Quick thing: thanks, Fer Namikaze for following and favoriting! Welcome aboard, and thank you for your continued support! I hope you enjoy your reading of a Certain Broken Testament.
It also might interest you lovely people to know that I screwed up on a rather massive scale; in the previous chapter's narration, I made the continuous (and rather embarrassing) slip of continuously referring to Shokuhou Misaki as the fifth ranked level five... when, in fact, she's recently been downgraded to the sixth ranked. I'm a creature of habit, it seems! Expect for Misaki to be referred to properly from this point onward. I've also corrected the multitude of errors in the previous chapter, regarding this mixup.
Without further ado, let's jump into response time, shall we?
Guest: Shokuhou Izanami will be speaking with Kamijou Touma, a bit later in the narrative, for reasons that will soon become evident. Also, again, a BIG round of thanks for catching another 'duplication' error. I'm pinning this one on FanFiction, as I read and re-read the previous chapter in order to ensure that I caught errors before they could make it 'to print', so to speak. Embarrassing!
Anon Guest: I'm very glad to hear that you enjoyed reading about Shokuhou Misaki's debut in a Certain Broken Testament! I definitely enjoyed writing about it. Regarding sources of inspiration, both DarkBetrayer's "A Certain Infinite Possibility" and whwsms' "A Certain Search After Truth" were definite sources.
That it was; thank you as well for picking up on that for me, BIG thanks, in fact. As I stated previously, I'm pinning these "duplication errors" entirely on FanFiction, until my hypothesis can be proven wrong. I'm always open to being disproven and corrected.
IN-teresting indeed. It would seem that Komoe-sensei is inclined to believe the words of Kumokawa Seria.
This brings up something vaguely interesting, in its own way; in Broken Testament's alternate universe and alternate, semi-modified timeline, is "Kami Disease" not dependant on Imagine Breaker, or the Invisible Thing held within? I suppose there's only one way to find out, as ever: read on!
Oh, that we will, friend. That we will. As you stated, Saten Ruiko missed a truly grievous end by mere inches.
Aleister always seems to have a plan; and many backup plans, upon backup plans.
As always, it's great to hear that I'm able to consistently gain your approval! I hope to continually do so!
321jaz: he's back! He's the Man Behind the Mask!
It would seem so. Congratulations indeed! Then again, teenage parenthood is no laughing matter. There're going to be a lot of difficult decisions to make.
Absolutely. I've been itching to introduce Misaki since I first began penning this piece, and that moment is finally at hand; it's glorious. There's something inherently interesting about flipping my usual portrayal of Misaki on its head, and flipping her relationship with Kamijou Touma as well. Their interactions are elements I look forward to writing about.
There's a good reason why I didn't show or mention much about the continued meetings between Shokuhou Misaki and the individuals I'll refer to as "the Railgun Quartet". There are some matters I like to have occur outside of the narrative, either passingly mentioned by other characters or mentioned in the narration itself. I feel that, when other events beyond the narrative's scope are shown or spoken of, it adds depth to the world.
I can only imagine that Aleister Crowley is watching with bated breath, as lines that shouldn't be crossed do exactly that. Indeed, what a time for our heroes to be alive.
It's amusing that you picked up on that, friend; I really was striving for a callback to be made to the first Index volume, a volume I hold dear to my heart.
As always, I think it's great that I'm consistently able to gain your approval! I hope to continually do so, through subsequent chapters!
whwsms: the seed of life has unintentionally been planted. Though a controversial subject, I personally believe a clump of cells is more of a "chance" at life than life itself, but, everyone is entitled to their thoughts and feelings. It's a touchy matter, so I won't dwell on this for too long.
I'm very glad to hear that my portrayal of Misaki and Mikoto in a Certain Broken Testament was able to gain your stamp of APPROVAL! On the matter you've mentioned, I'd have to say that I agree entirely, one hundred percent. Misaki's desire to begin actively pursuing personal fitness is an interesting development, indeed, given her nature and tendency to enjoy less-than-healthy snacks.
Once more, it's great to hear that this scene was able to gain your stamp of APPROVAL! I can only imagine Aogami Pierce experiencing great and terrible night terrors, rolling about in his bedding, muttering to himself, "K-Kami-yan! S-stop stealing all the c-cu... c-cute girls! STTOOOOPPPPP!"
Indeed. Statistically speaking alone, more than "a few" espers have likely met a bloodied and gruesome fate, while others have likely stumbled into something that they were never meant to discover. Saten Ruiko's adherence to the directions supplied in the pamphlet saved her life, without a doubt.
That we'll have to see about. Read on, friend, read on.
As always, I'm honored to be able to repeatedly and frequently gain your approval; I hope to continually do so!
Handsomistic1: that seems to be the way things are going, doesn't it? I do have to wonder; what sort of developments could the shattering of such illusions lead to?
There had been an extended period of silence shared between the Queen of Tokiwadai and the Ace of Tokiwadai.
While it had been anything but uncomfortable given that both girls had retreated into their own respective minds to debate many a subject with themselves, pressing their higher minds and their consciences for the answers they otherwise felt were unobtainable through 'normal' means, both had come up with more than one subject to discuss with the other.
Their ride in the public transportation vehicle had neared the halfway point of its journey. They'd ascended more than one steep incline and they'd descended more than one steep decline as well. The vehicle had made sharp turns, and more than once both the Railgun and Mental Out felt concerned that their 'horse-drawn carriage' would deliver them not to a fairy tale fantasy, but to a nightmare of twisted steel, screams and shredded humans.
Of course, the Railgun could've easily prevented such a thing in the event. Regardless, the concern existed simply due to the fact that Misaka Mikoto was, at her most base levels, a human being.
Why was her mind so completely fucked? Why was Misaka Mikoto burdened by a preoccupation with violence, death and injustice? Why couldn't she just think like a normal person? The doubt ate away at her like a predator feasting upon the corpse of its fallen prey. A change in thought patterns was needed, there had to be an end to the cycle.
"Shokuhou?"
"Hmm? Yes, Misaka-san? Is everything alright?"
"Just fine. I have a question. What's being friends with Dolly like? From how you've described her, she sounds… sweet. It'd be nice to meet her someday."
