The entire drama that went down at Joseph's became known to the Tokiwadai administration, as two of its students were involved (one even injured). The two partners in crime, Mikoto Misaka and Kuroko Shirai, would be included in a report, but, even more so, punished. They had broken the curfew laws by sneaking out of their dormitory past twenty-hundred. The dorm matron, with arms crossed, greeted the pair for the first time since the incident with a frown. Misaka did not suffer as much as the feeble Kuroko, who was treated with a good crack of the neck.
Kuroko was bound to her bed in hypothetical chains, as she was forbidden to leave the room, even for the sake of work or school. For nearly an entire week, she was stuck in prisoner's clothes (pajamas) and subject to sheer loneliness, which was only remedied by Misaka when school let out, or, a single instance, a visitation from Uiharu and Saten. Misaka never neglected Kuroko, for she seldom stopped to do other things instead of immediately retreating to the dorms after school. The dialogue of the first five minutes of her arrival became copied and pasted each day.
"I'm home."
"Hi, Sissy."
"How do you feel?"
"Awful."
One day, which dared to deviate from monotony, Misaka came in, plopped down on the end of Kuroko's bed, and sighed.
"The administration finally found a way to punish us for sneaking out." When Kuroko failed to answer, she buried her hands between her legs, briefly studied the emotionless ceiling, and blinked. "They want us to sweep, mop, and polish the cafeteria floors."
"That's not so bad," Kuroko replied, monotone. "Unless you have a bullet hole in one of your shoulders..."
"Yeah. That's why they weren't so pressing about when it got done. They said they were willing to wait until you started to regain your strength." One of her hands scratched the back of her neck. "But, you know, I was thinking about doing it myself while you rested."
Whatever had sapped Kuroko of her vigor disappeared in an instant, for she quickly brought herself to sit up with saucers for eyes.
"No way!" she exclaimed forcefully. "There's no need for you to do that, Sissy! You should just wait for me to get fully healed, or even better, I can just go now!" She swung her arm about despite how it screamed with pain, which she managed to ignore with a smile. "See? I'm in tip-top shape. No need to go it alone when I can go it with you. All you have to do is wait here while I get dressed and-"
Misaka forced her to stop by snatching her wrist, which she slowly lowered to the surface of the bed. The insistence in her face was a force that demanded reckoning.
"Stop hurting yourself, Kuroko," she commanded strictly. "I know when you're lying, so there's no need for you to go around saying you're fine when you're not."
"But I-"
"This is about more than that bullet wound, you know. Even when you do get fully healed, I still don't think you should exhaust yourself. Not with that other problem of yours."
Her words were enough to silence Kuroko, barren of insistence. Her eyes dropped onto the cream spread across her bed, a portion of which she took into a clenched fist.
"You're probably right," she muttered pitifully.
"The best remedy for that sort of issue is resting, so rest." Misaka turned to her with a smile. Despite the negative vibe circulating the air, it did not seem forced. "You still trust your Sissy, don't you?"
A pang in Kuroko's chest made her grip on the comforter tighten.
"You're such a selfless soul," she sighed. "I sure could kiss you right about now."
"Please don't."
Defeat returned Kuroko's back on the bed. Assisting defeat, Misaka ventured to the curtains with the intention to close them, leasing the room to darkness. The door became her next destination, but she would not reach it without a slight tone rising from the occupied bed.
"How long do you think you'll be?"
Misaka paused before the postern, eyes filled with hesitation.
"However long it takes me," she finally replied with a snicker while turning the door knob. "I'll see you sooner or later. Be good."
And she was gone...
...And a fool to think Kuroko would stay still for long. For many days in a row she had been confined to that confounded bed, and she could stand it no longer. Misaka had not been departed for even five minutes before Kuroko brought herself up again, eyes dully gazing to the wall. For many solid minutes she remained in such a tedious position, lost in the realms of her deepest thoughts. Those same eyes eventually trailed down to her palms. They were small palms, still growing, but capable. They helped her when she finally departed from the covers to wander into the washroom.
The mirror met her when she arrived, and she was hesitant to study the image it reflected. Last she checked, which had been a while, she did not recall looking particularly healthy, and a check-up did not lead her beliefs astray. Relentless time in the indoors had bleached her already somewhat-pale skin paler, which brought all the more attention to the two violet sacs drooping beneath her eyelids. She seemed sickly, she realized with distaste as she brought a hand to rub her jaw.
