February 10th, 2004. 9:05 PM.

Yet more time had passed since Kamijou Touma had taken up his vigil upon the collapsing roof of the seemingly-abandoned motel, Hawkhaven. Kamijou observed the horizon, lost in thoughts all alone.

At one point, though another vehicle entered the fake-abandoned settlement, Kamijou Touma wasn't concerned by its presence, even as he'd observed it from afar. While this wouldn't have made much sense otherwise, Touma's sense of trust was entirely based on the fact that the vehicle was similar to the vehicle that he and his girls had arrived in. A silver-coloured SUV, its surfaces laden with intricate, runic markings.

That was a nice enough thought, at the very least. The girls he loved so very much, the people he wanted to spend the rest of his – perhaps immortal, quasi-artificial – life with. His girls.

Though he didn't search for any one subject or potential target, Touma instead looked further onto the horizon and cast many a nanorobotic scout outward. They fluttered about freely around the pathetic excuses for fences that surrounded the motel, which, if the former Leader of the Agnese Forces was to be believed, was in fact an Amakusan base of operations. They observed, silently, invisible to the naked eye and reported a seemingly never-ending stream of information to the converted higher mind that ruled over them.

Just what in the ever-loving fuck was happening? What had Kamijou Touma gotten those close to him swept up into? Then again, it was hardly anyone's fault, besides that no-good snake Tsuchimikado Motoharu.

If he got his way, Kamijou Touma would nail that bastard to a cross before the week was through.

Some more time passed Kamijou Touma by, so many grains in the ever-tilting hourglass of life were juggled about within the nonexistent glass that contained them.

Before long, however, something changed in the formula. There was a brief edit, a slow switch in the method of reality's ebb and flow. There was an interrupter.

There was suddenly a cog in the metaphorical machine, one introduced, not native to the construction of the situation itself. As if to answer his mental call, a vocalization rang out; the voice was soft and almost melodic. The words were those of a greeting.

"Kamijou? That little nun said you'd be out here, so, uh… Howdy. Not intruding, am I?"

He didn't even have to look in her direction to learn more. A nanorobotic scout, invisible to the naked eye fluttered past, and delivered the necessary information. Musujime Awaki had entered the scene. Aside from lacking her stockings, her outfit seemed to remain the same.

Kamijou wasn't particularly surprised by her arrival; anything and anywhere that she, the Move Point girl could see, she could teleport to. That was how her Personal Reality functioned, relying on complex mathematical equations and calculations which Kamijou understood only because his ascended, advanced higher mind was capable of proverbially spelling the cerebral mechanics out for him in layman's terms.

It would only be polite to pay attention, even if his converted mind wished to wander elsewhere and consider other matters. With a forceful, internalized command, Kamijou Touma forced himself to obey his own commands.

"Yee haw, pardner," Touma greeted, chuckling softly, more to himself than to the young woman who'd deigned to seek him out. Clacking against the cobbled walkway, the soles of Musujime Awaki's shoes produced the only source of audible stimulus not of a human (or otherwise human-like) origin. "You're good. I don't mind the company. It's… Pretty nice that you'd think of coming out to see me."

Soon, she closed the distance between herself and the being that'd once been a "normal high school boy". With the moon's lunar rays leaping over the Earth and galloping across her surfaces, the lunar illumination seemed to brighten the form of Musujime Awaki. It accented her features, especially her slim stature, partnered with her luscious, natural curves. With confidence she strode forward, the thigh gap between her milky legs visible.

Then, Awaki took a seat next to Touma upon a section of ventilation piping, covered in rust and a foul sheen of some thick, viscous liquid. She plopped herself down, and brought her knees up. Folding her arms over them, the Move Point user leaned forward.

"Sheesh… I think you dodged a bullet. That little girl with the weird shoes talked some… Strange stuff. Something about a "Church of England" and a "Roman Orthodox Church", "Crusaders" and… Something about genocide happening all around us, places like Africa and the Balkans in Eastern Europe, "conversion at the tip of a sword", or something of that sort.

"Roman Orthodox Church apparently has control of Baggage City, even… Never heard anything about that, or any of this for that matter, on the news. Something about "Annihilatus" and the "Russian Orthodox Church" being the only ones standing up to this "Crusade". Honestly? Most of it went over my head."

"I bet it did, it's all confusing, Musujime," Touma responded. "There's a lot to tell, it'd be impossible to sit an entire group down and have a lecture about it in great detail, there's just too much to say. It's an entire history of an entire world that most people on Earth don't even know exists."

With a shake of her head, Awaki spoke.

"That's what gets me the most about the whole scenario. If there are world incidents happening, how can they be covered up and hidden? Like something straight out of one of those eight-hour Internet documentaries… you know the ones? About the Jewish lizard bankers from the star system Alpha Draconis controlling the world?"