Shokuhou Misaki chose not to answer immediately, and she showed few signs of feeling like a hasty answer to the Railgun's inquiry needed to be provided. Instead, she continued to look outwards, past the occasionally bobbing head of the vehicle's driver. As the vehicle passed over a speedbump, it rocked back and forth. A group of giddy middles schoolers giggled and laughed aloud. Apparently from Sakugawa Middle School, their uniforms were identical to those worn by Saten Ruiko and Uiharu Kazari.
Even as it did, the smile never disappeared from the Mental Out user's face.
"I think the both of you would get along very well. Dolly's a kind soul and considering what she experienced, she's turned out well. Dolly is a fine girl, I think. She's likely a good influence for the Sister Kamijou-san saved from… his… clutches."
"His? Just say his name. Don't give him that kind of power over you. Kihara. Fucking. Gensei. Evil incarnate."
"A person who deserves to die."
To Mikoto's look of slight shock, Misaki nodded, as if to affirm that the words she'd spoken were truthful, from the bottom of her heart, and, above all else, a fact and not merely an opinion.
"I wasn't aware that Sisters, aside from Dolly, were produced at levels lower than three. Kamijou-san's belief that this particular Sister was the result of an error, perhaps an issue with the results delivered by TREE_DIAGRAM may be based in reality. While I'm grateful that she finds herself well, I do have to ask why such a Sister would be kept alive."
Misaka Mikoto could only shrug.
"Maybe the scientists enjoyed watching her struggle. They're sadistic, complete monsters. All of that matters, it always will matter, but HE matters right now. The old man. I'm not letting the old man get away with everything he's done, especially to… to him. To Touma. That's another reason why I want to get closer. That old bastard's got to pay, for everything. I want to be part of the death squad that hunts him down."
"You've neglected to tell me exactly what sort of fate has befallen Kamijou-san, Misaka-san."
Shokuhou Misaki hadn't been wrong; Misaka Mikoto very much had 'neglected' to provide her companion and once-enemy with that information.
Mikoto wasn't that cruel.
"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to, Shokuhou. I was… I was just told. It kept me awake at night, ask Kuroko. It made me sick."
"Perhaps I'd rather not know, then."
"Yeah. You don't. Believe me, just drop it."
The public transportation vehicle soon came to a stop before a certain terminal. For a few moments, momentum carried the public transportation vehicle.
Located near a small family restaurant unrelated to the ubiquitous Joseph's Coffee and Restaurant chains that dotted Academy City's school districts, the terminal wasn't particularly crowded.
Only a pair of students stood within, two young men. From Nagatenjouki Academy judging by the appearances of their silver-colored uniforms, one held the right of the other in his left. Misaka Mikoto silently admired their courage. She couldn't have known it, but Shokuhou Misaki thought the same.
Rising from her seat, the Railgun pressed a small button located on a nearby pole. Gripping onto it, Mikoto yanked herself upwards, while Misaki sat up in a far more ladylike manner, slinging her starry purse over her shoulder and tossing her head back. Like honey-colored ripples, her hair flowed.
How long did it take to wash something like that every morning? Mikoto didn't want to know the answer, preferring to let it remain as an unknown variable. She much preferred her own manageable hair.
"He's… Touma… he's a little different than what you might remember him being like. And by a little, I mean a lot."
"As I'd expect. It has been some time since we really did know one another, after all, Misaka-san."
Both level fives disembarked; both thanked the vehicle's driver. Given that Misaki had retracted the mental string of "programming" she'd infected the vehicle's driver and other passengers with, he could perceive their respective presences.
One set of buckled loafers touched down upon the ornately-carved cobbled pavement after the other. One belonging to a set of legs which were clad in knee-high, dark-colored stockings, the other belonging to a longer set, clad in thigh-high, webbed stockings as white as snow. Two polar opposites standing together as unlikely allies, both awakened.
"Biribiri-chan and… LITERAL HEAVEN ON EARTH?! Your breasts are glorious! Mate with me! GIVE ME NUTRIENTS!"
Blue-haired, with pierced ears and clad in casual attire consisting of little more than a simplistic, short-sleeved shirt, a pair of beige-colored denims and trainers looking like they'd been fetched straight from the bottom of a bargain bin, Aogami Pierce rushed towards the Queen and the Ace of Tokiwadai like a maddened bear who'd only just awakened from hibernation with a rumbling stomach.
If this was the case then Shokuhou Misaki and Misaka Mikoto were the salmon. In such a proverbial case of predator and prey, however, one of these salmon could shock the life from him with a flick of her wrist, while the other could fry his brains with the press of a button.
While the electric shock applied to the rampaging Aogami Pierce wasn't enough to kill him, it was more than enough to put him out of commission. Mikoto groaned, shaking her head as onlookers gazed on, as they always did, as they likely always would.
Let them stare. Let them behold the power of the Railgun, Academy City's third-ranked level five. She didn't need any Attachment to increase her power. She'd find other ways.
On their way by his charred, smoking form, spread out across the walkway, Shokuhou Misaki poked Aogami Pierce's shoulder once, resulting in his body twitching; indeed, he was alive. That had been confirmation enough for Tokiwadai's Queen.
"Mate with me"? Are we cavepeople? Honestly, I know that guy is a very vocal minority, but…"
"But nothing, Misaka-san. His behavior could embolden extremists of his ilk. We are more than mere meat-bags to be ogled. Weeelllll, that all depends on who's doing the ogling~…"
"You're depraved, Shokuhou."
"You're in love with me, Miiiiisaaaaka-saaaaan~!"
"RrrrggghghthatdamnShokuhourrrghrhghrhghg."
Silence descended once more as both the Queen and the Ace of Tokiwadai carried on, making their way towards a destination only Mikoto knew the location of; Misaki merely followed in the third-ranked level five's footsteps.
They received more than once awkward glance, and more than one adoring series of waves from both the same and opposite genders. While Shokuhou Misaki seemed to shy away from the attention, looking towards the ground beneath her feet, Misaka Mikoto knew just how to put on the right poker face. She'd politely wave back, smiling and giggling like a stereotypical, bubbly little schoolgirl.
So, that was how "Inoue Ayano" managed to do it. That was yet another matter Shokuhou Misaki wasn't privy to.