"Look at you, Kuroko. You look terrible. Do you wear this face even when Sissy comes around?" she asked herself groggily. When there was no answer (as expected), she let her hand fall from her face and smack the counter. Her neck lost structure, causing her head to drop. She got an excellent view of the pristine sink and how the excreted little droplets of water, one at a time. She did not bother fixing it. "No wonder she's so worried about you. Whether you claim to be her vanguard or nay, she's not going to leave you to help yourself. To think all this started because of some stupid dreams. To think, to think..." After hesitating, her wandering gaze landed on a certain article next to the sink. It was a toothbrush, relaxing on a designated stand. Just a plain, boring ol' toothbrush. Even so, regardless of how unremarkable it was, she made it subject to her grasp when she clutched it in a hand.
Then she focused on it.
She focused on it the hardest she could.
Even a pinch, a centimeter away from her hand, would suffice. It would make her the happiest person in the world. Anything to indicate that her abilities were still at her disposal would allow her to truly rest.
Nonetheless, no matter how badly she wished, hoped, or dreamed, the toothbrush did not move, nor disappear, from her hand.
Still, nothing worked.
With a groan of defeat, her face roughly met the counter, and she did not bother moving for an abnormally long time. When she did move, she was slow, revealing a quaint red bruise that gathered in the bulls-eye of her forehead. She saw herself in the mirror for a second time. The hopelessness gathering in her eyes made her cringe. At last, she was overcome by defeat.
"I bet even that troglodyte hasn't had this kind of..." She paused when a realization barged into her mind. "...problem..." What replaced the hopelessness was not any better: sorrow. "I see now. I see why you like that Touma Kamijou, Sissy. Even though you are the third most powerful Level Five in all of Academy City, Tokiwadai's Ace, you're still a vulnerable girl with her share of insecurities. One of the few things you truly seek is someone who can relieve those insecurities. Someone stronger than you that will make sure you're safe. The only Level Fives that are above you are both said to be clinically insane, much like those beneath you. You thought you were all alone, left to fend for yourself if ever you encounter a threat you can't pacify on your own. People like me or Uiharu or Saten, your underlings, would be nothing short of baggage. More people to worry about should something happen. But Touma... that Touma Kamijou... he's the one you were looking for. That Level Zero you couldn't defeat; he's the one that's stronger than you, the one that will stand by your side in the face of the bitterest of foes." She sunk to the ground with a sigh, seeking structure from an imminent wall. "How can I compete with that while in this state? So long as I am below you, Sissy, I'll never qualify to be your vanguard as I once swore to be. If I truly love you, which I do with all of my swelling heart... I'll forfeit my selfish desires and let my interests lie in the arms that can truly protect you... even if those arms aren't mine..."
Kuroko forfeited many things since such a realization came to play. Another would be delivered by the paper she slapped before Konori the first day back at the office. Konori, curious, peeled the document off her desk and briefly allowed her eyes to skim over the heading. Her expression, as Kuroko successfully predicted, hardened not even a second later, especially as she returned to her visitor.
"You're resigning?" she questioned, her tone thick with the desire to withhold emotion. Stone-faced, Kuroko nodded briefly.
"That's my two weeks notice."
"What made you decide this?"
"It's been nearly four weeks, and my powers still have not returned. If I don't have them at my disposal, nearly three quarters of my job here is obsolete. Even though I could still function here in the office, I don't know how long I can handle being unfit to carry out the jobs that used to be mine." Her shoulders, including the one that had recently healed, sunk. "The mere thought reminds me of how this entire ordeal has made my life crumble. I'm sure you understand how difficult it is for me."
Konori relieved the paper back on her desk, frowning in the meantime.
"I can understand how that may be hard, but I've always known you for your strong constitution, physical and emotional. Though I'll respect whatever decision you make, there's no keeping me from wondering if you're thinking straight. Are you sure you aren't overreacting?" Albeit slightly, she leaned closer. "I'm asking this because I'm not oblivious to the events that got you shot a few weeks ago. As an esteemed Judgment officer myself, I'd be rather embarrassed to have a civilian save me instead of the other way around. Is the case the same with you?"
