Quick thing: thanks, TehDIGI for following and favoriting! Thank you for your support! Thanks, whwsms for following! Welcome aboard, it's great to have you with us! Thanks, Dark Ulrion for following and favoriting! It's great to have you on board! Thanks, Angel of Darknes for following and favoriting! Your support is very much appreciated. Thanks, Kashou for favoriting! Your readership is very much appreciated! Thanks, Zoe Jane Yaxley for favoriting this piece, a Certain Strange Scenario and Times Change! Thank you very much for deciding to show your support!
Quick announcement: with this chapter comes the closing of the Spring-heeled Jack Arc. Arguably one of the longest story arcs I've ever penned, clocking in at over two hundred thousand words and nearly twenty-three chapters in length, I believe that at this point, the smoothest transition between the Spring-heeled Jack Arc and the next can be achieved; in effect, one story arc will bleed directly into the next, allowing for a "silky smooth" transition rather than what might otherwise seem to be something of a hard cut in text form.
Additionally, I'd like to take this moment to thank everyone who has followed, favorited and left reviews for this piece, and for the other pieces which linger in a state of semi-completion, a Certain Strange Scenario and Times Change, both of which are "on hold", at least until this piece reaches its completion. I'd also like to extent some big thanks out to those who are quietly following along with the action as it unfolds. Every single one of you folks are wonderful. Absolutely, positively wonderful. You and you alone make this possible.
Here we go, as a certain Italian plumber often says. Response time is upon us!
Guest: utilizing the format in which you've worded your review, here are my answers to your questions, from one to four, plus a bonus.
With all due respect, perhaps, if you're adamant about pursuing the issue, you should create an account and take it up with Destati69 themselves? Simply a thought.
I've no idea what those might be, and I haven't actually seen Transformers: Age of Extinction, so, that would be a no. The idea was more inspired by the depiction of the T-3000, otherwise known as John Connor in Terminator: Genisys.
Surprisingly, the answer is a yes. Without dragging this answer out and likely boring you with a long and meticulous explanation, Touma is capable of reproduction. Granted, he'll have to figure out how to actually get that far, if you receive my point.
I'm way ahead of you… way, way ahead of you.
Any previous skill Touma possessed, he retained following his forced transformation. There'd be little stopping him from learning new martial techniques.
321jaz: it has been some time, indeed. Much longer than the sort of 'queue' time we're accustomed to, that's for certain!
It seems to be quite fond of rearing that ugly head it has; and in Academy City, of all places! Come on, Crowley, what are you doing?! Then again, this shouldn't come as too great of a surprise; if Academy City were a human child, Aleister Crowley would be the King of inattentive parents.
You picked up on that little detail, it seems. An interesting change, indeed, though not one that's overly unwarranted. We are discussing a mass murderer. It seems our hero's outlook on a number of matters has changed, this matter being just one among them.
It's interesting that you bring this point up. I too have to wonder just what sort of a first meeting, if any, our hero and 'the number one' will share.
Truthfully, I can only assume that this is precisely the result those who pull the strings were hoping to see. Given both parties' respective aggressive sides, allowing the two to remain in the same locale for an extended period of time would likely be a move most unwise.
I'm glad to hear (see?) that you approve of Mitsuari Ayu's introduction, friend! While something of an afterthought, I must admit, I think the brief cameo will help to better define the nature of the sort of 'second opinion' Shokuhou Misaki is after. As well, it helps to establish some matters which will come into play a bit later in the narrative's progression.
Without unleashing nasty spoilers, I think I can safely say that you'll be seeing plenty of both. As always, expect the unexpected, keep those eyes open, and read on!
I'm ever glad to consistently gain your approval. I hope to continually do so through subsequent installments!
whwsms: it seems you've taken to using the term first coined by our friend 321jaz, huh? I have to admit, I'm quite fond of the invented term 'chappy', myself.
That's not a bad guess at all; for all we know, that could completely be the case. Alternatively, any form of distracting stimuli could possibly prevent "Beauty-Senpai Disease" from functioning properly. I suppose this does bring up a valid question: is "Beauty-Senpai Disease" even something that exists? As always, there's only one way to find out.
I do have to wonder the same thing. Perhaps they, or a certain Backstabbing Blade, rather than both parties wished for the conversation to be overheard? As if to say, "I'm not making this easy for you, Kami-yan."
Ha! A two-fer-one shot! I'm glad you enjoyed experiencing the admittedly brief introduction of Mitsuari Ayu, and the equally brief return of Shokuhou Misaki. Regarding the 'ecchi' nature of Ayu's words, I sought to portray the character as someone who's developed a more 'impish' nature, rather than someone who continues to behave in a mean-spirited manner. Aside from the tsundere archetype being a tired and savagely-beaten horse, I personally believe an impish demeanor to be more amusing than an outright mean-spirited demeanor. Of course, as stated above, that's all my own incredibly biased opinion. We, as humans, create things that make sense and appeal to us.
To be fair, "we're off to see the Wizard" wouldn't be an entirely untrue statement; England's full of them! If you count magicians to be wizards, that is. Is there really a difference? Now I've got myself wondering.
As always, I think it's wonderful that I'm able to continuously gain your stamp of APPROVAL, friend! I hope to consistently do so, through subsequent chapters.
Anon Guest: I'm really glad to see that Mitsuari Ayu's introduction is being received positively, and enjoyed; I'm going to assume that those who choose to remain silent approve, in their own way, as I have yet to be chewed out for introducing her.
I'd expand more on that, but, I don't want to jinx myself.
Well, you're onto me, friend! Don't think for even a second that this is the last you'll see of a certain Mental Out or a certain Mental Stinger.
There was a purpose, one which was, and still is clear in my mind behind this creative decision. Mostly, it's born of my own personal observation that most fanwork depictions of Misaka Mikoto don't tend to address the nature of her aggression, especially that which is aimed at Touma. In fairness, this isn't addressed in Kamachi's prime canon, either, but I can only assume the issue will eventually be touched upon.
In the end, I see it like this: if Mikoto didn't suffer from sort of mild disorder to begin with, then it was likely developed during her traumatic youth, especially following her discovery of the Radio Noise Project and the helplessness she experienced at the cruel hands of Accelerator.
Given how her canon (and other unrelated fanwork) counterpart(s) continue to behave towards Touma, even after his saving of not only her life, but the lives of thousands of others, I'm personally leaning to the former explanation. While this exposition dump was certainly a bit long-winded, by my own admission, I believe it to be a necessary evil.
