Quick thing: thanks, Itherael for following and favoriting! It's an honor to have you on board! I hope you enjoy your reading of a Certain Broken Testament! Thanks, for favoriting! Welcome aboard! Thanks, angelripper79 for following! Thanks for coming along for the ride! Thanks, RahkeshSP, for favoriting! Thanks for deciding to come aboard!
Let's get into response time, shall we? As you lovely people know, I simply love this part.
Itherael: thank you very much for your kind words, friend. I hope to continue providing you with an entertaining narrative to follow! I'm also beyond honored to have even a small part in the mini-project you're undertaking. I'll be eagerly awaiting to follow along, on that front!
Whwsms: Dayum, son! Where'd you find this?!
I'm glad to know that you're fond of the newly-crowned fourth-ranked level five, friend. To be honest, I was slightly concerned by the prospect of introducing a semi-original creation who found themselves in a position of power, but, most of you wonderful readers of mine don't seem to have any problems with Tsubasa's introduction. Very good, indeed! Regarding Ruiko and Kazari's 'bodyguard', the comparison to the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog isn't all that far off from reality.
Really, just what is Aleister Crowley thinking, here? There's got to be something going on behind the scenes. Letting an establishment like that operate in Academy City? What sort of game is he even playing, here?
Poor Fran. At least she seems to have made it out alright, in the end, a bit worse for wear, but alive.
Indeed, you bring up another good point; Mikoto doesn't seem to have been affected by "Beauty-Senpai Disease", as I'm now calling it. Perhaps, given the nature of the time they're currently spending together, the "Disease" isn't functioning properly? This brings up a whole slew of other questions.
Well, I ought to bring up the fact that Gladio and the Oculus are two separate organizations, with the latter dedicated to a Science Side safeguarding of the Magic-Science Treaty, while the former is a military black operation dedicated to rumbling in foreign affairs, with the endgame goal of achieving profit, of course. David Horton happens to be a member of both Gladio and the Oculus.
Soon enough, we'll get to what Leivinia Birdway is planning, regarding the religious establishments of the world. We've got to keep the Dawn-Colored Sunlight's endgame goal in mind; the complete domination of both Sides. To say the least, whatever Leivinia is plotting, it likely doesn't bode well for those who're currently in power within the Magic and Science Sides, respectively. I do have to rhetorically ask, is that really such a bad thing?
As the heat is turned up, the whoop-ass stew continues to boil. In response, the heat is turned up even further. An all-out explosion is bound to occur, if things keep moving forward as they are!
Heh. I'll be looking forward to the new chapter of Search After Truth, whenever it should come. Regarding the leaving of your stamp of approval, I very, very much appreciate it, and I hope to earn many more approval stamps, through subsequent chapters!
321jaz: indeed, friend, indeed. Thank you very much for your understanding; it's deeply appreciated.
I can just imagine Hamasaki Tsubasa deflecting, or even reflecting one of Mugino Shizuri's Meltdowner beams, muttering something along the lines of "thank you, come again." Maybe we'll get to see such an event play out, huh? As always, I can only recommend that you take a single action: read on! Regarding the possibility of a "mask of sanity", it's common knowledge that most, if not all the level fives in Academy City are unstable, to a degree. Hamasaki Tsubasa not quite being the 'nice guy' he portrays himself to be wouldn't surprise me, not one bit.
In this case, the Jerkass in question did have a Point. Fran could've spoken to him with a bit more respect. Then again, even by his own admission, perhaps his retort was a bit too harsh.
Scary shit, indeed. I must concur, here. If something can rattle the likes of Tsuchimikado Motoharu, it's something worth being rattled by. Speaking of Motoharu, it's quite strange that he wasn't wracked with the same sort of intense fear that overtook Karasuma Fran. Me? I'd chalk it up to Motoharu being a magician-esper hybrid.
Same Bat Time, same Bat Channel! Well… honestly, there aren't a whole lot of bats here. Does that count as false advertising? I wasn't trying to be a criminal! Gah! Forgive me!
As always, I'm very grateful, knowing that I'm able to consistently gain your approval! I hope to continuously do so through subsequent chapters!
Guest: thanks for the corrections, friend. As always, your vigil is much-appreciated.
Anon Guest: this might make sense if I'd ever watched this "Highlanders"; the inspiration for Gladio and the Oculus, two separate organizations which Operative David Horton happens to be a part of came from a multitude of sources, but, "the Watchers" isn't among them. For what it may or may not be worth, I've heard plenty good about "Highlanders".
Regarding Tsuchimikado Motoharu, I find myself in agreement, friend. It feels as if he's attempting to do everything at once, while simultaneously accomplishing nothing at all. If his Backstabbing Blade tendencies don't end up getting him in trouble, it might just end up spelling trouble for someone else, someone very important to him.
"Additions", huh? Now, that sounds like it could be interesting, indeed… truthfully, you could very well be onto something. As always, I can only recommend that you take one action, when it comes to learning more about these narrative proceedings: read on.
Continuously gaining your stamp of APPROVAL is a goal I'd like to consistently and frequently accomplish! I'm also deeply humbled to know that you're awaiting what's coming next.
"Oi, Misaka, Seria. Good thing you managed to find your way out. 'Like a fuckin' maze in the… hey, Seria, you don't look so good. Everything okay? Y'know, on the low… do you feel like something's watching you? I'm getting that pretty bad."
Though Touma had posed an inquiry to Seria, it was Fran who'd decided to answer the call.
"It would seem that the others have also been negatively affected by our time in this place. There is much wrong here, much evil."
Both Misaka Mikoto and Kumokawa Seria looked to one another, and then to Kamijou Touma and Karasuma Fran. They must've found themselves drifting off in their own direction as well. There hadn't been any sort of order, spoken or unspoken, to stick together as one group, though a quartet could've likely faced down dozens of malicious-looking dolls or a hellish effigy better than a duo.
"Everything is well enough, Touma-kun," Seria remarked, her form still shuddering. "Too many dolls. Misaka-san and I encountered far too many dolls… as for being watched, now that you mention it, I do… feel something strange may come upon us."
Mikoto seemed much less negatively affected, at least by the sights of the dolls that'd surrounded them. She did, however, seem to shy away from the strange-looking, taxidermized creature that sat upon a nearby table.
What exactly it was, no one among the quartet knew, and Kamijou Touma's data-gathering protocols came up with a mere half of an answer; according to those protocols, it was related closely to the Meercat, even though it looked nothing like a meercat, and more like a rodent that one would've found crawling about in sewer muck.
