Quick thing: thanks, alex1893, for following and favoriting, both this piece and A Certain Strange Scenario! It's great to have you on board. Thanks, ArkChange for following and favoriting, both this piece and A Certain Strange Scenario! I really appreciate your support.
The time for responses is upon us, brother and sisters. Let us usher it in like—
Let's just get into it.
Guest: thanks for the correction, friend; I must've accidentally skimmed over that one during my proofreading. Ended up just rewording the offending words completely!
Anon Guest: mercy is yours, friend; the "Ojou-Sama x commoner" roleplay will be glorious, of that I can assure you. I have to admit, it wasn't actually a conscious attempt at referencing Heavy Object, but, it's interesting to know that you picked that out; perhaps it was a subconscious reference?
There's probably a fair bit of jealousy, from both sides of the gender scale.
Kamisato Kakeru is merely a man; and a man can't escape the call of DAT ASS, no matter its source. Floris just happens to be in possession of DAT ASS. I suppose Floris's "predicament" is a double-edged sword; it can be a source of pride, but, it can also attract many a suitor, some who might be potentially unwanted.
The Kamijous could potentially give the Shokuhous a few tips, tricks, and hints, as how to have a healthy marriage; the only issue is, would the Shokuhous want such a thing? Would they even know what to do with a "healthy" marriage? More of Misaki's past, and her relationship with her parents, will be explored in Times Change's narrative.
Accelerator's change of heart was a gradual one; but it's clear to see that Academy City's "top dog" is still in possession of some deep-seeded regret. How could he not be? I think that it will fall to him, and to Last Order to work out, together. Speaking of Last Order, we'll be seeing more of her and Index, this chapter!
As always, I'm glad to know that I'm able to consistently gain your approval, friend! I hope to be able to continue to do so.
321jaz: new chappy! New chappy, here, too! No need to say more; you've said all that needs to be said, friend.
It almost seems that Kakeru's ideals, and morals have taken an ironic twist; it's as if Kakeru has become an inverted Kamijou Touma. Makes one wonder if Kakeru is, in fact, aware of this? Perhaps, it's some sort of personal statement?
Though we've already discussed this, I'll answer your question, here, too; it was a conscious act, at least, Kakeru having World Rejector "turned on" was a conscious act. We'll get into why Kakeru had the World Rejector "idling", and what Kakeru's choice has to do with his overall personality.
Floris's eyes were opened; but, will that stop her from pursuing love, or, at least, pursing lust? There's often a very fine, blurred line between the two. A tell-all with Kamisato Kakeru could be the deciding factor.
I have to agree; I think that does sound like it would be fun to write! It would also give Misaka Mikoto and Accelerator the chance to get a bit closer. We've already seen three members of the Railgun quartet introduced. Now, it's just a matter of making the Railgun trio a quartet, with the introduction of Uiharu Kazari.
You're reading absolutely correctly. It, unfortunately, brought back some particularly bad memories for our beloved Misaki; but, she's a strong woman. She has overcome worse. I'd certainly like for this piece to take a glimpse into the past of Kamijou Misaki, before her fateful meeting with a certain pointy-haired boy.
Actually, I've never watched that film; I just thought the idea of Othinus grasping strands of Accelerator's hair and "whipping" him would be an entertaining sight to see.
Oh, I plan to. I plan to do lots of "haughty Ojou-Sama x lowly commoner" roleplay, in this piece. Following the Kamijous' adventure at the Grand Kingdom, there might just be an entire chapter dedicated to it. If not an entire chapter, most of an entire chapter.
Accelerator, indeed, seems to be out of the loop, in that regard. I think some questions are better left unanswered, some mysteries better left unsolved. The original Kakine Teitoku could very well be ready to strike back at his foes at any moment. Perhaps, in another time and place, he's working on it. Or perhaps not. The flow of the streams of time is constantly changing. For example, in another time and place, in a universe, where Possibilities are Infinite, Dark Matter has already met his match.
It does? Good! That means I'm doing my job correctly. That's exactly the kind of vibe I wanted the Grand Kingdom to give off. I'm glad to hear.
As always, I'm glad to know that I'm able to continue to gain your approval, and the collective approvals of most of my lovely readers.
DarkBetrayer: poon is a way of life. Poon is a measurement of one's tenacity. Without poon, we'd go extinct. Poon is, quite literally, love and life.
Whwsms: oh, man, I can totally imagine that. I can imagine Misaki scowling, as she stares "Beauty-Senpai" down, and I can imagine Touma trying to settle the one-sided tension, between his wife, and his old friend. Of course, there'd be no lasting malice between the two parties. I'm quite certain that Kumokawa Seria wouldn't become the victim of the "death glare".
I get the reference. I can see Othinus sitting on the shoulder of Kamijou Touma, or Index, or perhaps even Accelerator, and cheering on her co-guardian, as said co-guardian pummelled some unfortunate soul.
As always, glad to know that I'm able to consistently gain your approval, friend!
Hilem: "Giddyup, horsey."
"Do you want to die, one-eyed brat?"
The conversation's outcome will likely come down to whether or not Floris will accept Kamisato Kakeru's imperfections. Even then, if she does, what does Floris plan to gain? She hardly knows this young man. She knows nothing of his inner self; Floris only knows that she likes his handsome exterior.
As I explained previously, we'll actually be checking in with Last Order and Index; I, too, am curious to know what they're up to. Here's to hoping they're being wholesome, and not engaging in any sort of behavior that would make Misaka Worst proud.
The next chapter is here! I hope you enjoy reading it, and all subsequent chapters, as much as I enjoy writing them!
Guest00: that's a really good idea; it sounds like it would be fun to see put into action! I wonder how the Kamijous will react? Even if the dorm manager didn't know it was them, who were engaging in coitus on that fateful night, it might be just a bit embarrassing for our married couple.
Shia. His name is Shia, and he is the motivational guy. DO IT!
Kamijou Index fluffed her hair, and looked into the mirror, that hung on the wall of the bathroom of Accelerator's, Misaka Worst's, and Last Order's home. She hadn't originally paid a visit to the bathroom to check herself out; she'd actually had to use the toilet, and dispose of waste that'd been pushing her bladder into a raging screaming fit. Aside from the fact that her face was red, and her lips were curled into an almost sarcastic-looking smile, Index's physical form was in peak condition.
Stepping out of the bathroom, feeling quite relieved, Index made her way to the kitchen, stumbling only once or twice, which lead to her giggling loudly. On the counter, a translucent, average-sized glass cup sat, almost empty. The residue, left behind by a bright, yellow substance that'd been mostly consumed gleamed beneath the synthetic light shined down upon the kitchen counter, by the room's ceiling lights.
Opening the fridge with a somewhat forceful yank, which caused a number of objects inside of the fridge to shake, Index grabbed for one of these objects; it was a tall, plastic bottle of lemonade. A bright, yellow cap sat on the top of the bottle. It was obviously an off-brand variety; the "brand" was referred to as "Just Value". Simple black letters, in a simple font, typed onto a simple, white label.
Beneath the "Just Value" "brand" name, there was a picture of cartoony, half-sliced lemons, stacked on top of one another. From them, lemon juice dripped into the white void beneath them. The cartoony lemons appeared to be floating in this void, with nothing holding them up; obviously, Index was putting too much thought into the matter. Producing the bottle of lemonade, which she'd spent more than a few seconds simply staring at, Index closed the fridge door behind her, and poured more into her glass.
Opening the fridge door, and then returning the bottle of lemonade to the section of the fridge's fourth shelf, where she'd found it, she reached to the back of the fridge, and grasped at a glass bottle. Inside of it, clear liquid, that uncannily resembled water splashed. The bottle's cap was tall, and dark red. The glass bottle was square-shaped, and had a much more ornate label than the bottle of lemonade. Circular, most of the label was dark red, like the cap, with a dark, golden trim. In the center of the label, the brand's logo was found. Vaguely brick-like, the text was the same coloration as the label's trimmed borders. "Jack's Finest", it read.