A barrel of whoop-ass, now, is it? An 'upgrade' indeed, but the peeling back of the lid continues unabated!
There are plenty of matters that await our heroes' attention in the near future. Truthfully, it doesn't seem so good, does it? While Kamijou Touma, Misaka Mikoto and Index will get to cross paths with some old friends, there will more than likely be new enemies to cross paths with, as well.
Or perhaps old enemies who've simply learned some new tricks.
Per usual, it's awesome that I find ways to repeatedly and frequently earn your stamps of APPROVAL! I hope to do so continuously, through subsequent installments!
Now, without further ado, onto the final chapter of the Spring-heeled Jack Arc!
February 7th, 2004. 8:10 PM.
The home of Tsukuyomi Komoe had been vacated by its owner, who'd gone off to do some sort of "old lady thing" with the Anti Skill lady and the other dark-haired lady, the one with the shorter hair; Musujime Awaki thought of the name "Yoshikawa", but Move Point couldn't quite be certain if that was actually the third woman's name. Her name could've been Adolf von Frankenstein for all Awaki knew.
Regardless of all matters revolving around the concept of potential misidentifications, the Move Point user was having a grand evening, all around. With the motherly Tsukuyomi Komoe away, Musujime Awaki could let loose and do all of the things she enjoyed doing in private.
Surprisingly, masturbation was very low on the list of priorities. There simply wasn't enough appeal; it wasn't as easy as gripping onto a conveniently-placed wad of meat and tugging until orgasm was reached.
No, for a woman, it was more complicated that.
It was such a reason that Awaki partially loathed her own gender. Everything was so very complicated. From urination to defecation, femininity was a complex web of obstacles and pains.
Still, she wasn't about to let the fact that she couldn't stimulate herself with incredible ease get her down.
Running her razor down a section of her right leg, Awaki made a thin layer of… something, something that could've potentially become fuzz if left alone go away.
Without the thin layer of pseudo-anomalous 'growth', the leg beneath was perfect, shiny and silky beneath the bright, synthetic light beamed down from the ceiling of Komoe's home's bathroom.
A part of her wanted that exceedingly handsome boy, that "Kamijou Touma" to run his hands all over them. She wouldn't have minded being able to have him satisfy her womanly needs, either.
Awaki shook her head, allowing the inappropriate fantasy to drip from her higher mind's thoughts like condensation down a porcelain surface.
Set against the simplistic sink and equally simplistic bathroom counter, Awaki's phone was unlocked, with the Qoozle Video application live and running.
Some asinine Nazi conspiracy theory video was being played, with the meek-voiced, stuttering 'narrator' rambling about a 'Fourth Reich in exile" existing in Antarctica, of all places, deep beneath the tundra and frozen wastes. Of course, this Fourth Reich was also supposedly made up of reptilians from a distant star system who were bent on enslaving all of humanity, for reasons that hadn't been, and likely never would be disclosed.
Soon, Awaki's right leg was completely shaven from top to bottom, reflecting the light, smooth as the skin of a pampered infant to the touch. Awaki proceeded to move onto her left leg, listening to the meek narrator of the conspiratorial video continually ramble about lizard-Nazis who'd mastered not only the power of the occult, raising the dead and creating an army of walking Soviet corpses, but also time travel.
Of course, all evidence was anecdotal. What a surprise that was. Musujime Awaki could only shake her head and chuckle under her breath as the narrator blithered and struggled to speak, consistently tripping over his own vocalizations, creating a truly terrible stutter that, even in pre-recorded video form, was quite cringeworthy to audibly behold.
One thing the nonsense did make her think about was the revelations brought up to her by that boy, and that refined young woman, "Kumokawa Seria" as she'd called herself.
It'd all been real after all.
She hadn't believed at first; how was she supposed to have believed something like that? But, it'd been real. Whatever it was that Kamijou Touma had done, he hadn't used some sort of esper ability. The odd taste in the Move Point user's mouth, clinging to her palette like moss to the rudder of a boat, the strange, unfamiliar scents and the shaking of Tsukuyomi Komoe's home wasn't the work of some exotic esper ability.
It'd well and truly been magic, whatever that was. What even was magic?
Awaki still had the pamphlet. Perhaps that would hold the key to unlocking the mystery, even on a very basic level? Such was possible, anything was possible.
Musujime Awaki hardly concerned herself with the consequences.
If one thing had become obvious after she'd been freed from Academy City's yoke, after the first 'wave' of work with GROUP had come to an end, it was that having a 'normal' life was boring as sin. How did the married couples in district eight manage it?
It was dull, it was almost depressing. Every day, the same mindless labor, the same thoughtless grinding, just being part of the ever-turning cogs in an ever-grumbling machine. Even the 'new' work with GROUP was hardly anything exciting, heart-pumping or blood-boiling, it was all mere cut and dry espionage.
The Move Point user frowned. It wasn't a life she wanted for herself.
Musujime Awaki didn't want to be some pretty-looking housewife with crippling debt and brats she resented. She wanted freedom, to roam and to experience the true pleasures of life, to face the risk of being struck head-on by death again after so very long. Death was an inevitability, one which could be courted and danced with or avoided like a dreaded plague, but only for so long. Death, like a good night's sleep would come, no matter how hard one resisted.
She was becoming soft. She could feel herself softening up, like a boiled egg. It was almost sinful; she'd find herself ending up like that half-assed teleporter if she wasn't careful.
Musujime Awaki, after finishing up with swiping the remaining 'layer' of not-quite-fuzz away from her left leg, leaving it just as smooth and as shiny as her right, set her razor down and pressed down on her smartphone's home button, which caused the stuttering, faceless 'narrator' of the conspiratorial video to finally shut up.
Quickly, she applied shaving cream to either of her underarms, which she shaved the fuzzy growth from; the beginnings of hairy outgrowths were slain before they could take root and spread.
Clad in absolutely nothing save the layers of skin that had grown over her skeletal structure, Musujime Awaki left the bathroom, once she'd applied aftershave to her underarms and to either of her legs.
Picking up her unlocked smartphone on the way out, Awaki began moving towards her bed, which was set adjacent to Tsukuyomi Komoe's own. Awaki sifted through the pockets of her dress, which had been haphazardly thrown down upon her bed.
