Quick thing: thanks, Holy Sasami for favoriting! It's great to have you on board. I hope you enjoy your reading of a Certain Broken Testament!
Let's jump right into response time! I don't see any reason why we shouldn't get this show on the road.
Guest: big thanks for catching that honestly EMBARASSING error, on my part. I'm not quite sure how that even happened. Regarding "A Lustful Confession", I've seen it, skimmed through it, and while I can say the piece is certainly very well-written, I haven't quite found the time to sit myself down and absorb the written material, unfortunately. It looks like quite the entertaining ride, and I personally think the archive is lacking in the Touma x Kaori department.
321jaz: hardly, friend. There's never a rush. I'm just grateful to consistently hear from you lovely people, each and every one of you.
As it would seem. Apparently, a certain "backup plan" didn't take kindly to being thrown away by not just one, but two powerful and influential beings. When you think about it, it must be rough indeed.
NTR has been discovered to be Aogami Pierce's ultimate weakness. With it, "Olivia-chan" appears to have a decent proverbial whip to crack at him, whenever he gets too close.
Doesn't she just seem so very familiar? It's almost like we've seen her in another time and place... of course, as with all things, an explanation is not merely 'in the works', but planned to be expanded upon in the future. As always, time will tell.
It really does seem like someone wants to get the cat out of the metaphorical bag, and badly. While Musujime Awaki doesn't seem to be having it, we just have to wait and see where this all goes, don't we? Academy City is a strange place, where stranger things have come to pass.
"The Oculus" is only one small part of a bigger picture. You're bound to find out more about all of this, as the narrative progresses.
I'm very glad to hear that you're looking forward both the eventual "Mating Ritual of a Beauty-Senpai( (TM)" and the eventual solving of the mystery that's come to plague our heroes' 'normal' lives. I promise to do my absolute best to weave you an entertaining tale! Additionally, as always, I'm very glad to hear that I'm able to continually gain your approval. I hope to consistently continue to do so!
whwsms: let's see, shall we?
Certainly, a retaliatory strike delivered by Fukiyose Seiri or Kamijou Touma would've likely sufficed. Then again, it would seem that Pierce was consistently enjoying the beatings delivered onto him by the "the Iron Wall girl", so, perhaps only Touma would've been able to 'do the deed', given that he's not an attractive girl.
Nerfed is a good way to put it. Given the kind of person the original Kakine Teitoku is, it's likely that he's going to search for a way to quickly "un-nerf" himself.
Big trouble indeed. The question is, will the culprits be forced to cease their activities in time? Not all things can go according to plan, after all. In all matters there's doubt.
We'll just have to see about the possibility of Kamijou Touma being able to wield the power that is magic. I can't say too much about that, not here at least... read on, friend. Read on.
It also likely helped that both parties have mellowed out considerably...
Heh. It's funny that you mention a certain New Light agent, given that our heroes are more than likely London-bound. I wonder what could come of a rendezvous between Lessar and the 'new and improved' Touma?
You mention Mental Out, and you're about to see this alternate universe's and alternate timeline's rendition of her, right in this chappy, and beyond. I hope you enjoy reading the scenes in which Shokuhou Misaki is a part as much as I enjoy writing them.
As always, I'm very glad to know that I'm able to continually gain your approval! I hope to do so often through subsequent chapters.
DarkBetrayer: Row, row, fight the power! You can do it, Aogami. We all believe in you. Perhaps he's not broken after all?
Anon Guest: I certainly hope not; but I can promise that the results of certain "mating rituals", both here and in other times and other places will be very... shall we say, explosive.
An error in judgment indeed. Then again, frustration and desperation can cause normally rational individuals to descend into savagery, to employ 'desperate' measures. Regardless of his motivations, should a certain Far-Eastern Saint and a certain fire-aligned magician learn of his actions, Tsuchimikado Motoharu would be in for a world of hurt. Hopefully, his Auto-Rebirth would be enough to save him from what would otherwise be certain doom.
I'm so very glad to hear that you're enjoying your reading of a Certain Broken Testament, friend. There's plenty more on the way! I'm very grateful for your continued readership, and for the continued support from all of you amazing people!
February 7th, 2004. 3:59 PM.
"… Shiage?"
"Oi, Rikou."
"… look."
"POSITIVE"
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!"
February 7th, 2004. 4:10 PM.
Misaka Mikoto couldn't stop thinking about it. Her Sister, that boy who was no longer a boy, no long even human, involved with the likes of Kihara Gensei. After all of the time that had passed, he was still out there. Academy City was still doing those horrid things.
Why did it always have to be the innocent who were targeted?
Even as she watched Saten Ruiko, Uiharu Kazari and Shirai Kuroko politick about whatever it was they'd chosen to politick about, Mikoto just couldn't seem to get it out of her head. Her thoughts rebelled and her higher mind refused to cooperate with her demands.
It hadn't helped that Shokuhou had brought the subject up again.
Within the confining safety of she and Kuroko's room in the Tokiwadai Dormitory, a place that was well beyond the harmful reach of crazed individuals such as Kihara Gensei, Kihara Yuiitsu, and any Kihara, for that matter, at least as far as the Railgun was concerned, there was fear, or perhaps anxiousness.
Maybe It was a mere, slight sense of unease rather than a crippling sense of terror.
Mikoto felt disconnected from herself.
A hand tapped fell onto the Railgun's shoulder. Rather than mockingly tapping it with a single finger, the hand's palm came to rest, its fingers and its thumb tightening, though not quite enough to cause the third-ranked level five any sort of physical discomfort.
"You're thinking too much again, aren't you, Misaka-san?"
"Yeah."
The seat beneath one of the ornate, stained glass windows of room two hundred and eight, which offered a view of and overlooked the secondary, rear-facing promenade of the Dormitory was occupied by two of Academy City's highest-ranked espers. Number three and number five.
"Then stop. Is it that difficult?"
"You wouldn't believe."
"Oh, but I would, Misaka-san. It can be a slippery slope, but there's always the option to grapple on and pull yourself back up."