Kuroko reddened and dared to turn away for a fleeting moment, lips retreating to the insides of her mouth.
"Absolutely not."
"I'll take that as a yes."
"I said it's not!" she returned harshly, painfully defensive. "As I mentioned before, losing my abilities has impacted my life to a degree I never could have imagined. There are things going on with me... personal issues between close ones and myself... They're not just complicated, but painful as well. That on top of trying to juggle this job isn't doing me any favors."
Konori's arms crossed, a sign that no fiber was willing to back down from what she saw was a challenge.
"It sounds more like you just need a break from work, you workaholic. That might be what drove you to lose your powers in the first place. They say overuse of an esper ability has its consequences."
She was surprised when Kuroko, despite being in such a vulnerable state of body and mind, rose to the competition as well. Her challenge was marked by how her palm lightly slapped the surface of the desk before settling. Such a mundane action spoke volumes.
"Where all respect is due, I didn't come here to theorize what may or may not have made me lose my abilities, nor did I come here to ask for a break. I came to let you know I'm resigning because I don't feel like I belong here."
An open flank, Konori saw with a smug grin. She took a dive for the soft spot before Kuroko's defenses resurrected.
"So that's the issue. You're so used to being a field officer you don't know what to do with yourself anymore."
The blow struck her arguer hard, hence why her pupils ignited with an immature ember of fury. She utilized whatever energy was within her to attempt to quench the spark before it grew into an inferno.
"I figured that sort of information might have been inherent to the things I just said..." she grumbled. "Thanks for making me feel better about myself by putting it out there."
"You're welcome. In return, you can choose between two options." Konori displayed a pair of fingers. "One, you can take a vacation to clear your mind. Or two, you can get yourself adjusted to office work by sorting through the files in the storage room."
The inferno broke lose.
"I don't believe you. Are you forcing me to continue working here even after everything I just told you?" she snatched her resignation paper and waved it before Konori's face. "I'm leaving in two weeks."
"As your chief, I won't allow that." Konori replied, unfazed. "At least, not without some time. I'll make you do one of the two options I gave you for as long as a week, and once that week is up, then I'll let you decide what you truly want to do. Can we compromise on that?"
Kuroko could not stand the thought of going back to doing nothing at the dorm all day, so she ended up in the storage room, surrounded by a pool of papers into which she easily got lost. The process of remembering names, dates, locations, and times gave her mind plenty to chew on, and by the time she was to head home, she was exhausted. All the time of resting, as Misaka put it, made her forget what it was like to work.
Arrival to the dorm granted her with the sight of Misaka, who, as the clock would promise, was seated on her bed, dashing the teeth of her brush through strands of wet hair. She seemed put off by Kuroko's uncharacteristically dull expression, but it had become so commonplace as of late it could be argued that it was not, in fact, uncharacteristic at all. It was the very reason she said not a word in its regard.
"Have a good first day back at work?" she smiled, most likely in the hopes that it would better Kuroko's mood. The moment she plopped on her own bed across the room, Kuroko gazed into her face. She seemed hesitant, but eventually acted on whatever she withheld.
"Did I tell you I'm quitting?"
"Judgment?" Misaka exclaimed. No longer could she remain calm, not in the face of such an unrealistic claim. "I know you're not feeling much like yourself, but not to the extent that you would..."
"It's more than just not feeling like myself, Sissy..." she corrected softly. "I feel like I've lost myself entirely."
When silence settled between them Misaka lowered her brush, and she abandoned it on the surface of her bed. She rose and made a brief trek across the room, drawing nearer to her roommate. Sighing, she set a fist on either side of her hip.
"I suppose it was a matter of time until you got depressed. It's laughable to think that I'm actually surprised... But then again, you've never seemed like the type to get depressed in the first place, so I can cut myself some slack." She took a seat next to the girl, reached over, and gently nudged her shoulder to guide her closer. Instead of scooting, Kuroko weightlessly toppled onto her, using her as a pillar for support. What Misaka got was not what she aimed for, but it was plenty generous in allowing her to meet her bottom line, which would be taming the most rigid of muscle in her back with the most delicate of fingertips. Seeing that Kuroko did not move, she assumed she did not mind the treatment. Not that it was terribly much of a surprise after all, as, when it came to Misaka, physical touch was Kuroko's coveted prize.