Within, the pamphlet was found, crumpled and savaged. For a moment, and only a moment, the Move Point user thought she saw the eyes of the paper bag man move, only slightly. It must've been a trick of her imagination.
Or, perhaps, it wasn't. Perhaps that was magic, too. Maybe, some dork on the other end of the magical surveillance system which may or may not have existed was creaming himself. At the thought, a sneer was painted over Awaki's facial features.
Opening the first pages of the crumpled thing, Awaki quickly found a table of contents. Almost too conveniently, one of the first items on the table was, "What Is Magic?" apparently located on page four of the pamphlet.
Flipping over to the fourth page, Musujime Awaki stumbled upon what she'd been searching for. It read like something straight out of the bestiary from some high fantasy tabletop game, or like an introduction to someone's fantasy novel.
It sounded like pure fantasy, simplistic, nonsensical bologna. But was that it? Was it that simple? The answer was a resounding "no", and Awaki knew it.
"Just what is "magic"? What is this power and how can it affect your life?
"If you're a student of Academy City, someone who has had the cold, hard element known as "logic" stuffed into their brain, through their ears, nostrils, eyes and every other orifice that we're honestly too decent to mention, you might believe us to be insane, or perhaps the result of some "New Age" movement, similar to those that were alive and well in the mid twentieth century.
"You couldn't be any more incorrect. You truly couldn't have stumbled onto an assumption more wrong than the previously cited example of a "poor assumption".
"Magic isn't all that difficult to explain; in fact, it's quite simplistic in nature. Magic was come upon by those who vilified and envied the espers of old, who could call upon supernatural powers and bend them to their will, not through knowledge of their own; we have the Ahnk'ji Peoples and their Prophet, Taured, to thank for this (for further information regarding the Prophet Taured and the Ahnk'ji's connection to humanity, refer to page sixteen). It was these subterranean, insectoid peoples who blessed humanity with the deep knowledge of scientific esper abilities.
"Do not mistake the Ahnk'ji Peoples as the enemy, for in truth they are our greatest ally. The only true enemies of humanity are those found within our species, within our kind, those in power who would oppress through their rule, rather than aid and protect.
"Magic was forged when those who did not or could not connect with the Ahnk'ji Peoples wished for power of their own, and so they turned to the primordial power in the Earth itself. They called for their gods, for the gods of old and for the gods of other civilizations to come to their aid. They employed rituals found in other cultures, cultivated in other lands… and their prayers were answered in kind.
"It can take any form and can be invoked through a wide array of means, most commonly a caster works the casting of a spell through aligning oneself with a certain elemental force or with the character or setting of a particular story, Biblical or otherwise, invoking the latent power in the concept itself and taking that power for themselves.
"IMPORTANT: IF YOU ARE AN ESPER PRODUCED BY ACADEMY CITY'S POWER CURRICULUM, ATTEMPTING TO UTILIZE MAGIC WITHOUT FIRST PERFORMING A CERTAIN RITUAL (BASED NOT IN MAGIC BUT IN NEUTRAL SPIRITUALISM) WILL RESULT IN GRIEVOUS BODILY HARM! REFER TO PAGE TEN AND PAGE SIX TO LEARN HOW TO PERFORM THIS RITUAL BEFORE ATTEMPTING TO UTILIZE MAGIC!"
Awaki soon found herself performing precisely that action. Skimming through the pages before her, Awaki came upon page ten, where another series of text-walls were present.
Following the instructions found within, Awaki managed to scavenge a spare piece of paper and a black, felt tip marker, both of which were scattered around different corners of Tsukuyomi Komoe's home. The Move Point user quickly, but rather nervously produced the required construct, following the instructions and leaving a small section of the "Magic Circle" incomplete.
She felt like an imbecile, like a small child performing the classic "Bloody Mary" ritual for the first time in an elementary school's bathroom.
By the time she'd partially completed the Magic Circle, studied the various written materials found within the pamphlet, and eventually made her way to the mirror in Komoe's bathroom, it was nearly nine o'clock in the evening.
Just how long had she taken to prepare everything? Had she purposefully been stalling? Awaki didn't even know. Maybe it was subconscious, maybe it'd been a conscious, nervous desire. The Move Point user had hardly been paying attention.
Stranding before the small, simplistic plastic mirror which hung from the bathroom's wall, Musujime Awaki closed either of her eyes, folded her hands in front of her face and took a long, deep breath. Then, she opened her eyes, feeling that both had been sufficiently moisturized.
Repeatedly, the Move Point user resisted the urge to blink, making that urge even more powerful. As she fought it, it fought back, struggling against the chains her higher mind had bound the instinctual desire with.
"If it's really, honestly true that there's some sort of evil science-magic-code inside of me, I'd prefer for it to be gone, thanks… oh, what the HELL am I doing?! I'm thinking, just talking to myself. Then again… it did say to sincerely 'pray', to be forceful… praying. Who would've thought? This is Academy City, nobody 'prays' here. Sheesh, this is all still weirding me out…
"Alright. Please make the evil science-magic-code thing inside of me go away. I want it gone. By the power of spiritualism… or something… make it go away! I want it gone and I want it gone now! I demand that it goes away!"
In a certain Windowless Building, all was silent, as always.
But there was something different. It was spreading. Aleister Crowley, the General Superintendent of Academy City just couldn't help but smirk as he watched another great, swollen mass of golden light surge outwards from another home in his City.
He should've been upset that the magical curses he'd long ago set into place were being destroyed, not quite en masse but frequently; yet he wasn't upset. Aleister Crowley was overjoyed, in fact.
The 'Other Side' would have plenty of work on their hands, too much work to pry into his personal affairs.
All that remained was retrieving the Imagine Breaker from that Tritonian Mad-God monstrosity, a tyrant whose cruelty and callousness put even that of Magic God Othinus to shame. That wouldn't be easy by any stretch of the imagination, but, all things were possible. He was Aleister Crowley, the Great Beast 666, the most powerful magician on planet Earth. He was no pushover and he was no coward.
But he was cunning.
He observed as Musujime Awaki smashed the mirror.
Though she hadn't controlled it – she'd lost control over her body for some moments – Musujime Awaki had found herself slumped down on the floor.
But she felt no pain and she felt no fear, or grief or anger. All she felt was overwhelming relief, like some great weight had been mercifully removed from her shoulders. Her lips had curled upwards, into a smile, a thin, thankful smirk.