Prying the lid off, Index placed her nostrils just over the glass bottle, and inhaled. The scent was strong, and it made the nun's nose scrunch. Her lips curled into a pout, before she began to giggle. Approaching her glass, Index let a small stream of the liquid drip into her glass. Yanking it away, after just the right amount of clear liquid had been poured into the glass, Index proceeded to put the glass bottle back into the fridge, where she'd found it, label facing away from her; just as she'd found it. Mixing the two liquids together in her glass, with a straw, Index grinned malevolently, her face still bright red.
Leaving the kitchen behind, and rushing up the stairs that lead to Last Order's and Worst's rooms, Index stumbled into Last Order's room. The clone of Misaka Mikoto turned her head to face Index; like her friend, Last Order's face was bright red. On her desk, Last Order had an identical glass, filled with an identical substance to that which filled Index's glass.
"Do it, MISAKA MISAKA demands, wanting to see if her friend has the proverbial balls to become fully intoxicated!" Last Order exclaimed, as she leapt up from her desk's chair. Stumbling, slightly, Last Order began to pump her fist, as Index looked on, giggling. "Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink, MISAKA MISAKA chants!"
Index shrugged her shoulders, and, placing her glass to her to her lips, she tossed her head back, and swiftly chugged the glass's contents, as Last Order's music thumped, the jack of the surround-sound speakers that were placed in the top corners of her room plugged into her tablet's headphone port, whose music streaming app was open. The music was instrumental; it sounded like the instrumental beat that a western MC would rap over. The instrumental's bass thumped, repeatedly, three times, then four, then three thumps again.
On her head, Last Order wore a Gekota baseball cap, which was turned to the right. Over her eyes, she wore a pair of bright green sunglasses, despite, or perhaps because of the fact that she was indoors. Nodding her head, repeatedly, in line with the instrumental's bass's thumps, Last Order stood with a slight hunch, her lips curled into an almost aggressive-looking scowl.
Removing the glass from her lips, and wiping the top of her left hand over her lips, Index produced a content sigh, before she began to hiccup. "Last Order… I'm so fucked. You know what we should do?"
Last Order was still taken aback by Index's cursing; she'd never heard the nun use such vulgar language under normal circumstances. Of course, as intoxication floated around the higher mind of Last Order, it suddenly didn't seem like such a big deal. They were both "fried"; the clone of Misaka Mikoto was at least going to have some fun.
"MISAKA is pretty turnt, too… what should we do, MISAKA MISAKA asks?" Last Order inquired, as she continued to perpetually lean forward, slightly, in place, and bend, and then un-bend her knees.
"We should check and see if the Conspiracy King is streaming."
Last Order suddenly broken down, laughing; she knew actually what Index was referring to.
"MISAKA thanks that's a great idea, too, MISAKA MISAKA explains, as she struggles to control her laughter," Last Order spoke. Taking a hold of Last Order's tablet, Index proceeded to exit the device's music streaming app, by pressing the home button. On the home device's home screen, Index scrolled to the side, repeatedly, until she eventually found the infamous streaming service, Qoozle Watch.
Index knew there were far superior streaming services available; Qoozle Watch commonly scraped the bottom of the barrel. Index knew its "content creators" consisted of idiots reading out information they'd stolen from unreliable Internet news sites, and offensive "content creators" who couldn't find an audience anywhere else.
Tapping on the app's icon, Index turned to face Last Order, who'd taken to standing next to her, arms crossed. Last Order's facial expression was still one of absolute seriousness. Even without the instrumental music, Last Order was still leaning in place, like a true to life gangster. Index could barely contain her laughter; a drunk Last Order was a funny Last Order.
Index turned back, just as the loading bar had been completely colored purple. There was a slight rippling effect, on the purple loading bar, but it didn't do much other than make Index feel like she was becoming motion sick; the longer her eyes looked at it, the more Index felt like she was going to upchuck. How much alcohol had she even consumed? Her most recent glass could've only been her third. Or was it her fourth? Index wasn't sure. She couldn't've consumed more than five glasses worth.
Qoozle Watch's mobile app loaded, in all of its glory. Its background was white, while the rest of the app's user interface was purple; the same shade of purple as the loading bar had been. At the top of the screen, there was a purple bar, which ran from one side of Last Order's tablet's screen to the other. There were numerous tabs.
Separated from one another by small indents, there were a total of six different tabs; "TRENDING", "WHAT'S NEW", "STAR SELECTIONS", "HONORABLE MENTIONS", "QOOZLE WATCH TERMS OF SERVICE", and, finally, there was the "PRIVACY" tab. Each tab was identified by the white, bubbly text that was in the center of each. Tapping on any one of these tabs would produce a drop-down menu, from which more options could be explored.
Tapping on the third tab, Index was greeted with the "Star Selections" that Qoozle Watch had on offer; one "content creator" was hosting a stream in which they were creating "High Art" out of their own hardened feces. Index quickly scrolled past it, and to the next, who was hosting a "rant stream". Index couldn't care less what the "content creator" had on their mind, or what they were so uptight about.
The third most popular stream being hosted in Qoozle Watch's "Star Selections" tab hadn't even had a semi-professional logo placed; the stream's "logo" (Index felt that it could hardly be called that) was nothing more than a poor quality photo of a man's face. Index shuddered, as did Last Order, next to her; it seemed to snap the clone of Misaka Mikoto out of her intoxicated trance. Removing her hat, and her sunglasses, Last Order tossed them both onto her bed, and, wrapping an arm around the nun's shoulders, Last Order, too, began to examine the man's face.
He was wearing a hot pink beanie, which had an odd symbol in its center. The odd symbol might've had some sort of significance, but, the two young women couldn't possibly begin to try and discern its meaning; it was made up of three triangles. Two on the bottom, one on the top. All three of the shapes met at their respective points. Over the odd symbol, there was a bright red circle, with a line that ran diagonally through it. Apparently, this fellow wasn't fond of triangles.
Of North American descent, this man had pointy facial hair, which wouldn't have looked out of place on the jovial face of a garden gnome. It hung from his cheeks, and from his chin. His upper lip, too, had been consumed by the dark, ash-colored facial hair. His eyebrows were bushy, his eyes dark brown in coloration. His nose was of average size, and appeared to be scrunched up, as if in repulse, despite the fact that his facial expression portrayed no such emotion. His lips were pursed, straightened, into a look of complete neutrality. The man's cheeks were covered in messy strands of facial hair. His brow was wrinkled, quite severely so; it was an odd sight. The man's forehead looked older, somehow, than the rest of his face.
"You ready? This could be really, really cringey. In fact, I can promise this will be cringey," Index warned, wagging a finger in Last Order's direction. "LeekMan's terrible streams are nothing to be taken lightly!"
"MISAKA thinks she's ready, MISAKA MISAKA says, hoping that her inner turmoil isn't leaking out into her spoken words," Last Order remarked.
Index hovered the index finger of her right hand over the image of the man's face, for a moment. A determined facial expression crossed her face, as Index pressed her finger down onto the tempered glass screen of Index's tablet. Instantaneously, the screen faded to white, and a small, spinning circle appeared. Spinning clockwise, the glowing, purple circle occasionally produced a burst of color from its center. Orange hues, blues, greens, reds, and yellows were among the globs that were produced.
For a split second, the nun, and the clone of Misaka Mikoto believed that the app would crash; a part of both of them would've been grateful if it did. They were met with no such luck, however; the tempered glass touchscreen of Last Order's tablet faded from white, to an empty room. In the stream's chat, a small, white box which sat in the left hand corner of the stream, text, and little yellow smiley faces, with a wide array of facial expressions zoomed by, at speeds that neither Index nor Last Order could comprehend.
Index placed the tablet down on Last Order's desk, and placed a hand to her chin, the index finger and thumb of her hand caressing the protrusion. Like Index, Last Order looked down at the tablet.
"MISAKA can't see anything; maybe we should turn up the brightness? MISAKA MISAKA suggests, hoping that the stream isn't going to be one of those wretched screamers," Last Order suggested, as she placed the palms of her hands against the surface of her desk, and tilted her head to one side. Her hair, still tied up into a bun, flopped to the side as Last Order tilted her neck.