"What can I expect from my Prince, Misaka-san?"
"Confidence. Overwhelming confidence, almost cockiness. He'll probably make advances on you, he's… what we in the business refer to as "woke". Until we figure something out, I don't know what to do when he drops the moves on me. It's sweet, no matter how confident he is, he still manages to find a way to become an awkward, stuttering mess, but… erm, I'm not in any position to return those feelings."
"So you say, Misaka-san, so you saaaay~. Indeed… still, why bother dancing around the issue at hand when it can be faced directly, hm?"
Both Queen and Ace made a left turn, making their way up a considerably steep incline. Shokuhou Misaki couldn't have known it, but their destination was within reach. Some few blocks would have to be traversed, little more and no less unless abilities came into play.
"What exactly are you implying, Shokuhou?" Mikoto inquired. She didn't turn to face Tokiwadai's Queen; rather, she continued to look forward, her brow furrowing.
"Well, I see it this way, Misaka-san. If what you've told me about Kamijou-san's confession of love to you is truth and not some sort of strange fantasy you've conjured up…"
"Keep going. You just can't help but fuck with me, can you?"
"Nope~! Language, language! It's unladylike and unbecoming for a proper young woman like yourself to cuss!"
"… huh?"
Misaki could only quietly giggle to herself. She raised her index and middle fingers of her right hand to her lower lip, her eyelids closing shut as she haughtily chuckled. Mikoto massaged her temples, and under her breath, she grumbled in irritation.
"Do I have to spell it out for you? If what you say is true, then Kamijou-san has very intense feelings for you, and attempting to pry you from him would merely result in pushing you closer together. As well, such would be a scummy thing for me to do. Instead, I propose a joint operation."
Mikoto cracked her neck.
"Who are you and what have you done with Shokuhou? Shokuhou I know never would've cared. She was out to further her own ends and nothing more. I think you might be more woke than him. By this point, I'd expected you to try something sneaky. Glad we're still on the same page."
In response, Misaki could only giggle. Winking, she folded her arms behind her back as the Queen and the Ace of Tokiwadai passed by a small group of individuals, students by the looks of them.
Shokuhou Misaki suddenly became considerably less enthusiastic. She looked behind her, craning her neck ever so slightly. Misaka Mikoto did the same, a singular streak of electricity leaping from the top of her head.
Something had seemed off and both girls had noticed it, an internal tripwire had been triggered in the both of them.
Something was inherently wrong with the students in question. It wasn't their choice of attire (they didn't seem to have much of a choice; their uniforms were simplistic and identical to one another in style and in coloration) and it wasn't their appearances, per say.
It was the students' cold, unfeeling facial expressions.
Their eyes were blank, their lips straightened into neutral, emotionless stares, void of anything even remotely human. They walked casually enough, limbs swaying at their sides, yet, there was an issue. They more resembled machines struggling to emulate the walking cycle of a human being than a collection of actual human beings. In their hands, the "students" held many pamphlets, while others held rolls of clear, industrial strength tape.
From her purse, Misaki produced one of her remotes from a collection of many. Aiming the piece of electronics behind her, she pressed her thumb down on one of the remote's buttons.
"PIIIIIIII!"
"Misaka-san, act natural."
"Wha…"
"Act natural. Walk with me. I'll tell you when we're out of earshot."
"Hol…"
"There's nothing, I didn't feel anything, Misaka-san. Something is wrong."
Both turned a corner and both came to a stop. Standing before a towering dormitory that didn't belong to Kamijou Touma or anyone else either girl associated with, Misaki looked to Mikoto, then over her shoulder, and back to the Railgun.
"Not machines," Mikoto stated with an affirmative nod of her head. "I would've been able to detect whatever they were made of, unless the City's dug up some sort of previously unknown metal, in which case, good job on them I guess. Nothing at all?"
"Nothing," Misaki confirmed. With a shake of her head, the Mental Out user breathed a sigh and adjusted the collar of her winter uniform's jumper. "They lacked minds that I'm capable of manipulating with my ability. The likelihood of eight electromasters traveling together as a pack is unlikely, and if they were electromasters… well, no Electro-Barriers were present."
"Whatever, it's none of our business. If it's a problem, Anti Skill or Judgment will clean it up. C'mon, daylight's burning… now, what was this we were saying about a "joint operation"? We should probably discuss it now before we actually get to Touma's."
Softly clearing her throat, the Mental Out user carried on in her side of the conversation from where she'd left off. She was inclined to agree. Even if they'd lost control of the City once, Misaki wasn't about to turn her back on those whose living was dedicated solely to protecting students such as her. It was a noble cause to be sure.
"You weren't incorrect when you stated that Kamijou-san is often burdened by the females in his life who tend to… quarrel with one another. My intel also suggests that, as you stated, he's made uncomfortable by this. Yes, I've been keeping tabs on my Prince, but only so that his safety can be ensured in the event of an emergency. I'll have you know I'm not the only one…"
"… Kumokawa. You've experienced some interesting changes, too, haven't you? That boy, my Prince, he affects those around him even when he's not present at all. It's alright, I cried too."
"Go on, Shokuhou. I'm listening."
"The last thing Kamijou-san would need is us bickering amongst one another, adding fuel to the proverbial fire that burns around him. We are both in love with him, and if what you say is true he may end up returning my feelings as well."
"Do you have any idea what you're actually suggesting, here? Could you actually swallow that stubborn pride of yours enough to even realistically consider sharing him with me? Shokuhou, that would be a massive responsibility we'd be undertaking. I don't think it's so much a matter of him not being uncomfortable with the idea, but…"
"But what, Misaka-san~? Are you afraid that the peanut gallery will have negative words to speak?"
"That depends. Who exactly is the "peanut gallery?"
"Rumors fly," Misaki stated simply.
Soon, both Shokuhou Misaki and Misaka Mikoto had made their way down a total of three lengthy blocks of towering residential dormitories, as well as several smaller dormitories constructed to fulfil the same purpose, though rather than existing as high-rise structures, these were made up of several individual dorms stacked atop one another, each of those on the singular upper levels of each structure being reached by a staircase.