"Heh… uh huh. Yeah. Maybe they're right, huh?"

Kamijou Touma lifted his right arm, and looked to Musujime Awaki. Raising an eyebrow, he tilted his head to one side.

"Feel like a bit of physical attention, Musujime?"

"Nah, I don't mind, feel free. If you're tryin' to do what I think you're tryin' to do. It's really cute, actually. I like this confidence of yours; it's a real turn-on. If you're going to step to me, step to me. Just be honest. That's all this girl's asking."

Slowly, as if he was attempting not to startle her, Touma confidently wrapped his arm around Awaki's shoulders with the utmost care dedicated to his deliberate actions.

It only took her a fraction of a second to offer her response to the physical act of affection.

Retorting in kind, the grinning Move Point user moved ever closer, pressing herself against Kamijou Touma, nuzzling and nudging affectionately. With a stretch and a small moan, she rested the side of her head against him, allowing her aching neck to be supported.

Though his form was chilly to the touch, the sensation was an oddly relaxing one, like the feeling of resting her head against the soft surface of a cool pillow.

"You okay? Feelin' alright? Your buddies seemed worried, especially that Kazakiri girl. We've only talked here and there, but she's alright. We've never had any problems. We go to the same school."

"I'll survive, thanks. Feels… good to be appreciated. Yeah. Kazakiri's great. Maybe… Funny thought, here, maybe the British Royal Family are all lizard people in disguise, huh? Who knows? I think just about anything is possible at this point given even the fraction of shit we've both seen. I've seen craziness, you've seen it, a little bit of it at least."

Joining Kamijou Touma, Musujime Awaki looked to the horizon as well, observing the movements of the great, grey cloud coverage as it continued to achieve locomotion, darting as a super-organism across the sky, which it'd come to overtake.

"Makes you wonder what else is being hidden from "the people." Makes me wonder, at least."

"Magic Side has always been like this, apparently, for hundreds of years. Don't get me the wrong way, I only know so much, Index knows way more than I do; she's how I learned most of what I know. Index said this one Parish in the Church of England, Necessarius, they started as witch-hunters."

"Witch… hunters? As in…?"

"You know, burning at the stake, hanging, all that… great stuff."

"Wholesome."

"Very wholesome… as far as I know, the Roman Orthodox Church has always been causing trouble. As long as I've known Index, they have been at least, and you can see some of their influence even in the history books. Inquisitions, Salem, forced conversions."

On its own, the topic of conversation faded from existence, falling deep into obscurity, joining so many others that too had been abandoned.

Their exchanging having temporarily come to an end, Kamijou Touma immediately began to miss it… perhaps not the subject matter, but the act of exchanging words with Musujime Awaki.

He wanted more, to talk more with the Move Point girl who'd come to be so physically close to him. He sought to know her, to get closer, to close the distance between himself and her.

Was this how he'd always made Misaka Mikoto feel? Was this the sort of longing she'd experienced for all those months, perhaps? What kind of monster had "dead Kamijou Touma" been? What kind of selfish, arrogant, self-righteous, bumbling fool had "dead Kamijou Touma" developed into?

"Musujime?"

"Bzzzz. I hear you, loud 'n clear."

"Did Tsuchimi… did the snake ever tell you about the Queen of the Adriatic Sea? That was Roman Orthodox, too."

Glancing in his direction, the Move Point user offered the Imagine Breaker's Once-Bearer an awkward, confused-looking facial expression.

"The… Queen of the whowhat wherehow?"

With his available arm, Kamijou Touma stretched outwards, moving the appendage away from him. Musujime Awaki's vision followed, curiously observing her compatriot's odd, if amusing actions.

"It was this gigantic fleet of ships, all made from ice that came right out of the sea. The main ship of the whole fleet, the Queen of the Adriatic Sea itself… it was supposed to be able to wipe Venice off the map, completely, destroying the city's people, its culture, everything."

Kamijou Touma felt an awkward shudder; he moved into gear, and tightened his grip around the Move Point user's shoulders. Though convenient, at least from a 'human' standpoint, scaring Awaki was far from his intent; but he wasn't about to not show his affection, his solidarity.

"That's…Mildly terrifying. It's gone, right?"

"Yeah, it's gone, Musujime. Apparently, there was this one spell, that, if cast on a certain day, and at a certain time, it would've allowed for this fleet of ships to destroy any settlement. Long story short, they, the Roman Orthodoxy, they wanted to get rid of Academy City. Of us. Just because they don't agree with science. This is how far they'd go to accomplish their fucking insane goals. I say, we wipe them off the map, for that provocation alone.

"I see it like this. You don't have to agree with me, nobody does, my feelings are exactly that… But anyone who wants the Roman Orthodox Church gone is a friend of mine. If the Amakusa are aiming for Roman Orthodox heads, then I'll take aim, too. Seeing them as an ugly blotch on your… I mean, "our" history would be nice. Very nice."