"If it's a screamer, I'll actually flame this goofball in the chat," Index snarled, silver eyebrows arching, as she scrunched her nose. "I'm gonna do that, then, I'm gonna grab another drink, eheheheheheheh… you want more, cutie?"
Last Order giggled, her face growing even redder, as she shook her head. "MISAKA is good for the night, and probably for the next week… you're a regular party girl, MISAKA MISAKA admits, knowing that she's a filthy lightweight."
"No shame, Last Order; I'm a lightweight, too. I don't know how much I've had, exactly, but it can't be that much, and I'm frrriiieeeddddd. Touma and Misaki are going to be wigging out. Oh well," Index muttered, hiccupping between words, as she turned up the tablet's brightness. "No big panic. They'll do the do and forget about it before long. Horndogs. Works out for me, though!"
Index stepped out of Last Order's room; Last Order herself peered down at her tablet's screen. She heard Index stumble, and curse aloud, causing her to begin to giggle; Index's own giggling wasn't far behind Last Order's.
On the screen of Last Order's tablet, the empty room's lighting was dull, and dirty. It looked like it was illuminated only by a half-functioning ceiling lamp. Last Order could make out wooden panelling, along the singular wall that the low quality camera was filming; covered in dust, they looked like they hadn't been cleaned, or even had proper maintenance performed on them in months, if not years.
Last Order could see small holes in the panelling, and, emerging from said holes, Last Order could see insects. Little specks, that were just a shade or two darker than the walls themselves. The clone shuddered, as she continued to look down at her tablet's screen, morbid curiosity peaked.
In front of the wall, there was a futon; it certainly wasn't a bed, and it didn't have that distinctive "couch look" to it; Last Order's guardian certainly spent enough time on their home's couch for the clone to know what a distinctive "couch look" truly was. The futon was dark green in coloration, and torn in some places; in these tears, dirtied, white wads of cotton emerged. The cotton protrusions were plastered in brown stains. Its sheets were rippled, dirtied, and looked like they hadn't been cleaned in months, if not years.
Above the couch, there were a number of shelves, that were mounted to the wall. On them, were rows of toys. Children's toys. They didn't even look like the types of toys that someone who collected such things as a hobby would have. Rubber ducks, with mould growing upon them, little nutcrackers, splintered, their jaws broken, small, worn-looking rubbery toy cars, which, like their duck-shaped counterparts, looked to have long ago become colonized by black mould, and, most unsettling of all, to Last Order, was a doll, that was vaguely shaped like a human infant. Its eyes were glossy, glowing beneath the dull light provided by the ceiling. The doll's "skin" was pale, and faded, looking almost sickly.
Last Order suddenly jumped, as someone, an actual human being, came into view. He stumbled in from the left side of the camera, and, shaking slightly, sat himself down on the futon; something crinkled beneath his posterior.
"Has he started streaming yet? Is he streaming? I hope he's streaming! I'm going to be legitimately mad, if he doesn't stream today, of all the days," Index ranted, as she stumbled, almost as awkwardly as the man on Last Order's tablet's screen. Her face was bright red, and her grin had grown even wider, as she took a sip of her drink. "My girl, baby, bombshell, booty-shaking Queen! Is LeekMan streaming?"
"He is, but he's just staring into the camera, MISAKA MISAKA explains, finding herself feeling oddly hypnotized by the strange, wide eyes of LeekMan," Last Order mumbled in response. She sounded tired; Index felt like she was beginning to sober up, just a bit. Where was the normally energetic and peppy Last Order that Index knew and platonically loved?
As Index placed her glass down on Last Order's desk, the streamer, who was staring into the camera from which he was broadcasting, began to speak. His eyes were wide, full of what Last Order recognized to be paranoia. They darted from side to side, in his head, as he spoke. LeekMan looked worse than usual; Index hadn't thought that such a thing was possible. He spoke with a terrible stutter. The nun took to Last Order's side, and wrapping her arms around her friend, Index warmly, lovingly nuzzled her.
He spoke in English. At the bottom of his stream, there were a number of subtitles, each in different dialects. Japanese, Spanish, and a strange, almost runic language that Last Order didn't recognize; Index was too busy feeling her friend up to even pay attention to the stream.
"H-hello… w-world… I-I… mean, LeekMan N-Nation… I-I'm your h-h…. h-host, LeekMan, a-and… L-let's get r-r… r-right into… w-what's g-go…. Going on…"
Last Order's eyes had locked with the eyes of the man on her tablet's screen. Somehow, they widened even more; she thought that LeekMan's eyelids were going to be torn open. Last Order could almost see the tops of his eyes.
LeekMan began to speak. Fluently, softly, almost meekly. His stutter was suddenly absent. He almost seemed robotic. His shaking had stopped. Last Order backed away, slightly, intimidating. LeekMan was staring into his camera, not blinking, not swallowing.
"They're here, LeekMan Nation. I know they're here. I knew they'd find me, someday, but… I wish I could've been able to keep them off my trail for a few days longer. There're things that I need to share with you, Nation, but, I can't, now; they're tapping this stream. They've been tapping all of my social media posts. They've all taken longer than usual to go up. All of my posts are being scanned through lizard banker technology, far beyond any technology that even Academy City has.
"At night, Nation, I've seen them in my windows at night, looking in. The lizard bankers, Nation, they're planning on making their move. I know it. No one is safe. This is the last broadcast I'm going to be able to get out, for a while. I need to run; far, far away from here. They're trying to silence the truth. If I stay here, Nation, they're going to kill me.
"The lizard bankers have people everywhere. Canada, the UK, right here, in our beautiful United States of America… they're trying… to take our guns. Trying to disarm us, so we can't fight back against them. They're in Japan, probably in Academy City, China, Africa. They're everywhere, Nation. Your own family could be lizard bankers, and you won't be the wiser, until they shapeshift, take your guns, and kill you with them. Run, Nation. RUN!"
The stream cut, as LeekMan reached out towards the camera. On the blank, black screen, where LeekMan's stream had once been broadcasted, there was only scrolling, white text, which read, "this content creator is offline."
"What the… what the fuck was that, even? LeekMan's gone off the deep end," Index muttered, between hiccups. "You have nice hips, Last Order. We need to go tear up the floor, one day. Can you shake these things? I bet you'd have every boy on the floor drooling for that booty. We'd have to bring Accelerator, and stuff him off in a corner. I want to see his reaction to seeing his little girl being sized up."
"MISAKA doesn't know; MISAKA thinks that LeekMan has finally gone over the edge. MISAKA's kind of worried about LeekMan, MISAKA MISAKA admits, hoping that her fairly obvious state of unease gets through to her intoxicated friend," Last Order remarked, ignoring Index's drunken, sexually-charged ramblings.
Index ceased her stroking; removing her hands from Last Order's hips, the nun placed the palms of her hands against either of Last Order's cheeks, and looked into her eyes.
"LeekMan's a nutter, babe. Remember last week? Princess Carissa was a lizard alien from the planet Reptilicus, who was going to instill the New World Order and force us all into slavery. She was also going to "take our guns", and give them to the New World Order's celebrity slaves. Never happened! Nothing he ever says happens, babe!" Index exclaimed.
Last Order sat herself down on her bed. Index, stumbling, followed, and tossed herself back onto the bed. Giggling loudly, and jovially, Index let herself fall into the bed. Last Order smiled at her friend; at least Index was a happy drunk.
"MISAKA isn't worried about that; MISAKA has enough sense to know that LeekMan's just paranoid. MISAKA is worried about LeekMan's health. What if he tries to hurt himself, or someone else, thinking they're a lizard banker, MISAKA MISAKA rhetorically asks, not expecting her friend to have all of the answers."
"Oohh," Index mumbled. "Yeah, I get it now. I think he's pretty harmless, babe. He'll probably just run into the woods for a couple days and make a shelter out of sticks and mud, or something. He'll come back once his Qoozle ad revenue starts running dry, to be honest. I guess the lizard people don't go in the woods."
Last Order couldn't stifle the giggle that emerged from her lips; Index's delivery was so serious. The nun's facial expression was one of neutrality; she didn't appear to be exaggerating her explanation at all. There was no sarcasm that Last Order could detect in her friend's words.