Misaka Mikoto shuddered, at the sight of the thing. It resembled some type of rat, though its snout was unlike that possessed by any sort rodent the electromaster had ever come across. Its snout was elongated and ending in an odd, star-like fleshy protrusion.
"Now I'm creeped right out, to the bone. Let's… let's split. As in leave… I'm feeling it too, being watched. I dunno if anyone's here, but I don't wanna find out. Let's seriously just split."
All parties involved seemed to agree with Misaka Mikoto's proclamation of surrender, and as such they followed her lead.
Through winding makeshift passageways, the quartet moved, exercising care not to bump into anything as they walked in a single-file line, like a series of soldiers about to be deployed to fight in some foreign land.
Once, Karasuma Fran nearly stumbled, though this occurrence almost came to be more out of the fake gemstone's inherent clumsiness than out of any instinctual flight-or-fight thought processes having their wires tripped.
Soon, the quartet found themselves before an opening of sorts; a space where no table cluttered with arcane artifacts existed. It was something different, something unexpected.
The silence permeating the area that followed the quartet was almost deafening in and of itself.
Mikoto had originally considered attempting to think of a subject that could break it, but the third-ranked level five didn't have to ponder for too long. She, rather than contemplating a topic of conversation, had one thrust upon her as her eyes' vision fell upon it.
Placed upon one of what must've been thousands of tables, this table in particular being one of two that flanked the opening, was something truly morbid at least by the Railgun's standards. It was covered in dust and flanked by cobwebs, though its overall existence could be seen even beneath the partial, naturally-produced obstructions.
Karasuma Fran seemed to have noticed the oddity too, as she'd begun to move towards it before Misaka Mikoto could even point it out, grabbing the respective attentions of Kamijou Touma and Kumokawa Seria.
In fact, only she had noticed it, because of the suffocating, toxic mana that was produced by the thing. The ungodly mana permeated the thing, hovering over it oppressively, like a cloud of noxious dust.
"Oi, Fran… not again. Don't go stumbling into another demon-idol or something. You feel alright?"
"Say what, now? What's this about demon-idols?"
"Long story, Seria."
Fran turned to face the trio who'd come to crowd around her. The fake gemstone stood before the odd, crude construct, either of her hands placed on the table which the construct was placed upon.
Mikoto moved to curiously reach out for it; her hand was subsequently stopped in mid-air by Fran, who, as gently as possible, slapped the extremity away.
"Daemoniac Altar. This was used for evil things. Terrible, terrible things."
Kamijou Touma, still apparently ever the skeptic chimed in.
"… only one problem with that; it's the size of a VHS tape."
Regardless of its size, the thing was macabre by the standards of both Kaizumi Tsugutoshi's 'brain' and the third-ranked level five esper.
Small bones, likely those of a bird, or perhaps those of a rodent or other type of little frolicking creature flanked either side of the Daemoniac Altar, while balanced on a bone larger than all others that were present on the Altar, at the forefront, was a skull. Resembling that of a squirrel's, the skull's jaw had come to flop open haphazardly, leaning to one side.
Fran grumbled as she pushed Touma's head towards the tiny Altar with her hand; Kumokawa Seria certainly hadn't taken kindly to the act of unrequired aggressiveness. With ease, she pulled Touma to the side, away from the fake gemstone, whom she shot with a look that could've killed, if glares alone were capable of such feats. The third-ranked level five didn't seem to be particularly fond of Fran's actions, either; for a few moments, electricity leapt from her forehead.
"… deeper, peer deeper. Examine the photograph. Daemoniac Altar used in a ritual of vengeance, a crime of passion. Someone bargained with powers they should have left be to accomplish earthly goals… they sacrificed what would've lasted for an endless number of years, for satisfaction that will last them less than a hundred."
All four sets of eyes were focused on the photograph, which Fran had pointed out. It was held in place only by a small number of thumbtacks, a grand total of three. The photograph itself was faded, worn and weathered, with small holes present, revealing portions of the dark-colored altar beneath. Black and white in coloration, the photograph looked to have been taken by an old world camera.
Mikoto found herself gulping, and Seria just barely supressed a gasp, not of horror but of shock. The photograph depicted what looked like a married couple on their wedding day. The groom, thin, tall and proud, had his face unobscured, his form untouched. Through his groin, a thumbtack was placed.
The bride hadn't quite gotten out as lucky as the groom had, if lucky was the correct descriptor to use in such a situation.
Her face was obscured by a thumbtack, which was pushed through it. As well, there was a thumbtack pushed into her upper body, close to the section of her lower torso where her womb, or perhaps her uterus would've been located.
Between the bridge and a groom, a small form clad in a fanciful, flowing white dress, with ornate white sandals adorning its small feet had its face obscured, a thumbtack pushed through it as well.
"Jealousy," Fran spoke. "If the Daemoniac Altar fulfilled its purpose, these four people are no longer on this Earth. Their consciousnesses are the playthings of evil."
"… four…?"
Kamijou Touma and Misaka Mikoto both shared an inquiry, though Mikoto hadn't vocalized her own query.
Seria, to Touma's right, her arm wrapped around his owned leaned in, close to her kohai's ear, and softly whispered into it.
"Touma-kun. Four people. There's a tack pushed into that bride's stomach. She must have been with a child."
Touma clicked his tongue in aggravation. Both Mikoto and Fran looked to their mutual benefactor. Quickly, he stepped away from the ground and from the Daemoniac Altar, nearly crashing into several tables behind him. Touma had only just saved himself from causing some sort of domino effect, by balancing his form's weight at the last second.
"Fuuuuuuck this… this is too fucked, even by my standards. I'm out. I'm completely out, this is completely warped. Look, who goes and kills unborn babies with black magic curses? It's all sick."
Mikoto understood after a moment's contemplation, and she too turned away, disgusted. She shuddered slightly.
"That's abhorrent! Touma's right, it's sick! Who could do that to an unborn child?! To a married couple with a living child? They killed the little… it looks like a girl… then, too? Whoever set this deathtrap up? They killed four people? Why? Just because they were jealous? Because they didn't get their way?! To Hell with that!"
Fran nodded. Mikoto looked as if at any section, she was about to vomit. The Railgun clutched her stomach and groaned, like she'd just eaten something that was actively disagreeing with her gut.
Though none among the quartet knew, a fifth individual had reacted to the Altar's true purpose, as well. Invisible to the naked eye, her lips parted, her pupils dilating as her eyelids widened. Then, she gritted her teeth.
Such horrors plagued the world.
