Quick thing: thanks, Tensouls, for following! It's an honor to have you on board. I hope you enjoy your reading of a Certain Broken Testament!
Well, here we are again, "Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel". Without further ado, I suppose there's nothing to stand in our way, and prevent us from diving head-first into response time!
Guest: hey, that's great! I'm glad that I'm able to gain your stamp of approval.
Precisely the sort of feelings I sought to invoke in readers, through those particularly lusty proceedings. Once more, I appreciate the secondary stamp of approval.
Well, you'll have to wait no longer; just read on.
PS: Triton is both the name of a Greek god and the name of Neptune's Moon. Nothing particularly surprising or out of the ordinary there, given that many of the planets in our solar system are named after Greek gods.
Generation Zero: you're most certainly onto something. If I didn't know any better, I'd ask if you possessed some kind of crazy precognition ability. I can't expand a whole lot more, regarding, details, but, rest assured, you've effectively predicted the future, friend.
whwsms: MAMA MIA! I certainly hope that the spiciness of the previous 'chappy's' events weren't TOO spicy for your tastes. Will it eventually get to the point in which I, the cook, add too much spice? I suppose there's only one way for me to find out.
It would, indeed seem that Awaki was fond of her 'inaugural' deep kiss, and especially of the TouMAN's groping abilities. Personally, I've always assumed she'd be a freak in the sheets. Regarding the potential upgrade from "Bi-Curious Seria Disease ™" to "Bisexual Seria Disease™", you have the right idea. There's only one way to see how these matters progress, and, by this point, I'm quite certain that you know what you have to do, friend. In regards to a potential 'disturbance in the Force' moment for Kuroko… while amusing, it might be just a bit too predictable.
We'll just have to see about a possible culmination, from snuggle to mating ritual.
"Cool Big Sis Mode" is potentially the best way to describe the blooming relationship between Seria and Index; indeed, witnessing the sort of interactions Touma shares with the little silver-haired nun, Seria could very well be thinking about 'that'. Say no more, say no more.
Well, implying that either Beetle 05 or the 'true' Kakine Teitoku are actually responsible for acting as a pilot would be incorrect. For now, I'll leave that to sit, and give you freedom to speculate, as you see fit.
Ohoho! I just have to wonder where the inspiration for that came from! I've no idea! I really have no idea where I could've picked that little character point from. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, right back at you, friend.
You can bet more than a few bucks that I'm most certainly looking forward to the newest installation of A Certain Search After Truth. I, for one, have my Outlook app set to notify me whenever new installations arrive, because, really, I'm not about to miss such an opportunity to get into a great read.
As always, it's awesome that I'm able to consistently gain your stamp of APPROVAL! I hope to continuously do so, through subsequent chapters!
Anon Guest: DAYUM, son, where'd you find THIS?
With Musujime Awaki apparently cured of her 'shotacon tendencies', I think it's safe for us to say that the doctor is in the house. Maybe at this rate, Heaven Canceler should hire Touma as his assistant. Or… maybe not; bad things could very well happen, if Kami Disease were to start spreading like wildfire, especially throughout a professional workplace.
It does seem that the 'upgrade' from 'Beauty-Senpai Disease' to 'A Certain Bi-Curious Seria Disease™" has gone over well with you lovely people; and for that I'm deeply, deeply glad. No pun intended.
You're giving me ideas, friend, regarding a potential 'disturbance in the Force' moment. I can almost see Stiyl Magnus suddenly allowing a cigarette to fall from between his lips, as he's proverbially struck down by 'that sinking feeling', followed by a thousand verbal curses laid upon Kamijou Touma's existence.
Aogami Pierce's life is effectively one giant 'disturbance in the Force' moment, given how he's perpetually envious of Touma's escapades.
I can't say a whole lot, regarding the playing out of future events. There's always one way to find out for sure. I'm certain that you know exactly what to do.
As always, I think it's great that I'm able to continuously gain your stamp of APPROVAL! Here's to hoping that I'm able to consistently earn subsequent stamps through future installments!
321jaz: oh, I'm back, friend; back in… colors. Why return with only one?
I understand your desire to see the blooming of this proverbial plot-flower, but, I can only urge you to find patience. When it comes to situations such as these, I find that rushing to a conclusion can often deny characters of their chance to breathe, and expand upon issues relevant to the 'mega-issue' at hand. I hope we can see eye to eye on this subject, and, if not, feel free to contact me, so that we can settle any potential issues that have arisen.
You bring up a good question. Given that Accelerator is the number one strongest esper, and therefore not a magician, lines are perpetually being blurred, even by the greatest parties involved in the near-constant power struggle between magic and science. It's almost as if both sides are unintentionally suicidal.
Or maybe a better word to describe the situation would be desperate.
Oh, it did, friend! Keep your eyes peeled, and, as I always urge you lovely people to, expect the unexpected. Regarding popcorn… if I were you, I'd guard your bag, and not leave it unattended for long periods of time. You'll soon find out why that particular act of defense might just be a necessity.
As always, it's great that I'm able to consistently gain your approval! I hope to continuously do so through subsequent installments!
Handsomistic1: now, all we have to do is wait for Kami Disease 3: Rise of Kami Disease and the trilogy will be complete. Maybe the third 'installment' will be a prequel that further engages in rampant sequel-bating?
Lordgaozhengfang: while I could argue that Othinus and Touma are already, on a technical level, 'together', it appears realistically as less of a romantic relationship and appears more to be akin to a friendship with the (sexual) benefits of a romantic relationship.
Together, Kumokawa Seria and Kamijou Touma had ended up picking out one of many cabin-like rooms on the private jet's highest level. The massive, multileveled and multi-winged construct soared through the skies, its destination being a small airstrip just outside of Bristol.
Innocuous wasn't a word that could've been used by anyone to describe the construct, that, undoubtedly, even to those who'd never before seen one, was something dreamed up in one of Academy City's many laboratories.
There were others in the sky, both passenger and cargo jets, most if not all of which were manned.
They paled in comparison to the airborne titan of a machine that looked as if it shouldn't have been able to achieve liftoff in the first place.
Tsuchimikado Motoharu and the jet's other manual operators were aware of the destination in question, at least. No one else aboard knew where the jet's destination was, exactly. All aboard had merely been informed that their journey across the bodies of water separating Japan from the United Kingdom would end 'near London'. For all the passengers knew, the jet could land in some field, or on a golf course, or atop Buckingham Palace; Queen Elizard of England would've likely found that to be particularly amusing.