"It's not that, Index… MISAKA guesses that MISAKA is feeling guilty about always laughing at him. MISAKA thinks that, maybe, LeekMan's sick and needs help. Everyone laughs at him, and makes fun of him, but, what he says might not be his fault, you know? MISAKA MISAKA asks, hoping to hear words of encouragement from her friend."
Index produced a soft, drawn-out sigh. Rolling over onto her belly, Index began to slowly kick her legs back and forth, as she held her chin up with her hands. The nun shook her head, as if she was dealing with a wayward child.
"Babe, even if that's the case, it's not like there's anything we can do. Just take it for what it is; LeekMan's a nutter, and he's funny. It's not like we're in the chat, egging him on. We're just watching. If he does anything to himself, or to anyone else, there's nothing anyone can do. He's in another country. If he's ill, it's up to his family to have someone taking care of him."
"MISAKA's going to have a sip of your drink, before MISAKA goes to get her own, MISAKA MISAKA states, assuming her friend won't mind," Last Order spoke. Index shrugged, as she continued to kick her legs.
"Be my guest, babe," Index responded. "Get yourself turnt. We'll go downstairs, and have a party. Shrug off all those emotions for a few hours!"
Rising up from the bed, Last Order meandered over to her desk; Last Order placed Index's glass to her lips, and tilted her head back. Last Order proceeded to drink the entirety of the contents within Index's glass. Though she made much slower work of the yellow substance, Index was still impressed by her friend's tenacity, as she watched on.
"That's rough; how much vodka did you put in, MISAKA MISAKA inquires, already feeling quite tipsy from the ingestion of her friend's drink," Last Order remarked, placing the glass back down onto her glass.
"Only a little bit, but, honestly, it's enough to get both of us trashed," Index giggled. "We're both fucking delinquents. I should call Kanzaki-Sama. We could definitely tease the shit out of her."
"Index, Kanzaki-san is such a nice lady, though, MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, attempting to defend Kanzaki-san from the impish antics of her friend!" Last Order protested. Leaping onto the bed Last Order found herself mounting Index, and sitting atop her back. Last Order and Index both giggled, as Last Order set her Gekota hat on Index's head.
"P.I.M.P," Index spoke, turning the hat backwards. Gekota's happy, smiling face was visible to Last Order, who swooned at the sight of the green mascot. Clearing her throat, Index scrunched her nose, and her brow furrowed. She tried her best to mimic Touma's deep voice.
"Speaking of P.I. … I'm Kamijou Touma, and I'm the Harem King. I save girls, so they'll jump on my monumental dick. I'm a regular P.I.M.P. I'll shatter that there illusion of yers! Give me yer wives and girlfriends!"
Last Order, despite herself broke down laughing; Index soon joined her friend, as she buried her face in Last Order's comforter.
"Index… that's so mean! First Savior isn't like that! MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, coming to First Savior's defense, and, subsequently, to Second Savior's defense, as well!" Last Order said, struggling to get a word in edgewise, between her giggles.
"I know Touma's not like that, but it's still funny. Relax! We're just playing around. You want me to do Misaki, too? I can do Misaki. I can't really make fun of Misaki, as she is now, but I can make fun of Tokiwadai Misaki," Index explained. Last Order nodded, as her giggling turned to full-on laughter; the clone of Misaka Mikoto was in a state of excitement. The alcohol was hitting her again.
Index, pulling herself up from under Last Order, shook her head from side to side, causing her long, silver hair to flutter. Last Order watched Index's hair flow, and was almost hypnotized by it. It was so beautiful, so long. Last Order found herself feeling glad that Index had seemingly stopped wearing the headpiece of her Walking Church. Though Index's appearance wasn't marred by it, her full beauty was put on display when she didn't wear the headpiece.
Throwing her right arm out, Index raised her left, and spread her index, and middle fingers, lifting her thumb. Holding the index and middle fingers of her right hand over her eye, Index pressed an invisible button, on the invisible remote that she held.
"Hi! My name's Shokuhou Misaki, and, I think I'm all that. I'm hot stuff, and I've got nice tits, but I can't even run down the street without suffering a cardiac arrest! HNGG! I'm goin'! I'm goin!"
"INDEEEXXXX! MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, completely flabbergasted by her friend's offensive, but equally hilarious performance!" Last Order cried; she could hardly even laugh. Her laughter had become something resembling the sounds a seal would produce, while wandering about on a shore. Last Order clapped her hands, as she fell backwards, making a mess of her bed's pillow, and her comforter.
"I've got another one, hold it," Index remarked. The nun's facial expression turned to a scowl, as her eyes narrowed. Her eyebrows arched, as she fell into a hunch-like position. Holding her right arm outwards, her left arm would've been placed partway into the pocket of her Walking Church, if her Walking Church actually had a pocket. Last Order was crying from laughter; she knew who Index was mocking, before the nun even opened her mouth.
"Tch. My name's Accelerator. Tch. I'm the "top dog" of Academy City. Tch. I act like I'm this hard supervillain, constantly clicking my tongue at everything, and generally swearing way too much; what the world doesn't know is that I spend my spare time cuddling with my girls, like a big sissy boy. Tch."
"Do more, do more, MISAKA MISAKA cries out, demanding that her friend continues for her enjoyment!" Last Order managed to bark, after she took a series of deep breaths. Her giggling didn't stop there. At the very least, she'd managed to actually start laughing again; her silent "seal laughter" had almost been painful. Last Order had felt like a part of her chest would've been torn, if she'd continued.
"Alright, okay… I'm enjoying this too; this is really fun!" Index remarked; her vocalization had come out a bit louder than she'd intended for it to. Index was just glad that Last Order seemed to be happy, again. During the moment in which she'd spoken of her concern for that conspiracy maniac, LeekMan, she sounded almost downtrodden. It made the intoxicated Index's heart ache.
"I've got one. I don't really know him that well, but I'll try it out anyways. No harm, right?" Index stated. Clearing her throat, Kamijou Index gave her body a shake, as if she was "resetting" herself back to her "default" position. Index struggled to beat back a giggle, as she began to wring her hands.
"Eheheh. Guess who I am? I'm Aogami Pierce, and I'm a nasty pervert. I grope girls at concerts, and run away when they try to beat me up for it; I've never gotten laid, and I probably won't, ever, because I sit around and jack off all day. I also have every fetish, ever!"
Last Order's lips parted, before she raised her hands to them, in apparent shock. "RUDE! MISAKA MISAKA proclaims, regardless of the fact that she finds herself agreeing with her mocking of Aogami-san!"
"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, babe. I'm having fun, too," Index spoke, as she awkwardly stumbled towards Last Order's desk. Wrapping her fingers around her glass, she moved for Last Order's glass, as well. "Last round, for me. I think I might puke, if I drink more than another glass of this stuff. Whose vodka are we even drinking? I don't think Accelerator drinks."
"The inferior unit's, it has to be, MISAKA MISAKA explains, knowing that no one else in the family drinks the way that the inferior unit does," Last Order stated, with a shrug.
Index's face became slightly redder, as she awkwardly chuckled. Stumbling, again, she left Last Order's glass alone; apparently, Last Order was done. Index wouldn't be far behind her. "I hope Worst doesn't mind. I can buy her a new bottle. I guess we didn't really think this through, did we?"
Rising up, Last Order nearly tripped over her own feet. She stretched, pushing her bosom, and midsection outwards, as she groaned in pleasure. "The inferior unit won't care; the inferior unit will just bug Accelerator to get her more, MISAKA MISAKA says, attempting to explain the lay of the land to her friend."
"Yeah," Index responded, with a yawn. The loud, extended vocalization caused Last Order to giggle. "Oh, gosh. Yeah, I'm done, after this glass. Good thing I don't get hangovers, or I'd be hating myself tomorrow morning. You think you're going to be good? We have something planned, sort of, with Hyouka, after all."
With a nod, Last Order closed her eyes, and smiled widely. "MISAKA will be fine! Definitely good enough to make good on her plans with you and Kazakiri-san, MISAKA MISAKA remarks, hoping to assure her friend that MISAKA will be ready and roaring to go, tomorrow!"