There was one dormitory in particular that Misaka Mikoto sought, and soon it was within her vision's range. Eight stories tall and rather run-down, the dormitory looked like it hadn't been properly serviced in some time. While the windowpanes were clean enough in most dorms, there were those that looked like they hadn't been properly cleaned in months, or perhaps even years.
"This is the place," Mikoto spoke. Judging by the look on her face, Shokuhou Misaki was experiencing similar musings to Mikoto's own.
Brushing her bangs aside, Misaki took charge, walking towards the entranceway that would lead into the dormitory's lobby.
"This is hardly a place of residence fit for a Prince."
"You're not going to get too far."
From Misaka Mikoto's outstretched fingertips, a series of electric currents surged outwards. Like licking flames, they became one with the entranceway door, which began to produce a series of violent popping sounds. The doorframe shook from side to side, violently shuddering for a moment before there was a 'click' sound produced from within.
Pulling the sabotaged door open, Mikoto didn't bother holding it for Misaki; surely, she could extend her arm and hold a door on her own. To her surprise, Tokiwadai's Queen didn't have any sort of snarky remarks to make about her "unladylike" behavior.
"I hope all that exercise you've been doing pays off because we're going to have to take the stairs. I don't think the elevators work here, he never takes them."
"O-oh… my… well, it isn't like I can't climb stairs! I'd only prefer not to, working up a sweat isn't what proper ladies do in a c-casual situation, Misaka-san~!"
"Uh… huh."
Pulling the stairwell door open, and feeling the strain in her muscles – the door was surprisingly heavy, perhaps it was intended to be fireproof – Mikoto opted to hold the second of two open for Shokuhou Misaki, who mockingly curtsied on her way in.
With a huff, Mikoto let the massive paperweight close behind her. To her further surprise, the door closed rather slowly, creaking as its hinges performed their only function in life.
Before the Mental Out user could even begin to incessantly whine about the darkness, Mikoto called forth a series of electric currents to perpetually dance around her, creating limited illumination, enough for either of the girls to see their own bodies, and what was beneath their feet.
Many a stair was climbed, and many a complaint was vocalized by the sixth strongest esper in Academy City, who repeatedly struggled to take oxygenized air into her lungs, while Mikoto didn't seem to struggle with the admittedly lengthy ascent in the slightest.
"T-too… m-many… s-stairs… w-why are there… n-no… escalators? W-would that… not be so… much more… convenient?"
"You can't be exercising that much, Shokuhou. A few stairs shouldn't give you trouble. Do you even regularly visit a doctor? There could be something wrong with you."
"M-my, my, Misaka-san~! W-worried about little old… m-moi?"
"Of course I am, why wouldn't I be? I'm not that shallow, I'm not going to wish death on you just because we don't agree on some things, and besides, you're my friend. I care about you. Even when we were way more opposed to each other, it wasn't like I wanted anything bad to happen to you."
Shokuhou Misaki didn't vocalize a reply.
As if to repay the third-ranked level five for her previous act of kindness, a panting Shokuhou Misaki managed to yank the third in a series of doors open, which she then held. Offering the third-ranked level five a smile, Mikoto made her way through the door which would lead to the floor on which that boy's dorm was located.
Misaka Mikoto sniffed the air. It was stale; the oxygenized air within the illuminated hall didn't smell healthy in the slightest.
With golden, synthetic light beamed down from the hall's ceiling, the Railgun could dispel her own source of illumination. With a simple unconscious command, the currents of electricity that'd surrounded her faded from existence, buzzing loudly as they 'died'.
There it was. The third and sixth strongest level fives in Academy City had made their way to the door that would lead into that bullheaded boy's dorm. The sounds of life were present within. Though slightly muffled, voices could be heard communicating with one another.
"Very well, nun, what is it that you propose we do about this issue? This does not bode well, nor is it something that will simply go away."
"I've never heard anything about half of this! The other half is completely correct, and that's NOT good! Whoever these people are, they're going to cause something truly terrible to happen through their selfish acts! These lines were set for a reason between the Sides!"
"You don't have to preach that information to me, nun. I know better than anyone the balance that must be maintained, in order for lasting peace to exist between the scientific and magical worlds."
Shokuhou Misaki could only raise an eyebrow, her right ear pressed against the door's surface.
"D-did… who's in Kamijou-san's dorm? A nun? "Magic"? What in the world are they speaking of, Misaka-san?"
"Ooooh, boy."
Three times Misaka Mikoto knocked against the surface of the door. Her knuckles rapt against its cool, thick metallic surface; for a moment, the Railgun reeled. That'd hurt. She probably should've knocked with less force.
"Who's there? Hi! Hold on! Are you looking for Touma? One moment, please!" The cheery voice of Index spoke.
The door opened, and Shokuhou Misaki just barely managed to avoid falling into the dorm; she'd only just pulled herself away from the door. Placing her hands behind her back and clasping them, she puffed her chest out and attempted to look presentable.
But there was one question floating freely in the currents of her higher mind's thoughts.
Why did her Prince have a nun living with him? The other one's presence was known to her. The blonde-haired, green-eyed beauty was "Olivia-chan", Kamijou's distant relative who'd come from Denmark to develop her esper abilities.
"Short-hair? And one of short-hair's friends?"
"D-don't call me that."
Politely, Shokuhou Misaki extended one of her glove-clad hands.
"Shokuhou Misaki, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sister. Has my Prin… Kamijou-san taken you in? I do hope you're not destitute. If so, I have plenty of spare yen I could offer you."
Mikoto could only raise an eyebrow. Shokuhou Misaki never would've been kind to another girl, especially one who was living with him. Had she really changed that much? Just how much thinking had Shokuhou done? What kind of mental sojourn had she embarked on? The Railgun would have to ask.
By the time Mikoto's attention had returned to the 'real world', the little nun, Index had shaken hands with Shokuhou and had welcomed her in. By default (and by the commands of her own subconscious), Misaka Mikoto had followed, just barely remembering to slip her loafers off.
"Hullo Railgun," the being known as Othinus, who went under the pseudonym and the alternate identity of "Olivia-chan" spoke in a surprisingly warm fashion. "Who's your friend? She's quite… appealing to the eye."
"Hey."
