deeply into this, Olivia-chan," Seiri spoke with a shrug of her shoulders. "Don't forget, the human mind is always looking for patterns so that it can try and make sense out of nonsense."
Himegami Aisa placed her arms around the shoulders of both "Olivia-chan" and Fukiyose Seiri, pulling them close to one another as she set her head on either of their touching shoulders.
"… I double dare someone to open it… Olivia-chan, I double dare you to open it."
"What if it contains anthrax?"
"That's not how anthrax works, Olivia-chan."
"… with all due respect, Olivia-chan, there're far more efficient ways to commit acts of terrorism…"
"Oh. Don't you think for a second that I don't know that, Himegami. Terrorism is… was my specialty. Being a terrible person is another one of my specialties, in case you didn't know."
Biting down on her lower lip, "Olivia-chan" proceeded to peel away multiple layers of the thick, clear tape, carrying wads of the sticky industrial strength adhesive to the nearest dustbin rather than littering. Fukiyose Seiri offered her friend a nod of approval.
After peeling away the final layer, the former Magic God caught the pamphlet in her open hands and opened it.
"Magic,"
"Magic Side,"
"Necessarius,"
"Annihilatus,"
"God's Right Seat,"
"GREMLIN,"
"Index Librorum Prohibitorum, "Slave", "Victim of Systemic Oppression,"
"Rise up. The Sons of Taured await with open arms and hearts bleeding with anger."
What Othinus read was horrifying, bone-chilling, petrifying. The implications were staggering and the reality was slowly beginning to dawn on her like the sun's rays within a clear morning's sky.
Someone was knowingly disturbing the balance, regardless of the grievous and overwhelming consequences of doing so; the author even acknowledged such consequences.
They were trying to incite Armageddon. An unrestrained global conflict between scientific and magical factions would be the end. Who in their right mind would want to unleash World War Four?
"I don't know, Himegami. It's like something from one of those crazy cults. What's all this about "Magic Gods?" Are they a doomsday cult? Plenty of those out there. For instance, just last week, even… hey, Olivia-chan?! Where are you going?"
The pamphlet laid crumpled upon the cobbled walkway's surface. Himegami Aisa and Fukiyose Seiri looked on before they began to follow behind their companion, exercising minor reluctance. The former picked up the crumpled pamphlet before carefully pocketing it.
February 7th, 2004. 3:16 PM.
Kamijou Touma looked to Kumokawa Seria, who'd arrived with she and Touma's drinks some time prior to the present moment they'd found themselves in. She smiled at him and he smiled back.
Even in the relative darkness of Club Orange, with so many shades of near-overwhelmingly bright colors dancing across her skin, even if Kamijou Touma could barely see her with these visual distractions, she was still so stunningly beautiful. The longer he looked into her eyes, the more Seria's blush deepened.
Despite their mutual attraction, both Touma and Seria kept an eye on Musujime Awaki who was visible within the crowds, having found a male dance partner who seemed confident enough to hold his own in the presence of the level five candidate.
Over the thumping of house music senpai and kohai spoke in hushed tones. In her right hand Kumokawa Seria had taken Kamijou Touma's icy left.
"I'm not going to try and stop you, Senp… Seria. If you feel comfortable venturing into a situation like the one that snake is trying to drag me into, then who am I to question that? It's your decision to make."
"Whether I feel comfortable or not is a matter that is irrelevant, my little kohai. I refuse to risk losing you again."
"I… I appreciate that. I don't want to lose you again either. That's not the problem here though, I don't think it is at least."
Kumokawa Seria raised an eyebrow, then looked down at the crumpled pamphlet. The paper bag man's empty eyes stared back at her.
For a split second, Kumokawa Seria thought she saw the eyes of the paper bag man follow her own. Surely such a thing must've been a trick of her imagination.
Then again…
"It's this less-than-mysterious "balance" I've heard so much about then?" She softly inquired.
Touma nodded in affirmation.
"Yeah. Science and magic are supposed to stay as separate entities."
Seria produced a huff. "As I've heard."
"Both sides seem to be doing a shit job at achieving that separation. Look, Seria, can I borrow your phone? I'll call a buddy of mine, met him through the old man but he's a good guy, trustworthy. He's like me, he's using them. If you know the name "Keitz Nokleben", he's one of Nokleben's buddies. My guy's in on the whole science-magic thing. Name's Dave, he's…"
"Horton?"