What was her game? Why was Shokuhou being so kind lately? She wouldn't do so without fulfilling some sort of dark, hidden agenda. There was just no chance. Shokuhou had to be up to something. Misaka Mikoto wasn't going to let herself fall into the spider's web for even a moment because if she fell in it was very likely that she wasn't going to find her way out.
But she seemed to have changed, genuinely, for the better. It seemed to be so real.
Why didn't Misaka Mikoto want to admit that Shokuhou Misaki had changed? What was wrong with her? Why was her brain so completely and utterly fucked? How could someone like 'him' be "in love" with someone like 'her'? She was a walking, breathing, talking biological mess on two legs. The Railgun wanted to bash her head against a wall until she stopped breathing. She wanted to cry and she wanted to scream.
"Shokuhou."
"Misaka-san?"
"What are you playing at? Why are you being so nice to me? To us?"
Shokuhou Misaki raised a glove-clad finger to her lower lip, her golden, starry eyes twinkling beneath rays of sunlight whose coloration matched the color of her eyes, and even of her long, flowing hair.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Don't play innocent. You've never associated with us before. You rarely leave your dorm at all, now you're… going all over the place. Jogging, for crying out loud! You never jog! PE classes now, too?! What's with you?! I'll get to the bottom of it if it KILLS me!"
Mikoto leaned forward, as her three friends looked in her own direction, and Shokuhou Misaki. Mikoto looked towards the hardwood flooring beneath she and Misaki's dangling, stocking-clad feet.
"You should hate me after what he said to me. You should hate me for the way I'm treating you right now."
"Nonsense. All I'd like is for him to be happy, Misaka-san. If that happiness is found with you, and with others, if a polygamous romance is what he truly seeks, then so be it. As it stands, the possibility of such a narrative unfolding with… me… I feel that I have my part to play. As for your behavior, I've been subjected to worse. It's hardly a bother."
"Where is all of this COMING FROM? Shokuhou, did someone stick you with a personality-changing… needle… thing?! I'm not even making sense! GAH! Get it together, Mikoto!"
Shrugging either of her shoulders and looking undauntedly in the direction of the concerned-seeming Shirai Kuroko, Saten Ruiko, and Uiharu Kazari, Shokuhou Misaki produced a long, soft sigh. Despite the obvious melancholy in the vocalization, Misaki smiled thinly.
"Some of us need a wake-up call. Our home's fall into anarchy and our conflict against the powers that were was that call for me. The Elements, the faction referring to itself as "Useful Spider", such matters forced me to confront realities I'd previously never considered. Everything else suddenly seemed so petty. Small. Insignificant. I see now the greater picture."
"That makes two of us," Mikoto interjected.
"Your near-death experience was a wake-up call for me, Misaka-san."
"… eh?"
"It, too, forced me to confront many matters I would've preferred to have left alone. Yet that couldn't have been, you see.
"As it's inevitable for a butterfly to emerge from its cocoon and take flight, it's equally inevitable for us, human beings, as intelligent, sentient individuals to emerge from one of many such cocoons and spread our newfound wings."
Rising, Misaka Mikoto leaned back in her seat and stretched, her shoulders shuddering as her toes unconsciously wiggled within their stockings. The Railgun's eyes opened once more after her short exercise, and they peered into Shokuhou Misaki's glossy, starry pupils as well as the glowing, golden irises behind them.
"Shokuhou? I apologize. I'm… sorry. I've been doing that a lot lately, ask Saten-san. It's surreal, that's all. These last few weeks, ever since I was discharged actually, now that I mention it, it's like… it's like you've been my best friend for my whole life."
"As I've said, I should be the one engaging in the acts of apology. I don't believe I need to explain my reasoning."
"No. You don't."
Mikoto awkwardly placed an arm around the shoulders of Shokuhou Misaki; Saten Ruiko, witnessing the display of goodwill out of the corner of her eye smiled at both of the level fives, and they both smiled back.
"We all do things we regret, Shokuhou. We think things we regret sometimes, too. I still feel like telling you about what he said was a dickish thing to do, but what was I going to do? Just… not tell you? After you'd spilled your guts like that? I still… Shokuhou. I didn't know."
"How were you supposed to, hm? I couldn't have simply told you via telepathy, after all. That Electro-Barrier of yours, Misaka-san, it truly is quite the drag."
"You're a fuckin' drag."
"My, my; language, Misaka-san~!"
"We'll figure something out. This is Academy City; we'll make them find a way… you know what? He might be at home. Maybe he'll be able to remember you now? It's worth a shot. I'm game if you're game. Let's knock it off, just talking about it off and on. Let's actually do it. I think that's where he ended up after he left campus, at home that is… ugh, he's such an Idiot sometimes, Shokuhou, I swear. Showing up like that, the way he is? If anyone figured him out…"
Shokuhou Misaki leaned in close, nearly pressing her honey-scented lips to the ear of Misaka Mikoto.
"Misaka-san. He confessed to you. From what you've told me, he poured his own heart out. The way you described the moment was… spine-chilling. Boys don't cry for just anyone. I want Kamijou Touma to have nothing but happiness in his life."
"So do I!" Mikoto hissed, a bit more aggressively than she'd intended. "I'm a fucking mess. My head's not on straight, I can't give him the kind of support he'd need. Not now, not like this."
"I think… I think that happiness would be found with you. You've been through so much with, more than I have. You know him better than I. I know an idealized boy who saved me from myself. You know Kamijou Touma, the person he is, what he likes and what he dislikes."
"That's a very mature thing to say."
She stood up, even though her legs felt more like jelly than functioning limbs. Misaka Mikoto wobbled, only for a moment before she regained her balance and shrugged the awkwardness of her own body off with as much effort as she could have exerted.
"Curfew's not for a while. Want to walk with me? It'll do you good, Shokuhou. Gotta get that back strong, help alleviate the pressure put on your spine by all that useless weight on your chest."
"Misaka-san!" Kazari exclaimed, jumping from her place upon Shirai Kuroko's bed. Saten Ruiko looked in Kazari's direction, only to let out a giggle as she rested her hand's fingers against her lips.
"It's not nice to say things of that sort about Shokuhou-Sama! Especially after she treated us to lunch!"
"It was a joke," Mikoto grumbled as she strode towards the door. Misaki failed to hold back her own soft chuckle.