"That's my girl," Index praised. "I'll be back," the nun said seriously, slowly, and with a thick, feigned accent.
October 9th, 2014. 6:46 PM.
The door to the home of Accelerator, Last Order, and Misaka Worst opened; two individuals entered. One was stumbling, slightly, and cackling loudly, while the other appeared to be stone cold sober. Closing the door to the residence behind her, and securely locking it, Misaka Worst gave Yamashita Junichi a playful shove.
"That was great, minion! Your boys are great. We need to hit the clubs, sometime. You should come, too, minion; Misaka wants to get you drunk and watch you stutter," Worst stated, as she hobbled into the living room. "It appears that tou-san isn't home yet; we're in luck. Let's fuck, minion."
"No?" Yamashita Junichi grumbled.
"Good minion." Worst nodded her head proudly. "That was a test. You passed. Let's go to Misaka's room, and get into some nasty shit. Misaka has a whole pile of gore sites on the dark web that she's been dying to explore."
"NO?" Yamashita Junichi spoke, just a little bit louder, as he took Worst's arm into his own. She was having a difficult time standing up, as she hobbled towards the staircase. Junichi removed his trainers, unlike Worst, who'd neglected to remove her own. "I don't feel getting arrested. Again."
"Oouuhh," Worst vocalized, her face red. A sly, almost sinister grin was spread across Worst's face. "Misaka's minion is a sexy prison boy. Misaka's little vandal."
"Oh, yeah, such a badass. Spray-painting "Anti Skill Sux" behind a grocery store. Woo, I'm a real rebel," Junichi spat, chuckling; he'd always enjoyed being able to make fun of himself. He'd been young then. Stupid.
"The message wasn't incorrect," Worst responded. "Anti Skill are a regular drag. They always fucked with Misaka, whenever she was just trying to have a little fun."
"Yo, Worst. Your sister's friend," Junichi pointed out.
Indeed; a stumbling, giggling, red-faced Kamijou Index had emerged from Last Order's room, and had taken a few steps down the staircase.
"Oh!" Index exclaimed; she started, slightly. A sober Junichi could tell that she hadn't expected to see them; the pyrokinesist could practically smell the scent of the vodka, emanating from the nun. "H-hey, Worst, Worst's friend! Forgetting your name… I know it, though. I know I know it…"
"Yamashita," Junichi spoke, helping the intoxicated nun out. "It's nice to see you, Index. How are things? Well, I mean, aside from the fact that you're totally smashed. It's cool, though. Worst is smashed too."
"Misaka's just tipsy, minion," Worst corrected, with a huff.
"Yeah, we got into your vodka, Worst… sorry! We partied hard, man! WOO! Haven't gotten trashed like this since last summer, barbeque at the Hamazuras'. Fireworks, everything. Crazy stuff. You two should've been there. Aogami fainted, fell in the pool, when he saw us in swimsuits. We need to do that again sometime… sorry! Wow, tangent, much?" Index rambled; she nearly fell down the stairs, just as she finished her long, only vaguely coherent speech. Junichi opened his arms, ready to catch the intoxicated nun, but, she'd managed to steady herself.
"Misaka can just show tou-san her tits, and he'll buy her more," Worst explained; her lips curled into a malevolent grin, as she winked in Index's direction. "Hope you got up to something that would make Misaka proud to call you friend."
"Come on, you goddamn devil," Junichi jokingly scolded. "Take it easy, Index."
"YEAH! Y-you too, Yamashita-san!" The nun replied; again, her vocalization was louder than she'd intended. The pyrokinesist, and the younger, but physically older clone of Misaka Mikoto passed the nun by.
The duo climbed the stairs, and closed the metallic door to Worst's room behind them; Worst quickly tossed herself down onto her bed, as she produced a loud, but short, contented sigh. The clone of Misaka Mikoto spread her arms out, as if she was about to make a snow angel, or, in this case a bed comforter angel. Looking up to the ceiling, Worst hiccupped awkwardly. "Misaka's glad to be home. Your place is cool, and your friends are cool, too, but, in the end, there's only one place for Misaka."
Sitting himself down on the chair that sat, tucked in, in front of Worst's computer desk, he turned away from Worst, and turned on her tower, with the press of the power button. The tower produced a series of beeps, before it began to whirr to life.
"There's a hot girl, laying on the bed, tired out, completely unable to fight against her single and ready to mingle minion, and yet, here you are, fucking around on Misaka's computer. Silly minion. Come here," Worst commanded.
"Another test? Funny," Junichi remarked simply. Typing the computer's password – IWANTTOUSANSDICK666 into the required field, and shuddering only slightly, the pyrokinesist logged into the computer. The membrane keyboard's keys, crunching beneath his fingers, felt odd, to the pyrokinesist; he was used to the mechanical, blue switch keys of his own computer's keyboard. "I know you're just fucking around. Even if you weren't, there's no way I'd do that. Forget it."
Worst grinned. She was going to enjoy this. Her eyelids narrowed, as she licked her lips. At least until her beloved tou-san returned home, Misaka Worst would have a temporary replacement. Sly, and cunning, as ever, Worst moaned, quietly; the sound was a seductive one, full of primal desire. "Come to Misaka, minion. Misaka just wants to cuddle with you."
"You're such a pain when you're drunk." Yamashita Junichi produced an audible sigh; if he was a character in some sort of anime, he would've sweatdropped, at this point. "Worst. No. You need to take a nap. You're trashed."
"Ouh! Misaka's minion wants to plow Misaka while she's sleeping! If you fuck Misaka gently enough, she won't wake up, and then you can cum in Misaka, and she won't know the difference! Misaka has you all figured out, minion!"
"Oh, yeah, you've caught me red-handed," the pyrokinesist remarked, nonchalantly. Browsing through his notifications on the vogue social media platform, "ConnectWith", Junichi had a few new notifications. Nothing important; status updates from family, and friends who he didn't regularly engage in conversation with, virtually, or in person.
One of his old high school friends had sent him a request to help "grow their farm". Nearly snarling, Junichi had to remind himself that this computer didn't belong to him, as he unclenched his fist. "If there's anything more annoying than drunk Worst, it's got to be goddamn, fucking, VirtuoFarm. Fuck right off with your shit. Who plays ConnectWith games anymore? It's old news. Get a job or something."
Worst apparently decided to step up her game. Yamashita Junichi felt, rather than saw, two fleshy, soft growths press against the back of his neck. Their warmth alone told Junichi that Worst was rubbing her bosom against him. Worst's arms wrapped around his upper torso, as she stumbled, awkwardly, to the side, just barely able to keep herself standing.
As always, the pyrokinesist didn't awkwardly blush, like the protagonist of some harem anime. He didn't harbor any sort of lustful thoughts; Yamashita Junichi was simply annoyed. Worst was a young woman, attractive in her own way, but, that's all she was. A young woman who happened to be friends with the pyrokinesist, due to a certain series of circumstances which Junichi found to be entertaining.
"You're no fun, minion. Misaka's just trying to have a good time, and you're ignoring her. Miinniioonnnnn, come onnnnnn. Fuck Misaka, at least until tou-san gets home. Misaka's into all sorts of naughty things that you might find turn you on."
Yamashita Junichi grumbled under his breath, lips curling into a frown of irritation, certainly not for the last time, as he opened a new tab, in Worst's computer's internet browser. Even as the drunken Worst began to softly kiss the back of the pyrokinesist's head, he simply paid her no attention; she'd eventually go away, and take the nap she desperately needed, and shrug off her intoxicated state. Junichi supposed it was his fault; he was the one who'd let her drink, after all.
"Please just cuddle with Misaka. Misaka's drunk, and desperate. Tou-san's not here. Misaka's lonely as fuck."
"What, now?"
Yamashita Junichi had turned his head around, with a barely-audible, wordless complaint. Having stepped away from the pyrokinesist, Misaka Worst awkwardly stumbled about, barely able to stand straight, on her own two feet. "I'm putting you to bed. Nap time. No funny business."
"Come to bed with Misaka?"
"No. You're drunk."
"Please?"