"Eh?"
Kumokawa Seria leaned back and took a sip from her drink, just as a group of casually-dressed young men passed her by. They paid her little more than a series of approving glances and continued on their way, though one offered her a friendly smile, one which she briefly returned.
"David Horton, an agent with the Oculus, is this the individual you're speaking of?"
"Yeah. Dave Horton, Oculus G-man, hit that Skill Out holdout recently with the snake. Maybe you saw it on the news if you keep up. You've met?"
"I've worked with the Oculus and Horton-san in the past," Seria stated, taking another sip from her drink. Touma continued to look down at his own. Mere ice water, fragments of frozen water floated within the liquefied substance like little boats on a wide ocean. "I wasn't aware he knew of magic. Every day is a school day, hm, my kohai? But, where are my manners? Here, my phone. The password is Slluks."
Kamijou Touma tapped that very password when he was prompted to, and unlocked the extremely expensive-looking device. Its screen alone was likely worth more than his dorm.
"Nice phone," Touma remarked, awkwardly chuckling under his breath. In response, Seria offered her kohai a warm and equally genuine smile. She tightened her grip on Touma's left hand ever so slightly before she raised the extremity to her lips and placed a kiss to it.
After figuring out how to navigate to the phone's calling app, Touma dialled in the required series of digits and raised the phone to his ear.
Buuuzzzzz, buuuzzzzz, buuuzzzzz. Buuuzzzzz, buuuzzzzz, buuuzzzzz. Buuuuuuzzzzzzzzzz.
"Oculus Recon Department branch five fifty-six. Agent David Horton speaking. Identify yourself."
"Woah Davey, relax. It's me, Kamijou."
On the other end of the line, a nervous, if relieved-sounding chuckle was vocalized. The clacking of keys could be heard, and the clicking of computer mice accompanied the metallic, electronic tabernacle.
"S-sorry. We're under a lot of pressure, with the Project going better than expected, we…"
"And therefore, you're even more paranoid than you would be if everything was blowing up in your face from all sides."
"Right."
The old Yank sounded like absolute shit.
Kamijou Touma could only silently offer the acne-riddled man his silent sympathies. His voice was deep and commanding, but there was a hint of weakness to it, as if old Davey just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.
Touma offered Seria a smile as he raised his own glass to his lips. For the first time in over a month, Kamijou Touma took a sip from a glass and allowed a liquid substance to enter his new body.
Placing the glass down, Touma leaned back in his seat, while he ensured that Kumokawa Seria could continue holding his hand.
"The Project is going to have to go on hold, Davey. We've got a situation and it's not going to be pretty if we let it get out of hand. The Oculus shouldn't get involved, but you should. You're, erm, special."
David Horton produced a sigh. His keyboard ceased to clack, though others around him continued from where he'd left off.
"The Oculus at large are aware. Gladio spilled the beans. More of Academy City's faculties are figuring it out for themselves or are being outright told everything... are there not people that exist to deal with this sort of thing? The Project can't be put on hold, not when we're this close."
"Apparently, nobody else is trying to do anything about this, so as usual it falls to people like you and me."
"As always. Worthless establishment," Horton grumbled.
"Have you seen any of these… weird fuckin' pamphlets? They're all over the walls in this club, Davey."
"You're at a club?! Well, that explains the noise. Let me guess, with a girl? Teenagers… yes, I've seen the fucking pamphlets Kamijou, but what're we going to do about it? Let the Project fall to the wayside while we do some incompetent's job?"
"Davey, what if I told you that a potential future level five read one of these things? What if I told you that they're full of incriminating shit, talking about… them? Necessarius? Annihilatus? Fucking God's Right Sea…"
"Kamijou for Christ's sake, pipe down about that! Which one?! Takitsubo? No, couldn't be her. In witness protection with the boy…"
"Musujime," Touma stated.
"Shit. Shit! Fucking Musujime? How much does she know?! Fucking Necessarius degenerates! If they didn't have their collective heads stuffed inside of their collective rectums… shit!"
Touma placed his drink back down upon the table's surface. There was an odd aftertaste to the stuff.