There might've been frustrations, protests or grunts if everyone on board wasn't completely used to the sort of secrecy surrounding the likes of Tsuchimikado Motoharu, and, by extension, his ilk.
Casting their doubts aside, Seria and Touma quietly opened the door to the room, which had only very recently come to stand tall before them; it made not even a singular sound as it was pushed on its hinges. Presumably created from the Dark Matter passively generated by the second ranked esper in Academy City, this fact was therefore not a source of surprise for either.
Like Index's cabin-room, the space singled out by Touma and Seria was simplistic, containing only the most basic of necessities; what was important, particularly for an utterly exhausted Kumokawa Seria was the presence of a bed, which she soon fell onto, not even bothering to tuck herself in; Seria didn't even attempt to pull herself upwards, towards the bed's numerous pillows.
Her eyelids fluttered, even as Touma's senpai managed to just barely roll herself onto her back. She reached out for a moment before her vision faded, and, carried downward by the grasp of gravity, her arm fell to the bed. It touched down upon the cool, soft sheets, and in the span of some few seconds, Kumokawa Seria was deep in slumber.
Zeeee, nunununuuu.
Kamijou Touma's 'day attire' was nowhere to be found.
His nanorobotic form had shifted and swam, and the previous set of attire had vanished from sight. His previous outfit was replaced with something simpler; a baby blue button-up top, with matching pants to accent the article of clothing. Basic white socks adorned his feet, though, these were merely for aesthetic purposes.
Clambering up onto the bed, Kamijou Touma looked down at Kumokawa Seria's sleeping form. Less than a minute into her slumber, and his senpai was snoring quietly.
Her facial expression could only be described as one of peace, a complete lack of concern for the world outside of her subconscious' endless dreamscapes.
Without hesitation, and with only a shrug of his shoulders, Kamijou Touma found himself crawling up beside his senpai; he took her waist into his arms and rested his head against the soft, almost natural-feeling sheets, close to Seria's own head; for a moment, until influxes of data informed him otherwise, Touma presumed the sheets to have been made up of anything other than Dark Matter.
Kamijou Touma took Kumokawa Seria's left hand into his right and interlocked his fingers with her own.
A perfect fit; his senpai moved unconsciously, rolling onto her side. Her lips found themselves pressed against the side of her kohai's head.
Kamijou Touma needed no sleep. He instead, he simply looked up at the ceiling above him, listening to nothing in particular; if the jet had innards, they certainly weren't producing any sort of noise.
The feeling of being watched yet remained. Instead of concern, however, Kamijou Touma simply allowed it to be, and accepted the fact that something unseen was observing his actions.
In fact, someone must've been sleeping in a cabin-room not too far from the space Kumokawa Seria had unceremoniously chosen to fall asleep in, as their snores could be heard. Perhaps they belonged to Index? Kamijou Touma could only speculate.
Then, Touma heard vocalizations.
"Worst! You goddamn cunt! Get the fuck off me!"
"Misaka just wants to cuddle. Take Misaka's affections."
"Beat it! Go jump out of a window, or some shit! Just fuck off. I'm trying to fucking sleep."
"Oh? Tou-san wants Misaka to jerk him off, here of all places? Misaka didn't know tou-san was an exhibitionist."
"Shut up."
February 10th, 2004. PM. 10:59 AM.
By dim candlelight, there was a gathering of strange souls.
They had come together beneath an innocuous hovel, abandoned and unkempt, covered with many cobwebs and with many more instances of its brickwork having fallen out, shingles from its roofing having fell to the grounds below where they'd come to rest.
It was one among many within an entirely abandoned and forlorn settlement, one of few dotting Leso's landscapes.
Some few settlements could be found among the Greek island's rolling foothills and flattened, grassy fieldscapes. The grass rose high, unabated and untouched by the culling hands of man. The wilds reigned supreme where humanity had not come to pillage or rape. Even the monuments to their need for survival were consumed, perpetually, by nature herself.
The pathway leading to this particular hovel, a hovel of interest to those who knew of its truth was heavily damaged, overgrown with unsightly weeds. Many planters surrounding the premises had long since been overgrown with weeds and other ugly shrubs, barely visible beneath the choking vines.
Beneath this worthless hovel, however, was a complex system of underground tunnels, none of which were constructed by human hands.
Ornate in their decoration, the flooring of these tunnels was constructed of many bricks, each a dark shade of gold in coloration. The spacious halls were hardly boxed in; their walls were space far apart, creating something of an underground highway.
Along these walls, many murals and frescos depicted queer scenes indeed. Carvings, accented with exotic paints depicted insectoid-like creatures standing erect, as if at attention. Many legs sprouted from beneath them, curled and held together almost respectfully. A set of two antennae jutted from each of heir heads and hung downwards, like the bangs of a human being's hair. Their elongated, thick shells appeared to be their 'version' of arms. Each of these insectoids depicted in the ornate carvings lacked mouths of any sort.
These walls too were constructed of ornate bricks, brightly decorated, glowing exotically beneath the synthetic light beamed down from the high ceilings. Some beams of these lights were obstructed by hanging weeds and dangling, ornate chains.
There was no source of electricity present, manmade or otherwise; merely magic at work.
Deep within the bowels of the sprawling subterranean complex, those relevant to a certain meeting had gathered; the assembly took place there.
Within the welcoming stone and brickwork halls of the dimly lit Gobbling Guzzler, the singular tavern located within this independent, subterranean city-state, the lone human addition to the subterranean complex, a band of misfits had gathered around a circular table, carved not of wood harvested from deceased trees, but brought into the world through the power of magic.
No trees had to be torn to the ground there. No fish had to be ripped from the rivers there. No cattle had to be slaughtered there, no chickens or lambs systematically delivered onto the hands of cruel death squads who would see them to a gruesome, if merciful end.
"It would be of great risk. Their leader is a child, after all, and children are often tempermental in nature. We would work best without their aid. Saint Kaori Kanzaki only knows so much about this… cabal. Still, perhaps, it wouldn't be the worst of ideas… there are matters to consider as always."
The masked being with the echoing voice was no longer masked. It'd tossed away its earthly clothing, revealing what, to outsiders, would've been a queer sight indeed: it was translucent, and, yet, paradoxically, a deep shade of lavender in coloration. At the same time, however, this being was dark, like the shade of a clear night's sky. The sole features that weren't darkened were thin, elongated white slits, which were located where eyes would've been found on a human being's face. In the lower corner of the being's head, there was a wide, toothy and crooked smile. As if it was a heavy object dropped into a fishbowl, the grin had 'fallen' to the bottom of the being's face, lingering to one side.