The four soon came to the silent, agreement to leave the premises via the nearby opening between two tables. Through the opening the quartet passed, entering, to their collective delights and reliefs, an open area, free of tables stacked and cluttered with the nonsensical, disturbing and in some cases outright evil knick-knacks from Hell.
"Oi, Misaka," Touma remarked. "You're a rich Tokiwadai girl. Do you think you can pay for my therapy?"
"Buzz off," Mikoto retorted, apparently on board with the potentially tasteless joke. "I'm going to have to pay for my own after this… pardon my language, this crap."
"Filth-mouth Misaka here, eh?" Touma mockingly inquired, to which the Railgun responded by shaking her head, and uttering a soft, humorless chuckle.
"A solid drink or twenty would suffice in my case," Seria quipped. Shrugging her shoulders, she held her head high, confidence beaming from within her, even if she didn't feel all the confident.
Having her own arm wrapped around her kohai's was a morale boost, but it didn't silence the thoughts, and it didn't end the seemingly endless onslaught of inane and troubling contemplations.
At least her kohai certainly seemed to enjoy it. While his temper had momentarily flared, Touma seemed to settle once she re-established physical contact. An interesting development, indeed.
Everything seemed to be clear; evidently, Tsuchimikado Motoharu and the old Yank David Horton must've been within the maze. Or had the two beaten the quartet to the proverbial punch? Perhaps they'd made their way outside.
Kumokawa Seria contemplated more within her higher mind as Mikoto looked from one side to the other, confused; did the occult market have no staff to tend it and ensure that it was secure?
"Take your leave from this accursed place. A trail is here and I will follow it. I can hold my own should push come to shove. Tsuchimikado is beyond, awaiting. He has a plan for you."
Fran proceeded to make her way opposite the trio of Touma, Mikoto and Seria. waddle off on her own. There was a thin, barely-extant trail of mana. Off the fake gemstone and Anglican Church spy went, deigning to seek out the location to where the trail lead by herself.
"Of course he does! He's always got a 'plan' for something, doesn't he?! Fuckin' snake! All he ever does is plan, and scheme, and stab everyone and everything around him right in the BACK, when they're not looking!" Touma exclaimed, taking multiple steps forward.
Fran didn't rise to the bait, if bait was indeed what Kamijou Touma had proverbially laid before out him through his vocalizations. She couldn't approve of the Backstabbing Blade's methods either, but one thing was for sure: they worked. He always got the job done, and sometimes, that was all that mattered.
"… Kamijou, you are far too temperamental for his own good."
Soon, the fake gemstone disappeared through a rickety-looking wooden door; whatever laid beyond was an unknown to the trio that remained within the open space, but the aggressive voice of David Horton could be heard. Seemingly, he was grilling someone, someone who was having anything but a good time, if their pleas for mercy were any indication.
Touma threw his hands downwards and began to pace.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to… lose it like how I did, it just came out. Fuck, he pisses me off so much."
Mikoto simply patted the boy, who wasn't really a boy, on the shoulder supportively. She offered him a crooked and forced-looking grin, but the it was the thought that counted. Touma could admit that much, and the effort was certainly appreciated, apparently by both him and his senpai, who offered Mikoto an approving nod.
"Well, no reason to spend any more time in this hellhole than we have to. Before we go anywhere though, if you don't mind me prying, you said earlier when… uh… erm. When we were in that strange car-like… thing… earlier, uh… BASICALLY! What you said was that there was something you wanted to talk about when we were done with this? And I think we're done, sooooo… let's talk about something less depressing and/or disturbing!"
"Sooooooo," Touma acknowledged. "Seria? Do we let Misaka in on our secret?"
Kumokawa Seria took a wild guess, regarding what sort of tactic her kohai was employing. Aware of the fact that Kamijou Touma, along with individuals he referred to as his "housemates" were intended to traverse the great body of water separating the landmarks of Academy City and London, England, Seria could only assume that Mikoto had sought to accompany him on whatever journeys he undertook.
While there certainly wouldn't be an issue with such an accompaniment, so long as her kohai kept his word regarding his respect towards her feelings on the matters revolving around a 'group effort', there was a query that drifted through Seria's higher mind.
Was a younger girl such as the Railgun prepared? She'd been through much, but those incidents had been in the past. Even Seria, who barely knew the Railgun could tell that she was burdened by a great deal of mental and emotional stress.
Maybe that was for Misaka Mikoto to judge. Only she could truly understand herself.
Emerging from her musings, Seria came to realize that her kohai had already begun to exchange words with the third-ranked level five. Evidently, she'd offered her kohai the 'go' signal, unconsciously.
"I'm not sure of the details myself," Touma admitted; the details of what subject, exactly, were an unknown variable at best. "I do know what the snake told me about him, or maybe it? It's crazy strong, if what he's saying is true, and I honestly have my doubts about the veracity of his claims."
"Then we're in agreement there," Mikoto quipped. She'd folded her arms across her chest, and had tilted her head to the left.
"This "Jack" is supposed to be crazy strong," Touma began once more, "as in, made a fool out of people that would give you trouble, Misaka. We might be able to take him together, but… even then I'm not sure. If he defeated Kanzaki then I really don't know what kind of monster we'd be dealin' with."
The Railgun skeptically raised an eyebrow.
"Kan… who? I don't think I know who you're talking about. A friend of yours, a magician? A… I don't even have to ask do I? She's a she, right?"
"Yup. Surprise!...?"
Seria failed to suppress an awkward giggle. That just figured, didn't it? Of course Kamijou Touma would associate with some overpowered battle-girl.
He was almost too predictable sometimes.
"Not in the slightest," Mikoto remarked, producing a chuckle of her own. "So, where is this guy hiding out? Where's this "Jack" stashed himself? District ten? Place is a dump, plenty of abandoned buildings for a freak to hide in. Seventeen's full of shipping containers, "Jack" could be hiding in one of those."
Touma shrugged either of his shoulders before he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Being truthful with himself, he didn't know if Mikoto was even fit to go anywhere save perhaps to a doctor's office, or to a psychotherapist's comfy seat, where she could cry out her problems and receive more legitimate mental health counselling from someone far more professional than himself.
For some time her behavior had been of a concerning nature; and yet she seemed to be making so much progress in that department. The day's events with Misaka Mikoto at his side had been stable, and she'd been more understanding than ever before, though, that was nothing new.
Seemingly, with her mental instability, there was a silver lining, no matter how dull; the Railgun was mellowing out significantly. Whether it was the result of legitimate mental growth or crippling nihilism, Touma couldn't quite be certain.