Musujime Awaki spoke, but not of the subject at hand, not of the Queen of the Adriatic Sea.

"Wanting to wipe things out, drive them to extinction, huh? Reminds me of someone. Someone who decided to come back from the ocean I dropped him off in. I really do have to wonder about that. Something's not adding up, Kamijou."

There was one way to be sure, to figure out just what the Move Point user was hinting at. Touma had a feeling.

"Index and Kazakiri tell you, then?" Touma queried, looking to Awaki, who looked to him in turn. With a nod of her head, she vocalized the piece she sought to speak.

"Yeah. They… kind of told all of us. The little nun said it was necessary, because of "Old Gods" something or other, she mentioned it before, when we were talking in the car, but I still don't really get it… Sheesh, this magic business is mind-boggling. But... where was I?"

She looked away. Her gaze found itself transfixed on the cracked, concrete stair beneath her posterior, and the posterior of Kamijou Touma. Small clumps of weeds were sprouting, pushing forward from within; nature seemed to be taking Hawkhaven back, bit by bit, baby step by baby step.

"Now, Kamijou, listen to me. I barely find myself in any position to be talking shit about anyone. I'm not proud of the things I've done and the pain I've put people through, especially that half-assed little Tokiwadai princess of a teleporter… everyone who knows about him, about what he did. He befriends that little clone, and then, everything's okay. Everything's forgiven and forgotten, the ten thousand lives lost are just… Water under the bridge suddenly, just, "okey doke."

"Yeah… my thoughts exactly. 'Part of me hates myself for not killing him in that switchyard, but, then, what would've become of Last Order and Worst? Maybe, in that situation, I made the right call… But they're safe now. Bastard did what he set out to do. You ask me? Dead, undead, doesn't matter. A monster like him isn't long for this world."

The reality, the gravity of his words set in, within the confines of Musujime Awaki's higher mind.

The words he spoke were so very true. They were words that rang true; they were truer in their meaning than a lot of words she'd heard before.

Musujime Awaki sighed; finally, someone who was willing to see reason, and put their political correctness behind them when it wasn't required. Somehow, those who lurked in the 'darkness' sought to maintain ironic, if translucent facades. What was there to be politically correct about? That monster, Accelerator, he was a killer. Killers weren't to be treated with any level of care.

They were supposed to be trash, thrown away by society.

"We've never gotten along," Awaki remarked, responding to the words Touma had spoken, once she'd managed to emerge from her own musings.

"Him getting knocked around by you isn't enough. Getting knocked around by that Skill Out big guy isn't enough, either. Like I said, I'm no hero. If anything, I'm a villain, just like him… So, maybe… My words don't mean all that much here. It's just how I feel about him. About the whole thing. He could've stopped it before it'd started, you know, Kamijou. Accelerator could've brought the whole operation down on itself. He could've, he should've, but he didn't."

Swiftly, his lips found themselves connecting with those of the Move Point user.

For a few fleeting moments, they remained connected, two becoming one in the moment. Awaki didn't attempt to pull away. She didn't even consider performing the act. Even if his lips tasted oddly coppery, even if they were almost unnaturally cold, the interaction wasn't unwanted.

Then, Kamijou Touma broke away.

"You're nothing like him."

Kamijou Touma spoke words that made the Move Point user and former GROUP Operative start, slightly; yet he wasn't done. He was far from done, in fact.

"I'm still not completely sure what you did, and, to be honest, it's not important. As far as I'm aware, you haven't killed innocents who've done no wrong, let alone thousands of people just for the sake of doing so, for the sake of getting power. It wouldn't matter, the reason. Trivial wrongdoings, backstabbing, those can be made up for, you can rebuild bridges and mend ties. You can't bring the dead back to life, and, even if you do, somehow… Their deaths aren't undone. The pain isn't undone."

"P-Precisely. I didn't. If I did, I'd be a hypocrite for talking shit about him. Whether it was one person or a hundred, it wouldn't matter. I've had it up to here with the emotional dishonesty and emotional mind-games people play, when it comes to him, Kamijou. He deserved to die."

Wordlessly, Kamijou Touma nodded his head in agreement. He couldn't have agreed any more. Musujime Awaki had, in fact, vocalized his own opinion on the matter. She'd voiced it better than even he likely even could've. Her tone, the confidence in her words, she minced nothing and she strayed not from the proverbial path she obviously desired to traverse.

And, so, apparently taking lessons from the proverbial book of the Imagine Breaker's former Bearer, Musujime Awaki moved in, scooting as close as she could. Again, lips connected with another set, cold and icy, almost unnaturally so.