She was alive, and something had most certainly changed in her. She'd seen the blackened smoke, as dark as the night sky above her drift away, like vapors released by some sort of pseudo-volcanic deep sea outcroppings. It'd emerged from her nose, her eyes, her nostrils, and even from other, more private parts of her body.
Musujime Awaki rose to her feet, her legs shaking as she almost feverishly stumbled towards the semi-completed "Magic Circle".
More than once, on her way, she nearly stumbled over own feet; but she managed to retain her sense of balance, forcing her body to co-operate with her excited, nervous and vaguely disturbed higher mind's frantic demands.
With unsteady hands, she completed the Circle, setting the felt tip marker down upon the coffee table nearby. The writing utensil rolled away, falling from the table and to the carpeted flooring below it.
Hunting for page eight within the pamphlet, Musujime Awaki frantically flipped from page to page, until she came upon the section she'd been searching for.
While there didn't seem to be a lot of 'spells' on offer, Musujime Awaki settled on something simplistic. "Flames of the Burning Bush". That seemed destructive enough, if somewhat on the archaic side. It would do for Awaki's purposes.
Quickly, she retrieved from a heap next to her bed some clothing; Awaki threw on a simple, sleeveless top, a pair of 'short' shorts, and slipped her bare feet into her buckled flats, which she retrieved from the small mat just before the entranceway door.
With a thought, a simple series of calculations, Musujime Awaki teleported herself to a nearby field, one which was rarely, if ever populated, the pamphlet in hand.
In the mere blink of an eye Musujime Awaki had translocated entirely, finding herself in a new location.
As she'd suspected, the field nearby Tsukuyomi Komoe's place of residence was complete vacated; only the grass beneath her feet, flanked by great, majestic trees whose tips reached to the clear, if darkened night sky above surrounded and welcomed her with proverbial open arms, and with many perpetually-spinning wind turbines visible in the distance, the night was an almost idyllic one; that was counting the fact that she'd managed to stumble into something that was completely foreign and unfamiliar to her, something she never knew to exist.
Following the instructions detailed in the pamphlet, Musujime Awaki carved out a magic circle in the grass, by yanking tufts of the healthy, green stuff from the ground, and digging into the exposed dirt with a small, but considerably thick and durable stick she'd scavenged.
Images of burning firewood were carved, images of simplistic campfires and of lone, crackling flames, each in a circular pattern, with a small, full circle surrounding them, and another beyond that circle, entrapping each of the crude, carved-out icons. In the center of the Magic Circle, a simplistic bush was carved, with crackling flames carved out atop it. Above the fire, the shape of a cross, a lowercase t was carved as well.
Referencing the pamphlet-turned-manual once more, Awaki not only knelt, but crouched, allowing her legs to be tickled by the tips of individual grass-blades. She read and re-read the necessary materials, soon discovering that, upon activation, the "Flames of the Burning Bush" could be freely controlled with vocalized commands, such as "forward", "relent", and "to the side".
Additionally, if 'sinners', those who opposed the caster were present, the "Flames of the Burning Bush" would apparently seek them out of their own accord.
How useful. Musujime Awaki found herself grinning as she enthusiastically leapt up, her auburn twintails bouncing as she did so.
"Let the flames of the righteous Lord, thy God, char away the sins of the sinful."
At that point, it was hardly surprising to the Move Point user that, in the palms of her hands, flames began to crackle. Illuminating the night's blanket of darkness around her, her smile widened as she thrust either of her hands outwards, her fingers outstretched.
She found herself getting into "magic", whatever "magic" truly was.
"Forwards."
Awaki commanded, and the Flames of the Burning Bush answered, as the Magic Circle she'd crafted began to glow a deep, dull orange, which periodically changed in coloration, flashing between dark shades and bright shades.
From the palms of her hands, two plumes of flame had emerged, searing and scorching the oxygenized air.
"Relent."
Once more, Awaki commanded and the Flames answered her call. As if they were two attack-hounds having their leashed yanked by the hands of an overbearing master, both plumes were 'sucked' back into the palms of Awaki's hands, where each came to rest.
Musujime Awaki found herself giggling, like a little schoolgirl. They answered her call! They seemed to do anything and everything she asked of them.
She'd "refined mana", using her own "soul", the connection between her "life force" and her higher mind's memories, a spiritual, yet oddly mechanical-sounding thing.
"Flames of the Burning Brush... around… me?"
While the command had been filled to the brim with uncertainty, the Flames responded without issue and without delay.
As they'd been asked, both plumes surged outwards, initially, before they began to swirl around Awaki's form like two great, burning ribbons, twisting, crackling and roaring, the sounds reverberating throughout the potential level five candidate's eardrums.
While Musujime Awaki wanted to continue fiddling with her newfound power, or potentially try out other 'basic spells' listed within the pamphlet-turned-manual, there was someone she needed to contact, someone who knew much more about "magic" than she did. Her "coworkers" were obviously out of the question.
He seemed to know plenty, and perhaps he could teach her? Maybe he'd be willing to show her the ropes. If "magic" was something that truly existed, and that it did – the fact that she'd seemingly utilized it was undeniable proof that "magic", whatever it might've been, was a real force in the world – Awaki didn't merely 'want' to learn more about it.
She needed to learn more about it. Perhaps he and Kumokawa Seria, as she'd called herself, could both teach her more?
It'd been frightening, at first, the prospect of something completely unknown that'd long been lurking just beneath her nose, just out of sight; but with knowledge and understanding of "magic" came a sense of excitement, a sense of desire to learn even more than the basics outlined in the "Sons of Taured' propaganda pamphlet.
Awaki felt more empowered than she had in a very long time. She felt like she was truly in control, and positivity seemed to soar throughout her form like a majestic bird on great, golden wings, like those of an angel traversing a proverbial sky.
Why that image in particular had been conjured by her higher mind, she didn't know. Awaki settled for not knowing.
Quickly, Musujime Awaki stomped out the Magic Circle she'd carved out in the dirt with either of her feet, stomping on it and grinding it out of existence. Then, she quickly began the silent, mental process of teleporting herself, and the pamphlet back to Tsukuyomi Komoe's place of residence, with a simple series of calculations, those she'd engaged countless times.
She had a date with her smartphone – more specifically, she had a date with smartphone's EpiCenter app.
February 7th, 2014. 9:08 PM.
