Misaka had not lent herself to sleep. Not yet anyhow. A wholesome pair of hours glided past curfew, and Kuroko had yet to make her return to the dorm. Granted, Misaka was well aware of the fact that, on certain occasions, Kuroko remained in the office to a time that violated curfew, but it was never long enough to inflict her with worry.

Misaka was worried.

What stockpiled onto her uneasiness was the trio of unanswered calls she had given the girl. The first time she considered an unfortunate coincidence, the second she figured was the volume on vibrate, but the third... The third put her on edge. Contrary to any mannerisms instilled in her well-behaved brain, she caved and dialed Uiharu's number, whose voice greeted her after a handful of dial tones.

"Hello?" she heard. As anticipated, it was most certainly Uiharu that answered, but it was a tired Uiharu, an Uiharu with whom she had yet to acquaint.

"Uiharu. It's Misaka."

"Mmm..." Uiharu seemed to struggle to awaken herself fully, as proven by the pause that was occupied by a throaty yawn. "Hey, Misaka... Don't you know what time it is? Why're you calling this late on a school night?"

"I know. Look, I'm sorry, but I'm just calling to check on Kuroko. Do you know how she is?"

"Shirai? She dropped me off at home an hour or so ago. As far as I know..." Another yawn. "She was heading straight back to you guy's place... Something wrong?"

Misaka began munching on her lip anxiously.

"She hasn't gotten here yet."

"That's a little strange."

"Only a little?

"Yeah."

"Aren't you worried about her?"

"Not much. This is Shirai we're talking about, isn't it? She's one of Judgment's most valuable field officers, so she's not going to get herself in trouble that easily."

Misaka, at such a point, began to collapse in a mild state of panic. Kuroko did not need to be out so late while she was powerless. Not in a city that was Academy City. She started to pace around the room despite any words in the back of her head that warned against it.

"If she doesn't get back anytime soon..."

As Misaka predicted, Kuroko was not in good shape.

She was across the city, stumbling through foreign alleyways with one thing to keep her on her feet: the wall, which was grimy from an eternally dank environment. Once or twice the ground surprised her with something that would cause her to slip, but sheer determination, and fear, drove her to fight for her steady.

Early in her travels, she backtracked the route she had taken during the heat of being pursued from her shadowy, but now dead, chaser. Along the way, she happened upon a sight she had intentions to investigate: a rectangular patch on the cement ground that was different from the rest, a place that had yet to be violated by trampling feet. The dumpster had been there, no doubt, and it had not moved for a very long time.

"Until now..." Kuroko thought with unease. A headache that began settling threatened to throw her thoughts askew. "And I have no clue how it somehow landed on that man. It couldn't have been me that moved it, even if my powers have returned. I'd have to be touching it, and a dumpster exceeds the maximum weight at which I can teleport something." She wondered if the panic at the time threw her senses into a brief vacation, for if it did, it would most certainly make her miss something. She checked to make sure she was still powerless by attempting to teleport herself, where she was only to be greeted by a scream from her stinging head. A hiss escaped her lips as she drew to a pause, clutching her skull in hopes of remedying the pain. "No. It wasn't me. That must mean there's an esper somewhere around here, and I'm not entirely sure if they're friend or foe." She conducted a scan of her environment. Nothing was wrong. She did not even feel watched or followed as she had earlier. "I need to get moving before another problem shows up."

The more she moved, however, the more painful her headache became, and it brought uninvited guests: a furious tremble that afflicted each limb, cripplingly feverish chills that rushed up and down her body, and weak bones. Saliva came as an overhaul to her mouth, and before long, it hurt to swallow even the slightest bit. Her next means of disposal was spitting every trio of seconds and running the sleeve of her uniform over her moistening lips.

Nothing seemed to better her condition. Not even discovering a sight she long coveted: the lights of a populated area of the city. She had begun gasping for air by the time she grunted out of the narrow vein of the alley, and she immediately homed for her next source of structure, which would be the mailbox shooting a breeze beside the nearly unoccupied road.

The sights, once she took them in, brightened her dulling eyes. She recognized this junction, and it was most certainly possible to get home safely from there... But it was quite a ways, and she worried she had no teeth the endurance to make it without letting her unknown illness prevail. She remained still against the mailbox as she thought, but a hand suddenly tapped her on the shoulder.

A woman stood behind her, wearing a mildly concerned expression. The woman's eyes widened upon laying eyes on Kuroko's face.