"You see, Misaka-san is simply jealous because she hasn't quite developed in… some areas. Not anything you'd need to concern yourself about, Saten-san."
Looking in Ruiko's direction, the Mental Out user winked knowingly. The level zero's cheeks erupted into a bright, crimson blush.
"W-what? Me? Uh, well… w-what can I say? G-genetics were kind to me?"
"Shokuhou! Walk time! Hustle, hustle, hustle! We move NOW!"
Why was it always him? Why was it always him coming to her mind, into her conversations with the likes of that damn Shokuhou? Misaka Mikoto just couldn't seem to free herself from his grasp. Then again, she didn't particularly want to do so, anyways.
If only her head was working properly. She would've probably been at his side already.
Maybe she could find a way there. Maybe Mikoto could find her way to Touma's side so that she could fulfill her wishes.
Grabbing Shokuhou Misaki by her winter jacket's sleeve, Misaka Mikoto dragged the Mental Out user along, closing the dorm's door behind her.
Ruiko looked up from her smartphone and into the eyes of Shirai Kuroko. Then, she turned to her old friend, Uiharu Kazari, who could only shrug, as if to say "I don't know".
Kuroko rolled over onto her back, moving her arms and legs about over the sheets of Misaka Mikoto's bed.
"Onee-Sama has been acting strangely. Stranger than usual. I guarantee you it has something to do with that zoo animal; even Shokuhou-Sama seems to be in on it. Who's next?!"
"That's very mean," Kazari scolded, wagging her finger at a pouting Shirai Kuroko. Folding her arms across her chest, the level four teleporter stuck her nose in the air and produced a "hmph". "Shirai-san, you should get to know someone before you speak poorly of them. You haven't even met this person!"
Shirai Kuroko responded by pulling at either of Kazari's cheeks with her hands while explaining to her the exact sort of nature of her relationship with Misaka Mikoto, Kazari wailing aloud in pain the entire time as Ruiko watched on. If she'd been a character in a manga, she likely would've sweatdropped.
"She's right, you know," Ruiko eventually interjected. "Calling someone a "zoo animal" is… extreme. But here, check this out, both of you. This is really interesting. I stumbled onto this Urban Legend a couple of days ago, and, boy… developments abound!"
"Here we go," Kuroko muttered. Shaking her head, the teleporter's lips found themselves curling up into a grin, even against her own will. Leave it to Saten Ruiko to manage to force a smile's birth. Uiharu Kazari had simply rolled onto her stomach, bumping into her friend, resulting in both looking to one another and then suddenly giggling.
"I've dug up more stuff on the pamphlets that are all over the place. D3rksiderz has way more theories on it than my other haunts," Ruiko explained, running the tip of her finger over her smartphone's tempered glass touchscreen.
"According to one of these theories, right here…" Saten Ruiko pointed to a section of bolded text, followed by a much larger collection of additional text, barely-organized and sloppily presented in the form of a great wall. Kazari looked down as well, squinting in order to read the text, which had been typed with a considerably small font.
"BIIIIIT!"
Shirai Kuroko had teleported onto both of her companions, sprawling out atop either of them as she looked down at Saten Ruiko's phone.
Luckily for the younger girls, Shirai Kuroko's bodyweight was anything but heavy.
"There's apparently a connection between the Elements that were causing so much trouble and 'magic'. Even by my own standards, it seems too… unbelievable! An entire secret world?! A secret society like the Illuminati or Freemasonry is one thing but this, this goes beyond your average "lizard people rule the world" conspiracy!"
"Whoever's responsible," Shirai Kuroko began, stroking her chin with her right hand's index finger and thumb, "they're good at hiding. Judgment can't find even a single lead and Anti Skill is completely stumped. Uiharu-san and I have been pounding the pavement all week! Nothing! Rrrgh. So frustrating. Anti Skill thinks they might be a New Age movement of some sort. No signs of terrorism so far, but that could change. This could be a pre-emptive strike of sorts."
Saten Ruiko simply shook her head in response. Scrolling down further, the tip of her fingernail repeatedly clacking against the surface of her smartphone's touchscreen, her movements came to a final rest on the image of one of many mysterious pamphlets taped to the inside of a public transportation vehicle.
"None of this is New Age to me, Shirai-san. No mentions of crystal skulls or the Apocalypse anywhere in these pamphlets, just… Truthism? Is that a word? It is now! It's just like these guys are trying to reasonably and peacefully prove a point. There's something very different here!"
Shirai Kuroko felt a shiver travel down her spine. It brought a shudder to her shoulders and to her lower body before it passed and faded from existence, leaving the teleporter feeling quite chilled.
The paper bag man's eyes were cold and unfeeling. They practically stared into her very soul. They looked like they were trying to steal her very life essence from her.
"Look at this… this is… weird."
Shirai Kuroko was snapped out from her state of fear by Saten Ruiko's soft, concerned, and yet equally interested-sounding vocalizations. With a shake of her head, Kuroko was back in the game. She wouldn't allow herself to be so easily overpowered by something as simple as a stare from a two-dimensional portrait ever again.
All three of the girls read at once from the picture. It was a photograph of a pamphlet's inner pages, which were all that was visible within the frame of the picture that had been snapped.
"ATTENTION:
"Many thanks to a sympathizer who would prefer to remain unnamed for the following information! Many thanks to our WILLING and EXCITED participants who helped verify the authenticity of the information provided to us! Crooked Necessarius and Warmonger Academy City can't hold back the Sons of Taured, not now and not ever!
"Many of you who have been tuning into our weekly broadcasts may or may not be aware that we at the Sons of Taured have been progressively shedding more light onto the topic of the two worlds. For that we demand no thanks and no financial or moral aid; all we ask for is your vision for some moments. All we ask is that you perform a very basic human function: reading.
"Magic vs Science: Reality or Puppetry?" was out first major essay on the topic, one which gained quite the heavy amount of attention on social media outlets – of course, the Lamestream Media was quick to lampoon us. Evidently, they too are either being CUCKED by Crooked Necessarius or have been threatened with death by Warmonger Academy City! As such, we've been receiving plenty of information from friendly folks on both sides of the spectrum! Never let anyone tell you that there isn't good in the world."