"She knows enough. Musujime doesn't believe any of it but that could change. Davey, look here. There's apparently a sketchy market that… fuckin' Tsuchimikado's investigating, of course someone… someone close to me and me, we both ended up involved. District four, get there. We might need someone who can book people and keep them locked up, if that's what needs to be done."
"Right… shit! Dammit. Shit! Someone's trying to get us all killed Kamijou."
The line went quiet, and then Seria's phone began to produce a series of soft buzzes. David Horton had hung up his Oculus-issued smartphone, evidently.
"Babe," Touma remarked, before he realized what he'd vocalized. "Uh… sorry. My bad Seria. Don't know where that came from."
Seria produced a soft giggle. "I don't mind at all, my little kohai. Call me cute little pet name whenever you want. What is it?"
"What are we going to do about Musujime?" Touma inquired, leaning forward, his voice dropping even further into a whisper.
Seria mimed, leaning forward as well; both remained inconspicuous enough. Seria placed her nose against her kohai's and moved about, as if she was attempting to emulate the movements of someone who was engaging with another in a kissing session.
"This place could be under surveillance for all we know, maybe they're looking out for people who take interest in their pamphlets? Could be a recruiting tactic, or something else entirely. I don't want to take a chance."
"Your concern is justified, Touma-kun."
"I'm no magician, I can't track mana, can you?"
Seria shook her head, no. "As far as I'm aware, my kohai, those who've experienced the effects of the Power Curriculum will have some kind of violent internal clash if they attempt to wield magic or "refine mana", whatever that may mean. So, no, unfortunately."
"Shit," Touma cursed. "Musujime could be in some deep shit. Wouldn't know what to expect from magicians either, I sure didn't when I first met them. Have I ever told you that story? Probably not. Another day. Shouldn't she at least know what she might've involved herself in?
"The pamphlets could have some sort of fucked up magic in them, maybe runes or something. Hell, they could've been made using magic, alchemy… Tsuchimikado ever tell you about all this stuff? Probably not. Magic can do some crazy things. She probably won't believe us… wait."
Kumokawa Seria raised an eyebrow, just as she moved even closer to her kohai. She had questions of her own, but Seria was more than willing to wait.
Even if he was no longer "human", he still certainly smelled very, very good. It was a scent that was almost intoxicating.
Persuaded to do so by her flawed human body, Seria placed a kiss to Touma's lips. Once, twice and then a third time, the coppery taste left behind was bitter, yet quite sweet, almost like the sensation of a sour gummy placed against her tongue.
"I've never been through the Power Curriculum. Not in this body. I'm not even a level zero, I'm not even an esper… not even human. I wonder… Beauty-Senpai… I mean, Seria, do you think… do you think I could use magic? If we showed Musujime that, she'd believe us. She'd know what to expect and she could protect herself… even if I couldn't, Tsuchimikado or Karasuma could probably show her something. I don't know how to refine mana, or if I even can but I'm sure that I could figure it out for myself."
Kumokawa Seria had forced herself to lean back. She was about to lose herself and begin kissing her kohai's lips right there and then. Seria gave her head a shake, trying to rescue her mind from the depths of the gutter.
"Your selflessness shines through once more, my little kohai. That selflessness has resulted in you being taken advantage of more than 'too often'. Combined with that confidence, though; that could be a deadly combination to use against problematic individuals who would manipulate and string you along. It's hardly a wonder that you're so popular with the opposite sex."
"If you want to attempt it I won't attempt to stop you from doing so. I will say this: what did I tell you about you remaining you, even after what you suffered through?"
"The last thing I want is for another person to be unwittingly dragged into Hell. If Musujime's going to find herself involved she should know about this, about everything. It's a system shock, isn't it?"
"You don't want to believe, initially," Seria elaborated. In response, Touma nodded his head affirmatively. "It's the queerest thing."
After Touma rose from his seat and pushed said seat in, ensuring that it wouldn't become bothersome to hypothetical individuals who might've bumped into or otherwise tripped over the piece of furniture, he looked to his senpai for a moment.
With Musujime Awaki in sight, and the reality that she could vanish from sight in a matter of a split second having dawned upon him, Kamijou Touma knew he didn't have much time to play games. If she could teleport herself, she could be nearly anywhere in the blink of an eye.