"Let's not think about that anymore. To Hell with him, let him rot in this own shit. You and me, let's get close. Let's take advantage of this situation and exchange kindly words over some tea and biscuits, shall we…? Sheesh. I was supposed to drag you back to the motel with me, on the orders of this Kanzaki lady. Nice lady, real friendly, kinda reminds me of a mom. One of your many… admirers, I take it? Not that I mind or anything. Different situation that most, but, different is good, Hell, I'm different."

"Kanzaki's here? Kanzaki… We've… Kanzaki and I have a history. But, you're the one who caught my intrigue right now. Tea and biscuits, is that it? Is that what the kids are calling it, Musujime? Fine by me. I'm not about to say no."

"That's what I like to hear… We can figure all that out, later."

Despite their coldness, it wasn't a non-pleasurable sensation. Losing themselves, both Musujime Awaki and Kamijou Touma could forget the monster known only as "the Accelerator". Their pasts, seemingly returning from the metaphorical graves they'd both some time ago been buried in had dug themselves up, and threatened to haunt the lives of their once-owners again.

But they were denied, and cast back to their nonexistent graves within their owners' minds, forever trapped once more, forever striving to escape.

Touma's hands seemed to find their own way to Awaki's bared legs; he certainly wasn't about to stop them or even attempt to prevent them from making their way.

"A little birdie told me that a dirty boy named Kamijou likes touching girls' legs. Is that true? Does the all-righteous, maiden-rescuing he~ro enjoy feeling girls up? Nasty, nasty boy."

"That little birdie wasn't telling a lie, they definitely caught me…"

"Touch away, hero-boy. Call it the spoils of victory. I'm down for a little bit of roleplay."

Kamijou Touma almost didn't want to ask; it could've been a potentially dark piece of reality that Musujime Awaki was attempting to bring into 'the moment'.

"The spoils of victory? I don't want to be a buzzkill, but, what victory, exactly? I cut up an insane, rabid animal, it's not a big deal. Hunters do it all the time in the forest. I literally don't see a difference. Haven't always felt this way, but it's the right way to feel. Anything else… It's fake."

Musujime Awaki parted, for a moment, though she didn't move far from where Kamijou Touma had seated himself. With his hands remaining on her bared legs, she placed her own on his shoulders. Looking deeply into his eyes, into the darkened pupils that laid smack-dab within the centers of his irises, Awaki focused her intent.

"Kamijou?"

"Musujime."

"Let me take a stab in the dark. I think, this applies to my own outlook, but you've sort of said the same thing, so… Me? I couldn't hold it against you, but I'm still disappointed, not in you personally, more in… The whole outcome itself, that you didn't finish what you started, on that night. But then, what about the kid? The bigger clone? Both of 'em probably would've ended up in "Kihara-kun's" clutches, one way or another, and that would've been a fate worse than death.

"That's what I think. I think the Accelerator's expunged what use he could be of to the world, to society. I think he knew it, too. He was lethargic, barely able to muster the energy to jab back when that siscon pervert or Mister Dress-Up jabbed at him, coming on the end."

Performing the act he'd come to associate with affection, Kamijou Touma placed a soft kiss to Musujime Awaki's forehead. Though a soft, pink blush adorned her cheeks, she didn't seem to mind, nor did she reel.

In truth, she didn't mind one bit. The softness of it, the obvious desire and care that'd been put into the act was something to be admired.

And rewarded.

But that could wait. In the moment, there were more important matters to attend to. The moment was even more profound within her mind. She found herself sharing it alongside the boy who'd likely saved her life and so many others through his simple, yet profound actions on that misguided night, when teleporter had faced down teleporter.

To her surprise, to her shock and, almost, in a strange, half-baked sense, to her horror, Musujime Awaki witnessed something she'd thought to be an impossibility.

He frowned. Kamijou Touma's lips curled downwards, ever so slightly, curving and bending into the shape of a crescent moon.

Suddenly, he seemed less like an impenetrable Iron Wall of fury.

He frowned because he couldn't get a straight answer. He frowned because his apparently "omniscient" data-gathering protocols seemed to be suddenly running haywire, metaphorically stumbling over themselves as they struggled to reach a conclusive answer.

Kamijou Touma was on his own. He wouldn't be receiving any help, no recommendations, no environmental factors, nothing. Only his own newfound, hateful and vindictive nature, one which demanded for the death of the Accelerator yet again, one which paradoxically grieved at the idea of tearing Last Order's world apart as he had, by killing that rabid animal.

"He isn't making this easy for me. That girl, Last Order…"

"She adores him. I know, Kamijou. Talked to her before a couple of times. She's… She's a really sweet little girl. She says the Sisters forgive him – Accelerator. I'm no doctor and I'm not gonna pretend to be, but I think it's Stockholm Syndrome on a massive scale."