"Oh heavens, are you okay, dear?" asked the stranger. She looked as if she had just seen a ghost, most likely because Kuroko was nearly as pale as one.

"I'm... fine..." Kuroko found it taxing to say that much, especially when her head threatened to spin.

"You don't look fine. Why, you're pale and everything! And your poor eyes..." The woman momentarily dug around in her purse to withdraw a miniature beauty mirror, whose cap she flipped open. Without hesitation, she brought it to display.

Each of Kuroko's eyes, the mirror swore, were bloodshot, and it was no mild case. Shocked, she sounded with a quick gasp and felt compelled to ease away from the sight as if she thought it could be escaped. The road behind forbade her from getting far.

"I-I..." She was at a complete loss for words and forgot the rest to her trembles.

"Do you know what's wrong? Can I help you?"

"I don't even kn-know how I can help myself," she replied worriedly. Without a further word, she turned and left the scene as quickly as she could, even when the concerned woman pitifully beckoned for her return.

The office of Judgment Branch One Hundred Seventy-Seven was near the junction, and, according to Kuroko's deteriorating condition, it would be the best course of action to take shelter there for the night. The Tokiwadai campus was simply too far away, and there was almost no chance, Kuroko was sure, she could make it without collapsing. Somewhat unwilling, Kuroko staggered her way to the building the best she could, sure to avoid any sources of suspicious behavior. Scaling the stairs to the door proved to be a problem for her once arriving at the building, for she was deduced to gripping the rail guard with one hand and running the fingers of the other along the ground. The pitiful climb ceased when she arrived at a familiar entrance, whose hospitality she searched for in the pocket of her skirt.

Getting inside did not present any problems besides the predicted yelp of the motion detector alarm, which she was able to quench by sloppily jabbing a successful series of numbers onto a keypad. The very moment she secured the door by locking it, Kuroko collapsed onto the ground with a mewl.

Never had the floor felt so inviting, and not once did she question its cleanliness. The utmost concern that seized the reigns of her mind was achieving remission, and fast. Allowing her aching muscles to relax presented itself as the most effective decision, so she gave it its well-deserved chance.

Misaka came to mind, not a surprise considering that it happened to be Kuroko that was doing the thinking.

"Sissy..." she thought pitifully. "She's going to be worried sick the moment she realizes I'm not coming home... assuming she hasn't noticed already. Staying here for the night without giving her a heads-up is the worst thing I, her so-called best friend, could do to her. I'm obligated to give her a phone call, but I'm almost certain she'll sneak out to make sure I'm okay... And the last thing I want is for her to trouble herself for my sake... Again..."

The idea of calling Misaka instead of leaving her in the dark appeared to be outweighed, for Kuroko, after a few minutes more of resting, allowed her fingers to crawl back into the depths of her pocket with the intention to retrieve her phone. The fury at which her hand shook posed as a problem as she attempted to dial the number her heart would never forget: the number she was once able to punch in without a single mistake. The gentle hum of the dial tone against her ear soothed her for the time of its young lifespan. It was murdered by an urgent tone on the other end within seconds.

"Kuroko?"

"Hey, Sissy..." The sound of Misaka's voice brought a slight smile to her lips. Her eyes, still bloodshot and sore, brightened.

"Where are you? Don't you have any clue how worried I've been? I've called at least three times!" She did sound awfully awake. Kuroko could best assume that she had not received a lick of sleep, which confirmed her prediction that Misaka had been weary. On the downside, a weary Misaka often colluded with a ferocious Misaka.

"I apologize... for that. On the way... home I... ran into a little bit of trouble."

"Think I couldn't figure that out by the way your voice sounds? I want to know where you are. Now."

"There's no need... to be worried, Sissy. I'm... fine... now. I called to... make sure you knew that. So... get a good night's rest... okay?"

"You must've hit your head pretty hard to think you can shake me off that easily. There is no way in hell I'm going to stay here. Tell me where you're at. If you don't, I'll tear this city apart looking for you, and when I find you..." A crack of electricity followed.

A shiver jolted up Kuroko's spine at the thought, for she knew well that Misaka was not bluffing. Seldom did Misaka bluff; she did not have to. There was power at her disposal, so all there was to do was threaten. Most of the time, she got her way with ease.