"No. You. Are. Drunk. I'm not doing something I know I'd regret."
"Just lay on the outside of the sheet then, stupid minion. Misaka just wants a hug. Comfort."
The pyrokinesist produced a sigh, as he shook his head, and then closed the distance between himself and the nefarious clone of Misaka Mikoto; except, she looked less nefarious, and more, as she'd stated, desperate.
October 9th, 2014. 7:02 PM.
On the third floor of "Pan's Pancake Palace", Hamazura Fremea, and Hamazura Daichi sat, side by side, in their respective seats. Around the siblings, there were many young women, each enjoying their respective plate of pancakes; some had stacked their plates high, while others had only taken two or three individual pancakes. Some plastered their pancakes with syrup, while others had only taken a few droplets.
Sitting in a bright green, plastic booster seat, as he wasn't quite tall enough to reach the table without it, Hamazura Daichi turned his attention to Fremea, who was speaking with one of her friends. Patiently, the boy waited for Fremea to be done with her conversation. He didn't tap her on the shoulder, or repeatedly call out her name. The boy simply waited his turn, as he'd always been taught to do by his parents, and by his elder sister.
The third floor, like the second floor below it, and, presumably, like the fourth floor above it, had been constructed with attention to detail in mind. "Pan's Pancake Palace" was constructed to resemble a great tree on the outside. Its interior was designed to resemble what the architects who constructed the "Pancake Palace" thought the inside of a hollow tree must've looked like.
The floor was not a simple singular color; rather, it was made up of a series of tiles, that'd been painted to resemble tree bark, while the walls had been painted to look the same. Periodically spaced out between one another, there were windows; circular, they almost looked like the portholes that a ship, or an airplane would have. In the center of the floor, there was what looked like the trunk of a great tree; it was clear enough to see that it wasn't made up of actual tree bark, however, the coat of paint that'd been applied to the great pillar was quite convincing.
On each of the tree-pillar's faces, there was a flat screen television; no special paint, or other effects had been applied to it. Wide, and black, the television that Hamazura Daichi's attention had been caught by was showing some type of nature documentary, with soft, clear narration provided by a Japanese-speaking narrator.
The tables, including the table which Hamazura Daichi, Hamazura Fremea, and Fremea's friends sat around were crafted of wood, and cut into a square shape. The tables were not only painted to look as if they, too, were some outgrowth, but, their surfaces' textures were quite bumpy to the touch. The natural wood that the tables were made of helped to enforce the feeling that the tables were, indeed, natural outgrowths.
The chairs, which "Pan's Pancake Palace's" diners sat upon weren't traditional "chairs" at all; they were shaped like mushrooms. The mushroom chairs' caps were many different colors; hues of blue, shades of red, deep purples, and light purples alike adorned the chairs' caps.
"So, Fremea… you're not lying to me, are you?" Hamazura Fremea's conversational partner inquired, with a smug, almost victorious-looking grin on her face. "You sure you're not running off in the night to go see prince charming?"
Hamazura Fremea turned away, slightly, blushing; her cheeks had lit up, glowing bright pink, and her eyes had narrowed; she almost looked embarrassed. Before Fremea, her long-time friend, Hamasaki Ayaka continued to shoot her a look of feigned superiority. Shoulder-length, straightened dark hair fell just below her shoulders, its tips running along her upper back. Her hair's fringe was pulled above her forehead, close to the crown of her head, and was held in place by a golden headband. This hairstyle succeeded in exposing her forehead.
Ayaka's eyes' irises were hazel in coloration. Her skin was gorgeously tanned a shade of light brown, her lips pink, almost lavender in coloration, due to the lip gloss that'd been applied to them. Her eyebrows were thin, but obviously natural; if she'd somehow managed to draw them on, she must've used some sort of magically-enhanced brush, to do so.
Clad in a bright red sundress, which was dotted with a bright yellow floral pattern, from its top to its bottom, Fremea had to admit that Ayaka had blossomed into quite the beauty; long gone was the short, acne-ridden, awkward, stuttering girl that Fremea had first met as a freshman in Nagatenjouki Academy.
Hamasaki Ayaka knew Hamazura Fremea well enough; she'd been her friend since their respective freshmen years, after all. The blonde, beret-wearing cutie was hiding something, and Ayaka knew it. There was something going on between the blonde-haired, blue-eyed vixen and her "boy friend; my friend who's just a boy!"
"I-it's nothing like that! Plus, you know I w-wouldn't sneak out at night! My parents would worry too much," Fremea stated, crossing her arms beneath her bosom. That was another thing Fremea felt that Ayaka had over her; Ayaka's bosom was ample, far larger than Fremea's own. Plump, and round, Fremea was just a bit envious of it. "My dad would be out, driving around, with a megaphone or something."
Hamasaki Ayaka placed her index, and middle finger to her lips, as she giggled. Setting her fork down, she produced a soft "aww". "I can see that. Your dad's so crazy protective. It's nice, though. Better than having a deadbeat for a dad, right?"
"You bet," Fremea quickly agreed; the last thing she wanted anyone to think was that she didn't appreciate her father being so involved in her life. Enough girls had to suffer through that trauma; Fremea had no reason to try and pretend that she was a fatherless child, unlike some. "W-we're just friends, though, I swear. If we started seeing each other, you know, like that, I'd be a-afraid that something would happen, and that we w-wouldn't be able to salvage our friendship. You know? Girls and boys can be just friends."
Crossing one leg over the other, Ayaka stretched; Fremea's envy of her friend's bosom only grew. When Fremea stretched, she hardly looked like she had a bosom at all. "I don't know about that. I think you two are gravitating towards one another, whether you see it or not. You do know that you both look so cute together, right? You're natural couple material. All you need now is a cherry blossom tree, and a piece of toast hanging out of your mouth."
"Stoooop!" Fremea proclaimed, shaking her head, her blush deepening. "Stop, stop, stop. Enooouugghh. It's time to stop! You're not getting me into an arranged marriage!"
"Who said anything about marriage?" Ayaka joked, grinning at the perpetually-blushing Fremea. "You can have premarital sex, and become an evil sinner."
Fremea turned away, and, unconsciously mimicking her friend, crossed one leg over the other. Facing her younger brother, Fremea was very much in the mood for a more wholesome conversation.
"Fremmie!" Daichi exclaimed happily, smiling warmly. She'd turned her attention to him, therefore, he could talk. Right? It must've been his turn. Taking his sister's hands into his own considerably smaller hands, Daichi leaned forward; not enough to risk falling out of his booster seat, but, just enough to silently request a kiss.
Fremea, knowing what her little brother was looking for, placed a soft kiss on his forehead. The boy giggled, and blushed, his cheeks, and forehead glowing pink. "Yo, yo, whaddya know, bug boy. How're you feeling? Tired? After supper, we can go home, if you want. We've pretty much done everything we can do. Or, we can be bad, and stay out past your bedtime. Big sister will take the heat for you."
"Tired. Kind of. Good though! Fremmie, can I get something, please?" Daichi inquired. Fremea nearly overflowed with the desire to simply embrace the boy; his cute, naturally puffy cheeks were just to pinchable.
"Nope," Fremea giggled. She wanted to see what would happen.
With a shrug, Hamazura Daichi's smile never faded. He simply closed his eyes, and tilted his head to one side; just because he asked for something, that didn't mean he was going to get it, and that was okay. That was just how things worked. Sometimes, things happened. He knew he'd get it eventually; if not, he had plenty of toys. Captain Snipper and Manta Ray Manny still had to engage in their ultimate battle, anyways. He wouldn't need new toys for a while. "Okay. Maybe next time!"
Fremea broke. Her lips curled into a grin, as she felt the desire to smooch her little brother's face off. "I was kidding, you little dork!" she exclaimed, taking her little brother into an embrace; uncrossing her legs, Fremea sat him on her lap, and wrapped her arms around him. Daichi affectionately returned the embrace. "I was just kidding. What do you want? Did you see something in the gift shop? You're always such a good boy. You deserve it. Just tell your big sister what you want, and she'll get it for you, okay?"