"What he did couldn't have gone unpunished any longer. He needed to answer for it. He needed to pay, an eye for ten thousand eyes. Even if it does make the entire world go blind."

As if to escape, like it was a desperate, last-ditch attempt at fleeing from the duality, Touma kissed Awaki once more, and Musujime Awaki embraced the changing tide which washed over her. Her hands gripped those of Kamijou Touma, and she forced his hands to stroke her legs, as she, with similar force, pushed her tongue deep into his mouth, two sets of lips smacking against one another.

"You stopped it," Awaki insisted between breaths. Forced to 'come up' for air, Awaki spoke when she could. "You stopped it all, you stopped me, you saved me when I was at my worst. You've done more than that, Kamijou. You deserve a rest, a reprieve from all the fucked up nonsense in the world. So kiss me and let loose for a bit… let's feel good together."

"I can't rest, Musujime! Not when I've got people like Tsuchimikado… that fucking snake, he's next, dragging me around, threatening the people I love. But he's just a puppet on a string! I'm sick to death of these puppet-masters! That's why…"

Kamijou Touma attempted to break away, but failed in his short-lived quest to do so. Instead of pulling away, he pushed forward, his form disobeying his converted mind's domineering commands.

"That's why I'm… Not alone. If you, if Index, if Olivia-chan and Mikoto and Seria and… everyone… We'll get going, start from the top, and work our way down to the bottom. It's time we, us, everyone, cut OUR fucking strings. If Agnese told you about what the Roman Orthodox Church has been up to, then, you have an idea of the kind of shit that's been going down, the kind of manipulation and string-tugging.

For a moment, Kamijou Touma silenced himself, before he quickly seemed to change the subject.

"Did she tell you about the real cause behind World War Three?"

Ironically, the subject didn't change all that much. A different branch of the same proverbial, conversational tree.

Musujime Awaki nodded her head, yes. She swallowed, hard, and wiped her arm across her face.

"God's Right Seat", and, more specifically, someone named "Fiamma of the Right", whoever that is. Agnese-san didn't say much about it… a-allergies, eh, Kamijou? Must be some ragweed, out here. Always gets to me."

Kamijou Touma shook his head, yes. Then, from where he'd seated himself Touma rose up.

"He started it. It was Fiamma of the Right, God's Right Seat, an organization within the Roman Orthodox Church that started the War… I could've ended it. Him, I mean, Fiamma. I could've stomped his head until there was nothing left, avenged the millions of lives lost in World War Three, but… I FUCKING DIDN'T! I was a pathetic, cowardly piece of garbage that just couldn't do what had to be done. I'm glad I suffered, I'm glad I was nearly killed! It fixed me. It made me better. It made me smarter, it expanded my mind."

Though she didn't rise, Awaki did cast her gaze toward him. She did look to Kamijou Touma, tilting her head back, as she crossed her right leg over her left, effectively preventing a muscle spasm from occurring before such a thing could near.

"The little nun told us about what happened, y'know. Sheesh, Kamijou, you don't have to be so cryptic about these things. There's nothing for you to be ashamed of."

"She… did?"

"Mhm. Do you really think people are going to hate you because of something that happened to you that was completely beyond your control? You didn't walk up to this place and go, "sign me up", and even if you did, that would've been your decision to make. That fervour you've got when it comes to Accelerator is proof enough that you're not a "bad guy."

And, so, without warning, Kamijou Touma's outer layer of machine-phase matter faded, commanded to flee into its main mass by his converted higher mind, revealing what laid just beneath.

Observing, Musujime Awaki merely tilted her head to the side.

Without his skin, Kamijou Touma was certainly something else. Like the proper form of a human being without his skin, there were muscles, tendons and bones clearly present, each made up of buzzing, swarming masses of something queer. A sort of strange, flowing resin. With individually-defined fingers and toes, he then stood tall, shoulders held back, and with his head held high.

"But you haven't seen it."

"So? We both live in Academy City. Sheesh, you act like this is something out of the ordinary, Kamijou. Is it all that different from an ability? Not really. You look a little different on the inside, but, aside from that, there's really not all that much difference between what the little nun said you can do, and what an ability user can do."

"I… Dunno. I expected you to go "kyaaaaa!" and teleport away, or something along those lines."

Nearly leaping, Musujime Awaki rose to her feet as well, leaving the cold, concrete stair behind. Folding her arms beneath her bosom, she continued to look toward Kamijou Touma, whose outer layer of nanorobotic resin had reformed.

"I'm not about that. Is there really a point in being a judgmental prick? I don't see one, it doesn't get you anywhere. What you were forced to become, at least, that's how the little nun described it, that doesn't change who you are and what you've done, and what you stand for. Doesn't make you any less of a person. In my books, you're just as human as I am."

For a while, Kamijou Touma simply held Musujime Awaki in his arms, finding himself at a loss for words. In equal silence, the Move Point user returned the embrace.