Uiharu Kazari had taken to propping her chin up with either of her hands, while she repeatedly bounced her legs against the surface of Shirai Kuroko's bed.
"This is really interesting."
"This is sounding more and more like a propaganda piece," Kuroko retorted with a huff.
"We at the Sons of Taured won't be hiding anything from you, dear readers. We have explicit and UNDENIABLE, HISTORIC proof that an esper produced by Academy City's Power Curriculum can engage in the act of refining mana for use in magical activities using their life force.
"If you could ask a magic user (you can't) whether an esper produced by Academy City's Power Curriculum can safely engage in magical activities or not, the answer would be a loud and resounding "no way! Mana refined through one's life force is incompatible with an esper's AIM Field and "Personal Reality" It can't be done!"
"We at the Sons of Taured would like to contest this standpoint. You can try this at home! The secret is not in an esper's AIM Field, but a simple line of magical code pre-inserted into the baseline AIM Field (which is then modified based on an individual's biological makeup) produced by the Power Curriculum. Erase the code, and your AIM Field is compatible with refined mana! Magic is in your everyday lives and you didn't even know it! Looks like Warmonger Academy City is just as crooked as Crooked Necessarius! A match made in Heaven."
Shirai Kuroko poked the back of Saten Ruiko's head. The younger girl turned back and looked to the level four teleporter, offering her an awkward, if genuine grin.
"Mana?" This sounds like something out of one of those role-playing games. Excuse me while I throw some dice on the table and wave my magic wand to summon a griffin!"
Ruiko shook her head as she quietly giggled to herself. Uiharu Kazari didn't engage in the festivities; instead, she remained intently focused on the reading material before her. She scrolled down on the page, pushing the fingers of the phone's owner out of the way as she did so. Kazari licked her lower lip.
"Want to learn how to refine mana as an esper in Academy City? Follow these simple, proven steps! 100% guaranteed success, or we'll sue ourselves!
"Step one: first things first! You'll need something we call a "Magic Circle". You won't be using it right away, but better to be prepared, no? You're going to want to draw the following three symbols, repeat them as many times as you'd like, though remember this: three divides into nine three times. This will be important later on. You can scribble these down within a drawn, circular formation on something as simple as a piece of paper:
Two arrows, one pointing towards you, another pointing away.
Something leaving something else. This could be as simple as one stickman walking away from another!
Draw a small circle. Color half of this circle dark and leave the other half uncolored and preferably light.
"In the center, you're going to want to draw something that relates to healing. This can be as simple a first aid kit or as complex as wound scabbing over. LEAVE A SMALL SPACE IN YOUR CIRCLE! DON'T UTILIZE YOUR MAGIC CIRCLE UNTIL YOU'VE COMPLETED THE RITUAL DETAILED BELOW, AND ON PAGES SIX AND TEN! DOING SO WILL RESULT IN GRIEVOUS BODILY HARM IF YOU ARE AN ESPER PRODUCED BY ACADEMY CITY'S POWER CURRICULUM!
"Step two: you're going to need a mirror. In many cultures, mirrors – and especially the act of breaking a mirror – are associated with the cleansing of a person's body. When you look into a mirror, it's said in many cultures (IE: Sumerian, Aztec, Mayan, Ancient Greek and even Ancient Roman) that when a person looks into a mirror, they're transferring the darkness within themselves into the reflection of the mirror, cleansing themselves of their inner turmoil.
"Step three: look your own reflection in the eye. This passively engages the transferring process. Think deeply about all the things that you'd like to be rid of, pray for them to leave and they'll leave. Pray, wish for them to leave. This code buried deep within you should be one of the things you wish to be rid of.
"Step four: nine seconds should suffice. While this creates a more potent connection with the mirror, it isn't necessary. You can look at yourself for as long as you'd like, you narcissist! In numerology, the number nine represents lots of things, universal love, and understanding between all of mankind being among these things. I'm sure saying 'things' a lot, aren't I? You could try waiting for nine milliseconds, but it's pretty hard to count those. Soon, you'll be needing to rely on the concept of "Idol Theory", but not just yet! No magic for you! You can read more about Idol Theory on page twelve of this booklet.
"Step five: smash that mirror! You're a strong, independent young person and you don't need no oppression!
"Step six: congratulations! You can now refine mana. How? The use of a mirror to cleanse one's body is not magical in nature, that's how! Rather, further investigations have proved that the matter is more deeply rooted in old world religious practices not related to the usage of 'magic' as we know it. Refer to page eight to learn more about some very basic spells you can cast! Good job! If you constructed your Magic Circle, you'll actually be able to use it!"
Uiharu Kazari sat up, breathing a sigh; whether it was of exasperation or relief, neither Saten Ruiko nor Shirai Kuroko could tell.
"Spells… mana… "Idol Theory?" This is all so much to take in," the Goalkeeper complained, stretching her form as she produced a loud and lengthy yawn.
Saten Ruiko looked to her level four companion, tilting her head to one side as she sat herself upon her rump.
"Do you have a spare mirror, Shirai-san?"
"N-no! You're not going to try something like that in our dorm! Onee-Sama would kill me if you ended up… up…"
"So, you're one of us, then, Shirai-san? You believe in Urban Legends?"
Saten Ruiko grinned a wide, toothy grin at Shirai Kuroko, her lips stretching so wide that they looked as if they were going to rip her cheeks apart if they stretched even an inch further.
"N-NO! You're a public menace, Saten-san!"
Shirai Kuroko grumbled to herself before she fell from Misaka Mikoto's bed and to her knees. Rooting beneath her bed, she pushed more than half of her form underneath the piece of furniture.
For some time, the level four teleporter remained halfway beneath the bed before she 'surfaced', with a small, pink handheld mirror in hand. Both Saten Ruiko and Uiharu Kazari seemed to relieved to see their companion return to them from the inky depths below. Lengthy and rectangular, the mirror's frame was dotted with many floral patterns.
"Just so I can prove you wrong, I'm going to let you borrow this. This is insane, even by your standards, Saten-san. There is no way that magic can be real! There's no recorded proof at all of anything of the sort, nothing! All of your information is just on these… conspiratorial nutcase websites!