"Oh, my," Misaki spoke, a slight blush appearing on either of her cheeks. "Well, t-thank you, O-Olivia-chan. Your compliment is much appreciated. You're very beautiful as well."
As Misaki and "Olivia-chan" began to exchange pleasantries, Misaka Mikoto joined Index at the table. Upon its surface, a few strange and surreal items had been collected, along with a pamphlet, which was spread across the table, almost entirely opened to show all its pages, at least on one of its faces. Mikoto assumed the pamphlet to have more than one face; a pamphlet to not two faces would've been a very strange formatting choice indeed.
"She doesn't know, does she?"
"Nope. About magic? Double nope. Where's Touma?"
"Since when have you called Touma by his first name? He's not here right now, he's with his friend… Kumo-something-or-other. The One-Eyed bimbo will keep her distracted while we talk, short-hair."
"Since recently, and don't call me that."
Index shrugged her shoulders, taking a series of deep breaths. She was obviously experiencing a great amount of stress. She shook her head from side to side, as if she needed to physically move her brain about within her skull in order to 'reset' it's thought process.
"Ugh, fine! Short-hair, something very dangerous is happening here. I wasn't aware of it until now, the One-Eyed one brought this home with her from she and Touma's school."
Mikoto looked over the information detailed in the pamphlet, and it hardly took her long at all to discover the nature of what was penned within.
Something about "Magic Circles", something else about "mirrors", about "Crooked Necessarius" and "Warmonger Academy City". It read like a Cold War propaganda piece, with "the red communists" being replaced by magical and scientific establishments.
A series of shivers ran down Mikoto's spine. Weren't they supposed to be completely separate from one another? The Idiot certainly knew more about magic than she did.
"Where's Touma?"
"I don't know, short-hair. I just know that he went off with one of his… friends…"
The nun pouted, folding her arms across her chest. The Railgun raised an eyebrow but didn't question the swift and sudden change in demeanor.
"Is there anyone who does know? He and I need to talk. And my friend Shokuhou. The three of us need to have a chat. Do you think he knows about these pamphlets? This is all pretty sudden. I didn't even see anything of the sort…"
But Mikoto had. She'd seen pamphlets of some description, a good amount of them to boot, being carried by the strangely-behaved students. Their possession of what had looked like industrial strength masking tape was a particularly damning part of the equation Mikoto was forming within her higher mind.
"I really, really need to talk to Touma. I think there might be magic users in Academy City. Do you remember what happened the last time? It lead… it lead straight into a World War! Could that happen again?"
"Unlikely."
Index seemed adamant. With a nod of her head, the little nun looked Misaka Mikoto straight in the eyes, her own azure irises locking with Mikoto's chestnut browns.
"The war occurred due to conflicts between the Roman Catholic Church and Academy City. These, this "Sons of Taured", they don't seem to be affiliated with any official branch of any church, instead, they actively criticize the Roman Catholic Church, the Russian Orthodox Church and the Anglican Church as one "great evil" so to speak… keep an eye out. If you see anything suspicious, try not to involve yourself, but report it. This needs to be handled delicately."
Nodding in affirmation, the Railgun found herself breathing a sigh of relief as she hunched forwards, slightly. Index caught her and helped her stabilize herself, though the little nun didn't seem to be particularly impressed with the behavior of Academy City's third-ranked level five.
Shokuhou Misaki had looked back but didn't pay much further attention to the issue, especially after Mikoto had smiled reassuringly at her. "Olivia-chan" successfully reigned the Mental Out user's attention back in.
For someone who'd been given mere seconds to construct a plan, she was executing said plan with considerable success.
"OI! BIRIBIRI-CHAN! THAT YOU?! CAN YOU HEAR ME?! DO YOU COPY?!"
The shout shook Misaka Mikoto and seemed to startle Index as well. Having originated from the dorm next to Kamijou Touma's own, Mikoto recognized the voice; but just how had the voice's owner heard her? A better question was, how had she heard the voice's owner?
From within the nun's habit, the head of a small calico cat appeared. The small creature looked from left to right, and then meowed at the third-ranked level five.
"He might know where Touma is," Index snarled. "I'm not talking to him right now, though. Not after the way he talked to Touma. Do you have any idea just how Touma has done for him? He should be thanking Touma! Ugh. So frustrating. I'm hungry now. Short-hair, make me something to eat."
"Who do I look like? Your wife?" Mikoto inquired, unimpressed.
Rising from her seat, she looked in the direction of Shokuhou Misaki and "Olivia-chan". Sprawled out on the floor, both rested on their respective stomachs, though Misaki had raised her legs, crossing one over the other.
Why on Earth had she gotten herself into "the pose"? He wasn't even around to see it, if Index was telling the truth.
"Why is Kamijou-san having difficulties with these assignments? They seem like baseline, entry-level reading comprehension problems," Misaki remarked. Propping her head up with either of her hands, her starry eyes looked down at the partially-filled collection of papers spread out across the hardwood flooring.
"Olivia-chan" shook her head, no. "He isn't having issues with the material. The issue lies in getting himself to his classes. I've taken the liberty of collecting his assignments and fulfilling their quotas myself."
"Huh? How much is he payin' you?" Mikoto questioned, stepping close to the both. She knelt between them, looking down at the papers.
"Nothing," the former Magic God remarked simply. "I don't and wouldn't demand monetary compensation. We'll leave it at, "I owe him". Helping to keep his grades up is the absolute least I can do to repay the debts I owe. Thankfully for me, Shokuhou-san, as you suggested, these questions are hardly of the difficult variety."
Misaka Mikoto poked Shokuhou Misaki on the shoulder, temporarily borrowing her attention from the former Magic God.
"I'm going next door. You coming? Or staying here?"
"I have no reason to remain in someone else's dorm when they aren't home. I'd feel like I was intruding, if I'm speaking truthfully. I'll accompany you, dear, so that you aren't accosted. Strength in numbers~!"
Rising, Mikoto grumbled as she made her way towards the door, where she slipped her stocking-clad feet into either of her loafers.
"Accosted… yeah. Okay, Shokuhou. Whatever you say."