"Toooouuuummmaaaaaaaaaaaaa."
"What, Index…? What did I do now that invoked your wrath?"
"I was kidding! That's all!"
"Oh. Heh… Eheheh. Expected you to bite me or something, there… eheheh."
"Your laugh is so cute, Touma!"
Kamijou Touma found himself in a strangely familiar, yet distant, unfamiliar and queer situation indeed. While it was hardly 'strange' for the Imagine Breaker's former Bearer to find himself in the company of the opposite gender, there was a balance and a peacefulness about that'd never before been part of his life.
It was good. No, it was great – amazing, even. There was nothing that Touma wanted more.
Though he laid in his bed, with Index, the little silver-haired nun at his side, cuddled up to him with either of cheeks as red as the outer shell of a beet, there was nothing even remotely sexual occurring there, between the two.
His left arm was wrapped around the nun's form, comfortingly holding her close. Her little heart was slowly, but rhythmically beating against his own cold, nanorobotic form.
Nearby, the former Magic God Othinus and Touma's senpai politicked. Her identity had been partially disclosed to the newcomer in the Kamijou Residence, Kumokawa Seria, who'd accepted the explanation as best she could; of course, some matters were better off unspoken, left to lay like sleeping dogs. Those were matters that Seria didn't know about, and, if all went per the plan, she never would.
Regardless of her history of conflict with Kamijou Touma, Othinus and Seria seemed to be getting along well enough.
It also likely helped that most of the violent acts that'd occurred around the world due to GREMLIN's actions were pinned on the former group's other members.
The two had spoken long through the evening and into the night about magic, about history, about philosophy, and, most recently, about the nature of art's connection with magic, and, by extension, Idol Theory, which Othinus had previously explained in better detail to the young woman, whose brain felt like it might've exploded at any second, so bogged-down was it with deep lore and information.
Both took a sip from their glasses of ice water at the same time; then, both former Magic God and intellectual genius looked to one another for a moment, before they broke down laughing.
Kamijou Touma's lips curled further upwards. Seeing the two get along so well brought joy to his nonexistent, proverbial heart.
"Tou-ma?"
"Oi, Index."
"It's good that you bring home nice girls for a chance. Seria reminds me of Kaori, she's nice too. I haven't seen Kaori in a long time! I miss her!"
Before Index could continue rambling, and, by extension, continue to cause Kumokawa Seria to giggle at the little nun's antics, there was a deep, bellowing grumble, originating from the nun's lower body.
"Touma. I'm hungry."
Kamijou Touma tossed his head back like a madman, laughing aloud before he took the silver-haired nun into his arms and held her tightly, taking her by surprise. The nun's cheeks lit up, glowing a light shade of pink. Regardless of the fact that she was flustered, the nun returned her old friend's embrace. As he affectionately kissed either of her cheeks, and her forehead, Index's blush grew brighter.
It was nice. Being kissed by Touma, at least on the face was a nice sensation. It felt good to be so appreciated. It felt good that he was being open and honest, even better that he was speaking with his actions as opposed to his words. Sometimes, words weren't needed.
"Figures… look, c'mon, let's fix you something to eat."
Both parties quickly rose, with Index breaking into a mad dash for the kitchen area. Kamijou Touma was soon to follow, however, he was brought to a halt on his way by the hand of Kumokawa Seria, who'd taken his into her own.
"Oi, Seria," he greeted with a nod.
"Come down here a moment."
"Al… right?"
Touma crouched before his senpai, who then proceeded to press an affectionate kiss to his cheek.
"Regardless of the direction our day together took, I was very pleased, and I still am, by the fact that I was able to spend precious time with you, my little kohai."
"Yeah. For sure, Senp… I mean, Seria. It was really nice spending time with you too, it was… it was like the olden days, y'know? I missed that, I really, really missed that, spending that kind of time with you, even if it turned out going in a direction we didn't anticipate. Even if there were some… heh… upgrades to the sort of time we used to spend. Look, thanks… for your support too. You don't have to do this, if you want to drop out, it's totally understandable."
Seria turned to Othinus, who tilted her head to one side. With her long, majestic golden hair tied up into a messy bun, she looked like something out of a beauty product commercial.
"Nonsense. I want to be at your side, Touma-kun. I tire of watching from the sidelines, hoping for the best, and, Othinus-san, you're a wonderful conversational partner. I think I've learned more from speaking with you these few hours than I've ever learned during my lifetime in Academy City."
"She has that effect on people," Touma remarked, chuckling under his emulated breath.
"Touma!" Index exclaimed, popping her head out from within the dorm's kitchen area. "I'm hungry. Can you please come and fix me something to eat? Quickly?! If I don't eat soon I might keel over!"
Seria giggled, as she turned to look at the silver-haired nun, and then back to Touma, who'd taken to standing once more. Releasing his hand, Touma's senpai took another sip from her glass of water.
"Your nun-friend is too adorable, Touma-kun."
"That she is," Touma spoke, acknowledging the truth of the matter.
Once more, Index's little cheeks lit up, glowing pink as she retreated into the dorm's kitchen area.
Once Touma had made his way to that section of his dorm, with Othinus and Seria resuming their previous conversation, Index's pet cat arched its back, hissing loudly at Kamijou Touma, who could only crouch before the creature, who began to back away.
"Sphinx!" Index scolded, gently and harmlessly slapping the creature on the back. "You need to treat Touma with more respect than that! He's part of the reason you're here, you know! Show some gratitude, mister!"
"Index, it's okay. Don't scold Sphinx. I think I understand what's wrong with your cat."
"H…uh?"
Touma extended his arm, his nanorobotic machine-phase matter surging, ribbons of the resin leaping like salmon from a riverbend.
Predictably, Sphinx hardly reacted well. The animal hissed loudly, backing further away as its claws extended outwards from within its paws.
"Sphinx is scared of me, he knows something is wrong with me, that I'm different from you and Othi-chan, and Seria. Animals' senses are far more acute than those people have, Index."
Index lifted the cat up to her bosom, and repeatedly stroked the little creature's back, calming it down some. Sphinx looked away from Kamijou Touma, its dark pupils nearly taking up the entirety of either of its eyes.
As Touma made a move to approach, Sphinx hissed loudly, and began to hit Index with its paw. Responding, she set the feline down, and like a bat straight out of Hell Sphinx fled, ripping out of the kitchen are, resembling a tiny calico blur more than a cat.