Ava Stuart, hands clasped and set on the table's surface, leaned forward, her right leg crossed over her left. Her hair was tossed to one side, exposing the right side of her milky neck.
"Kaori Kanzaki will only be able to maintain her façade for so long. The Amakusans will cooperate for as long as we need, but their assistance will be irrelevant if her involvement with outside elements is discovered. We act now or we don't act at all. Laura Stuart has continually refused peaceful negotiations, and has outright provoked our organization."
Great and terrible to those who knew not of him, Spring-Heeled Jack respectfully had his left leg folded over his right knee. Repeatedly bouncing the limb, he seemed nervous."
"Do try not to let rage cloud yer vision, Ava, lass. Our goal is to disarm the Churches of Self harmlessly, do try not ta forget. Unneeded casualties of war are…"
Placed upon the table itself was a potted plant; a queer existence which resembled a flytrap of some sort. Its stalk was thin and elongated, while long, tendril-like vines drooped downwards from multiple points along its spine-like stalk, each tendril covered in many blooming, healthy green leaves. From either side of its blooming 'head', a large, exotic outgrowth had sprouted, and each drooped downwards. Cocking its head, tilting its entire stem to one side, the plant observed the Spring-Heeled one as he spoke his piece.
"Unfortunate."
To those who didn't know it, the sight of a speaking plant would've frightened and appalled some; but those who knew of him knew there was no need for such reactions.
"I doth say, Sir Jack, would thou be so kind as to explain thy reasoning? A Gunpowder Plot-esque rebellion may very well be superior in its meticulous planning; yet an olden-fashioned bout of fisticuffs accomplishes goals with due haste."
Jack nodded his head politely.
"Through their corruption, the Roman Catholic, English Puritan and Russian Orthodox Churches of Self 'ave 'oarded a 'ole lotta power, which none among them would hesitate for even a moment ta muster against us. Through propagation alone have we gotten as far as we have, nonviolent methods. Th' shift of power will fall ta th' people to figure out for 'emselves."
Ava Stuart considered the Jack's words.
There was but one problem.
There was a great chance that "the people" would be gleeful to continue living in ignorance of the true greatness that was magic, lingering just beneath their noses. The entire planet could be saved, humanity could accomplish the grandest of goals if only the people would awaken. The Churches of Self could be cast down, could become ugly blotches in the pages of history books.
Centuries of brainwashing had interesting effects on the uneducated masses.
"Fisticuffs, as Lord Blackthorn has suggested," the shadowy existence with the echoing voice began, "perhaps combined with propagation may be our only option. The Puritans remain divided… a surgical strike, delivered by the hand of Kaori Kanzaki and her "Amakusa-Style Remix of Church", and a rift would be opened. A rift of inner conflict. With luck, the Puritans may very well tear themselves apart. That would be one foe crossed off the list."
Ava Stuart unclasped her hands and sighed. She took a swig from her mug, which contained a mix of a variety of hard liquors, with a touch of a beverage whose alcohol percentage was so high that it likely could've killed a horse. It stung her lips and bit into her tongue. The concoction crucified each of her tastebuds and threatened to wrench Ava's dinner from within her stomach; but she resisted. Either of her hands fell to her stomach, and they began to move gently, upwards and downwards.
Uncertainty wracked the depths of her higher mind once more. Ava Stuart produced a soft sigh of frustration, her fingers curling, nails biting into the palm of her right hand.
"Satoru-kun, discuss this matter with Lord Blackthorn. I must walk on my own."
The Daemoniac existence, the shadowy, perpetually-grinning existence and the talking, sentient plant each looked to their Headmistress with a concerned facial expression; Blackthorn's features seemed to twist and writhe, the only way in which such a physical response could get across.
She immediately noticed this, and offered her companions a reassuring and genuine, if strained smile.
"Don't worry for me, I'm in no position of suffering. I'd prefer to sort my inner thoughts alone, so that they can be better catalogued, understood and recorded for later study and evaluation. I'll be sure to review anything yourself and Lord Blackthorn draw up."
Spring-Heeled Jack rose from his seat. The cobbled flooring of the Gobbling Guzzler trembled beneath him, though he was no larger than any other man.
"Before you depart, Headmistress…"
"Speak freely dearest Jack."
"Are th' "games" continuin'? I would prefer ta return ta th' field o' duty. Nyla's cramped environments, though homey, are… a wee bit uncomfortable, lass."
"I understand your predicament."
While Satoru-kun and the sentient, speaking plant named Lord Blackthorn began a discussion of hushed whispers, Ava Stuart and Spring-Heeled Jack exchanged chuckles. Ava came to rest her soft palm on the top of Jack's own gloved hand; a single, clawed digit of his was large and thick enough to consume nearly the entirety of Ava's extremity.
And yet she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would never hurt her, or anyone else for that matter. Not unless he was deeply provoked. Not unless hostiles came knocking.
And if they did, not even the Pope himself could halt Spring-Heeled Jack.
Ava looked up to him and she smiled. He and they, all of those who dwelled within Nyla's subterranean depths were so much more than mere subordinates, cogs in a churning machine. They were friends. Family.
"Discuss short-term plans for continued evasive maneuvers with Saint Kaori Kanzaki, should you get the chance, please, dearest Jack."
"As ye command, Headmistress. The Saint of the Far East is a right propere actress. I look forward ta working wit' 'er again. I'll depart, myself, then. Expect my progress report as soon as progress t'is made."
Ava Stuart nodded, giving the silent signal. Spring-Heeled Jack departed from the Gobbling Guzzler, moving as gently as he could possibly manage, given the overwhelming power that flowed throughout him constantly.
Then a sudden shout came.
"Headmistress! Headmistress Ava!"
Ava Stuart turned to face the forms of Satoru-kun and Lord Blackthorn, the latter of whom had taken to supporting himself with his 'mighty' tendril-like vines, waving at his Headmistress with one vine that remained available. He'd lifted himself from within his potter, and moved about freely on the table's surface, dragging his soil-covered, moisturized roots along beyond him. Satoru-kun had leaned forward in an almost conspiratorial manner.
For an immortal being born from the void's womb, Satoru-kun seemed to look oddly threatened.
"Lord Blackthorn accounts our global forces to stand at approximately thirteen thousand," Satoru-kun began.
Ava Stuart posed a query.
"Is this estimation entirely accurate?"