He decided there and then. He'd tell Mikoto the truth about the nature of his "mission". She obviously wanted to help, and, by no means was her presence not welcome.
Getting close to her had become a priority. Even if neither of them could properly show it, Kamijou Touma knew he loved Misaka Mikoto, and he knew Misaka Mikoto loved him back.
And that she did. Good God, how she loved him. She was within reach of her goal; the Railgun could practically taste it.
"Just say something to me, you Idi… person who sometimes behaves in a manner that could be viewed by some as moronic! Gah! Cut that out, he's not an Idiot! You're an Idiot for calling him names after everything he's done for you! You're… you're dirt. You're unappreciative, sick-in-the-head dirt. You're… GAH! Hold it, Mikoto! You're trying, right? That's what counts. You're aware that this thing is a problem and you're working to deal with it, so that's good. Keep it up, Mikoto. Go, you."
To the Railgun's surprise, it was the form of Kumokawa Seria who'd grown closer to her, though Touma had stepped forward as well. With a concerned look on her face, Seria leaned inwards.
"Misaka-san? You're looking almost sickly. I do hope everything is alright."
"Oi, Misaka. Want to find somewhere to take a seat? Seria's right, but I guess that's not really remarkable… she's right a lot of the time, eheheh… joke's not working okay this is kind of awkward just act natural Kamijou."
His antics earned him a genuinely amused giggle from the Railgun. She shook her head from side to side, and then puffed out her chest, raising her head high.
"I'm fine. Never been better!"
"Look, Misaka. Here's the fact of the thing. Jack's not here. He's not in Academy City and he's not even in Japan. Hell, he's not even anywhere in Asia; he's in the United Kingdom. London, England."
That changed everything.
Misaka Mikoto felt herself begin to sweat; was the room becoming smaller, or was she just experiencing some sort of stress-induced hallucination?
She needed fresh air.
"Breather time! C'mon, friendsies! Let's go outside so I… WE can get some fresh air!"
Mikoto skipped along like a little pretty princess through a field of flowers; Touma and Seria could only look to one another, concerned, as they reluctantly followed behind. There was another doorway nearby, with a wooden door within its frame's confines; whether it lead outside or into another room within the occult market, none among the trio knew, and the Railgun hardly seemed to care.
Had the Railgun finally snapped?
Indeed, the rickety, old-looking door lead beyond the occult market's walls, and out into what looked like a side alley of some description; barely any natural light seemed to be able to shine there, as most of the area beyond the doorway was darkened, though 'blotches' of sunlight could be seen, sparsely 'placed' about.
Misaka Mikoto had been right about one thing, for certain; the fresh air was almost delicious, palatable even. The air within the occult market had stunk like aging furniture, and it'd never been more evident.
Unfortunately for Kamijou Touma, he could only make educated guesses of this fact, based on the shared, visible relief of Seria and Mikoto. He could breathe no oxygenized air himself.
An alleyway it was. A small indent between the occult market and the food-related establishment directly next to the market, it couldn't have been any wider than the tiniest of broom closets. Numerous metallic dustbins were visible, though there was no litter to be found.
Kumokawa Seria's ears perked up; Misaka Mikoto's already had. She'd come to a complete halt, and had stood up on her toes, listening to the vocalizations that rang out freely.
"Horton's got the old bitch, don't get your shit in a coil. You're with me on this op and that's final."
A voice unknown to both Seria and Touma spoke mockingly in response.
"Is it, now?"
"Damn right it is. Something tells me we're going to need your firepower if we're going to get a good grip on Jack, and get this… Soulgrinder… from Birdway. Have you conveniently forgotten what you owe our Oculus Operative?"
"Nope. A tad hard to forget when you loan sharks are constantly throwing it in my face. I do have to ask one question."
"Spit it out, Hamasaki."
"What happened to making this "Jack" disappear, uh? Why're we suddenly getting a "good grip" on him now? Easier to tank n' spank than play to play the hostage-taking 'secret service' G-man game."
"Because I have some questions for him… connected with this Sons of Taured posse, the party causing this mess. He's connected. Mind your place and do as I tell you. You'll make it out just fine."
Mikoto clicked her tongue. Pressing her form against the nearby wall, which was surprisingly cleanly, given that it was part of an alleyway, she clicked her tongue again.
"Oi, Misaka…?"
"Shhh."
"Misaka-san?"
"Not now Kumokawa-san… s-sorry… that's not s-someone you want to tangle with. What's HE doing here?! No-good Idiot! He knows about magic too?! Who doesn't know about magic?!"
Looking over her shoulder, Mikoto wordlessly hissed.
"There it is! Something's watching us, I feel it. I fucking feel it… I can feel eyes!"
Kumokawa Seria immediately took control of the situation. Situating herself next to Misaka Mikoto as the two voices continued to exchange fairly-heated words beyond the alleyway, Kamijou Touma watched on, curiously, while he ordered his converted higher mind to record the entire exchange that was taking place beyond the trio's respective lines of vision.
"You'd be riding against Gladio High Command. We want Jack dead, not captured."
"I'm aware, Hamasaki. He's involved with this mass attempt at public unrest, he confessed his membership. "Spring-heeled Jack" is part of this… Sons of Taured. Unless it was a smokescreen. Therefore, we need to find out more. Therefore, we need Jack in chains."
"Easier said than done."
"We'll find a way. Necessarius and their many butt-buddies have their trump cards, and one of those cards is a monstrosity calling itself "Kamijou Touma", but we'll deal with him later. That's another story for another day."
"I don't think he'd appreciate you sayin' that. I wonder what would happen, if someone were to… leak such information, huh? Wouldn't that just be a pain?"
"Don't push me, fourth-string."
Seria rested either of her hands upon Mikoto's shoulders, and she leaned in. She offered the Railgun a comforting smile, and then stood upright, tossing her dark, feathery hair back, as if she lacked the emotion known as 'fear'.
"I feel it too. Try not to pay too much attention to the issue, Academy City has many means of mass surveillance. Misaka-san, if you'd be comfortable with doing so, why don't you tell me a little bit more about that person who's speaking with Tsuchimikado… -san?
"That depends. Are you an esper, Kumokawa-san? This g-guy's… h-he's like… like… A…A…. Acc…"
Misaka Mikoto seemed to be suffering from some sort of crash; it was as if she'd completely frozen up. Mikoto struggled for a few for moments to pronounce that name, to get it out of her mouth and into the world where it could be heard and understood.
It was proving easier in concept than in fundamental action.