To this Touma merely shrugged and opened the refrigerator, while Index seemed concerned, for a moment, before she seemingly recovered from the momentary lapse in her good mood.
"So, Index. What are you interested in? Feeling something hot? We've got… lots of hot stuff. Looks like… huh, yeah, that canned spaghetti right there. Feeling that, with a sub?"
"Yep!" Index nodded repeatedly, either of her cheeks glowing as her woes were fully forgotten, proverbially falling from her shoulders and to the waysides. "Assorted, with lettuce tomatoes and LOTS of mustard! Please Touma?! PLEAAASE?"
Producing an assortment of, but not all of the required materials, Kamijou Touma closed the refrigerator door and turned to Index, who he took into his arms. She produced a soft squeak as her face suddenly lit up, glowing bright pink.
The way he held her was full of affection, undying adoration and complete love, bordering on obsession. Index felt such things, though she wasn't certain if she was correct on the last part; she could only assume.
His grip tightened, as he rested his chin against Index's shoulder, emulating the sound of a human being's sigh.
Soon, the little, silver-haired nun's arms found themselves wrapping around her 'keeper's' back, and she pressed a soft, affectionate kiss to his cheek. Her face was changing coloration, from pink to red, as she felt the beginnings of an unknown and unfamiliar desire creeping up from within her, tapping at the metaphorical glass of her higher mind.
"I love you Index. I love you so much. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."
"T-Touma? I l-love you t-too."
"I love you so fucking much. Do you know what I'd do for you, Index?"
"Nuh… uh."
"Do you have any concept of what I'd do for you? I think you do, we've… we've been through a lot together haven't we? I would kill for you, Index. I would kill anyone for you. I would destroy entire nations for you. All you'd have to do is ask. I'd rip the entire Roman Orthodox Church apart at the seams if I had to."
"But I wouldn't do that Touma! I wouldn't want you to d-do that… d-don't talk like that. That's scary."
"Sorry. I'm just saying what I feel, if 'feel' is the right word."
Rather than relenting, Touma's grip tightened further; it wasn't enough to cause the little silver-haired nun and sort of discomfort. If anything, despite Touma's words, Index hadn't felt safer. Her own embrace tightened, and she soon came to lean the side of her face against her 'keeper's chest as he rose.
"Whatever happens after we're dragged off to London to fight someone else's battles for them, because they're either too incompetent or too cowardly, or maybe just too lazy to fight them for themselves, I want you to know that I… Index, I want you as my equal. I want you right there at my side. I want you to protect me while I protect you, balance, equality, y'know? Having each other's backs."
"I can do that Touma."
Index produced a sigh. Her heart was beating far too quickly, at an almost absurdly quick rate. Her legs felt weak, her innards seemed as if they were about to twist onto themselves and subsequently implode. The little nun's stomach, though stil producing the occasional growl, still full of hunger, felt as if it'd turned upside down.
"Touma?"
"Yeah, Index?"
"Maybe..."
"What? There's no need to hesitate, just be honest."
"I… uh… T-Touma?"
"Index?"
She decided to make the move then and there. Bracing herself, grasping at her confidence like a farmer grasping onto a crop they intended to pull from the ground, Index moved in for the kill. Even as she felt the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of her eyes, Index didn't relent. She didn't relent and she didn't try to stop herself.
They connected.
One set of lips made contact with another. Index's own were pressed against Touma's, the coppery taste slipping past the little silver-haired nun's lips and into her mouth, down her throat and throughout her body. She shivered, as tears slipped down her cheeks.
Their lips quietly smacked together for a moment before Index parted, forcibly pulling herself away from Touma's grip.
"Ha… ha! I d-did it!"
"You certainly did."
Touma took a few steps back, offering the little nun some breathing room, which she quickly came to appreciate; the gesture was a kind one.
"I've wanted to do that for a long time Touma. It felt good. Did it feel good for you too? I hope it did!"
"It did, Index. It felt great. Besides, as long as it felt good for you, that's all that matters."
"That's not true," Index scolded, wagging her finger like a stern teacher. "Your feelings matter too… but now I'm really hungry. Please make me food!"
Touma closed the distance between himself and Index, then pecked the nun's forehead.
"Go settle yourself in, I'll make you something up quickly, here. We've got a few hours before we're set to leave anyways. Seria will be able to drive us there, so we don't have to mess with buses."
As Index tore out of the kitchen area, her arms happily flailing from one side to the other, Touma heard Othinus sarcastically congratulate the nun on her "courage", while Seria sounded as if she was struggling to hold back laughter.
Apparently, she wasn't offended by the 'violation' of the terms she'd set out. Perhaps, looking at Index, Seria came to the conclusion that her interactions with her kohai were innocent? That they were, they were nothing short of completely innocent. Touma could hardly fathom the idea of interacting sexually with the little nun. He shuddered at the thought, his nanorobotic form vibrating.
As he began to pour the contents of the canned spaghetti into a bowl, which he'd retrieved from one of many cupboards within the dorm's kitchen area, there was a loud "PIIIING!" produced by his laptop.
The sound was one which Touma had come to associate with EpiCenter's "push notifications", which sent notifications straight to the computer's desktop, essentially skipping the proverbial middleman. So long as the machine was connected to a network, notifications would arrive.
After he inserted the bowl, filled to the brim with cold, heavily-processed but, by his own admission (or by the admission of the person he'd once been), delicious stuff into the kitchen area's oven, Touma moved to flip open his laptop, in order to check just what sort of notification he'd received.
Apparently, he'd received a friend request. While not entirely out of the ordinary, it wasn't a frequent occurrence.
The friend request came from a familiar-looking individual; the account's name was simply "Awaki ". Her profile picture was simplistic; it depicted the Move Point user, clad in her Kirigaoka Girls' Academy uniform, posing, with two of her fingers held up in a V-shape, with a small amount of her trademark cleavage visible. Though she looked unenthusiastic, a small grin seemed to be tugging at her lips.
Touma could almost hear the teasing words of Aogami Pierce reverberating throughout his converted higher mind.
"KAMI-YAAAAAAN! STOP STEALING ALL THE GIRLS FROM US! IT'S NOT FAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRR!"
Without hesitation, Kamijou Touma idly accepted the request, and then navigated to the EpiCenter website. He wasn't about to simply accept the request and then not send at least some sort of introductory private message.