"That's offensive!" Ruiko stated, flatly. "They're not nutcase websites. They're alternative news websites, thank you very much."
"Whatever you want to call it. If magic was real, wouldn't you think that people would've been using it during wars, during the three World Wars as well?"
Saten Ruiko enthusiastically took the handheld mirror into her own hands. She abandoned her place on the bed and began rooting through the collection of items upon the surface of the nearby study desk, where she found a rather large piece of paper, one which would've fit snuggly into a binder. Nearby, Ruiko also collected a blue pen from the same study desk.
"S-Saten-san? Are you s-sure this is safe?" Kazari inquired, leaning forwards as Ruiko returned to Shirai Kuroko's bed. Throwing her utensils down, Ruiko placed either of her hands upon her hips and nodded her head.
"No, I'm not sure at all~! But what's life without a few risks, right? I don't mind being the guinea pig."
The reality was a bit more convoluted than that.
For Saten Ruiko, the possibility of the existence of this "Other Side" had become personal.
If developing an esper ability was simply out of the question, no matter how hard she tried (a fact which seemed to spit in the face of Misaka Mikoto's absolute insistence that such perseverance would see her make even a single level's worth of developments), then surely this 'magic' could be the alternative opportunity she needed to take advantage of?
Of that Saten Ruiko certainly hoped.
Uiharu Kazari and Shirai Kuroko watched on nervously as Saten Ruiko drew the best circle that she could upon the surface of her pilfered paper, leaving a small section of the circle incomplete.
Little did she know that this simple act of purposeful artistic incompetence would save her life.
Ruiko then repeated the required symbols three times, resulting in a total of nine symbols being drawn within the circle, scribbled onto the paper. In the center of the circle, a small, cartoonish caricature of a human hand was scribbled, with a small cut in the center of its palm. Half of this cut had several lines drawn over it, apparently to represent stitches.
Into the mirror, Saten Ruiko looked on as Uiharu Kazari and Shirai Kuroko whispered to one another.
Clad in the long-sleeved navy blue winter uniform of Sakugawa Middle School, Ruiko's long, dark hair trailed down her shoulders and fell past her bosom, which was considerably ample for a thirteen-year-old girl, not that she paid all that much attention to it. They were there, certainly, but that's all they were. Just blobs that existed.
Staring her own reflection in the mirror, Saten Ruiko blinked occasionally as she silently spoke within the confines of her higher mind.
"If there's a dark code inside of me that's part of my AIM Field, I'd like for it to be gone, please. I want it to go away. It needs to go away. I pray that it goes away. It needs to go away, now."
"SQUEEEERRRRRRRR!"
What Uiharu Kazari and Shirai Kuroko saw, and what Saten Ruiko experienced were two very different things.
Yet, in a way, they were very much alike.
Outwardly, a near-blinding golden Light surged outwards from Saten Ruiko's mortal body, enveloping the two hundred and eighth room of the Tokiwadai Dormitory. Both Shirai Kuroko and Uiharu Kazari were forced to not only slam their eyes shut, but cover them with their respective hands. From the stained glass window, the golden Light emerged, paying no heed to the solid material that opposed it. The Light openly and provocatively defied the laws of the world.
From the corners of Saten Ruiko's mouth, from her nose, from the corners of her eyes, and from her ears, seeping through the dark-haired girl's tympanic membrane, smog of the darkest coloration emerged. It was no match for the Light, and like an unholy existence forced to bow before an angel the smog was unable to hold out before it was forced to dissipate.
Inwardly, Saten Ruiko had never known such bliss. It was like she'd been touched by something inherently clean, something so natural and pure that nothing could possibly compare. Her heart slowed, returning to its natural pace, and through her nostrils she breathed, in and out, in and out.
"I feel… good."
In a certain Windowless Building, one of the most powerful beings on Earth looked on, his lips folded into a neutral position upon his upside-down face, less of a frown and more of a grim, straightened line of determination.
He wasn't losing; but could this be considered 'winning'? It hadn't been the first time that Aleister Crowley had witnessed a great burst of Holy Light emanating from within one of his espers, one of his toys. Lines were being crossed.
Then again, distractions were distractions, and distracting such things certainly were. Aleister Crowley could spin this minor inconvenience to work in his favor.
The Light that'd come to fill the two hundred and eighth dorm of Tokiwadai Dormitory had almost completely faded, though some minor amounts of 'residue' remained behind, lingering along the walls and falling gently from the ceiling like so many feathers.
Both Uiharu Kazari and Shirai Kuroko could only look onwards, confused and stunned as they almost sized up their friend.
Nothing appeared abnormal. Saten Ruiko stood normally, back straight with her arms at her sides. Her facial expression was hardly abnormal; she looked to be her usual, cheery, easygoing self.
"Wha…?"
"S-Saten-san?! Are you alright?! What happened? There was… sunlight?!"
"I'm perfectly fine! Fit as a fiddle!" Ruiko answered, producing a short giggle as she returned to Shirai Kuroko's bed, where Uiharu Kazari sat, her legs crossed beneath her posterior. Peering down at the nearly-completed Magic Circle she'd created, Ruiko grabbed her phone and began to calmly scroll downwards, carefully sliding her fingertip over the device's touchscreen.
Several other pictures that'd been taken of the mysterious and anomalous pamphlet were present within the 'offending' article, though there was one in particular that Ruiko sought.
She sought page eight, the page of the pamphlet (or booklet, to use the name in which it'd used to refer to itself) in which "basic spells" were supposedly located.
In a certain Windowless Building, Aleister Crowley had a choice to make.
On one hand, the General Superintendent could've completely disabled Academy City's access to the Internet, potentially raising the risk of more students leaving their dormitories than usual and discovering the pamphlets scattered about the City.
On the other hand, the General Superintendent could simply leave well enough alone and allow fate to play out as it chose. After all, the unfolded events, apparently spearheaded and forced into action by an unknown third party, the "Sons of Taured" would serve to keep "them" occupied. The crossing of the lines hardly interfered with his scheming. In fact, the opposite was true; it was quite the boon.
Aleister Crowley smirked.