"I have the weirdest feeling that things are about to spiral out of control. Fucking magic… I just wanted to see that dumb boy… Touma, do you know anything about this magic business? I'm sure you do. I want to help, you know. When I find you, I'm helping you and that's that. I love you too. I love you too, so much!"
Both the third and sixth-ranked level fives had found themselves leaving Touma's Touma-less dorm behind; Misaka Mikoto closed the door behind her with caution, ensuring that it didn't slam and create a great ruckus. To the next door to the right of Touma's dorm, Misaka Mikoto and Shokuhou Misaki traversed, taking only a few steps to reach their goal.
It was Shokuhou Misaki who'd taken the liberty of knocking, beating her rival to it. The level five electromaster grumbled to herself.
"Come on in, Biribiri-chan. Door's unlocked… place's a bit of a mess so mind your step."
Once both Shokuhou Misaki and Misaka Mikoto entered, the dorm's resident produced a long and high-pitched whistle. Clutching his chin in his right hand, Tsuchimikado Motoharu stroked it with his index finger and thumb.
Mikoto couldn't have felt any less comfortable.
"Two Tokiwadai cuties? In MY dorm? People are going to start mistaking me for Kami-yan. So, who's your girl friend, Biribiri-chan? A classmate? Maybe a senpai of some sort?"
Haughtily, Shokuhou Misaki tossed her head to one side. Her hair flowed, dancing about as she held her head high with her chest thrust out. Tsuchimikado Motoharu had taken notice.
"Shokuhou Misaki, second year at Tokiwadai Middle School and sixth most prolific esper in all of Academy City."
For only a moment, Tsuchimikado Motoharu raised an eyebrow. He quietly clicked his tongue before he nodded his head as if he was affirming something.
"I did hear that Tokiwadai was teaching two level fives. Huh… I expected you to be a little bit… smaller. If you know what I mean. For a second year, you've got some… ah, forget it."
Misaki further thrust out her chest, much to Mikoto's chagrin.
"They're just lumps of fat, Shokuhou. It's not like you're going to win a trophy for having balloons strapped to your chest."
With a haughty grin, the sixth-ranked level five rested her glove-clad hands on either of her hips.
"Some refer to me simply as "Mental Out", but you can call me Shokuhou-san. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I presume you to be a friend of Misaka-san's?"
Then, Shokuhou Misaki took in her surroundings. She'd been so preoccupied with making a good first impression that there were 'some' details she'd failed to notice. It was the smell that hit her first, then the visual issues themselves.
Compared to Kamijou Touma's dorm, the new dorm she'd found herself in was an absolute pigsty.
Clothes were tossed about on the hardwood flooring, an empty bag of chips was sat haphazardly upon the torn-up old couch, and the walls were lined with large holes, approximately the size of fists. It more resembled a war zone than a livable dorm.
Tsuchimikado Motoharu seemed to have taken notice.
"Like I said, mind your step… and, you can say that. Last month's little stunt pulled on us by our dear Kami-yan brought us together in a common goal, but we knew one another before last month, as well. Just not anywhere near as well. So, Biribiri-chan! Are we good?"
Misaka Mikoto sighed in exasperation, shaking her head, no. Tsuchimikado Motoharu clicked his tongue.
With a groan, she leaned against the wall; the couch wasn't a piece of furniture she was about to go anywhere near. Shokuhou Misaki apparently held similar thoughts of her own, as she'd taken to leaning against the door, using it to support her body's weight.
Was there even a point to hiding it? Shokuhou was bound to find out at some point or another if she was going to begin involving herself with the affairs of that boy, Kamijou Touma, the boy who was no longer a boy. A certain sentient marionette might've felt a bit better about itself if it was real.
The fact that Mikoto had unconsciously compared the boy who'd done so much, not only for her but for the world to Pinocchio sent pangs of remorse traveling throughout her form, surging like Formula One drag-racing vehicles that whipped around a proverbial racetrack.
"Great… fucking… great. So, I don't know if the nun told you or not Biribiri-chan, but we've evidently got a situation. I'm sure you've seen these things placed all over, booklets, with a guy wearing a paper bag over his head on the front. I'm working on that as best as I can, while also trying to keep Kami-yan under control and that's easier said than done."
Both level fives spoke their minds at once.
"Under control"? Whatever do you mean by "under control?" Kamijou-san is perfectly reasonable."
"Where is he? Where's Touma?"
"How the fuck does he deal with this shit?!"
Motoharu approached, either of his hands in the air as if he was being booked for committing a crime. He walked with confidence, holding his head high, his back straightened, his strides unrestrained in their considerable swagger.
"Woah. Hold it, ladies. Shokuhou-san, you're completely out of the loop. Biribiri-chan, I assumed that's why you'd show up here. Why else do all sorts of girls always come around? I might as well start calling Kami-yan "the Dickman…"
"That's not what this is about," Mikoto insisted. No blush was present, and she hardly felt as if she was flustered. There was nothing to be flustered about; it simply wasn't true. The idea of engaging in sexual intercourse with that boy just wasn't part of the Railgun's agenda.
To show that she stood in solidarity with the Railgun on the matter, Misaki nodded in affirmation, though she remained silent.
Inwardly, she analyzed the sunglasses-wearing boy. Misaki scrutinized his every act, his body's every motion. She made mental notes and comparisons.
There was something dark about him, something conniving. There was a cunning and calculating aura about him. He held himself with confidence, which was legitimate, and yet there was something 'behind' that confidence, propping it up and offering it support beams.
Shokuhou Misaki reached into purse, and though she didn't produce one, she clicked down upon the button of her favored remote, one which would get a certain job done.
"PIIIIIIIIII!"
"In all seriousness, I do know where he is, and you being here? That's good. That's very good. Finally, something I can work with! FUCK!"
Both the sixth-ranked and third-ranked level five espers looked to one another; the sunglasses-wearing boy with the spiked hair seemed to be unstable. He behaved in a completely nonsensical way, repeatedly pumping his fist forward, outwards from his right hip while he continuously stomped the adjacent foot against the hardwood flooring.
"Get a grip on him. Kumokawa's not going to, she's letting him run wild and uncontained. That's not good. He'll…"
"Did… you say… "Kumokawa?"
"Yes, ma'am. Is there a problem, Shokuhou-san? Am I sensing some sort of animosity here?"