Navigating to Musujime Awaki's EpiCenter profile, Touma found it devoid of content; the only individuals who seemed to regularly post content of any kind on her profile's NewsWall were Accelerator, someone going under the handle of "E", who Touma recognized, a person of dark-skinned descent, with black hair, dark like the color of charcoal.
Oddly enough, Musujime Awaki also seemed to have her EpiCenter profile visited fairly often by Shirai Kuroko, who regularly shared strange, fringe content with her, most of which Awaki responded to with simplistic comments such as "LOL" or "ur crazy. This is tight though. Ur alright."
Touma was quickly beaten to the punch; Musujime Awaki had sent him a private message. The chat box lunged forward like a mysterious stranger in the night.
"glad i found u lol, accidentily added the wrong person at first… some old dude… kamijou touya? He was nice at least lol. lets talk about that stuff u showed me k? its supposed 2 be hush hush so im not talking bout it here. whens it best for u to meet up?"
Before Kamijou Touma set his fingers down upon his laptop's keyboard, he took a step back, and pondered his next potential move.
Was he going too far in his quest to be honest? Musujime Awaki was hardly someone who was frequently involved with him, after all. Maybe telling her a wee, little white lie wouldn't hurt. That's precisely what a 'white lie' was; something that was spat out, something untruthful, which wouldn't cause the recipient any sort of harm, lasting or otherwise.
Then again, there was a matter which Kamijou Touma had to consider.
He didn't have to decide on his own; he could fall back on those who cared for him. Kamijou Touma could ask them for their opinions on the matter.
He quickly proceeded to slap a submarine sandwich together for Index, and idled as the processed spaghetti, formerly canned was heated by the dorm's oven, within its bowl. Once the waiting task was complete, he set the exceedingly hot bowl onto the nearby counter, his converted higher mind forbidding the pain associated with the bowl's heat from troubling his nanorobotic form.
Stepping away from the laptop and out from the dorm's kitchen area, Touma made his way into the living quarters, carrying with him the submarine sandwich he'd lovingly, if hastily prepared for the little, silver-haired nun.
While Othinus had apparently moved herself to the bed, the sheets thrown over her form, exposing only the top of her full head of golden hair, Index had taken the former Magic God's place, excitedly talking with Kumokawa Seria about the newest episode of Magical Powered Kanamin; politely, and with the patience of a Saint, Kumokawa Seria listened on, occasionally stopping to ask the nun a question.
Kamijou Touma couldn't help but smile; Seria seemed, or at least was great at acting like she seemed genuinely curious about Index's favorite anime.
Joining them at the table, Kamijou Touma set himself down and politely crossed either of his legs.
"Hi, Touma!" Index exclaimed happily. Despite her loudness, the apparently napping Othinus didn't even stir. "Yay! Food! Give it here please! HUNGRY!"
Seria moved slightly closer, and, beneath the table, took her kohai's hand into her own. She squeezed down tightly, and smiled at him, her teeth as white as a blanket of winter's snow.
"Hello, Touma-kun. It's good that you've decided to join us."
Touma handed the submarine sandwich off to the 'starved' nun, who immediately began to happily devour the source of nutrition, her cheeks glowing a bright shade of pink as she did so.
"Be right back. Managed to forget something, someone's got to feed the little orphan."
Tracking back to the kitchen area, Touma retrieved the bowl of spaghetti, and then retraced his steps. He set the steaming hot bowl before the nun, who practically shrieked in pleasure.
"YAY! Thank you, Touma! Thank you thank you thank you! YAAAY!"
Seria shrugged either of her shoulders, and offered her kohai another warm smile. With Index distracted by the television, and by her newly-obtained sources of sustenance, Kumokawa Seria swiftly snuck a kiss from her beloved kohai.
"Your little friend is simply adorable. I can't say it enough. She's so alive, it's not quite like anything I've before laid my eyes on... is she involved with the 'Other Side'?"
"She's the one who introduced me," Touma remarked. "She… this is going to sound pretty crazy, so hea…"
"Try me, my little kohai. I welcome you to try me."
"I found her hanging over the railing on my balcony one morning, just after I'd had an… eventful… encounter with Misaka, the little zapper-girl. It all started from there."
Though Kumokawa Seria had raised an eyebrow, she didn't think nor vocalize any sort of doubt. When it came down to the nitty-gritty of it, Seria had heard and seen stranger things than that.
Still, it wasn't every day that nuns fell out of the sky, even in a place of supernatural power such as Academy City.
"I'd ask more about your friend's story, but I ought to ask her for the tale. Abridged or otherwise, I believe she'd appreciate the act of honesty."
"She probably would," Touma retorted, agreeing. He nodded his head as he chuckled; as if it was a contagious, airborne viral infection, Kumokawa Seria soon found herself giggling along with her kohai's deep chuckles.
Then, he seemed to become serious. With Index stuffing what remained of her submarine sandwich into her mouth, Touma looked to Seria, who once more took her kohai's hand into her own.
"Look, Seria. Can I talk to you about something?"
"Of course, my little kohai. Fire away."
Touma turned his gaze towards the kitchen area, and then looked back to Kumokawa Seria, who tilted her head curiously to one side.
"Musujime… uh, she messaged me on EpiCenter."
"Ah, did she, now? What did I tell you? It's evident that you haven't scared her off. If anything, it would seem that she might be growing fond of you. From what I can tell that Musujime-san is rather level-headed, so it doesn't come as a particularly great surprise."
"That's true," Touma acknowledged, "apparently, she wants to learn more about magic. From me. I don't know everything about it, but I could teach her. But should I? Should we? She's never really be involved with me, so, it wouldn't kill anyone to lie, but… I don't want to go back to doing that. I don't even know if she'd be game to come along with us, but, should I put the offer out there?"
"Touma-kun. You're concerned about being untruthful?"
"Yeah. Pushing people away, if I let myself push one person away, I could push more people away. I'd really rather not do that. What's your opinion?"
Kamijou Touma turned to Index, who finally managed to notice him out of the corner of her eye.
"Tou-ma."
"In-dex. What do you think about another person being on board? 'nother science person. She already knows about magic, but…"
Index pouted for a moment, before she stuck her nose up in an almost haughty manner.
"Your friends make jokes about how many girl friends you have, but now it's starting to become true, isn't it Touma? Is it a girl? Are you going to kiss them too? You should do what you do with One-Eye and kiss other people in the laundry room Touma. It's politer, nobody wants to see that stuff!"