To her query, Lord Blackthorn merely shrugged two of his vines, miming the actions of a human being as best he could.
"Almost, not accounting for those recently lost to these "Angelene Forces"… an unfortunate loss. Just how the Roman Orthodox and their appalling Crusaders even knew of our presence is still unknown to me."
"A direct, full-frontal assault on Vatican City would be an interesting way to gain the full attention of the Roman Orthodox," Satoru-kun remarked.
Ava Stuart shook her head, no. But Satoru wasn't finished. The words he sought to speak weren't completely delivered onto his limited audience.
"Not to mention, a successful siege would settle the score. With Saint Kaori Kanzaki, her minio— I mean, allies, and our dear Jack at the helm, even the Pope would be hard pressed to defend himself. I myself could take one for the team and risk dematerialization at the hands of the Roman Orthodox mutts. True, I've never possessed a Pope before, but… there's a first time for everything."
Blackthorn raised a vine, as if he was raising his index finger.
"Doth thou believe that thou could potentially come to possess the mortal form of the commander of these… "Angelene Forces"? They art, by my own admissions, high-skilled combatants… but possess a singular weakness! Absurd loyalty, hoh!"
Satoru-kun nodded.
"Saint Kaori Kanzaki's insistence that we await an opportune moment strikes me as an attempt to buy time to achieve more… personal ends. She likely continues to cling to the English Puritan Church, as the Amakusans once did."
"Did!" That's precisely the point of importance!"
"Even they have realized the wrongs committed by their once-benefactors. Their Priestess surely must follow suit."
As Lord Blackthorn and the ghostly-seeming Satoru continued to debate amongst themselves, Ava had prepared to take her leave; but there was one other individual who'd come to rest in the Gobbling Guzzler, one other individual whose opinion could be obtained, whose insight could potentially be used.
As always, she wasn't all that far away.
She sat at her own table, her feet casually kicked up, her left ankle crossed over her right. Adorned in something that resembled a simplistic, skin-tight wetsuit, which clung to her hourglass-shaped form and accented her many natural curves, the 'built-in' footwear of the suit ended in simplistic, small heels, which jutted outwards some few inches. Long, feathery hair, dark brown in coloration fell past her shoulders and her neck, her hair's fringe fluffy and swept slightly to the side.
Her soft, hazel eyes fell to the approaching form of Ava Stuart, and the casual girl smiled. She set down her phone, the touchscreen interface of which she'd been poking at before she'd felt Ava Stuart's eyes gaze fall upon her.
Before Ava Stuart spoke, she offered the Sons of Taured's Headmistress her phone, which the Headmistress gently and silently took from her.
There was a news article brought up.
Apparently, the device was connected to the Internet through means of mobile data. On the news source's website, the article's headline was visible, along with a brief blurb below it, a quote 'printed' in text of a smaller size.
"Breaking: Thousands in Academy City + Japan, Seoul, Canadian, US Cities Take to Protesting: "Hashtags #FREEMAGIC #WARMONGERACADEMYCITY #CROOKEDNECESSARIUS" Used to Promote "Pro-Magic" Movement.
"This interview doesn't really matter. You're just going to censor our words – but magic is real, and it's being kept from us. I performed a spell using instructions in this pamphlet. We're tired of being lied to, not just about this, because if magic is being hidden from us, who else knows what's real, what's being hidden? We deserve to know, not just the elite."
She smiled. Ava Stuart genuinely smiled. The wonders of the Internet appeared to have sided with them once more.
"Etsu-chan, dear, could I ask a favor?"
"Ask away, Ava-sensei."
In fact, Ava didn't have to ask anything. Aihana Etsu already knew what had to be done.
The voice of Aihana Etsu was soft, melodic, and yet laced with barely-contained snide. She was waiting for the chance to be useful. Such enthusiasm was something that Ava Stuart could work with, something she'd worked with for some time.
Aihana Etsu reached down to a small contained strapped to her belt. Prying the lid, held in place by Velcro away, a small collection of laminated cards was revealed to be held within. Producing a hand, as if she was about to challenge Ava to a game of poker, Etsu slapped down a total of five rune-dotted cards. Ornate and fanciful, each rune had been drawn lovingly onto the card with what looked like felt tip pen.
"Malefica765 - As the Wicked Witch of the Land seeks to look over her minions in the field, I seek to peer into the works of a faraway land. Let this Wicked Witch peer, please let this Wicked Witch peer."
Within the circular structure formed by the rune cards, a small orb bubbled into existence. Round, but shaky and looking to be made of some liquid substance at first, it soon stabilized. Floating just above the Aihana Etsu's table, the esper-magician hybrid focused, as an image formed in the shaky orb.
Within, the occult market in Academy City could be seen from many angles. Numerous rooms were visible, as if the orb in the table's center was linked to some sort of security feed.
In a manner of speaking, it was. Such a mechanic was no mere coincidence. It had been specifically engineered by the seventh-ranked level five, the esper-magician hybrid, the loyal Sons of Taured operative.
The inner walls of the occult market were dotted with runes carved into their surfaces, identical to those found on Aihana Etsu's laminated cards. The ceilings and the floors were dotted with them as well, though these runes were nearly invisible to the naked eye; they'd been lightly and gently carved into place, closer resembling a patterned sequence than a collection of runes. In a manner of speaking, the spell had forged a network, one born of the caster's will, and of the caster's desire.
Something was most certainly wrong. Aihana Etsu remained calm and collected, though there were telltale signs that her anxiousness was beginning to grow within her. She bounced her foot repeatedly as she observed the anomalous happenings.
Suited G-men agents, likely those associated with the Oculus, or perhaps with that other, even seedier group, Glad… something, were crawling around the place. Into large, plastic containers, they brutishly loaded the many artifacts, simply pushing them from their tables like they were pieces of garbage. To be fair, Etsu had to admit that most were garbage, fakes, forgeries, tools to bamboozle idiots just like them.
They hadn't seemed to discover the runic patterns inscribed upon the structure's surfaces; and even if they did, to cut communication, they'd have to gut and tear down the structure itself.
In the end, the esper-magician hybrid won. She grinned, even as she 'scrolled' through the different 'feeds', by sliding her long, slender fingers over the surface of the orb she'd brought into existence.
"They're onto us, Ava-sensei," Etsu remarked, quite casually. "I don't see Ell. I hope she wasn't captured, or worse… Academy City is ruthless…"
Ava Stuart took a seat next to the high school-aged girl. She leaned forward and tilted her head to one side as she looked into the eyes of Aihana Etsu, which didn't look into her own. They remained focused on the orb she'd brought into existence.