Misaka Mikoto craned her neck in Shokuhou Misaki's direction. The Mental Out user repeatedly clicked her tongue as her arms found themselves crossed beneath her ample bosom. A facial expression of barely contained irritation had overtaken her normally cheery and bubbly outward persona.
"Animosity? Heavens, no… no, none at all."
"What are you up to? What sort of power play is this, Kumokawa? Why I ought to… okay. Stop right there, Shokuhou. This is precisely the sort of behavior Misaka-san spoke of. If what she says is true, then… hm. It would seem you've won the race, Kumokawa. Bravo. I do believe we had an agreement, but, if my Prince has had his memory restored, I suppose that agreement would've been voided, hm? Yes, I suppose that makes enough sense… perhaps my Prince has finally opened his eyes to the truth? If confidence is an element at play on this board of ours… hm."
Shokuhou Misaki drifted out of her mental contemplations, only to find Misaka Mikoto and the sunglasses-wearing boy with the spiked hair exchanging rather heated words.
"You talk about him like he's some sort of monster! Do you have any idea of what he's done for people?! He's done things that no normal person could've or would've accomplished! He's laid down his life for complete strangers and conquered impossible odds just because he felt that he had to! To help people! To help us!"
"You're coming at this from a biased perspective, don't be a fucking fool. He IS a monster, he's a sick fucking puppy. I don't know if there's a way just yet, but, for his own good, he needs to be put down. He…"
Electricity leaped freely from Misaka Mikoto's form, causing the synthetic illumination provided by the ceiling-mounted sources of light scattered about the dorm's ceiling to flicker. Multiple short, rapid brownouts were experienced as the Railgun gritted her teeth. An uncomfortable Shokuhou Misaki took a step back.
"You did not just say that. You DIDN'T."
"Skill Out Factions suddenly disappearing from the face of Academy City, cut and dry thugs, baddies of all types turning up mangled and busted up like roadkill. Just last week, people tell me laboratory was hit in district seventeen, no survivors, dead scientists everywhere, dropped like flies."
"You say that like it's a bad thing! If it was Touma, which you don't even a shred of evidence to back your claim up with, he wouldn't have hurt anyone without reason!" Mikoto raged.
Motoharu shrugged indifferently. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants, he fearlessly took a step towards the infuriated Railgun.
"Or so you'd like to think, Biribiri-chan. Maybe your boy-toy is turning into everything he hated. Maybe you just don't want to face the truth. You know what they say about heroes and long lifespans… wouldn't surprise me if that was him too. Kami-yan's got a body count and he's not afraid to let people know, he's the worst kind of killer, the "publicity killer."
Shokuhou Misaki took to the side of the third-ranked level five; a surprise to the Backstabbing Blade, given that all intel pointed to the two being bitter rivals. The fact that hey seemed to be willingly in the company of one another was anomalous enough in and of itself, but that didn't matter. The anomaly was present, there was no use in considering it or internally debating about its purpose.
"I stand in solidarity with Misaka-san. Kamijou-san would do nothing of the sort, he's simply not an individual who indulges in mindless violence. To defend his honor or to protect someone who has come upon a difficult situation, yes, but not simply out of a desire to harm another."
"Who are you, sugar-tits? His mother?" Motoharu quipped. Raising either of his arms, the Backstabbing Blade rested them behind his neck, casually stretching as sparks leapt from the Railgun's form.
"You want him? Go get him. Reign him in, Biribiri-chan. Don't know what you are to him, Shokuhou-san, but you should try and do the same. He's making things difficult for important people. Kami-yan doesn't actually carry his phone on his person, but Kumokawa does. Here, bother her about it."
Producing his phone from his pocket, Motoharu shoved the device in the girls' faces. Indeed, Kumokawa Seria's contact information had been brought to the forward of the smartphone's display. A small, professional photograph depicting Seria from the shoulders and up, an e-mail address, website information linking to her social media accounts, as well as her phone number.
While Misaka Mikoto possessed no such information previously, the same couldn't have been said for Shokuhou Misaki.
Just who was the sunglasses-wearing boy with the spiked hair, and just what was he to Kumokawa Seria? Misaki raised an eyebrow inquisitively but ultimately kept her inquiries to herself.
"That's all I needed from you, then."
"Good seeing you too, Biribiri-chan!"
"Yeah, okay."
"Coooooold."
"You'll be cold if you piss me off. Cold, as in a corpse. As in dead… ugh, get it together Mikoto. Thinking like this isn't good for you. You're a good person and you wouldn't hurt anyone without provocation."
Kamijou Touma found himself surprised that his teacher had apparently remembered the mechanics of a spell taught to her by Index, on a night that seemed like its events had played out decades prior. Even if those specific mechanics weren't required as part of the spell, it was impressive nonetheless. A few minor adjustments were all had to be made. While the wax candles were useless to the ritual, they did manage to add to the mood.
Upon the coffee table, where many crunched cans of alcoholic beverages and even more crumpled boxes of cigarettes had been brushed to the carpeted flooring of the small home, an exact set of many items had been gathered. On a piece of paper, a circle had been drawn, with a smaller circle within. Between both circles, images related to the healing of one's wounds had been scribbled. Kamijou Touma's nanorobotic hands proved themselves capable of producing high-quality artwork, even if said artwork wasn't particularly complicated in its construction.
Musujime Awaki watched on, silently; in truth, she was already convinced that something strange was afoot. The amount of time, caution and effort put into the tiny construct before her would never have been worth the endgame 'payoff' of pulling a simple prank. She was more curious than skeptical; just what was going to happen?
With Kumokawa Seria at his side, Kamijou Touma leaned forward. He faced both his teacher, Tsukuyomi Komoe and the individual he'd only encountered three times, Musujime Awaki, someone he hoped to become closer with, someone he hoped to protect from the lashing tongue and gnashing fangs of Hell's depths.
"What exactly did Index have you do, sensei?"
The petite, pink ball of moral support's eyes seemed to widen for a moment.
"Your friend, Index, she… she sang. No words, she sang like she was part of a choir! It was so beautiful! I had to pray for an Angel to visit us so that she could be healed. She called this small setup a "temple."