It truly was nothing less than an incredible feat for Misaka to hold Kuroko so close with so little regard. Any moment, if she so wished, Kuroko's mischievous hands could jolt to life and take a spelunking trip to indecent places. Though such a risk was nigh, so imminent and threatening, it had not even been considered. The beast at last had been domesticated, head easily sliding onto her master's lap as if she were a mere house cat. Kuroko's eyes closed as the rubbing continued with no clear sign of ceasing. Her breath gradually deepened, delivering weariness she fought to control.
"I've had a lot of time to think to myself lately."
"Yeah? They say thinking's a good thing, but I say too much has its drawbacks."
"If my powers never return, how will that affect our relationship, Sissy?"
Misaka stopped rubbing and frowned. Those same fingers that were once so gentle and loving traversed the girl's back and wrapped around her skull, where she tugged her head upwards.
"That's all you've been yapping about for goodness knows how long. This mopey attitude doesn't suit you, and that makes me worried and annoyed at the same time." Her index began tapping impatiently on her temple. "And you know how much I don't like confusing emotions, so why don't we discuss all the positive aspects about this?"
"How can this possibly be good?"
"For starters..." Misaka's hand returned to its original occupation. "If you're out of Judgment, that gives you more time to hang out with me during the day. We can hit the arcade after school on Thursdays, go read manga on Mondays and Wednesdays, and on Fridays we should grab dinner from someplace cheap. Sounds like a blast, doesn't it?"
More time with Misaka was mighty tempting, but Kuroko questioned the point. More time with Misaka would ultimately inflict more heartache. More of a reminder that the pinnacle desire of her heart was unreachable. Such woe, such burdens, were far too exhausting to encounter after a day full of work, and Kuroko was in no mood to face them.
"I'll consider it," she whispered sluggishly. The massages were taking a toll on her involvement in the conversation. Sleepiness took her captive and held her hostage, and Misaka, a terrible person, did not bother paying the ransom Instead, she only encouraged its dastardly schemes by remaining quiet, watching as her friend's weight grew heavy with slumber.
Misaka's eyes darkened, for she realized that such a turn of events was most likely what was best.
Against her desires otherwise, this was what she wanted. What was needed.
But things would not always remain stable. Not forever.
Returned had the relentless nightmares, all malicious and thirsty for the saltiness of blood.
No wait.
Kuroko was not dreaming. She was awake. It was an entirely new day, dawning on its end and waiting for her to close it with a return to the dorm. Uiharu disappeared behind the door to her apartment after a wave and exchange of good-byes, leaving Kuroko alone in the darkness of a hallway.
She did not dream.
Reality settled, seeped into her skin with its venomous toxins and did not yield to any antidote. The venom, the fear, almost made her delirious when she realized she was not alone. Nothing on days in the past had made her so uneasy, but something... Something today put her on an edge she had no choice but to balance upon. The hairs on the back of her neck stood with every step she took, and she dared to break into a sprint when she felt the most uneasy.
The staircase she had just finished deescalating deposited her into the streets, lifeless as it was cold. Her only friend, a distant streetlamp whose light it could not kindly guarantee, was the first thing for which she homed. Once in the shelter of its merciful light, she sought to replenish her stamina.
Her hairs still would not go down. Someone, something, allowed her not to be alone, and it was not just her unreliable friend the street lamp. She was driven from her only source of sanctuary and dashed in search of a replacement she would not find immediately. As a matter of fact, she would not find a replacement for a while, and the worry drove her off track to a direction with which she was not acquainted. Despite being granted navigation-savvy skills by Judgment patrols, she could not guide herself confidently. The city was a different beast when the moon came to rise, and it was a beast that howled at that moon ferociously. Turns she did not recognize greeted her with suspiciously open arms, but she had no choice but to trust them, lest her straying from speed would surely grant her ominous pursuer time to make undesired gains.
Delving deeper into the darkest parts of the city fueled her with anxiety, a cheap diesel that burned quickly and left her exhausted. The exhaustion, no friend of hers, betrayed her, for it led her into a mistaken sense of security, a bargaining in her mind that perhaps, just for a moment, she could capture her long-sought rest with few repercussions.
She would have been better off had she listened to her gut, which urged her further. A thick, steady hand wrapped itself around one of her shoulders, the one that still complained of a gunshot wound. She froze in sheer terror as a deep voice rang from behind.