"I don't think they know I'm observing them… eheheh. It's funny, because I could splatter their guts with a flick of my wrist! Cha-ching~! Girl POWER!"
"Etsu-chan," Ava began, attempting to gather Aihana Etsu's attention before she continued to speak. The seventh ranked esper and hybrid magician scrolled further, until she came upon a new feed, a new section of the occult market.
It was one of the structure's rearmost rooms, where supplies were stored.
Seated in a wooden chair, bound with rope and with a face covered in slap marks and scars was Ell, the elderly Operative who'd volunteered to kick-start the operation in that section of Academy City.
An older-looking man, clad in a cheap ready-made suit had stepped momentarily out of view. There was a girl nearby, clad in a pink hooded sweater with athletic shorts, odd antennae rising from the sweater's hood, which found itself pulled over her head.
The older man, face dotted with acne, returned to view wielding a pair of enormous plyers. Ell screamed aloud, begging for her life, yet she would give no secrets to the mongrels.
She'd known the risks. She'd accepted them, fully aware that this could happen, and Etsu knew it. Yet the seventh-ranked level five couldn't help but grit her teeth.
"She's an old lady for crying out loud! Don't torture an old lady, you maniacs! Ava-sensei, I'm going to go to Academy City myself and blow up all of them! I'll slaughter their families like the cows they are!"
Ava Stuart's hand fell to the top of the soft, silky exposed hand of Aihana Etsu, who felt the beginnings of tears – tears of frustration – forming in the corners of her eyes.
The Sons of Taured's Headmistress felt the girl's frustration. Truly, those who oversaw Academy City's internal affairs were deplorable, disgusting human beings.
"Etsu-chan, Ell will survive. Ell will make it back to us in one piece… or maybe not. call it what you'd like, but this is war. In war, there are casualties... Ell knows that her sacrifices are not in vain."
Aihana Etsu resisted the urge to spit. Instead, she ground her teeth as she kicked her legs down. Rising to her full, less-than-imposing height, the five foot five inch tall high school-aged girl allowed her long, luscious hair to flutter as she took to walking away from Ava, her hips unconsciously swaying from side to side; she left the Gobbling Guzzler through a nearby passageway, whose enormous, stone-carved doors she opened with a simple yank from either of her well-muscled arms.
Ava followed, though she didn't intend to travel in the same direction as the seventh-ranked level five. In fact, Ava Stuart had no destination which she'd explicitly intended to wind up in. She would simply wander where her feet took her.
The horrors of fighting against those who preferred a world brainwashed, a world that needed to rise and revolt against tyranny were taking a toll on Ava Stuart's psyche.
Both Lord Blackthorn and the ghost Satoru looked away from the high school-aged girl and their Headmistress, whose true age was completely unknown even to them. Then, they looked to one another and simply shrugged. Satoru chose to carry on from where their previous conversation had left off, rather abruptly.
"I personally believe that striking out against the Roman Orthodoxy is of greater of importance than bickering with the Puritans. Our efforts would be best focused on laying claim to Vatican City, such a bold move would open the eyes of many. A success would open eyes further. Vatican City would, too, offer us a podium in which our message could be broadcast to the world whose eyes have been forcibly shut. I also suggest that we happen to conveniently encounter this "Dawn-Colored Sunlight."
At this, the ever-grinning Satoru nodded in affirmation. The talking houseplant and his fellow tactician's methods were the best that could be chosen, but he did appear to be underestimating the combined strength of Kanzaki Kaori and Spring-Heeled Jack.
Lord Blackthorn merely shook his head, moving it from one side and then to the other by means of shifting his stalk's position. He'd found himself once more in his potter, where he'd come to rest.
"And then what of ye olde Puritans, then? Doth thou know what shalt come to pass if we trifle? Necessarius shalt be there to strike back, even if it is their foe whom we strike at. Necessarius shalt see such acts as provocation. Before I lose track of this thought… could thou be kindly and offer me hydration? My soil shalt grow dry and desolate if I receive none!"
The immortal ghost-being produced a sigh. It wasn't like anyone else was nearby to fetch the glorified garden vegetable some water.
February 10th, 2004. PM. 12:39 PM.
The London streets below them had been cleared through the use of Kanzaki Kaori's People Clearing runes, hundreds, if not thousands of which had been slapped about on the high rise's exterior walls. The high rise itself had appeared to be mostly abandoned; the only individuals who'd come wandering out were janitorial types and vagrants, walking side by side as they'd been silently and magically compelled.
Kanzaki Kaori and Spring-Heeled Jack, human and anomalous existence stood not as enemies but as believers in the fact that elite corruption, a common enemy needed to fall. Both observed the streets beyond that which had been affected by the Saint's runes, and the streets yet beyond those. London was almost like some sort of ocean of metal and glass, with the occasional runoff of run-down housing estates to be found amongst the metaphorical ocean's currents.
Sheathed in its scabbard, the elongated blade Shichiten Shichiou was pressed against the roofing of the high-rise structure. Occasionally, Kaori would tap the tip of the scabbard against the cobbled roofing, creating soft 'clack' sounds.
She looked to the anomalous existence that stood next to her. He towered over her, and, surely, he could kill her - he could've even killed the likes of Acqua of the Back with few issues -and yet she felt no worry when she was in his presence.
"We'll be back ta our ol' cinema tricks 'fore long, lass."
"Indeed… my efforts to appear surprised? How are they?"
"Fine indeed. Ye coulda bamboozled me right proper. I am… curious about somethin', lass. I've never properly gotten the chance to ask in our few months of knowing one another and it recently did come ta right proper get under me skin."
"Ask, Jack-san."
"Please, lass," the anomalous existence remarked passingly.
Kanzaki Kaori witnessed a look of loathing cross the anomalous existence's face.
"Honorifics don't apply to me kind… I'm not right proper deservin' 'a honor, especially not from someone like yerself. I live only for Headmistress Ava, the woman who saved me from meself. From me cruel nature. Monsters deserve no respect."
"Nonsense."
Kanzaki Kaori shook her head, no. Spring-Heeled Jack looked to her, tilting his hooded head to one side.
"You've proven yourself to be among the kindest and most warm-hearted of those intelligent beings who dwell in this world. Whatever you may be, you're kinder than some of this world's humans. You are no monster."