Touma took her hand into his own, and gently held the extremity. Mikoto breathed a sigh, and tried again to speak the name of the number one strongest esper.
"Gr. He's like Accelerator. K-kind of. He can reflect things."
The fear she was obviously experiencing was detectable from a mile away. The very thought, the very idea that, even after all the time that'd passed, Accelerator still got to her – it ate away at Kamijou Touma.
The fact that he'd allowed that bastard to emerge from the switchyard in school district seventeen was a testament to the pathetic, hollow nature of "dead Kamijou".
That monster, the murderer of ten thousand people, he who'd effectively destroyed Misaka Mikoto's chances at a 'normal, everyday life' had much to answer for. He would someday pay for his crimes, an eye for ten thousand eyes, even if the entire world had to pay, by collectively going blind.
Suddenly, Touma was snapped from his inner considerations; Seria merely giggled, softly, in response to Misaka Mikoto's words.
"I have considerable experience with conflict resolution, both peaceful and… non-peaceful. I lack any sort of esper ability that this City is aware of, but the machinations of the higher mind is often mightier than an application of brute force. Now, why don't you tell Beauty-Senpai what's the matter, hm? Is this individual bullying you, Misaka-san?"
Kamijou Touma, watching the events playing out before him, wondered for a moment if Kumokawa Seria spoke to her sister, Maria, in a similar manner.
"N-not bullying! I d-don't get 'bullied!" Mikoto quickly snapped, with more force in her vocalizations than she'd intended.
Regardless, Seria didn't seem offended. She merely giggled, ruffled Mikoto's hair (much to Kamijou Touma's surprise) and then continued to speak.
"Then what's the matter, Misaka-san? You can tell me. We may not know one another well, but I'll have you know that many of my kohai come to me with their thoughts and concerns. I like to think of myself as being something of a confidant. Ask my favorite little kohai of them all if you'd like confirmation."
Mikoto looked to Touma, who'd let the Railgun's hand fall back to her side. She tilted her head, as if to silently inquire as to whether Kumokawa Seria spoke the truth or not.
In response, Touma nodded his head affirmatively.
"If you explain to me what this person does that troubles you so much, we can work to form a plan of action, hm? I think that sounds like a good scheme."
"A scheme?"
"Relatively speaking."
Misaka Mikoto shrugged, and then breathed another sigh. She'd been sighing a lot lately.
And furthermore, the Railgun found herself wondering even more just how this young woman was supposed to be a 'tyrant' or some sort of overbearing taskmaster. Kumokawa Seria almost seemed like some sort of mother figure, or a sort of supportive big sister. Perhaps she had a younger sibling of her own?
"So? Where are they, spy? If this was a setup, know that I won't be falling easily. You have your work cut out for you."
"Push off, Voidwalker. If the people in charge wanted you dead, you'd be dead."
"Not if I killed them first."
Apparently, the fourth-ranked level five wasn't in the best of moods; that didn't bode well for the Railgun. It also seemed that Tsuchimikado Motoharu was becoming antsy as well, as if that was going to help anything.
Without uttering a word, she gulped.
She hasn't felt so nervous, so lacking in confidence in her own abilities for a long time. Not since those dark days that Kamijou Touma had ended with a power in his right hand, one which he no longer possessed.
Not since the Experiments had Mikoto felt so utterly vulnerable.
"He's… he's called Voidwalker. Fourth strongest esper in Academy City. He's…"
Seria stopped the Railgun in her tracks. Placing her hands on her hips, Seria posed an inquiry.
"Is Mugino Shizuri, the Meltdowner, not the fourth strongest esper? I do recall the Meltdowner repeatedly involving herself and her group of mercenaries in affairs which she had no business involving herself in… though that was long ago. I suppose times change, don't they?"
A chill ran down Misaka Mikoto's spine. The fact that Voidwalker had evidently conquered or otherwise outwitted the Meltdowner was a testament to his brutality or to his cunning, perhaps to both.
"She was," Mikoto corrected. "Voidwalker must've beaten her. He must've beaten the sixth, whoever they are, and he must've been able to resist Shokuhou's ability too. Now the sixth is the seventh and Shokuhou is sixth."
At that, Kumokawa Seria couldn't supress a satisfied grin.
"Then… that just leaves me, the second, and… him. Acc… A… A… Accel… Accelerator. I t-think Voidwalker wants to become number one, and so he's been… he's been harassing me non-stop, I'm just really not in the mood to senselessly fight someone. He almost beat me, but our last fight ended in a tie. This is definitely payback for me, and I know it, but it still sucks. I just want to be left alone."
"Together, Misaka."
Mikoto looked to Kamijou Touma. Shrugging either of his shoulders, ribbons of machine-phase matter danced across his nanorobotic form. Kumokawa Seria felt a shiver run down her spine.
He was almost frightening when he held himself like that, chest thrust outwards, head held with confidence and almost an almost radiating sense of power.
"You and me, we take this Voidwalker guy together. You say he can reflect things? Look, he doesn't manipulate vectors like Accelerator, right?"
"I don't think so. He just reflects my attacks, he can't change the trajectories or anything."
"Heh. That's convenient. I can just phase right on through. C'mon! Let's go, Misaka, Seria. Let's see what we're dealing with. We'll do this together, as equals, show this Voidwalker guy what for. You and me? We're the cavalry, Seria has always been the brains, gives us balance. She's ridiculously smart, a crazy good tactician if all the times I've lost when we played Traps and Trolls are any indication…"
Seria folded her arms beneath her ample bosom, and shook her head, no, for a moment.
"Your compliments are dearly appreciated, my kohai. I wasn't aware that there was a shift in the number of level fives."
"Same here," Touma admitted, reluctantly. "No problem. You deserve the praise."
Seria, while the Railgun wasn't looking, affectionately pecked her little kohai on the cheek, further cementing her show of appreciation.
"However, I do want to pose this: there's a chance that this… 'Voidwalker' won't want to fight. Additionally, if he's having dealings with Tsuchimikado-san, I have a feeling he may be friendly, or at least not openly unfriendly to us, Tsuchimikado's 'allies', at least in-name-only. Your involvement here might change things between the two of you, Misaka-san. Keep an open mind?"
"Yeah… I'll try, Kumokawa-san. Hey, before I forget, something I wanted to mention to you. I might not get another chance to do so… uh, so…"
Either of Misaka Mikoto's cheeks had begun to glow a bright shade of red, almost like the color of a cherry's outer layer. She looked to the ground beneath her buckled loafers, while she shifted her weight from side to side.