"Miss Kuroko Shirai, I'm going to need you to cooperate slowly."
Her chest burned. Her stomach cried. Her muscles ached.
It knew her name.
"Wh-What do you want from me?"
"Stay calm, quiet, and obedient. I can't guarantee your safety if you choose to act out of line."
"And if I don't? My conscience is telling me you can't guarantee my safety even if I did stay in line. You clearly know my name, so I would suppose you know who it is you're messing with here. I am a L-"
"Level Four spacial movement esper, a first year at Tokiwadai Middle School, and a soon-to-retire Judgment Officer. That was only a few things I know about you. The rest is reserved for when you believe you can call the shots again."
Fairly basic information. Kuroko was only slightly impressed. But what did bring her fear, however, was the promise that the details might have been more intimate. Did he know where she was headed? That she could not use her abilities? Guessing was a true gamble, and she would be a fool to act upon anything that made her feel leery.
Fear made people do awfully foolish things, such as sprinting away when the shadow's guard seemed its lowest. A demand to halt followed behind her, but she knew better than to listen to it. With laboring lungs and legs, she continued down an obscure path she prayed would be merciful enough to be her savior. It was kind enough not to throw anything nasty towards her, but it did little to protect her from something metal as it beat against her back. The impact hit powerfully enough to stun her, and yet what caused the impact was but a puny aluminum pail, judging by the sound it made once it hit the ground.
Before she could ponder too long on how it could have possibly hit her with such force, she found herself pelted by several members more.
One felt like a pebble, which did not hurt too badly.
The other was an empty soda can, again not too painful.
But the third attack was the charm; a brick that beat her square in the back of the neck, providing a force strong enough to land her on her knees. With a hiss, she attempted to bring herself back to her feet. Her neighbor, a neutral, but rusted, dumpster, gave her something sturdy to spread her hand against as she stumbled onwards.
Her opponent, most likely, had a sort of esper ability. What sort rested far beyond her knowledge or cares, as she had yet to seize an observation of the power in action, much less the user's face. Little did the details matter, for her primary interest rested in escaping. She had to get somewhere, anywhere, that was public, as shadows did not favor places in which they could be seen. The dorm, once a prison, sounded like heaven, a heaven for which she longed...
...Especially when she turned down the umpteenth, and final, corner. Before her stood a menacing dead end she struggled to believe was real. When reality washed down upon her, she panicked and whipped around, where she found her pursuer slowly easing closer.
And then he began running.
How she wished, how she longed to cultivate the strength to rise and fight back.
But fear rendered her absolutely paralyzed in the heat of the dreaded moment.
She began thinking.
Saten.
Konori.
Uiharu.
Her mother.
Her father.
Misaka...
What would they do? How would they react to her disappearance? Would it even be a murder? They needed not to waste their precious time and resources worrying about her... Not when the issue could have been helped.
It could have been helped had she not had those confounded nightmare that left her confidence, her life, in shambles... How dreadfully angry she became in the midst of her fit of terror. How would she have ever guessed that her handicap would ultimately lead to her demise?
She was Kuroko Shirai: once a proud and powerful esper, now a weakling about to meet an uncertain fate.
How could she?
Her brain, a vigorous calculating machine, began working. It mapped all she knew of the city, her domain, her dimension, and envisioned a field that was not tangible. It was a flow to which she had grown accustomed, but she felt that it was a long-abandoned friend. She wanted to guide it home so desperately. By any mean she could possibly take.
The flow...
It was far smoother than she recalled it. Had it been that long? Or had the frightening nature of the situation made her polish it with grace that did not flee?
The sound of something heavy whamming against asphalt made her eyes she did not remember shutting snap open. Before her, instead of the silhouette of a sprinting man, stood the dark side of a neutral, but rusted, dumpster. She did not remember that being there. It was further down the alleyway.
And where was the man?
Shaken, her eyes traveled down, where they widened almost immediately. She found her pursuer, but not as she last saw him. All she could see was his hands, which protruded from underneath the dumpster, twitching and lifeless. The rest of his body was unseen. It had been hidden. Crushed beneath her rusty neighbor.
Kuroko had the logic to know it did not normally rain dumpsters, which made her buckle onto the ground in a quivering fit.