"Right proper kinda 'a ye. Why do ye work 'gainst those who ye hold dear? When yer talkin' wit' th' Headmistress, ye right proper hold Necessarius… in some high level of regard. Yet, ye work to knock 'em down a peg 'er two."
"Because they are no longer what I once knew."
"Aye. Disillusion, lass?"
"Mhm."
Kanzaki Kaori shuddered for a moment; a cool breeze had passed human and anomalous existence by, like a mysterious stranger in the night.
Clad in her usual outfit of choice, her denim jacket, with only one of its sleeves remaining attached was cast open and unbuttoned, revealing her midriff, as well as her toned, milky naval.
For a moment, Spring-Heeled Jack caught himself ogling the Saint. In response, he jabbed his own clawed finger deep into his cheek, causing a rather small, but noticeable plume of blue flame, more a collection of embers to emerge.
Like an excited child tearing the wrapping of a present on Christmas Morning, beneath the glow of a decorated Christmas tree, Spring-Heeled Jack tore downwards, creating a rift in his own flesh.
Such disgusting acts, such ogling could not go unpunished.
"It is a long and complex tale – yet it returns to two main sources, Jack-san… a tale of three friends, and to a selfless boy who has suffered the weight of an entire world upon his shoulders. A boy who did what the friends of one little girl, with long, beautiful silver hair couldn't do. A boy who… I'd like to see once more. A boy I'd like to become closer to, if such could be permitted by fate."
"They stuck a shiv in yer guts, right proper, then, lass, they betrayed yer friends, s'well, The Golden Witch betrays all whom she comes into contact with. Real slag, 'hat one."
"Good guess… but not quite. It wasn't I who was betrayed. What of that creature beneath Nyla? Its power could be of use to our cause. If we were to turn it against the Vatican City, we would…"
Jack rose, power surging around his body like it was a funnel, one which he inherently channeled.
Swiftly, he cut off the spoken words of Kanzaki Kaori.
"To trifle with one 'a them Old Gods is to court death, lass. It has Its own agenda. Not even I could challenge It and live fer more 'han a few seconds, do try to remember that the Old Gods lay beneath, away from the prying hands and minds of mortalkind fer a reason. There's always an alternative 'hat sorts a right proper madness. An existence as formidable as the Prophet oversees their imprisonment for a reason…"
"The Dawn-Colored Sunlight. Have they been discussed?"
Jack nodded.
"The situation has come ta our favor, in a manner of speaking. If what yer sayin' 'bout the obtaining of some great weapon is true, lass, if what yer sayin' about one 'a yers buried within their ranks, then… they could be steered towards ye. To reason with 'em and compromise may be the key, if their goals are similar enough ta ours."
Kanzaki Kaori looked once more to the horizon. That could potentially be an incredibly risky endeavor. To say that the Saint of the Far East hadn't before encountered the likes of Leivinia Birdway and her pet 'demon hunter', Iosephus Thepes, would be a lie, for she had encountered both.
She remembered the coldness and the callousness of that child; and yet, through some queer circumstances, Kanzaki Kaori had found herself sharing a goal with that same child.
She sought the downfall of everything she'd ever known, the downfall of an oppressive system one which had willingly and knowingly made an utterly innocent girl born with photographic memory a slave to their whims.
They'd all been lied to.
They'd all been played like so many puppets, dangling, tangled in so many strings. They were mere tools in a great game of four-dimensional chess.
It'd all come to an end only because of him, that boy. Kamijou Touma.
Kaori, for one, would be a tool no longer.
From within the pocket of her one-legged denims, she produced a small, low-tech flip phone, something that looked like it'd been produced a decade prior. It lacked even basic functions outside of the simplest of functionalities, such as outer or inner cameras.
But it did allow for the exchanging of text and vocal messages, and that was more than enough. Sometimes, a simple cellular phone could beat out the use of short, or even long-rated telepathic communication runes.
Flipping the device open, Kaori gazed down at the tiny screen, on the flip phone's upper half. Cheap and flimsy, a text message was displayed on the ugly, smudged screen.
"nearing Blenheim Palace atm. Tsuchimikado choosing not to respond so I suppose ill take my orders from you. prepare yourself because birdway is itching for a fight. Whats our next move? not a lot of time to discuss or plan."
The text message was shown to Jack, who carefully took the electronic device into his clawed, gloved hands. Within his covered palms, the flip phone looked more like some sort of tiny trinket, or a pint-sized piece of chocolate, given the coloration of its brown-colored exterior.
"Right proper gots ta say, I feel less than comfortable passin' 'round teacups with this "Leivinia Birdway" personally, fer reasons that should be obvious," the anomalous existence elaborated, gently and cautiously offering the flip phone to its owner.
"I do hope ye understand me concern, lass. Bein' torn to ribbons by the power of an… Aughsbak… really don't feel good! This "Iosephus Thepes" hunts and slaughters folk like meself like game in th' forest, a good deed, in and of itself, each of 'em deserve to be brought ta th' chopping block, for they are without mercy, without so much as a singular redeemin' trait, right proper, but…"
Kanzaki Kaori merely nodded, a sympathetic facial expression forming over her features. She produced a sigh as she stepped towards the edge of the high-rise structure's roofing. She peered downwards, fearless, as only the smallest of instinctual panic throbbed within her stomach.
It was a long way down. The concrete and brickwork jungle below seemed to reach out to the Saint of the Far East.
"Say no more. It would be selfish and disconcertingly foolish of me to suggest that you accompany the Amakusa. While Saint Lessar will connect with Kamijou Touma and those within his fold, the Amakusa will meet the Dawn-Colored Sunlight in kind, and propose… what has been suggested."
"Ye seem conflicted, lass. Tell ol' Uncle Jack what's on yer mind, then."
"For long the English Puritan Church was nearly all I knew. To turn against them, despite the actions of its 0th Parish's Archbishop feels inherently wrong. Yet, ironically, there have been very few times when something, a decision, has felt this right.
"We stand in solidarity, the Sons of Taured and we, the Amakusa. Though controversial as all change can be, the time of a bloated and self-indulgent elite has come to an end. We will exchange words with the Dawn-Colored Sunlight, and, if all goes well…"
Though Kaori's elaboration, her speech, an impressive thing in the eyes of Spring-Heeled Jack seemed to have cut itself short, fading into obscurity like an outdated fashion trend.
"Yer worryin' bout that mate o' yers, th' boy. On me honor, right proper, no 'arm is fidda come to 'em. Quite the opposite… I'll be followin' the group as best I can, until we might 'appen ta conveniently cross paths."