Hamasaki Ayaka watched on, smiling warmly, as did the other girls who were seated at the table; those that weren't caught up in their own respective conversations, at least. They were talking amongst themselves. Those who weren't were obviously smitten by the display of affection between Fremea and her younger, adoptive brother, Daichi. Ayaka watched, as Daichi began to gently play with his sister's long, curly locks; not tugging on them, or trying to annoy his sister. He was just enjoying himself, making sure not to hurt his sibling. Was this even a real child? "Fremea's parents are so lucky. Most children are monsters. Daichi's such a good little boy. I guess it all comes down to parenting, doesn't it? Unlike everyone else, Fremea's parents obviously know what they're doing."
"Cute sea turtle," Daichi responded, excitedly. "Not a real one! They have to stay here! In the water! That's their home. A stuffed one. He was green, and fluffy, and had big, blue eyes, and a brown shell!"
Fremea, placing a kiss on the top of her brother's head, held him just a bit tighter; the boy produced a soft, pleased vocalization. Hamazura Fremea's heart skipped a beat. She loved him so much. He was everything to her, her little, dependant baby brother. He was everything she could ever want. He was respectful, well-behaved, understanding, and almost nothing like the stereotypical "bratty little brother" archetype she'd been afraid to end up with five years ago. She couldn't even recall a time in which she'd really quarrelled with him; play fighting didn't count.
"I'll buy you the sea turtle, bug boy. You can just show him to me, and then I'll make him yours," Fremea spoke, after she'd emerged from her musings.
Turning himself around, Daichi wrapped his little arms around his sister's waist as best as he could; nuzzling her with his face, he exclaimed, "Fremmie! Thanks! I love you!"
Fremea ran her fingers along her the back of her little brother's head, she felt her eyes becoming moist. She loved it when he told her that he loved her. "Fremmie loves you too, bug boy. More than you'll ever know. If you ever need anything, or want anything, you just tell Fremmie. She'll be right here to make sure everything is okay for you. Fremmie loves you too, so much."
"He's the sweetest little thing, oh my God," Ayaka whispered into her friend's ear. "I just want to cuddle him up. Can I have him, Fremea? Please?"
"Mine," Fremea replied defensively; the other girls around the table giggled. "My little brother. Go get your own. Your parents are still young."
Tossing her head back, Hamasaki Ayaka began to laugh wildly; this was just like Fremea. She pulled no punches, held nothing back. Her humor was crude, and even sometimes morbid, if she really got into it; but this was what made Hamazura Fremea Hamazura Fremea.
"Hi, Ayaka!" Daichi exclaimed happily, still being held by his elder sister; after placing a kiss on the tip of her nose, causing the blonde, beret-wearing girl to blush, the boy turned his attention to his sister's friend. "You're really pretty today! But you're pretty every day too. How are you?"
Ayaka's laughter ceased almost immediately. Her face broke into a deep, full, crimson blush, as she looked into the eyes of the Hamazuras' firstborn. That smile never left his face, did it? "AWWWW! Daichi! Thank you! Polite little man. You're really handsome, especially today! I'm good, thank you for asking! How are you, you little prince?"
"Good," Hamazura Daichi responded, quite bluntly. "Little bit tired but I'm good."
"Just let me know when you're feeling like you want to go home, bug boy," Fremea stated, softly. "Like I said, we can go whenever you want to. I don't mind one bit."
Though it wasn't uncommon for the boy to show such concern for others, Daichi's words still brought gasps out from those around the group of girls who were listening, and from some of Fremea's friends themselves. "What do you want to do Fremmie? You need to be happy too. That's really important too!"
"Daichi?" Fremea inquired, continuing to stroke her little brother's hair with her fingers. Her voice dropped to a soft whisper. "I'm happy just being here with you. I'm happy when you're happy. It's going to be a little bit hard for you to understand, but, my life stopped being about me as soon as I welcomed you into the world. Even when you were born, you were smiling, blowing little bubbles up at mommy, and daddy, and your big sister. Not even a tear… you're a special boy. You've always been, you know that? Fremmie's special little brother. It's not just about me anymore. My life's about you, now, so much more than me."
"I know how she feels. I really do. Frenda… come home to us, someday. Please. Daichi wants to meet you so much. I want to meet you. The real you. I want to know who the rightful owner of this beret is."
Hamazura Daichi simply kept his arms wrapped around her, clinging to his older, adopted sister. He looked contented. At some point, during Fremea's whispering, the boy had fallen asleep. His lips, even in slumber, were curled into a happy little grin. "I love you, bug boy," Fremea whispered.
Hamazura Fremea felt a hand fall to her shoulder. Turning her attention to the young woman who was interacting with her, Fremea smiled. In return, Hamasaki Ayaka smiled back. "Aweh, poor little guy's tired. Look! He ate all his fruits and vegetables, too. He really is every parent's dream kid, huh?"
Indeed; next to Daichi's little, bright green plate, which only had a few scraps on it, there was a small, green bowl; scraps of various types of vegetables, and fruits remained behind. Strawberries, mostly, as well as tiny little scraps of darker green, which Fremea knew had once been spinach, one of Daichi's favorite vegetables. The entire bowl had been picked clean without hesitation.
"If only your parents had managed to keep you from turning out to be a delinquent child!" Ayaka added.
"You're a delinquent child," Fremea giggled in response; she knew there was no malice in Ayaka's words. "At least I don't puff on cancer sticks."
Hamasaki Ayaka shook her head, and then held it high. "I haven't smoked a single butt in over a year, I'll have you know."
With her younger brother still happily clinging to her, Hamazura Fremea picked her fork back up, and quickly stuffed the last of her pancakes into her mouth. Swiftly chewing, and then carefully swallowing, as not to choke, Fremea dusted her lips off with her napkin, followed by her hands. After cleaning the slumbering Daichi's hands, and lips, Fremea rose up from her seat, and hoisted him up. After placing a soft, quick kiss on his cheek, she turned to her companions.
"Hey, Ayaka, all of you guys… girls?" Fremea began. The individuals surrounding Fremea's table giggled, as did Ayaka, who winked at her friend. "Thanks for the great day out. I'm going to take the bug boy home, and, I'll probably have to get started on some studying. Probably going to be kind of busy tomorrow, but, next weekend, want to do something?"
"You can count me in!" A girl, one of Fremea's friends spoke. A ginger, she was of North American descent.
"You know I'll be there. Where are you going to be tomorrow? Hanging out with your "boy friend?" Ayaka teased, to which Fremea's facial expression twisted into one of feigned fury.
"Going to be chilling with people cooler than you, Ayaka," Fremea retorted. The black-haired girl placed the palms of her hands to her cheeks, and parted her lips.
"Nasty little delinquent child! You need to take lessons from Daichi. Seriously, though, you're welcome. We all love having both of you around. Come out more often, Fremea! We miss you!"
"I miss you guys, too. Here, I'll pitch in for the bill. I forgot. I'll just need to…"
"Nuh uh," Hamasaki Ayaka spoke, cutting Fremea off, before she could finish vocalizing her thought. "I've got it. Don't even get your panties in a knot; it probably won't be that expensive. Besides, you bought tickets for you and Daichi. Plus, if you're going to buy the little bum something, that'll probably set you back a couple million yen."
Fremea returned the warm smiles of those who sat around the table she'd been sitting at. Though some of these girls were simply friends of Ayaka, whom she didn't know particularly well, they were all sweet, and had welcomed her into their fold with open arms. Waving with her available wrist, Fremea hoisted the slumbering Daichi up just a little bit higher, and made her way towards the easternmost wall of the third floor of "Pan's Pancake Palace".
Passing by occupied tables, avoiding stray baby carriages (and making sure that she didn't bump Daichi against any of them, though, knowing him, he would've just laughed at her failure), Fremea approached a set of tall, rectangular door. Amongst the vaguely natural-looking scenery, the doors were an oddly synthetic, and sterile slap of reality. Cold, bright silver, and metallic, they took Fremea completely out of the fantasy-esque feeling that the restaurant had strived to achieve. After stepping forward, and pressing her finger against a small, square button of the same color as the metallic doors, which had a bright green, perpetually-flashing down arrow made up of small, bright green LEDs, Fremea stepped back.