Even if his entire body was cold to an almost unnatural degree, that hardly mattered. Cold or warm, flesh or something else entirely, he was him, someone, an individual, a person more than worthy of respect and companionship.

Such were the thoughts that drifted through Awaki's mind as she placed her arms around his back, interlocking her own fingers with one another.

"Kamijou, it's getting pretty late. You've… you've been here all night, come chill with us. Well, 'us' being those who managed to stay up. Nun, the Railgun, that spear girl who showed up with Kanzaki, and a bunch of other lovely ladies couldn't make it, just passed out. Heh… can't say I blame them. Long trip, and all, I'd probably be doing the same if I wasn't a nighthawk. So, come on, huh? I'll telepo…"

Kamijou Touma quickly broke the embrace. Raising his hands into the air, as if he was guilty of some crime which he'd been caught carrying out, he shook his head, no.

"Maybe we should just walk, Musujime. Your offer's really nice, and I appreciate it, but the last time you teleported me, my body go all scrambled. Seria had to keep an eye on me until, uh, my magnetic field reset. See, it's what holds me together."

Her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, almost illuminating themselves in the blanket of night that'd come to consume all things.

"S-Sorry. I… Didn't know. You're good, right?"

"Yeah, perfectly. Magnetic field resets itself, if it isn't fucked with by electric interference. The conversation with Mikoto about that, holy Hell… that was awkward. "Hey, Misaka, can you please stop zapping me? The magnetic field that keeps me from turning into a pile of pudding will be fried, if you don't!"

Musujime Awaki swiftly took Kamijou Touma's hand into her own, and lead the being that'd once been a high school-aged boy along with her, approaching the alleyway squeezed between Havenshire's pharmacy and general store.

"I'll protect from that mean Railgun, don't fret, Kamijou~. Every he~ro needs a he~ro, sometimes."

Even as the two walked, Kamijou Touma took to Misaka Mikoto's defense.

"Well, to be completely fair, once I explained the whole thing to her, she understood and completely stopped hurling lightning at me. She… She took it all really well, a lot better than I expected."

Not turning to the side to face him – Kamijou Touma had taken to striding beside Musujime Awaki, as an equal, not a tag-along – and instead keeping her vision focused on the twisting, cobbled pathway in front of her, Awaki spoke her piece, in response.

"You need to stop thinking that you're some sort of freakish monster with bolts in your neck. Something shitty happened to you, and this is how you are now. You don't look any different from how you used to look, unless you get rid of your skin."

"That's nice of you to say that… Thanks."

"I think you're too handsome for your own good. With your hair combed all down like that? Uuuunnffff, hunk. Sheesh, I could… I could do some disgusting things to you. You seem confident to me, the way you talk to the… Eh-eh, the opposite sex, you strike me as someone who isn't about to be shoved around. That's so fucking hot to me. It speaks volumes about who you are. You're someone I could get used to associating with. These last couple of days, crossing paths with you, they've been more exciting, more meaningful than the last damn year."

"Is that true?"

"It's true to me. I think you're someone who can take me places, help me open doors and find opportunities. GROUP? With GROUP, I'm lucky if I make a paycheck that doesn't bounce. It's… It's always the same thing. Take out these people who are giving our superiors problems, get rid of these people who could cause this stock to rise and this stock to fall… It's meaningless, it's a corporate sham."

Passing by a number of ratty, run-down sections of ventilation piping, most, if not all of which seemed to have once (or perhaps never) been intended to serve the motel, Musujime Awaki and Kamijou Touma continued on their way.

"There's always someone out to use someone else," Touma acknowledged. "It all comes down to a matter of whether you allow yourself to be fucked around with or not. Standing up to these people and saying "no" is an important step to take."

A short period passed, and, sooner than later, both parties found themselves nearing the desolate, nearly-skeletal, stillborn construction project that was struggling, trying and failing to pass itself off as a motel.

The Move Point user cast her gaze to the Imagine Breaker's former Bearer; the former teleported herself to the ground below, while the latter leapt without issue, landing upon his two feet, perfectly balanced with a powerful thud.

"I want to do something, be remembered for something… Something other than the shitty things I did to innocent people in the past. I want to be remembered as someone who did something, anything, to further something positive. But, I want to have fun, too. I want to feel good, laugh, figure myself out. I've been doing a lot of that in my spare time."

Both parties were quite close to the structure that had the audacity to refer to itself as a 'motel'; Kamijou Touma couldn't quite figure out why the Amakusans even left a sign up at all. Advertising the ratty old thing was simply embarrassing. Musujime Awaki, for one, kept her gaze focused on the roof they'd just been sitting upon, which looked like it could collapse in on itself at any moment.

Indeed, what a lovely place to catch some restful Z's.