"Seria. Just because I'm trying to help someone out, just because they're… y'know, a girl, don't think that I'm trying to… I'm not trying to make you feel like you're a… like you're something temporary, if that makes sense. You're not. I'm sorry everything started ended up going like this. When I told you I loved you, I meant it, and I still mean it."
"You don't have to switch gears into the defensive, Touma-kun, not in my presence. I love you too and I understand your thought process."
"Shit. I mean fuck. Davey's rubbing off on me. This always happens, normality one minute and insanity the next. I guess Imagine Breaker wasn't always to blame, huh…? I don't think I told you about that either. Long story, there. Another day. At least half of today went alright, right? Chins up."
"I understand," Seria spoke calmly, in a reassuring tone of voice. "I promise that I understand the circumstances. You're correct of course; we've got to be appreciative of the opportunities we're given."
There'd been a time when Kumokawa Seria would've been lying to her kohai's face; she would've been scheming behind the collective backs of many, plotting the collective downfalls of his many female admirers.
It was her kohai's month-long disappearance that'd changed everything. The pain had burnt away the bitterness and the calculating desire.
It was the cold, lonely nights that Kumokawa Seria spent weeping out of worry and out of lethargic sorrow that'd changed her.
She'd never forget the long, fruitless, maddening searches, the hundreds of dead-end calls she'd made or the number of times she'd punched the walls of her apartment, screaming aloud in pain and frustration.
He was with her. Kamijou Touma knew who "Kumokawa Seria" was to him once more, he was willing to bring the past they'd shared into the future, one which he would accompany her in, and Seria wasn't about to let the boy who was no longer a boy out of her sight.
Not again.
First, it was the madness in Eastern Europe. Then it was the period in which the term "Agitate Halation" was relevant. Then, it was whatever the insanity that'd unfolded during the previous winter months could've been called.
Too many times had Kumokawa Seria nearly lost Kamijou Touma.
The two closed the distance between themselves and Musujime Awaki, who'd managed to out-dance her male partner. Retreating from the floor, he stumbled awkwardly up one of four staircases, and just barely managed to seat himself at one of the very few empty tables.
"Musujime," Touma called out. He received one or two awkward glances, though Touma repaid those who glanced at him with an aggressive, no-nonsense glare, one which shut those around him down almost instantaneously.
The auburn-haired beauty moved towards Kamijou Touma, swaying her hips seductively in sync with the rhythm of the music blaring throughout Club Orange.
"The mack returns," Awaki spoke, tossing her head to one side; her hair's fringe flowed like it'd been carried by the currents of a light breeze. "Who's your friend?"
"Kumokawa Seria," Awaki's newfound conversational partner stated. Folding her arms beneath her exceedingly ample bosom, Seria offered Awaki the warmest and most genuine smile she could manage. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Instincts struggled with desire and Seria detected the faintest hints of competitiveness creeping up on her from within, clawing at the inner walls of her higher mind and loudly demanding release.
She wouldn't allow it to happen. Not in such a casual situation.
"Huh," Awaki muttered. She moved towards the nearest staircase, ascending it as Seria and Touma followed behind.
The lower section of Awaki's exceedingly short dress rose as gravity's perverted side was shown off for both Kumokawa Seria and Kamijou Touma to witness firsthand. Her lower undergarment could hardly be classed as such; it was even thinner than a G-string.
"Holy freakin' Freemasonry occult sex hotline… don't think I needed to see that. Just going to delete that… better."
Seria drew close, whispering into her kohai's ear as the two ascended the nearest section of steps leading out from the expansive and almost absurdly crowded dancefloor.
"Maybe I'll wear something of the sort for you, my little kohai. All you have to do is ask."
"I'm asking, Beauty-Senpai."
"Consider it done."
Awaki looked Kumokawa Seria up and down for a moment before she clicked her tongue, her right eyebrow raised.
"You ought to have the right to know, I wager. The pervert Tsuchimikado pretty much described you as being a sadistic dictator."
"That hardly surprises me," Seria grumbled, more to herself than to anyone around her. The vocalization was loud enough for at least the two other individuals gathered around her to hear. "Are you aware that Tsuchimikado-san is also a liar, a cheat and a breaker of knees?"
Tossing her hair's fluffy fringe to one side, Awaki shrugged.