"From what she told me, that was a different sort of ritual, sensei… I don't think we'll be needing to do that. Index taught me this, though. Should be quick, simple and clean… Index can't use magic, but she knows a lot about it. Must be one Hell of a tease."
Leaning forward, he focused. Kamijou Touma let his hands fall into his lap.
"Seria, you might want to take a step or twenty back. I don't know exactly what's going to happen here. Don't want you to get hurt, and since you've been through the Power Curriculum…"
"No need to explain yourself, my kohai. You're doing no wrong by looking out for my well-being."
Kumokawa Seria planted a soft and affectionate kiss to her kohai's cheek, before she moved away from him, taking to standing on the other side of Komoe's tiny home.
Then, her phone rang. Touma's eyelids opened, and he produced a sigh.
"Hm. Who… ah, well. Interesting. A moment, my little kohai and friends. I'll return shortly. In fact, just inform me as to when the spell is completed, perhaps?"
As Kumokawa Seria left her kohai's teacher's tiny home, Kamijou Touma forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Forcibly tuning out all other stimuli, he focused his attention solely on the task of casting the simplistic healing spell.
Either of his eyelids shut, and he began to mutter under his breath, reciting the lines Index had spoken to him many months ago, during one of her 'lessons' on magical applications. The fact that Touma had been completely unable to cast any magical spells at all was apparently a non-issue to the perpetually-hungry nun at that point in time; it likely still was a non-issue in the present.
There was nothing even remotely 'organic' about Kamijou Touma. He lacked a beating human heart, his 'organs' were composed of nanorobotic resin and his converted mind was more akin to a computer's operating system than to a functional human brain.
The electrical connection between his memories, compressed and stored within him as readable and writeable data and his synthetic 'life force', the personification of the fact that he was 'alive', capable of intelligent thought, neither matters could hardly be considered 'organic'.
And yet he defied the odds as he always had. Even without the anomalous force known as "Imagine Breaker" trapped within his right hand, Kamijou Touma shattered an illusion.
Kamijou Touma refined mana.
In a certain Windowless Building, watching on as a faint, golden illumination surrounded the form of Kamijou Touma, Aleister Crowley couldn't suppress a smile. The surprised and almost shocked facial expression of a potential level five made him grin even wider.
A being that was essentially a machine, a cyborg, had wielded the power of magic as its own. The fact that the Imagine Breaker's former Bearer had once been an organic human, born from a mother's womb was irrelevant.
At long last, science had won the age-old quarrel. Aleister Crowley wondered just who he was supposed to thank. When was he going to stop winning?
Shokuhou Misaki had been babbling only semi-coherently. Kumokawa Seria had stopped paying attention to her; Seria had set her sights on the great, golden glow emerging from the shuttered windows of Tsukuyomi Komoe's little home. It penetrated the cracks in the windowpanes and surged out from beneath the door. The very structure itself was shaken.
Had her little kohai done it? Had he managed to use magic? If that was the case, then his goal was accomplished.
"Kumokawa? Would you happen to be purposely ignoring me? Did you not hear what I've proposed? All I ask is that you be reasonable."
"Hm… forgive me Shokuhou-san. I was momentarily distracted. Why don't you repeat yourself? I know how much you love to hear yourself talk…"
On the other end of the line, the Queen of Tokiwadai produced a haughty "hmph".
"Very funny, I wager that you find yourself very humorous, don't you, Kumokawa? Ohoho! I can be humorous, too."
"I don't want to be your enemy, Shokuhou."
There was an extended period of silence between the two. Occasionally, the Queen and the Ace of Tokiwadai could be heard exchanging words, masked beneath hushed tones. Kumokawa Seria leaned against the nearby railing, her right arm crossed beneath her bosom while her left held her smartphone to her ear.
"Is that so? I only have one question for you, Kumokawa. Where is my Prince? Misaka-san and I, we would have… a word with him."
Kumokawa Seria shook her head. Of course, a middle schooler brat wouldn't be able to hold a serious conversation. She'd been foolish for trying in the first place.
It was about time to engage full-on soap opera mode.
"And I only have one question for you, Shokuhou."
"Please, ask away if you must."
"Do you truly believe that you're in love with Kamijou Touma? Had you known him anywhere near enough to truthfully say such a thing? Do you know him or do you know a godlike vision of the boy that you've built up in your mind?"
"WHAT?! Ahem. I mean… what in the world are you talking about, Kumokawa? You drivel on about nonsense and pseudointellectual armchair psychiatry."
"You spent some months together as friends, yes, and the tragedy of the fate that befell your friendship is unfortunate, I wouldn't contest such a thing… yet do you truly KNOW him?"
"You'd ask me such a thing?"
Shokuhou Misaki sounded offended. Kumokawa Seria had struck a cord.
"I would. I would ask whether you're truly in love with that boy, or if this is simply some great chess-like game to you."
"I don't play games."
The sixth-ranked level five's tone of voice had dropped in pitch, her vocalizations becoming a series of aggressive snarls.
"Angry that someone has confronted you, "my Queen?" That boy's feelings are precious, more precious and more delicate than anything you could ever imagine, Shokuhou. His pain is greater than anything you could imagine. You move your pieces across a metaphorical gameboard, you scheme and you plot, you view him as little more than something to strive for."
"And you don't, Kumokawa? Hm. I do wager that you engage in a fair amount of scheming of your own."
"No, I don't. The tables aren't turning, Shokuhou. I believe that to you, Kamijou Touma is little more than a goal, a point to be proven. Could you even offer him the degree of support he needs? No, I doubt it. You would break. You're a rich little princess, you've lived with a spoon of gold in your mouth from the moment you emerged from the womb. You've no concept of what that boy's been through. You're ill… but I'm not going to continue to hold this conversation with you from afar."
Shokuhou Misaki produced a very forced giggle. It was full of pain, an agonized vocalization, one which was intended to but failed to mask a frothing mix of negative emotions.
"Ohoho! You seem to have been doing a very good of that thus far, but do go on…"
"Do make your way to the Dianoid, Shokuhou. If you want to find that boy, he'll be there. With me. Under my protection."
"We will see about that, won't we, Kumokawa? Have you forgotten who I am~? Have you forgotten what I can do~?"
"Hardly."