Within a few minutes, the metallic doors split open, sliding into either side of the natural-looking, tree bark-decorated walls of "Pan's Pancake Palace's" third floor. A group, presumably a family of five – three children, an older-looking man, and a younger-looking woman stepped out. The older fellow, stern-faced, with a slightly receding hairline, gave Fremea an odd look. It almost resembled one of vague, passive-aggressive disapproval. But why? Raising an eyebrow in the older man's direction, Fremea stepped onto the elevator, passing by a couple of elderly men, who were also stepping out of the elevator, and out onto the third floor.
Then, Fremea understood; but why would he just assume? "He… or they? Think I'm a teen mother? Is that it? I'm just here with my little brother. Way to just take a stab in the dark. Even if I was a teen mother, whose business would be? Not yours."
The interior of the elevator car was about as fitting as the elevator car's doors; there was no sign of anything that looked like it was even close to natural. No tree bark motif, no painting of forest-dwelling wildlife, just cold-looking, reflective metal floors, and walls that were, in fact, great, full-body mirrors. Three of the elevator car's four walls were mirrors. The first wall was dark grey, in coloration, with a bright silver number pad on its surface. Beneath the number pad, was a large, red button. Above the red button, was a small, white blurb, containing text, which read "EMERGENCIES ONLY".
On the number pad, there were, predictably, a series of numbers – one through nine. Each number was lit by a series of bright, lime green LEDs, that looked to have been pre-installed inside of the pad. At the bottom of the pad, between the numbers seven and eight, was a long, numberless bar, which had the word "enter" on its surface. Like its numerical counterparts, the word "enter" was illuminated by a series of lime green LEDs.
Clicking the tip of her right hand's index finger's bright, yellow-painted fingernail against the "one" key, and then clicking the same fingernail against the "enter" key, Fremea stepped to the back of the elevator, and took a breath, trying to calm the disgust that was building in her heart. She turned her vision to the smiling Daichi. His arms had unconsciously gone around the back of her neck in his sleep. Looking at his face, at his closed eyes, his little, curled lips, Fremea felt her negativity subsiding. Not for the first time that day, Fremea placed a soft, gentle kiss on Daichi's forehead, and nuzzled her cheek against his own smaller cheek.
The elevator jerked to life, as it began to move downwards; at the very least, despite the fact that it stuck out like a sore thumb, Fremea had to admit that the ride was quite smooth. Aside from the fact that her body could clearly feel that the surface which she stood upon was moving, the trip wasn't an overtly bumpy, or thumping one.
The trip from the third, to the first floor wasn't a long one, by any stretch of the imagination. It took only twenty or thirty seconds, by Fremea's count. Once the elevator's doors opened, Fremea made her way out, with Daichi in tow. Maneuvering around groups of irate and confused individuals, who Fremea assumed were soon to become diners, the young woman headed for the front doors of "Pan's Pancake Palace". On her way out, Fremea passed by the "main man" himself. At least, one of them.
Fremea would've felt terrible for the poor individual who was trapped inside of the suit, if there actually was someone inside of said suit. Fremea had already seen the animatronics of "Pan's Pancake Palace" in action. They were inherently disgusting, inhuman, and mechanical in their movements. Fremea felt that they were downright terrifying, as did Daichi; therefore, Daichi was intrigued by them. Apparently, in the mind of the five-year-old bug boy, "terrifying" was synonymous with "cool".
"Ugh. Robot. Not the good kind, either. So. Damn. Creepy. Protectron, kill it, please? Wherever you are?"
"Pan's" head was large, and round, his big eyes looking like something from the pages of a manga. Compared to the rest of his body, "Pan's" head was too large. Tall, moose-like horns jutted from the crown of "Pan's" head, confusing Fremea. Weren't "Pan's" horns supposed to be those of a goat? At least, the animatronics creators seemed to have gotten "Pan's" legs right; they were clearly goat-like, curling backwards, ending in hooves. Fremea felt a shiver run down her spine, as the lower jaw of the animatronic clacked against its head.
"Thanks fer comin' to Pan's Pancake Palace! I'm hopin' ta see ya again soon!"
"Howdy! Welcome ta Pan's Pancake Palace; let's go on a journey together! Whaddya say?"
Fremea quickly hurried through the great, faux root-covered, tree bark-colored front doors of the "Pancake Palace", and breathed a sigh of relief. Freedom, at last.
Stepping away from the front doors of the "Pancake Palace", Fremea was bathed beneath the shadow of the structure. Shaped like a great tree, its roots snaked out along the light grey, cobbled walkways of the "Halls of the Feast" section of the Grand Kingdom. Most of the structure's branches, covered in enormous, bright green, solid-looking faux leaves pointed up, towards the sky, while some hung downwards, casting smaller, but longer shadows across the Grand Kingdom's "Halls of the Feast" section.
Fremea took a seat at one of the benches that surrounded the roots of "Pan's Pancake Palace". Crafted from the logs of actual trees, the benches looked bumpy; the specific bench that Fremea sat her posterior upon felt even bumpier than it looked. Still, it would do. Sitting Daichi down on her lap, and leaning her back against the bench's wooden backrest, Fremea produced her phone, and, unlocking the device, she navigated towards the "contacts" app, as passersby did what they did best; passed her by.
Pressing the tip of her finger down upon the contact listed as "mom", Fremea placed the device to her right ear, after she'd initiated a call. Daichi's sleeping form had leaned backwards, the back of his head pressed against her upper torso.
The phone on the other end rang, as evidenced by the repeated, low-pitched buzzes that Fremea's own phone produced, for a few seconds, before the buzzing ceased to be, and there was a short, quiet clicking sound.
Hamazura Rikou sounded like she was out of breath. Panting, furiously, she sounded like she was desperately trying to take oxygen into her lungs. "Am I going to get another sibling? You two need to hide your sexcapades better."
"Hello? Fremea? Is that you, preecciiooousssss? Or is this Daichi the Bum?"
"Prreecciiiooousssss! Give us the precciiooouusssss!" Fremea hissed. "Hi, mom. Is dad home? Daichi fell asleep, and I'm pretty tired too. We could use a ride."
"You don't think your mother can drive? Hm? I'll be right there. Dad and I were just… finishing up some chores, but, he can finish up on his own. RIGHT, DEAR?"
"Fuck-a-you, spaghettio!" Came Hamazura Shiage's reply; Hamazura Rikou began giggling into the phone, as Shiage's own hearty laughter could be heard. Fremea's heart soared.
"Mom's coming to get you two leeches. I can't wait to see you. When I got home from work, you were gone. I was pretty sad; mom had to, uh, comfort me," Shiage explained, barely able to reign in his chuckles.
"Ew," Fremea remarked. "Nasty, horny people. Love you, mom, dad. See you soon."
"Love you too, angel," Shiage spoke; his voice was gruff, and deep. Manly. Fremea heard his footsteps trailing away from the phone, before he broke into laughter again.
"What's so funny, mom?" Fremea inquired, genuinely curious.
Hamazura Rikou struggled to maintain control of her own giggling. "It's a long story. Dad told me about something that happened at work. You remember Stinky, don't you?"
"Could I forget? I don't think I want to know," Fremea quickly explained; Stinky was, well, stinky. Unkempt, unwashed, overweight. Quite the charmer. "I'll meet you at the entrance. I promised Daichi I was going to get him something from the gift shop, so, I'll have to head that way, anyways."
"Fremea," Rikou practically swooned. "You're so sweet to your brother. You're both the absolute best. Be seeing you, PRREECCIIOOOUSSSS!"
Apparently, Fremea's mother had thought that she'd ended the call; Fremea could still hear Rikou's soft, but stern voice, on the other end.
"What's this? Back on the floor with you. No, no. Get that back on. Go on, slip it back on. I'm not done with you, or that cock of yours. You're not jerking off. Why jerk off? That's what I'm here for. I'll help you finish. Cum for me, bunny-man."
"EWWW! HORNY, NASTY PEOPLE!" Fremea hissed, before she ended the call, and then pocketed her phone. Hamazura Fremea's parents certainly were unique individuals.