"Saten-san, I really don't think we should…"
"Shirai-san! The implications here are HUGE! Look what just happened! It's real! What they said was… something happened! They didn't really say what was going to happen, to be fair, but something happened!"
Uiharu Kazari remained focused on her friend's phone, which she'd taken into her own hands. Carefully, the Goalkeeper scrolled about, observing and pondering what exactly was printed upon the pages of the anomalous pamphlet that'd been photographed. The level one thermal hand user raised an eyebrow at the first of many "basic spells" listed within the small table of contents.
"I) Basic "Heal Wounds" cast: perfected by the Ancient Chinese (thanks, commies!), this cast will heal most common wounds with very little issue. While it won't bring your amputated leg back, it will seal up that nasty cut on your knee.
"If you followed the guide for removing your esper AIM Field's limitations found on page five of this booklet, then you would have already partially constructed a Magic Circle that can perform this cast! If the cleansing you performed using your mirror was a success (you'll know), then feel free to complete your Magic Circle.
"For something so basic, no string of arcane, rhyming words is necessary, no sacrificial goats required, either! What a bonus! All you need to do is simply wish to be healed. The world of magic, one which has been hidden from those who should rightfully know of its existence is one of belief. The greater your belief in your casting abilities, the greater your cast will be!"
By the time Uiharu Kazari looked up from her friend's phone, Saten Ruiko had completed the Magic Circle, filling in the blank area with her pilfered pen. Ruiko placed the piece of paper with the Circle drawn upon its surfaces on the floor, adjacent to Shirai Kuroko's bed.
Kneeling, and resting either of her hands before her chin, clutching them together and closing her eyes, Saten Ruiko silently wished to be healed, even if there wasn't anything wrong with her. Within the confines of her higher mind, Saten Ruiko dearly wished for the spell to work.
Despite the fact that a functioning, albeit powerless AIM Field was present within her, she passively refined the power of her own life force without consequence. Saten Ruiko didn't stumble nor did she suddenly burst into a funnel of blood.
There were no sounds, no indication that the cast was functioning as intended, or at all for that matter. Saten Ruiko hoped harder, her brow furrowing as she pleaded with her own higher mind for the cast to trigger an effect of some type.
Suddenly, there was a quiet, gentle humming produced from her form. Many small, glowing orbs of golden light danced around her, rising up and down, swaying from side to side.
Though Ruiko has no way of knowing it, a small bruise located on her right shoulder which she'd received some weeks ago as a result of being hit with a baseball, hurled at her by a rogue ball-dispensing machine had healed, the unsightly brown spot vanishing within the span of a few seconds.
Uiharu Kazari responded by fainting.
Shirai Kuroko responded by rushing to Uiharu Kazari's side, repeatedly slapping her cheeks before she rushed to the dorm's bathroom, the intent of finding and filling a glass with cold water to throw in the Goalkeeper's face alive within and at the forefront of the teleporter's mind.
The lines between science and magic had been crossed, and not for the first time in Academy City.
Misaka Mikoto growled in frustration. Pocketing her Gekota-themed smartphone, the Railgun stuffed her hands into the pockets of her skirt and kicked at the brown, cobbled pavement beneath her feet.
"Why isn't that Idio… uneducated person of Japanese descent answering his phone?! Rrrgghhhh. You are UNBEARABLE."
"Yet here I am, loving you like I am. Fate's whimsical."
Shokuhou Misaki raised the tip of her index and middle fingers to her lower lip, shaking her head from one side to the other.
"That's destruction of public property, Misaka-san. How offensive~!"
"I'll destruct you in a minute," Mikoto retorted, jokingly.
Both the third and the fifth level five were seated in a public transportation terminal, surrounded by other students of both genders, most of whom seemed to be decent enough. The last thing either the Ace or the Queen of Tokiwadai needed were tailgating thugs to harass them when they were simply minding their own respective businesses.
"Where are you planning on going, my Queen?"
"Queen? Why wouldn't you tell us you were set to galivant with the Ace?"
Shokuhou Misaki rested her face in the palm of her right hand as she muttered to herself.
Crossing her left leg over her right, Misaka Mikoto looked away.
Of course, that just figured. Shokuhou's clique had trailed them.
"Hello, Misaka-san," the apparent commander-in-chief spoke, softly. Clad in Tokiwadai Middle School's winter uniform, long, lavender-colored ringlet curls dangled from her head and trailed along her shoulders. With eyes of a similar color, the individual most commonly known as the "Ringlet Curl Girl" smiled almost sleepily.
Mikoto groaned.
"H-hey."
Another young woman adorned in the winter uniform of Tokiwadai Middle School stood before her 'Queen'. Though much shorter than Shokuhou Misaki's own, her hair was golden blonde, its tips ending in curls. The fringe of the young woman's hair was tied back, exposing her forehead.
"Queen, it's not safe for a beautiful young woman such as yourself to be out at this hour. There are vandals and fugitives abound. Please let us accompany you to…"
"No."
Even Misaka Mikoto looked up, tilting her head to look in the fifth-ranked level five's direction.
One of several other young women hailing from Tokiwadai Middle School, with dark, blue-black hair styled into two lengthy, thin twintails took to her companion's side.
"What ever do you mean, Queen?"
"I'd like to spend this time privately with Misaka-san. Both Misaka-san and I can more than handle ourselves. Please leave. I don't appreciate being coddled, and I'm quite sure that Misaka-san doesn't appreciate the sentiment either."
"I-its… really not that big of a deal, Shokuhou."
Shokuhou Misaki looked sternly to the guilty-seeming members of her ever-loyal clique.
"Off with you, now. I'll return to the Dormitory when I choose to return. There, our horse-drawn carriage."
Indeed, Misaka Mikoto followed Shokuhou Misaki's finger. The "horse-drawn carriage" in question had arrived. It came to a halt before the terminal, all three sets of its ornate doors sliding within the vehicle itself as several passengers both disembarked and boarded the vehicle.
Both the third and fifth ranked level fives rose. Shokuhou Misaki stuck up her nose as she boarded the vehicle, presenting a bus pass she'd fetched from within her starry, golden-colored purse. Misaka Mikoto produced one as well, though she'd scrounged hers from within one of her skirt's pockets. She paid the poor, abandoned members of Shokuhou Misaki's clique one last glance. The seven girls stood within the terminal, looking on as if they were each watching their beloved head off to a foreign land, likely never to be seen again.