"T-thanks for talking to me and… just for caring I guess. You're really nice, Kumokawa-san. I hope we can be friends. Maybe you'd like to do something sometime? Together? You're… I don't think I've met anyone as friendly as you in a long time. I don't think I want to lose contact that easily, you know? Not often you come across someone you can really connect with. Well, t-that's the case for me at least."
Kumokawa Seria seemed taken aback, at first. Had she really changed that much? Had she really evolved to such a drastic degree over the month in which she thought Kamijou Touma to have met a tragic and unthinkable fate?
Had his fate, a possibility but not a concrete 'end' at that point in time really changed her so very much?
She was supposed to be cunning and manipulative, the person who looked not at the smaller things and the smaller people but always at the bigger picture, to the horizon. The person who befriended those around her only for her own gain, and for the betterment of 'the bigger picture'.
What even was 'the bigger picture'?
Whatever the case, it seemed that much had changed. It seemed that like so many others, Kamijou Touma had caused Kumokawa Seria to change even on a fundamental level of mental operations.
Maybe she'd only just come to notice or realize it, she couldn't be sure.
"You're very sweet, Misaka-san. You're a very kind girl yourself," Seria finally managed to answer, seeking to not keep the Railgun hanging on a proverbial thread for too long. "I-I'd love to. F-forgive me if I seem stunned, I don't often receive such invitations or such praise. It's very much welcomed."
With either of his hands placed into his pockets, Touma was quietly chuckling to himself. Squeezing himself into the space between his senpai and the third strongest esper in Academy City, Touma initially attempted to casually place an arm around either of their shoulders, but the height difference between the two was considerable; considerable enough to cause his form to wind up lopsided.
Instead, as if to 'salvage' the failed attempt, Touma patted both Seria and Mikoto on their respective shoulders.
"Makes me happy to see two people I love so much getting along like this. Seria's a charmer, isn't she?"
"She's way nicer than some of the other company you keep," Mikoto acknowledged. "That nun you keep around can be a bit of a bitc… I mean, a not-very-nice-person sometimes, and that blonde girl reminds me of Kuroko."
Seria merely bowed her head in response, a silent 'thank you' offered in exchange for the Railgun's kind words. It felt good, improving someone else's mood, helping someone else up out of a rut, even if said rut was relatively minor in the grand scheme of things.
Seeing that adorable little girl's smiling face made Seria's heart skip a beat.
She did have to wonder: what 'nun' was the Railgun talking about?
Regardless of that matter, it was an exotic and unfamiliar feeling. Did her kohai feel similar sorts of things when he assisted those who needed assistance? Was that why he'd always go out of his way to involve himself in matters that he had no place in?
Soon, Kamijou Touma, Misaka Mikoto and Kumokawa Seria exited the surprisingly cleanly alleyway and stepped back into the slowly, if perpetually-fading sunlight.
They found themselves back on the section of walkway where the queer-looking constructs had been left, emerging to the left of the occult market.
"Maybe we should go back in. Perhaps those you're searching for decided to remain inside of the marketplace?"
"Forget it, Hamasaki. There they are now…"
"What is this? The third? She knows too?"
"That's nothing new. Biribiri-chan has been involved with these things for a while, because… well, actually, before we talk about that, you've heard of Kami-yan, no? This is the legend himself, told you he'd be here. Well? Everything you expected?"
The boy with the shoulder-length shaggy hair, clad in the uniform of Sakugawa High School tilted his head and looked to the trio who'd emerged from the alleyway. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't verbally greet them, at least not immediately.
Then, he turned to face Kamijou Touma. Like the living legend 'Kami-yan' himself, Voidwalker had his hands placed into his pockets, though his stance was considerably less casual than Touma's own. He looked vaguely stressed, as if he needed a coffee and a smoke break.
"Kamijou-san. I've heard a lot about you and about your exploits, both magical and scientific."
"What's it to you? I don't even know… you?"
"On edge, are we? There's no need. I've heard about your romantic conquests, and it seems that you live up to your reputation. Taming the third mustn't have been an easy task."
"Watch your mouth," Mikoto snapped. She took a step forward, electricity leaping from her forehead, from the tips of her fingers and from either of her shoulders.
Seeing the Railgun physically move to defend her honor was a sight to behold.
"We're close. Nobody 'tamed' me, you misogynistic prick. It's no wonder everyone in the City has such a bad taste in their mouths when it comes to the level fives, if people like you are the best Academy City has to offer. Between you, Mugino… him… between most of you, it's not even surprising that everyone thinks we're a bunch of maniacs!"
Kamijou Touma seemed to have something else on his mind.
"I remember you."
Kamijou Touma took a step towards the fourth strongest esper in Academy City, who took no steps forward and no steps backwards. He merely analyzed Kamijou Touma, scrutinizing his every movement.
"Do you, Kamijou-san?"
"Yeah, 'member seeing you beating up on the Elements. Good fighting."
"Likewise, Kamijou-san."
"Wait?! Touma! You're making friends with him?! Did you not hear what he just said to me?! This guy's a DICK!"
Kamijou Touma wasn't about to let that go. Misaka Mikoto had been foolish for even thinking of such a thing for a moment's time.
"About that," Touma began, turning back to face the Railgun and offering her a reassuring nod before he faced the Voidwalker once more, "I'm not going to say anything. It's not my place."
"WAITWHAT?!"
Touma shrugged.
"You can defend your own honor Misaka. You're not some little china doll that needs to be protected. You said what had to be said, and you put it all out on the table by yourself. You don't need me to swoop in and play the suave gentleman."
She blew locks of her hair away from her brow. The Railgun grumbled to herself as Seria took to the side of Tsuchimikado Motoharu, who seemed to wince at the very sight of her. Her lips moved as she leaned in, allowing her mouth to hover next to the Backstabbing Blade's ear. Visibly, he shuddered. Like a predator who'd cornered her prey, Seria grinned almost menacingly.
"It's not about that," Mikoto stated. "Of course, I can take care of myself, I don't want you fighting my battles for me, that's not it at all. It just doesn't sit right with me that you'd exchange these… these… bro-words with him after he talked all that smack!"
Touma craned his neck, looking to the Railgun.
"Bro-words?"
Equally, Hamasaki Tsubasa seemed to be just as confused as the Imagine Breaker's former Bearer.
"What on Earth is a bro-word? Kamijou-san? Any idea? You seem to be closer to the third than myself."
Misaka Mikoto bit down on her own tongue, struggling to keep herself from lashing out at the wrong person. Slowly, she made her way forwards, stepping past Touma with her head held high, her shoulders held with confidence, her chest puffed out.