"Yup. I work with the pervert, after all. More on the real, not really getting those kinds of vibes from you; you seem chill. What's the story? Are you the heeeee~rooooo's girlfriend? Something more casual? Color me curious. Speaking of curiosity… 'somethin' you needed? Questions, questions everywhere."
"Something like that," Seria cryptically stated.
Touma comically placed his arm around his senpai's waist for a moment before he removed it.
"No strings on me. It's not really like that, but… it's complicated. Well, not really. Look, not trying to impose here, but… shit. I mean fuck, look, come with me. Us, I mean. Come with us for a minute? It's about the pamphlet."
"If you're going to try and convince me to join your New Age fertility cult, forget it. This womb is off limits."
Touma looked to his senpai, who could only shrug as if to say "who knows?" and then back to Musujime Awaki, who raised an eyebrow and leaned forward.
"What…? Fertility… cult? No, shit, we're not part of any cult. It's important, your safety could be in jeopardy. Can you please just stick with us, Musujime? There could be a lot more to this than meets the eye."
Awaki offered Kamijou Touma an awkward, if tolerant glance. In response, he offered Musujime Awaki a confident grin, one which struck quite the cord; had he always been such a confident young man? Certainly, Awaki assumed this surely must've always been the case, especially considering that he'd shown up to the scene of a fight between two teleporters, one in which the third-ranked level five in Academy City was involved.
"It's no wonder the lolicon calls you a "goddamn hero". I seriously don't see what the big deal is. Just some crazies promoting… something. It reads like the prologue for someone's fantasy novel. Someone with a wild imagination and too much time on their hands dreamed this all up, Kamijou-san. The thought's a nice one, but there's just nothing to worry about. Chill out, have a good time."
"If only I had Imagine Breaker… we could find out if the pamphlets were made using magic. Then again, Musujime would probably just think an esper did it. Fuck. You're not going to be able to take care of yourself if you have no idea what you're going up against. Musujime, just… listen!
"SUBJECT: "IMAGINE BREAKER" NOT CURRENTLY DETECTED IN RELEVANT SECTION OF PLANETARY ATMOSPHERE. REATTEMPTING SEARCH. HIGHMIND TERMINAL:/ FAILURE. REATTEMPTING SEARCH.
"Just shut up.
"HIGHMIND TERMINAL:/ ACKNOWLEDGED. CONTINUING PASSIVE QUICK AND THREAT SCAN PROTOCOLS."
Touma took a few steps closer. For a moment, Awaki looked as if she was about to slide into a defensive position. When he halted, the edge about her seemed to smoothen.
He took another, and then moved his lips close to Move Point's ear, leaning in as far as he could without invading her personal space more than he felt he had to.
"Musujime, if I told you that there's an entire sick, fucked up world that nobody knows about, one that's completely underground, something that only a small group of individuals worldwide know about, what would you think about that? If I told you that magic is completely real, and that there are magicians all over the place, what would you think about that? If I told you there was a delicate balance between our 'world', the scientific one, and the other 'world', the magical one?"
Awaki leaned in just as closely, while Seria essentially made the moment something of a 'huddle up'.
Move Point and the 'brain' of Kaizumi Tsugutoshi had to silently admit to themselves that the scent of the other was quite pleasing to their respective senses. Kamijou Touma didn't have a scent that smelled all that bad, either.
"The first thing I'd be asking for is proof, Kamijou-san."
"I really don't blame you there. I'd be asking for the same, Musujime."
"A claim as outlandish as that needs proof to back it up. Overwhelming mountains of proof. The second thing I'd be asking is, if this "Other Side" is so secretive, then why are there pamphlets scattered all over Academy City of all places that, if you're telling me the truth, would expose everything and disrupt the "balance"? That seems counterproductive to me."
Touma produced a soft, if exasperated sigh before he spoke his piece.
"I don't have the answer to that second question, I just don't have a conclusive answer. It could be some sort of internal civil war for all I know. It's not safe to talk about this sort of thing all willy-nilly like this. Look, Musujime-san, if I promised that I'd give you that very sort of proof if you accompanied my senpai and I, what would you say to that, Musujime?"
"He's telling the truth," Seria insisted, moving in just a bit closer. Kumokawa Seria held herself casually, occasionally looking over either of her shoulders and smiling warmly at passersby to construct a friendly, tensionless façade of some sort; some protection, no matter how meager was better than no protection at all.