With the dingy, beaten entranceway doors some mere ten feet away from both Touma and Awaki, the former spoke his piece.

"I can't promise you that I can really do any of that. I wouldn't make that promise, because I don't even know all that much about myself. I think those are things you have to do on your own, but, if, while you're around me you should happen to find doors to open or happen to figure out something about yourself that you didn't already know… Well, then, I'm glad to have been of some use to someone."

Before she opened the thin, flimsy-looking barrier before her, mere moments before the Move Point user's hand fell upon the dingy thing's doorknob, she cast her gaze to the Imagine Breaker's former Bearer once more.

"I do know one thing for sure… I want to eventually kiss those lips of yours again, and I want to let you put those hands of yours all over me… With safe zones acknowledged, y'know, safe words, play it cool."

With a crooked, toothy grin plastered across her face, Awaki looked downward.

"For a handsome, 'oh so valiant he~ro' such as yourself, a reward… But not right now. I'm not about to jump into a bed with someone I barely know on a personal level. Sorry to disappoint, Kamijou, but I don't roll like that."

"No, no, that's a good thing. I wouldn't have recommended it in the first place. It'd be more meaningful if we got to know one another a bit better, no?"

With a chuckle, she added onto her previously-vocalized words.

"Glad to know we're on the same page. Funnily enough, y'know, boys are usually more interested in other things. Like busting nuts and dipping out. I'm not about that dirty shit. Keep that goop to yourself, bust your nuts into a tissue or something."

"People of both genders can be pretty scummy," Touma spoke.

In response, Awaki shook her head, yes, affirmatively. Turning her hand to the right, she gently pushed the motel's flimsy front door open, and, with Kamijou Touma not far behind her, both parties stepped inside.

"Yeah, you're right. It's… Almost too easy to lay all the blame on boys. Sheesh, girls can do janky things too, like get themselves knocked up just for the sake of doing so, or to get themselves strapped with some quick cash from the City. It's all dirty business. Can't confirm it, but I've heard talk that those 'incidents' are partially responsible for the Child Error issue. Just going to assume, considering all the crazy stuff you've involved yourself in, that you've heard of Child Errors."

"Unfortunately," Touma responded, tone of voice growing softer; while he certainly absorbed the Move Point user's words, and wasn't about to leave her hanging in perpetual limbo without acknowledging this in-taking of knowledge, he was almost too taken aback by the state of the motel's interior to even properly respond.

Having entered the space which was intended to resemble some sort of lobby, Kamijou Touma observed and quickly made individual notes on several 'interesting objects' that dotted the premises. Aside from a less-than-serviceable service counter, crafted and carved from wooden materials of some sort, the rotten, mouldering carpeted flooring beneath he and Musujime Awaki's respective feet lead toward a lounge.

Though small, it wasn't overly cramped, nor was it attempting to overcompensate. For the purpose it served, it, in terms of size, wasn't all that poor, not by Touma's standards.

The physical state of what was found within was another matter, entirely.

The walls were practically falling apart. Sections of wooden beams were visible beneath what drywall remained. Tufts of insulation were blooming from within, like wild weed growths in a garden, so many unwanted blemishes.

Mounted upon what few sections of layered drywall remained were worn and faded watercolour portraits, depicting vast, surprisingly gorgeous and vaguely ethereal landscapes. Rolling fieldscapes with glowing, blue skies above, the flowing grasslands depicted with marigolds dotting their surfaces. One portrait appeared to have fallen into a crooked state of being, and depicted a large sailboat in open conflict with the waves of a particularly merciless sea. From above, as if hurled from the spiteful hand of some long-forgotten god, lightning descended in great, enormous and hideously jagged, almost misshapen bolts.

Containing among other pieces of furniture a set of tall, single seats, which looked to have been comfortable at one point in time, a total of five had at some point been placed around a small, round coffee table, whose thin, wooden legs, when compared to what the legs of a table should've looked like, seemed thin and almost pathetically feeble. Nearby, there was a small study desk placed in the northernmost corner of the ratty lounge.

Slumped forward in their seats were Kumokawa Seria and Othinus. Shaking his head and quietly chuckling, Kamijou Touma approached.

The seat in which Othinus had chosen to rest looked have been pilfered from elsewhere in the desolate, perpetually-crumbling motel, given its size and decorative differences from the seat in which Seria had chosen to lay her posterior. Fast asleep, Othinus made no sound at all as he chest slowly rose and fell. Seria, on the other hand, softly snored, her fingers interlocked with those of the former Magic God.

"Sheesh. What kind of absurdist art were those two drawing? Could that be a "Magic Circle"? Kind of looks like one."

Kamijou Touma leaned forward. Having fully closed the distance between himself and the girls' chosen place of temporary residence, he observed the scrawling created by Kumokawa Seria and Othinus.