"Listen. You and I, we need to have a little talk. I'd prefer it if you didn't pester me with constant challenges to fight you, okay? I'm not in the mood to fight with you for no good reason. I'm not sure why you're here and I'm not sure how much you know about… well, about magic… speaking of which…"
The Railgun turned to look back at Kamijou Touma, whose hand she took into her own. She attempted, and succeeded at dragging him off; Touma was colored curious. Just where would he end up?
"Be right back! Talking time! One sec! Be back soon! Don't miss us too much! Eheheheh… heh…"
Looking back to Kumokawa Seria and the emasculated, bruised-up Tsuchimikado Motoharu, Voidwalker could only raise an eyebrow.
Indeed, his day was turning out to be a very eventful, if confusing one.
Kamijou Touma was in a similar position, one of eventfulness and confusion, not emasculation. He'd found himself back in the alleyway, the same which he, the human bug-zapper Mikoto and his senpai had stepped out to, from within the occult market.
"He seems reasonable enough for a level five, more reasonable than Accelerator ever was," Touma remarked, once the Railgun had come to a halt. "Have you tried communicating with this guy?"
"Don't make fun of me, you Idi… person who sometimes behaves in a foolish manner," Mikoto practically commanded. "Of course I have… granted I MIGHT have been screaming incoherently at him but… yeah, this one's entirely my fault. I've got temper issues, maybe the Gekota Doctor can give me some pulls, or something. But never mind all that, I want to come with you to London. Whatever insanity you've gotten yourself involved in, I want to be a part of it. I don't want to just be here waiting for you to come back and flash me that grin of yours."
"I'm not going to turn down your company," Touma answered, accented with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "I'd welcome it, and you're not ranked the third strongest esper without reason. Are you sure you're up for it though?"
"Y-yes… yes! Yes, yes, yes."
"This must all be sudden for you. Everything was sort of sprung on you. Do you even know what you're getting yourself into, Misaka?"
"I don't care," Mikoto retorted, stomping her foot aggressively, a current of electricity jumping from her forehead.
"I love you and I want to help you."
Moving like greased lightning, Kamijou Touma quickly snatched the third-ranked level five up, and took her into a warm embrace. Though her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, she didn't resist. Instead, she drew closer, and nuzzled, as she blinked away what must've been some kind of dirt that'd found its way into her eyes – certainly, there weren't any tears.
"I love you too, Misaka."
"You don't ha… h… have… to face everything everyone throws at you alone, you Id… nonsensical individual!"
"I know that now."
"Good! That's great! I don't care how sudden this is, this is something I've been wanting to do for so long, and finally I have the opportunity and the realism, and you're actually giving me the opportunity… I owe you my life and so much more. I'm not going to let this slip between my fingers, no matter what. So just… let me settle some business first. I can call in some favors here. Give me a minute… b-by the way, you're free to g-go… eheheh. Just wanted, erm, to… uh… to converse… privately."
"I got it. I'll be with Seria," Touma responded, neglecting to mention the other individuals who were also in the company of his senpai.
Mikoto had to wonder just how deep the boy's disdain for Tsuchimikado Motoharu ran. She'd remembered the two being fairly close, even; what'd happened to drive a wedge between them?
"You're… uh… could you let go? I mean, I don't mind being held by you, or anything, it's… uh…"
"Yeah… no problem. Sorry."
"No, no! D-don't be worried, I like it. You're cold, but it's relaxing."
As he relented, placed a kiss to her forehead, and then turned the corner, vanishing from sight, a thought passed through Mikoto's higher mind, one which seemed to make all the sense in the world, in a world which made no sense at all.
Maybe she didn't want to know what'd come between that boy, who was no longer a boy, and that sunglasses-wearing spy. Maybe she was better off not asking questions.
Unlocking her phone, Mikoto scrolled through her contacts, past "Konori" and past "Saten", eventually coming upon the contact she'd been searching for; "Shokuhou".
What sort of reception was she going to receive? Was Shokuhou even alright? Perhaps she should've asked Tokiwadai's 'Queen' if everything was okay. Regardless of the outcome of matters he could've, but hadn't tended to, Mikoto initiated a call with the sixth-ranked level five esper.
Buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz, buuuuuzzzzzz. Buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz, buuuu—
"Ah, Misaka-san~! Whoever do I owe the pleasure of this call to~?"
Mikoto groaned; but after she groaned she smiled, her lips curling upwards into a thin, but genuine smirk. Shokuhou was fine. Of course she was, she wasn't just anyone. She was Shokuhou Misaki, 'Mental Out'. She was a master of the human psyche, and, above all else, a tough cookie.
"Shokuhou. Erm… how are things?"
"Fine, just fine~. Did you just miss me? Or was there something you needed of me, Misakaaaa-san~? I do hope that you're going to speak truthfully with me!"
"Misaka-san, the Ace? Ooh. What naughty secrets do the two of you share, I wonder~?"
"Hush, now, Mitsuari-chan."
"Don't act like you're not the one who texted me, you tsundere. What, are you going to call me a "baka", too?"
She was going to act like her odd behavior hadn't happened, then. Mikoto lamented the fact that Shokuhou Misaki was so damnably secretive. It was the same behavior which seemed to have ushered her away from her potential visit with Kamijou Touma, the boy who'd forgotten her completely. There'd been a chance that the boy, who wasn't a boy at all could've remembered her, and yet Shokuhou had turned her back on the chance.
Mikoto couldn't even begin to understand the Mental Out user's motivations.
"Misaka-san? I suppose it's my turn to ask, isn't it? Are you alright? Or has our call dropped? Please forgive Mitsuari-chan's rudeness, she knows not what she does."
"Tsundere. Tsundere, tsundere, tsundere, tssuuunnddeeerrreeee. You're a tsundere, Shokuhou-san."
"N-no, I'm good, right here. Sorry… there's something I wanted to ask you. I need a favor."
On the other end of the call, Shokuhou Misaki quietly giggled to herself, like a little girl who'd stumbled into a fairy tale façade built up with castles of marshmallow and walkways of cotton candy.
For someone who was so very damaged, Shokuhou Misaki put on a great poker face. Misaka Mikoto could learn a few things from her 'rival'.
"You need only ask Misaka-san. Of course, my answer will depend on what sort of favor you're calling in… I can't bend over backwards for just anything, I'm sure you understand."
"You're going to lick each other out, aren't you? Shokuhou-san, I didn't think you had it in you! Would you like me to film the proceedings? Ouh, how scandalous~!"