Patting his chest, where a small, partially-torn paper emblem was placed, taped onto his exposed breast, the Spring-Heeled one tilted his head to one side.
"I can presume yer mate, "Lessar" 'ill remain in touch?"
To this, Kanzaki Kaori nodded, before she offered a verbal response.
"There are those among them loyal to the bloated and self-serving establishment, loyal to their paymasters and loyal to the one whom you refer to as "the Golden Witch," Kaori retorted, rather cryptically.
"One in particular. I always had my suspicions, but it's in this time that he has proved himself to truly be a foe of all that's just… a shame. I cared for him, despite his flaws."
With a plan set in motion, or, perhaps more accurately, a plan within a plan, possibly yet within another plan, there were few words left to exchange. Spring-Heeled Jack offered Kanzaki Kaori a polite bow, one which she returned, before he leapt into the sky with a single bounding jump, in which he soon soared. Rising, higher and higher, the Spring-Heeled one swiftly vanished from sight.
Kaori took a step off the edge of the high-rise's roof, and she freefell. Her thoughts turned to the innocent, smiling face of a certain silver-haired nun. The resolve of the Far Eastern Saint was hardened as some of the words uttered by Index throughout the months and the years passed through her higher mind.
Hopefully, that boy Kamijou Touma and those who associated with him could come to see the truth for what it truly was.
Hopefully, they could open their minds and accept the underdog as being the party who truly had the best of intentions, for all involved.
February 10th, 2004. 1:34 PM.
Kamijou Touma hadn't slept a wink. That wasn't a problem, given the fact that his new, superior body didn't require it.
But it did allow for Touma to witness the occurrence of an interesting phenomenon take place around him.
Throughout the hours of the night, it seemed that almost every female on board the private, Gladio-owned and operated jet had made their way to the lodging he and Kumokawa Seria had laid claim to, like so many soldiers marching off to a battlefield.
Perhaps, though, at least in the present, a battlefield would've been a bad comparison.
Clinging to either side of Kamijou Touma's torso were Misaka Mikoto and the little silver-haired nun Index, the latter of whom had squeezed herself between Touma and his still-sleeping senpai. Having come to fall into the depths of slumber atop his chest was Musujime Awaki. The former Magic God, Othinus seemed to be absent, as was Misaka Worst, who Touma could only assume had remained at Accelerator's side. That made enough sense.
An influx of incoming data informed the Imagine Breaker's former Bearer that he had numerous decisions, proverbial pathways which could be metaphorically strolled down.
He could awaken all the girls who'd come to surround him with a sudden shout, or he could awaken them one by one. Alternatively, he could phase through every one of them by breaking his nanorobotic body down into a loose, non-cohesive collection of units; he could've, but, he wouldn't've. There was no explicit need to do so. Given who he was, given the nature of his very life, Kamijou Touma saw no wrong.
Moreover, as for the matter of timekeeping, there didn't seem to be a clock or any other mode of timekeeping to be found within the cabin-like room.
As if she'd sensed his converted mind's considerations, atop him, Musujime Awaki seemed to stir. She shook from one side to the other, a shiver travelling down her slim and luscious form, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her head unconsciously moved upwards, as her eyelids slid open.
Her eyes and the eyes of Kamijou Touma locked, their gazes focused, exchanging perpetually.
She seemed to accept the position she'd found herself in. Grinning up at Kamijou Touma, she pressed her index finger and thumb together, then flicked the nearby head of Misaka Mikoto.
A small current of electricity surged outwards, jumping in the air as Mikoto unconsciously grumbled to herself. She rocked from one side and then to the other before she groaned, and stretched her arms and legs.
Then, she took a swift breath. She'd quickly come to realize the position she'd found herself in. At the Railgun's evident discomfort, Musujime Awaki produced a small, brief throat-laugh, a sharp sound which resembled that of someone violently blow air from their lungs, lips vibrating.
"You…!"
"Messing with you is too easy."
Before a potential squabble could break out, Kamijou Touma quickly took control of the situation.
"Look, let's take a glance at this thing logically. This is something that's happened, there's not much anyone can do about it. Everyone involved can either depart or embrace this thing, right?"
"You don't see me running off, do you, he~ro?" Awaki rhetorically inquired. "You are a bit chilly though… might want to do something about that.
"Nobody's bound to anything, nobody's forcing anyone else to stay like this. Misaka, I'm sure Musujime meant nothing by it, being messed with is a part of life."
"Bu…"
Misaka Mikoto found her words stopping in their tracks, coming to a grinding halt as Kamijou Touma interjected, apparently not finished with his own statements.
"Misaka, this just gives you the opportunity to get her back, right? It's all in good fun."
Mikoto relented, and produced a sigh. He was right, of course; there she was, almost overreacting. Again. At least she was beginning to catch herself before the thing could happen. At least he was there to help bring her back to reality, to help snap her out of it.
Yes, it could've been a biased emotional response, given the history she shared with the Move Point user, but, that was the past. That'd been put behind them, it wasn't relevant to "the now".
The third-ranked level five found herself giggling as she rose, moving away from the bed which had originally been claimed by only Kamijou Touma and Kumokawa Seria.
"Heh… s-sorry for overreacting there. I guess I was just surprised."
Musujime Awaki too rose, stretching as she began to straddle the torso of the boy who'd offered her the chance to temporarily escape the mind-numbing boredom of 'a normal life'. Though she spoke to Misaka Mikoto, the girl with the auburn hair, styled into long, thin twintails looked down at Kamijou Touma. Her lips had curled upwards, into a vaguely sinister-looking grin.
"It's fine. I'll be expecting something equally mischievous in response."
A domino effect was achieved through the stirring of Musujime Awaki, and then through the subsequent stirring of Misaka Mikoto.
Soon, Index awoke. Red-faced and surprisingly silent, she simply picked herself up and fled from the room with all due haste.
Kamijou Touma, Musujime Awaki and Misaka Mikoto had noticed that a small, crooked grin had been on the little nun's face.
Then, given that Index had accidentally stepped on her lower torso, Kumokawa Seria awoke with a grunt. Shaking her head about, she looked downwards, attempting to discover the source of the uncomfortable sensation that'd roused her from her higher mind's expansive dreamscape. Seria took in her surroundings for a moment before she broke down into a fit of laughter. Something of this sort had already happened. Seria had expected such an incident to take at least a few months to play out.
Funnily enough, she'd seemed to have slept better than she had in the span of literal decades.
"It seems you're popular this morning, my little kohai."