"As… as completely demented as it all sounds, Move Point, my kohai tells the truth. Have you seen any other instances of these propaganda-riddled pamphlets in the wild?"
"Yup. They're all over the mall. They're even in the bathrooms, at least on this level… hold it, question here. If this is some major internal conspiracy on a presumably international level, one which Academy City is involved in, then why aren't these pamphlets being taken down?"
Musujime Awaki looked at Kamijou Touma and Kumokawa Seria for a moment, skepticism clearly etched into the features of her facial expression.
They both seemed so legitimate. That boy's facial expression was full to the brim with concern, and the "Beauty-Senpai" she'd heard so much about seemed to be anything but a tyrannical, scheming serpent out for her own gain. She was clearly better at masking her emotions than Kamijou Touma, but that meant very little.
If the former had any reason to want her dead, he wouldn't have called an ambulance for her all that time ago, during her conflict with the half-assed teleporter. The period of time in which that half-assed Tokiwadai princess teleporter was a relevant individual was proof enough for Musujime Awaki.
"Musujime?"
"Fine. This is weirding me right out, but… I'll give you the chance. I owe you that much, Kamijou."
"You don't "owe" me anything. I didn't… I mean, I don't help people expecting favors in return. If I've got your back, I've got your back. That's it, no strings."
Musujime Awaki certainly noticed Kumokawa Seria's approving smile. Her cheeks were tinged a slight shade of red, even as she stood tall and confident, like a ruler looking upon her subjects not as inferiors, but as equals.
Just how was Kumokawa Seria supposed to be a "tyrant", again? Move Point would have to press the Backstabbing Blade about that, later.
"Just let me grab a change of clothes," Awaki spoke. "Not trying to get catcalled here."
Within the blink of an eye, Musujime Awaki vanished from sight, leaving behind only empty space where she'd been standing. Her form, when it had been present, produced a short, quiet 'shweesh' sound, one which seemed to send a shiver down Seria's spine.
"Seria," Touma muttered as he took a seat before a nearby table, "you think we lost her? I seriously hope she didn't run on us. What are we going to do about everyone else who's here? What if they read from the pamphlets, too? I don't even know if they're harmless, or what…"
"My little kohai," Seria spoke, softly and comfortingly, taking a seat in the luxurious chair next to Touma's, "don't lose yourself to anxiousness, if that's indeed what's happening. Get it together. You won't accomplish anything if you begin panicking. I know from experience."
She gently and harmlessly slapped her kohai across the face. As a small group of young people passed her by, Kumokawa Seria produced a faux-giggle.
The gambit paid off, and the passersby were thrown off the trail, returning to their own business as they increased the distance between themselves, Kumokawa Seria and Kamijou Touma.
"Get it together, Touma-kun. Pick up the pieces."
"Thanks. I needed that. I'm being serious, sometimes it takes a classic ol' conk in the noggin to get you thinking right."
"You're welcome, Touma-kun."
"Okay, look, data's telling me that there's a thirty-eight percent chance that Musujime bailed. That still leaves us with a sixty-two percent chance that she's coming back. Not too sure where it's getting these estimates from but I've learned to trust it, sometimes. It's usually right."
"… data?"
Touma produced a soft chuckle. He leaned forward and took Kumokawa Seria's hands into his own. If the moment had been one which was less tense, Seria certainly would've been blushing.
"I don't work the way most people understand it. I don't have to "think" about things. I have the answers to almost everything that anyone could ever wonder about. It scans the environment around me, my body that is, and it gives me answers."
"Does that allow you to read minds, then?" Seria inquired. She looked, and, internally, was genuinely curious.
"Can't read minds but I can come pretty close – scan thought patterns and such. Gives me an advantage over most. One problem: it doesn't know shit about…
Kamijou Touma's voice dropped to an all-time low, barely a whisper.
"… magic."
Seria managed to detect the vocalization, processed it and nodded in understanding. Her kohai certainly was different. But that didn't matter. Different or not, Kamijou Touma was still Kamijou Touma.
To the surprise of both Kamijou Touma and to the considerable relief of Kumokawa Seria, Musujime Awaki returned, materializing some feet away from the two.