Mikoto nodded to no one in particular; she certainly didn't expect the alleyway wall adjacent to her or the dustbin to nod back, and they didn't do so, much to her relief. In a world where magic was apparently real, where magic cabals threatened civilizations as powerful as that of London, England, anything seemed possible.
"Yeah, I get it. Shokuhou, 'member some time back when I was telling you about how Touma always finds himself getting wrapped up in craziness?"
"Mhm. Do go on, Misaka-san. You've perked my interest."
"Okay so Touma's going to London, because of… reasons, and I'm going along with him. I think after everything we've talked about together that you'd know why."
"Precisely why; that headlong streak is still about him, then. Do take care of my Prince, Misaka-san."
"Why are you so complacent? Shouldn't you be trying to stab me in the back to get closer to him or something, shouldn't you? That's how you work is it not? Correct me if I'm wrong, Shokuhou."
There was a sigh. The poker face had cracked, and a shred of the hideous, deformed truth beneath was shining through to the other side for all to see. In this case, 'all' being Misaka Mikoto, and, on the other end of the line, a living, breathing ghost from Shokuhou Misaki's past.
"Because I have soul-searching to do. What you've brought to light in our conversations has made me reconsider my current way of life and my current goals. Having him in such proximity, within reach of me has made me think about the words someone has recently spoken to me: "I believe that to you, Kamijou Touma is little more than a goal, a point to be proven."
Misaka Mikoto raised an eyebrow at that. Leaning against the alleyway wall behind her, she crossed one leg over the other a she repeatedly bounced the front of her right, buckled flat against the ground beneath her. With her phone pushed up to the side of her face with her left hand, and her right stuffed into the corresponding pocket of her skirt, the Railgun looked up, towards the partially-blue sky.
"Shokuhou, I'm not sure what's going through your mind right now. But whatever it is, you don't have to just think about it all on your own. You can talk to me too. We're… f-friends now, after all. You're not alone, Shokuhou. I promise that you're not alone."
"Oooh! I think I'm going to cry! The two of you are precious~! Just fuck, already."
"T-t… t-thank you, Misaka-san…"
Shokuhou Misaki cleared her throat and, ignoring Mitsuari Ayu's taunts, she set to work on her poker face, repairing it, and setting it back into place. With her fluffy outward persona fully operational once more, Misaki spoke.
"Well, then~! You did have a favor to ask of me, no? It would seem that we've become sidetracked! Please, do tell me what it is you'd need of me. I find myself just bursting at the seams with unbridled curiosity~!"
"You think you can record the lessons that I'm going to miss? I'm going to have tests piling up when I'm absent from the City, so, being able to study for them would be great. I'm trying to pull my grades up, they're crap right now, but that isn't anywhere near as important as what I'm doing right now."
To the Railgun's surprise, the Mental Out user giggled.
"A simple task, Misaka-san. I can simply use my phone to do so. After that, my debt to you is repaid. Then we'll be even with one another~!"
"Yeah, alright, sure. Deal. T-thanks, Shokuhou. I really mean it. I would've asked Kuroko but…"
"Say no more," Misaki said, physically waving her hand on her end of the call.
"Shirai-san is a kind-hearted and sweet girl, though her obsession with you could be considered unhealthy. You really should speak to her about that if you're going to be pursuing… that boy. Especially with such a scandalous and taboo goal in mind~! Polygamous relationships don't happen every day, Misaka-san, and a relationship with Kamijou-san would certainly be a many-headed beast, if what you say about the changes in personality he's experienced is true."
"And it is," Mikoto spoke, assurance in her tone of voice. "Touma wants more than one girl. I swear, if he would've said something like that to me even a few months ago, I probably would've tried to zap his brains out… but now…"
"Acceptance is a strange thing isn't it, Misaka-san?"
"Yeah. It really is. I guess when you're exposed to strangeness all the time, strangeness becomes normality."
"How philosophical."
"Bye, Shokuhou… thanks again… for having my back. You've been a good… f-friend to me."
"Likewise, Misaka-san. Think nothing of it. Take care of that boy, the boy I've built up as a Prince inside of my own mind. The boy I thought I knew so well but just really don't know at all. Oh! I ought to mention, even if it should go without saying; if even so much as a hair on him is harmed, I'll be holding you accountable~. I do intend to move towards him someday, after all~!"
Misaka Mikoto spoke no more words. She instead terminated the call and, locking her phone, set the device into her skirt's pocket. So long as Shokuhou kept her word, all would be well enough. Though she'd have to play the catch-up game, such was worth it. It was a price worthy of paying to be at Kamijou Touma's side after all he'd done, after all they'd been through together.
Mikoto would pay any price, sacrifice anything in order to achieve the long-sought after goal. She wore it not even simply as a badge of truth but as armor, as she stepped out from the alleyway and back into the ever-waning daylight.
She found the fourth-ranked level five to be absent; a considerable relief. She considered not questioning the development, but decided against it. Inquire Mikoto would.
"Where's Voidwalker? I know I'm going to regret asking…"
Tsuchimikado Motoharu shrugged his shoulders; blood trickled down from either of his nostrils, his right cheek was bruised, and his chin appeared swollen.
As Mikoto's eyes widened at the sight. Kumokawa Seria smiled innocently, humming a soft tune to herself.
"An unanimous decision was made. In order to avoid potential infighting, Voidwalker's going to remain here in Academy City and work with Gladio-Oculus Operative Horton and Karasuma. Speaking of infighting, get ready, you have until this evening, twelve o'clock AM to pack your bags and get your luggage ready. We've got a flight to catch."
The Railgun had another question. 'Sudden' might've been a bit of an understatement, perhaps the understatement of the century, or at least of the week.
"Erm… okay? But what airliner? We're not taking one of those dingy ones that run cheap?"
"Airliner?" Motoharu inquired, flashing the Railgun a vaguely sinister grin. "Who said anything about an airliner? We're travelling privately, courtesy of our friends at Gladio."
"Thank Davey," Touma remarked. "Don't pretend like this is some act of generosity of your own doing, Tsuchimikado."
The Backstabbing Blade, ignoring Kamijou Touma's words, merely clicking his tongue in response, turned to face the trio before him, like he was some sort of cult leader talking down to an expectant flock.
"So, hustle on home and get yourselves ready, gentleman and harem members. Be in district twenty-three by midnight tonight, we'll make the connect there and get this show on the road… by the way, anyone feeling anything off? Someone got invisibility powers around here? Or maybe it's Fukiyose-sensei come to reprimand us, off school hours for our foolishness."