Seria rolled over, and wrapped either of her arms around Touma's torso; or, at least, what part of his torso hadn't been overtaken by Awaki, whom Seria winked at. The Move Point user's confidence seemed to wane for only a moment, before it returned.
"I guess so, huh? I'm a regular socialite," Touma spoke, chuckling softly. "Anyone know where Index went off to?"
Mikoto could only shrug, while Awaki looked from left to right. The little nun had indeed fled the room completely. The door leading into the enclosed space was ajar, and there were no silver-haired nuns visible there.
Awaki turned her gaze back to Touma, whom she continued to straddle.
"Sheesh, Kamijou, you seem to be having a rather subdued reaction. Most guys would freak out if they had cute girls all over them."
"I'm not making any moves without your permission. That'd be whack… but if I said I wasn't down, I'd be lying out of my ass."
"Aweh. My he~ro. Confident AND a gentleman? You're turning out to be quite the prize."
"Isn't he just?" Kumokawa Seria rhetorically inquired, completing her vocalization with a soft giggle. She leaned inwards, embracing the polygamous moment. Seria's soft lips left repeated, affectionate kisses on her kohai's cheeks, as she began to dance the tips of her fingers along his neck.
Misaka Mikoto didn't quite have the nerve to join in. She was less frustrated than she thought she'd be in such a situation; yet there was still something that nagged at her.
Then again, it couldn't be any worse than seeing him lovingly interact with that damn Shokuhou. That was going to be quite the pill to swallow – but swallow it she would.
They'd discussed such matters together, and, when words turned to actions, Misaka Mikoto wasn't about to back down.
"I'm… uh… going to see what's up… downstairs. Get it? Up, but downstairs? It's… different! Eheheh… heh… yeah I'll see myself out."
"Oouuhh, Railgun, you're not offended, are you? Maybe we could further improve our friendship by engaging in some teamwork. Teamwork, as in, working on this handsome hunk of a he~ro underneath me."
Kumokawa Seria was quick to notice the change in demeanor. Was Musujime Awaki experiencing the female equivalent of morning wood? She found herself giggling at her own absurd thoughts, even as she continued to show her affections for her kohai by kissing his body.
In Misaka Mikoto's direction, Kamijou Touma shrugged as best he could. Apparently, he wasn't against the idea.
She wasn't quite that confident, and her own state of arousal – something she hadn't quite come to accept as a thing that was happening – wasn't quite strong enough to compel her to take up pseudo-exhibitionist behavior.
"I think I'll pass… I mean it's cool and everything! Touma and me, we're tight like that, I know what's up with what he's looking for, and he knows what's up with how I feel! In no way am I resentful, and I'm not saying that sarcastically! Seriously! I'm being honest! If I sound even a little bit sarcastic… that's on you! I'm just… not… uh… you know, comfortable with 'that', personally. I like my personal space to be… ahem… spacious! So… um… b-bye?!"
"Smooth, Mikoto. Very smooth."
As Misaka Mikoto quickly left the room in a rather awkward rush, Touma looked from Musujime Awaki, and then to Kumokawa Seria. The former grinned at him, a vaguely predatory expression, while the latter smiled warmly.
Misaka Mikoto's odd behavior had been accepted; there was very little to be done.
"So, I have several questions. What sort of spell-slinging craziness are we going to end up walking into? Maybe you could give me a rundown? Sheesh, I'm completely outside the loop. I suppose you'd have to gauge the situation first to know, huh?"
"That's about it," Touma elaborated with a nod of his head. "Until I see what's happening – until Index can let us know what sort of magicians we're going to be dealing with… well, we're in the dark. Once Index knows, we all know."
"We'll be fine, because you've got me~. The lolicon is pretty tough too," Awaki remarked, her head held high, eyelids closed shut. The Move Point user, still straddling Kamijou Touma placed her hands on her hips.
Touma continued to gaze up at the Move Point user.
"Not too sure what the "bad guys" have up their sleeves. So far, we're looking at some crazy-powerful guy named "Spring-heeled Jack", a possible encounter with the Dawn-Colored Sunlight, a cabal – basically a gang of magicians, kind of like a Skill Out faction – lead by a bitchy little girl, and… then there's the issue of these pamphlets all over the place."
"Skill Out?" Both Awaki and Seria inquired as one.
"I used to beat up on those guys all the time," Awaki spoke, seemingly growing even prouder of herself. "To a lesser degree, I still do…"
Seria, on the other hand, seemed to be a bit more cautious. She rose, but not before kissing her kohai on the lips.
"The difference lays in abilities. Skill Out factions are made up of heavily-armed level zeroes, for the most part, while, from what I've gathered from my… talks… with your "co-worker" Tsuchimikado-san, cabals are more akin to a band of rogue espers, on a considerably larger scale."
"Right, Seria," Touma acknowledged, right hand falling naturally upon his senpai's legs; the physical attention she welcomed, as she took her kohai's hand into her own. "Still, you're not wrong about being on the tough side of things, Musujime. It'll be great working with you."
Either of her cheeks erupted into a blush. She couldn't quite voice it, but the compliment was much-appreciated.
"Likewise, I kid about you being a 'he~ro', but your reputation really proceeds you, Kamijou. Don't think that I don't know all of the crazy crap you've gotten up to… this is going to sound a bit weird, but I sort of… idolize you, you know."
"Don't," Touma stated. "The thought is appreciated, but it's important to keep an open mind. I'm not perfect, I can fuck up just like everyone else, Musujime."
Musujime Awaki could understand that sort of stance. She nodded affirmatively, before she slid herself away from Kamijou Touma's torso. Her posterior came to rest opposite the form of Kumokawa Seria's sprawled-out form.
"Good advice, he~ro. If we get the chance, we should go sightseeing together. London's got some pretty sights to… well… see. For now, ciao, handsome~! My stomach calls."
In the blink of an eye, Musujime Awaki had vanished from sight, leaving Kamijou Touma and Kumokawa Seria to their own devices.
Kumokawa Seria took advantage of this by taking Musujime Awaki's place, straddling her kohai as she lowered herself towards him, Seria's eyes locking with Touma's own.
"You often find yourself being dominated by beautiful women, my little kohai. An amusing thing, isn't it?"
"Heh… no denying it. Step on me and call me names."
"That can be arranged… there is something of a more serious nature I'd like to speak with you about, however, but first…"
Kumokawa Seria's lips quickly found themselves connecting with Kamijou Touma's own. The games began there and then.
"Let us clear the air, my little kohai."