"Is that the Queen of Tokiwadai?! Such elegance!"
"Is that the Ace?! She's so cute!"
"I want to hug them both."
"Too far. You're fucking weird, dude."
Close to the front of the public transportation vehicle Shokuhou Misaki and Misaka Mikoto sat themselves down; Misaki had quickly claimed the window seat, placing her index and middle fingers next to her eye in a V-shape and sticking out her tongue when the Railgun grumbled at her about being "like a child".
"Perhaps you know where exactly we're supposed to be headed, Misaka-san? I… I've never had a reason to seek Kamijou-san out. I… wouldn't know where he lives."
Mikoto wrapped her arm around the Mental Out user's shoulders before she crossed her left leg over her right, producing a soft, melancholic sigh. If Shokuhou Misaki hadn't become accustomed to the Railgun's oddly affectionate behavior towards her, she likely would've attempted to worm her way out of the embrace.
"Shokuhou, he's spilled a lot of beans to me. That Idio… that boy who can act like an Idiot sometimes, he's involved with things I can't even begin to understand."
"As you've said."
"Yeah. I've experienced bits and pieces but nothing like what he's been through. He told me, to my face, that he'd lost his memory, but then he'd got it back after… everything. That's what he said. I can almost guarantee you whatever was wrong with his brain, it was fixed or… something. I don't even know what I'm going to say to him. I just… it's about seeing him, it really is, but… I want to discuss something else with him, too. Vengeance. It's time we hit back."
"You want to see Kamijou-san, and so do I. Say no more, Misaka-san. Your anger's understood but the proper channels must be used. Openly attacking 'them' will do little, as you've seen in the past. Like cockroaches Academy City's faculties, the so-called adults multiply. Where one falls, many more will appear."
"Exactly. Like I said… whenever it was that we last talked about this…"
"Last week," Misaki corrected.
Mikoto nodded in response. She leaned forward as the mode of public transportation began to move forwards, slowly but surely beginning its journey to a location ideally close to that boy's place of residence.
As the vehicle chugged forwards, its wheels spinning motions increasing in speed, the Railgun felt an odd, unfamiliar pang within her upper chest, close to her heart, somewhere near the section of her chest where her breasts were.
It was close to her heart. For a moment, Misaka Mikoto thought that she might've be dying.
"Thanks, that's right. Like I said I've been doing thinking of my own, since he, you know, confessed. It's not fair to him."
"What isn't, Misaka-san?"
"Girls always fighting over him. Constantly bickering amongst themselves. I'm no better, I've done it before. It must make him feel awful, I know it doesn't feel very good to me… I've spent a lot of time in my own head, Shokuhou. I almost feel like one of those Buddhist monks who live in the mountains."
"Kamijou-san does experience a large volume of female attention, doesn't he?" Misaki rhetorically inquired, her voice dropping to a whisper. In her lap, her golden, starry purse sat.
From within the fashionable accessory, Shokuhou Misaki produced a television remote. Holding the device above her head, the Mental Out user pressed a single button down.
"PIIIIIIII!"
Though it wasn't evident through the behavior of their fellow passengers, a command had been planted within their minds.
"There we go~! That will keep the collective attentions of our co-passengers away from us, and focused on everything else around them. We can speak freely now, Misaka-san. Don't fret, I'll probably release them after our journey comes to an end, here. Probably. Hehe."
"Some things never change," Mikoto grumbled under her breath, much more to herself than to Shokuhou Misaki. "I have an idea."
"Is this about what we'd discussed previously, then?"
"Yeah. Maybe, this time, we won't be sexually harassed. The guys in this place are complete bastards."
Shokuhou Misaki tossed her head back, running her hands, clad in her trademark gloves through her locks of honey-colored hair.
"Can you really blame them, Misaka-san? Look at us. We're beautiful."
Misaka Mikoto simply leaned back in her seat, slouching casually. Her skirt rode upwards, exposing a section of her beige shorts, serving the purpose of undergarments.
"My, my, Misaka-san. You're still wearing… those? You should wear cute little panties like a proper lady."
"Shove off."
While there hadn't been any great amount of malice in her tone of voice, Misaka Mikoto seemed distant nonetheless. She looked out from the window (which was partially obscured by Shokuhou Misaki's head) and out into the streets of Academy City's seventh school district.
Over a great section of elevated highway roadway, the public transportation vehicle travelled, effortlessly ascending a rather steep incline which lead to a flat section of roadway. Considerable congested, Mikoto produced an irritated sigh as the vehicle slowed to a crawl.
"Shokuhou? Is there anything you can do about this? Mess with their heads, make them go faster?"
"I can only maintain full control over a limited number of individuals at once, Misaka-san. Patience~!"
"GrrghrhghrhghthatdamnShokuhourggrghghhhrg."
"Hm? What was that? I think I may have misheard you."
"Nothin'."
February 7th, 2004. 4:54 PM.
Perhaps, if the circumstances had been of a lighter tone in nature, Kamijou Touma would've considered attempting to better introduce Musujime Awaki and Kumokawa Seria to one another on a "personal" basis; bedding both exceedingly attractive young women at once would've been a dream come true.
Yet, even if the circumstances had been lighter in tone, there were feelings to consider. Kumokawa Seria had spoken her piece, and Kamijou Touma would respect her. The fact that she was willing to understand his situation and compromise with him at all was a dream come true, in and of itself.
There they were, having been teleported to Musujime Awaki's place of residence.
Musujime Awaki's place of residence didn't belong to her. Rather, it belonged to someone else, someone smaller, someone older as well. She certainly didn't look her age.
Tiny, pink and deeply saddened, Tsukuyomi Komoe stared up at Kamijou Touma with tears in her eyes. The liquid dripped down her cheeks, barely restrained. Her lips had curled downwards into a pout-like frown, and her cheeks had grown enlarged.
She looked like a small child upset after losing their favorite possession.
While Musujime Awaki was in the process of offering comfort to the woman who'd taken her in as a freeloader, Kumokawa Seria was preoccupied with marveling at the numerous, emptied beer cans and emptied cartons of cigarettes that were scattered around the room.