Her kohai had to worry no longer. Not about that, at least.
Clad in the long-sleeved jacket and the almost absurdly small pleated skirt of Kirigaoka Girls' Academy, Musujime Awaki's impressive legs were clad in thin, skin-tight stockings that not only accented, but also highlighted their natural curve. Her buckled flats were simplistic, but stylish enough to fit with the overall motif of Awaki's outfit of choice. Trailing down her back and along her shoulders, her thin twintails held their own against gravity's oppressive pull. Apparently, simply out of desire, Move Point showed some few inches of cleavage, leaving both Kamijou Touma and Kumokawa Seria to freely speculate within the confines of their own respective minds as to why she chose to do so.
"What did I tell you, hm?" Seria rhetorically implored, leaning forward and resting her chin in her palm's hand. Balancing her elbow against the table's surface she offered her kohai a grin. Under her breath, Seria whispered.
"For someone of your distinction, you still seem to worry quite a bit… making assumptions and attempting to predict the outcome of future events is a pastime best reserved for the mentally ill and the logically challenged. Don't be afraid to speak about your worries to those who care for you. Like myself."
Touma failed to suppress a light chuckle. "I guess you're right, aren't you? I'll keep that in mind, thanks Seria."
"Of course I'm right, my little kohai. You're more than welcome."
Rising from his seat, Kamijou Touma waved a hand in Musujime Awaki's direction. Producing a short huff, Kumokawa Seria rose as well.
Into her own thoughts, she retreated.
A part of her was terrified. Another part was excited.
Just what sort of insanity was she about to face, head-on? She knew of magic, sure, but the most fundamental of basic facts hardly counted as any sort of useful knowledge. Knowing of something and knowing about something were two different elements entirely.
The surging, crashing and twisting waves of excitement were present only due to the fact that Kumokawa Seria knew her kohai would not have to face the trials and tribulations of whatever laid ahead on his own, as he had in the past.
He would never face anything alone again. Seria would make damn sure that she stuck to her silent, mentally-uttered word. Hoarding Kamijou Touma, an apparently newfound free spirit to herself was impossible and irrelevant. It would only serve to create distance.
If only Kumokawa Seria had come to realize such things before. Instead, it'd taken a month of unbelievable agony to awaken her.
As Musujime Awaki and Kamijou Touma began to exchange words, stepping out from within the darkened Club Orange and into the Dianoid's halls themselves, Seria vowed that there was only one individual she would do her absolute best to keep away from him.
One manipulative, starry-eyed, honey-scented problem with more size in her bosom than in her brain. Perhaps she could be reasoned with?
From left to right Musujime Awaki looked, tilting her neck from one side and to the other. She repeatedly looked over her shoulders as she, Kamijou Touma and Kumokawa Seria left the vicinity of Club Orange. Seria walked at her kohai's side with his hand taken protectively into her own. No matter what, she would never let him go.
As the three passed by a collection of pamphlets taped to a nearby pillar, situated adjacent to another, with a series of benches between them, Touma thought he saw many sets of eyes follow in their direction, turning inside of their respective two-dimensional heads.
Upon looking directly at the sets of eyes, they seemed to have not moved at all. They continued to stare straight and outwards, the many paper bag men looking as if they stood at attention.
Kamijou Touma looked to Musujime Awaki. With considerable confidence, she strode, hips swaying from one side to the other as she walked.
"Something wrong, Musujime? You good?"
"Yeah. Good enough I guess, but this whole thing is weirding me right out. At this point I'm waiting for a camera guy to jump out from behind a wall. You're not messing with me, right? Please tell me you're not messing with me."
"No," Touma stated with considerable firmness. "Nobody's pulling your leg, Musujime."
"And that's a real shame, because I like it rough."
Kumokawa Seria raised an eyebrow at that. Kamijou Touma deigned to keep things professional.
"Let's focus, Musujime. I'm no prude, but there's a time and a place for everything."
With a nonchalant shrug, Awaki let the topic fall to the wayside. For this, Kumokawa Seria was quite grateful. It was obvious that Kamijou Touma intended to keep his word.
Of course he was going to. For a moment, Seria felt considerable remorse for thinking even for a second that he wasn't going to. Her hand's grip on her kohai's tightened as she smiled to herself.