"It does look like one. Symbols are arranged in that way, though Index has told me there's more than one way to make a Magic Circle."

Though many pieces from a pad of paper had been utilized, most crinkled and tossed about the desk's aging, metallic surface, one and one alone seemed to have worked as the two had planned, whatever that plan had been.

Another possibility was entirely possible; the possibility dictating that there hadn't been any kind of plan at all, and that the scrawling had come about by a chance conversational encounter had to be considered, no matter how unlikely.

Why Kamijou Touma put such deep thought into the matter, not even he quite knew.

Allowing his converted higher mind to wander, data-gathering protocols continued to funnel as much information back to their 'master' as was possible for them.

As always, apparently, they were silent regarding the 'nature' of magic, and all details revolving around the 'Other Side'. They reported nothing and they knew nothing.

Musujime Awaki took a short breath, before she took to Kamijou Touma's side, and then spoke her piece.

"Well, I'm gonna hit the bed. Not going to sleep just yet, probably just dick around on my phone – can you believe this place has Wi-Fi? Sheesh, it barely looks like it has a functioning water tank. I'll be in 3-8, third floor, eighth room, if you want to chat, or just chill. Like I said, nighthawk."

"Let's just clear this up ahead of time. This isn't an "invitation", is it? Personally, I'd rather take it slow, too."

"Nah. When I say "chill" I mean "chill", and that's it. I mean… if you wanted to, like… Hold hands or something lame like that? I guess that's alright. Just nothing too crazy, y'know? I want to figure you out, he~ro boy. Tired of the flings."

He rested his hand upon her shoulder. Looking upward, Awaki raised an eyebrow, and offered Touma a small, though genuine grin, one of considerable and real mirth.

"It's all working, here," Touma remarked. With a shake of his head, yes, he removed his hand from where it'd come to rest. "Wanted to know what was what, so no 'misunderstandings' came out. Better to get it all out in the open and lay down the lines. An invitation like that, not an "invitation" could pretty easily get lost in translation."

And, so, the resulting outcome wasn't so unexpected. When Musujime Awaki stood on her toes and placed a kiss to the lips of Kamijou Touma, it wasn't a complete shock, with their apparently ongoing conversation in mind.

"Thanks. I know that we don't really know each other that well, and, me being here might seem a bit strange to you magic-guys, but, I want to figure it out for myself. GROUP obviously wasn't going to tell me a thing about any of it. If this is going to give me the chance to make something out of myself, then, you can bet that I'm on board."

Touma observed on, as the Move Point user looked to her feet, either of her cheeks beginning to glow a bright shade of pink.

"Plus... S-Sheesh. What is it about you? You get me all awkward-like. It's real swell that you know where to draw lines and how to show a girl respect. 'Not something you see a lot, these days. So, yeah. Again. Thanks, Kamijou."

Just as she was about to perform the calculations required to utilize her ability on her own body, Awaki managed to catch herself, and proverbially skid to a metaphorically grinding halt. Looking up, she returned her gaze to the eyes of Kamijou Touma, who offered her a soft smile. With equal softness, she smiled back.

"Oh, hey, by the way, I almost forgot. The whole reason I went out to find you in the first place! Duh. Sheesh, my mind's all scrambled, like a bowl of eggs…"

"It happens to the best of us," Touma responded. Looking from side to side, his guard perpetually remained up, despite the relative tranquility of the situation in which he'd found himself.

With her left hand's index finger, Awaki pointed to the rotten service desk, some few feet behind her.

"That Kanzaki lady is downstairs. Your magic buddies are cool, but, this place, Kamijou, it's the shits. Can you believe this dump has a basement, that, you know, functions? I thought it would've collapsed. Anyway… I'm… off. So, er, cat'cha on the flip-side. Again, feel free to stop by whenever. If ya want, no pressure."

"Sheesh… smooth moves, Awaki, smooooth moves. You're a regular charmer."

There was no verbal response, at first. Kamijou Touma merely opened his arms; a silent offer. It was one which was taken by the Move Point user, who returned the offer in kind. A two-way embrace was formed.

"If you can't tell, I'm fond of hugs."

"Eheheh… Hugging cute girls, at least. Personally, I think it's adorable, so feel free to ask for a hug at any time. Night-night, "Kami-yan."

Within a mere moment, Touma found his arms empty, wrapped around nothing save oxygenated air. Lacking anything to embrace, they fell back to his sides.

While he would've liked nothing more than to seek out the Move Point user and chat the night's darkness away with her, perhaps even have her fall asleep in his arms, there were questions that floated through Kamijou Touma's converted her mind, unable to be answered by his data-gathering protocols, which seemed incapable of even comprehending magic.

Touma needed genuine answers, and, in the situation in which he'd found himself, he'd need to get them he old-fashioned way.

Kanzaki Kaori awaited him.