She'd heard the rumors, but she'd never thought there was any truth to any of it.
"K-Kamijou-chan! You need to stop skipping your classes! You'll w-wo… you'll work fast food for the rest of your life if you d-don't get an education! Sensei doesn't want to see you serving burgers! Especially if you're going to start a life for yourself and your… your… your… GIRLFRIEND! My little Kamijou-chan is growing up too quickly!"
It was only then that Kamijou Touma realized he had his arm wrapped around Kumokawa Seria's shoulder, as the two sat together before Tsukuyomi Komoe's small table, within her equally small-sized home. It might as well have been a broom closet, even by Touma's standards.
"I'm personally tending to Kamijou-san with the utmost care, Komoe-sensei," Seria stated, causing Komoe's lips to curl upwards, into a smile. This seemed to bring relief to an exasperated-seeming Musujime Awaki, who slumped forward and produced an exhausted sigh.
"It's a bit more complicated than that, sensei," Touma spoke, to which Seria nodded in agreement, "but the point stands I guess. Don't worry about me. Look, sensei, you know about magic. You helped Index way back when, and I still can't thank you enough for doing that…"
"You don't need to thank me, Kamijou-chan!" Tsukuyomi Komoe exclaimed, planting her tiny hands against either of her little hips.
"But we need to do some… magic-related stuff here. This is a safe, quiet place. You can stay out of it completely if you want, we just need… Musujime's got to see some things. Weird shit's going down in Academy City, sensei."
The fully-grown adult teacher who looked more like a ten-year-old child looked to Musujime Awaki, and then back to Kamijou Touma and Kumokawa Seria, who'd taken her kohai's left hand into her own right.
"Musujime-chan? You don't know about magic?"
"No?"
Resting his free hand against the table's surface, Kamijou Touma leaned inwards.
"To be fair, it's supposed to be something that's kept hush-hush from our "Side". It's not common knowledge, sensei, and there are people who'd prefer that it stays that way."
"I do have to wonder why," Komoe questioned. Her rhetorical inquiry fell to the wayside as Kamijou Touma, arguably the most experienced with the Magic Side within the room continued.
"Looks like it's going to be hard for 'em to do that, with their secrets pretty much being exposed to anyone who decides to investigate these pamphlets… Seria and I think it's safer for Musujime to know what she's stumbled upon. You remember how unfamiliar it was to you, right sensei? If magicians would've come after you, for whatever reason, you would've been completely defenseless. That's what we DON'T want for Musujime."
"I guess I owe you for that, don't I? Twice bitten, three times shy?" Awaki rhetorically inquired, sitting herself across from the duo of Kamijou Touma and Kumokawa Seria. "My heeeee~rooooo… really, though, let's be real for a second, here. Weird as it is, it's the thought that counts, Kamijou. Same goes to you, Kumokawa. Sheesh, can things GET any weirder? The weirdness scale here is off the charts."
Having collected multiple pamphlets along the way, Kamijou Touma placed one of them upon the surface of Tsukuyomi Komoe's table. It stood out amongst the crumpled newspapers, trashed cans of alcoholic beverages and flattened packages of cigarettes, some of which had perfectly usable butts contained within.
Opening the propaganda piece in literary form, Kamijou Touma flipped through the pages with a curious Kumokawa Seria at his side, who quietly read along as her kohai did.
Then, he spoke. Touma gained the respective attentions of both Musujime Awaki and his tiny teacher.
"… we at the Sons of Taured would like to contest this standpoint. You can try this at home…? The secret is not in an esper's AIM Field, but a simple line of magical code pre-inserted… what the fuck are they talking about?"
"Language, Kamijou-chan! There are girls here! I bet your g-g… g… g-girl… friend… doesn't like to hear you talk like that, either!"
"Watch that tongue of yours, my little kohai. It could get you in trouble," Seria teasingly remarked. The mood-lightener was much appreciated, and Touma showed his appreciation by resting his available hand upon his senpai's legs, which he affectionately stroked.
Musujime Awaki certainly wouldn't have minded that sort of touching.
Kamijou was getting more and more handsome with every minute that passed. The way he'd taken control of the situation, one which by her own admissions was strange enough to travel down any road, if given the chance to spiral out of control impressed the Move Point user.
"This reads like religious cult nonsense," Seria stated, firmly. She'd taken the pamphlet into her own hands. Holding it respectfully and intelligently, she peered down at the collection of papers with disdain.
"In many cultures, mirrors – and especially the act of breaking a mirror – are associated with the cleansing of a person's body… whomever penned this piece sounds less like a vocalizer of rebel yells and more like a snake oil salesman."
Kamijou Touma nodded. Freeing either of his arms, much to Kumokawa Seria's disappointment, he looked from one side of the room, and then to the other.
"Look, we're going to need a pen and paper. Musujime, Seria, this might sound… very strange to you. I get that, just try to keep an open mind. We're going to find out if I can use magic."
Musujime Awaki shook her head, no. Crossing her arms beneath her bosom, she tilted her head to the left and leaned to the side.
"It says right in here that this… "magic" isn't compatible with espers who don't do the thing. You're going to have to do the thing, first. Looking into a mirror? Aztecs? Oookkaaayyyy. Sheesh, the weird-train just keeps on rolling. Still looking for the hidden cameras, no offense. This whole scenario is completely unbelievable."
"No offense taken, I don't blame you for being skeptical, I was too, at first. I'm not an esper, Musujime. I've never even been through the Power Curriculum."
Kumokawa Seria adjusted herself and straightened her back, unfolding her legs and readjusting her position upon the floor. Each ached, as the muscles within strained, the blood flow restored to the limbs as Seria relieved the pressure that'd been placed upon them.
Hopefully, her kohai was fond of giving massages to beautiful women.
"It's something of a convoluted tale, Musujime-san. Trust my kohai. He'll give you the proof you're looking for, he's not one to lie, even when lying would be convenient for him. You also have my word, though, understandably, that likely isn't worth very much to you, considering we've only just met."
Musujime Awaki produced a long, drawn-out sigh.
What on Earth had she gotten herself involved in?