"You make me sound like I'm some sort of man-whore," Touma chuckled. Seria failed to restrain her own giggle.
Index locked eyes with Touma for a moment; he felt as if he was being observed, watched, his every move meticulously catalogued within the little silver-haired nun's higher mind.
"It's a girl isn't it Touma? Tell me the truuuuuuuuuuuuuth…"
"Yes, Index. She's a girl."
"Heheheheh! I knew it! Dirty Touma. I guess it's time we all start being truthful about "The Harem of Kami-yan".
Seria threw her head back and laughed at the use of the term she and the little nun had coined together, while Touma had been explaining his desires to achieve the queer and rather taboo goal of a polygamous existence; the way Index spoke those words tickled Seria's proverbial funnybone.
Touma had been surprised that Index hadn't tried to murder him or otherwise rend his flesh with her teeth as soon as he'd brought it up.
She hadn't been blind. The little nun, too, had witnessed how much female attention her 'keeper' always received.
The way in which Kumokawa Seria had laid it out in the most casual of terms made the entire issue seem like it made all the sense in the world.
It made so much sense that Index couldn't help but agree; after all, not only was the chance to make more friends right there, if that's what made Touma happy, then, allowing nice girls like Kaori and Seria into her life, by association, wouldn't be all that bad, especially if they were wealthy and could offer her food.
"You know that's immoral, right Touma? Having more than one partner goes against official Church doctrine! But you're not going to listen to that, are you? You're so bullheaded sometimes, Tou-ma. Is she nice like Seria and Kaori?"
"Maybe it does, Index. Maybe it does. Who cares? They don't rule me. If everything's consensual, they have no business telling people what they can and can't do. Nobody tells me what to do, no government, no Church, nobody. Anyway… she's… rough… around the edges. Not mean-spirited though."
"Hm."
Ignoring Kamijou Touma's miniature rant, Index rubbed her chin between her fingers, momentarily, before she seemed to have 'hatched' an idea. Sitting upright, the little nun clasped her hands and placed them into her lap.
"Tou-ma. You have my approval, as long as she's nice and as long as she gives me food sometimes. If this girl knows about magic, then there's nothing wrong with inviting her."
"You're not jealous, are you? Talk to me. I know it's all a lot to spring on you at once, but it's how I feel. Even with a few hours to sit and contemplate everything I bet it still all hasn't settled."
"No Touma, I'm not."
"You're… not?"
"No Touma. Nice girls like Himegami, Kaori and Seria, loudmouthed girls like the short-hair and Fukiyose, and even outright mean-spirited girls such as One-Eye all like you."
Touma shook his head from one side to the other, as Kumokawa Seria listened on, a small smile tugging at the side of either of her lips.
"If she wakes up, you're going to regret saying that."
The little silver-haired nun merely folded her arms across her chest in response, as if she was silently rebelling against the potential reprisal of the napping former Magic God.
"The only difference is that you're acknowledging it and acting on the reality surrounding you! It's actually really impressive, you're taking initiative Touma! Finally! Now you can start picking up more food for me more often."
"It always comes back to food with you, doesn't it? Never change, Index. I love you just the way you are."
"Or some of the other nice girls can do it. I bet Himegami would."
Kamijou Touma then turned to Kumokawa Seria, who offered her kohai a warm smile. Moving towards him, crawling in an almost seductive manner, Seria came to a halt, and then sat herself down next to Touma.
"Seria?"
"All I ask is that you continue to respect the terms we've agreed upon. You've been doing a wonderfully adamant job of that thus far."
"How could I refuse something so reasonable? I can't. Seria, y'know, I appreciate that open-mindedness and the willingness to compromise. I appreciate it a lot."
Seria shrugged, nonchalantly.
"If co-operating with the likes of the personable "Othi-chan", this adorable little bundle of knowledge," Seria motioned towards the slumbering Othinus, and then to Index, who looked away, cheeks glowing a bright shade of pink, "is the sort of 'tribulation' that I must face, then I think being involved with what some might refer to as a "harem" will be much more than a mere compromise."
Even as recently as four or five months prior to the moment in which she'd come to find herself, Seria knew that she never would've even thought of saying such a thing.
'That Seria' never would've thought of it, and she certainly wouldn't have said it, out loud, for more than one individual to hear. She would've spun web after web to trap her prey, she would've lied through her teeth and she would've played those around her like so many pieces on a game board.
But as the Kamijou Touma of the past was dead and gone, so was the Kumokawa Seria of the past. That Kumokawa Seria had been seared away, cauterized by unfathomable grief, followed by a sense of renewed thankfulness, a willingness to change through gratitude.
As Kamijou Touma rose, beginning to make his way towards the dorm's kitchen area, Seria looked to Index.
She'd heard his words, those Kamijou Touma had spoken to the little silver-haired nun.
"I would kill for you, Index."
"I would kill anyone for you."
"I would destroy entire nations for you. All you'd have to do is ask."
"I'd rip the entire Roman Orthodox Church apart at the seams if I had to."
Kumokawa Seria couldn't supress the smile that forced its way onto her face, one which the simply precious little nun returned.
"Index-san, might I ask a question?"
"Mhm!"
"Do you know what happened to Touma-kun? Are you aware of the circumstances behind his recent changes in behavior and personality?"
Index nodded, affirmatively. Her facial expression became almost stoic.
"Some evil people experimented on him and did… a-awful things to him! Touma was just trying to help someone, like he always does! I want to get them back, but I can't use magic without doing some things. I know Touma can probably do it himself… but…"
Seria scooted herself towards she who'd memorized over one hundred thousand cursed, darkened books, "the Grimoires". Seria looked to 'the Index Librorum Prohibitorum', stern-faced. She took a deep breath, as she gently took the precious little nun's hands into her own.
Her eyelids narrowed, and Index gulped.
"Index-san, you don't need to concern yourself with that… you leave the matter of revenge to me, okay? For what they've done to my sweet little kohai, I'm going to make them suffer. Horribly. For what they've done, they will regret the day they were each conceived."
"T-that's s-scary…"
"I know. Isn't it just? Now, let's talk about something nicer. Tell me more about "Magical Powered Kanamin", why don't you?"
Instantaneously, the little nun's eyes widened, glowing with renewed enthusiasm.