"You... don't need to worry... about me. Please... stop getting yourself-"

"In trouble for you? Is that the most of your concerns right now? If you think there's been some sort of biding debt you have to me, I'd be more than happy to collect it. Do you really want that? If not, save me some time."

Defeat swept over the girl. Misaka was as hard-headed as always, and she never let it pause, not even for her closest of friends. After letting her shoulders droop closer to the floor, Kuroko released the heaviest sigh she could muster.

"I can't, Sissy... I'm in a bad-"

"Kuroko Shirai, tell me where you are right now!"

"I'll be home... tomorrow, so... there's no need to... fret. Good night..."

"Kuroko!"

Misaka became muzzled with a simple press of a button. The aftermath led to a union between Kuroko and the silence until Misaka's attempt to reunite their connection became their divorce. They rekindled their romance, for Kuroko did not take the call. Instead, she simply watched her phone vibrate for a complete thirty seconds.

Her eyes glazed over the screen, which displayed a photograph. All the volumes of her secret photo albums, who lay hidden beneath her bed in the dorm, could not compare to that one photograph. It was not candid as the others, and it displayed the subject in the best state possible. She recalled the day she took that photo. It was on a hot summer's day. The two had just overcome the most miserable punishment Tokiwadai had to offer: scrubbing the school swimming pool. Though beet red and drenched in sweat, Misaka gardened the widest smile, a victorious smile, while she retired her broom. Kuroko failed to stop her obsessed hands from rushing to her phone to snap a picture. Joy seemed to give Misaka consent to spend, for she was sure to roughly run her fingers through her oily hair while giving the camera a wink. Thus produced the perfect pose for the perfect picture.

Kuroko felt awful, for the photograph eloped with the vibrating so she could be with the silence again. Not even a minute later, the newly-weds made for an encore. Again were they ignored, leaving a black screen, whose reflection left Kuroko with her bloodshot eyes. With heaviness welling in her panting chest, she rolled onto her side, curled her form, and set a hand on her temple.

"I really am sorry, Sissy..." she grumbled. "...I'm just... in a state I... can't bare the... thought of you seeing me in..."

There was no doubt that Misaka was making preparations to depart from the dorm, assuming she had not left already. There was no telling where she would choose to investigate first, but Kuroko had a list containing plenty of plausible guesses. Such places would not be public, as public places (with the exception of hotels) were not the most appealing to a sickened person. This left private dwellings, such as Uiharu's or Saten's, to be far more likely. If Misaka exhausted those sites first, it was for certain the Judgment office would be next.

Kuroko was well aware that it was a vain endeavor to try hiding from Misaka; Misaka knew Kuroko much too well. The Judgment office was a horrible place in which to hide, as it was blatantly obvious. In truth, though, there seemed to be little choice on her end. Kuroko was dreadfully ill, and there was no way she could muster the strength to migrate someplace further down the list. The best she could do was pitifully crawl onto her feet, barely catching herself when she stumbled.

When Misaka arrived at a scene, there was a chance she would only search for mere signs of Kuroko's presence, as doing an in-depth purge of every nook and cranny would tax her with time. Kuroko made sure to erase such evidence at the office by arming the door alarm. Upon finishing, she staggered her way deeper into the building.

Arming the door was not enough, her conscience told herself. In addition to being hard-headed, Misaka was also smart. If Misaka knew Kuroko did not want her near, it was logical for her to conclude that Kuroko would turn on the alarm to ward her elsewhere. Such was the very reason why, after grabbing a pillow off a couch in the waiting room, Kuroko retreated to the supply closet next to the kitchen. Beyond settling in there, no other deceptive options remained in her arsenal.

She made a home for herself between mountains of unused copy paper and spare ink. There was little strength, and light, at her disposal to move a few piles to barricade herself into a fortress, so she had no choice but to make do with whichever spot seemed the most secretive by default. Her ultimate decision set her in the corner. With her business complete, she at last found time to attempt remedying her aching bones. When nothing worked, she found that the next best route was making herself comfortable in preparation for enduring the pain. Thanks to the pillow that had been brought along, she was able to accomplish that much.

In the silence again, she was deduced to wheezing, feeling as sweat trickled down her face. Her sensitive body could feel each and every change, which unfortunately included how her trembling worsened.

"What on earth is going on?" she wondered. "Mere adrenaline from that chase shouldn't be enough to put me in this sort of pain. And my head..." She groaned. "It feels like that one time, many years ago, when I pushed my power beyond the limit of overuse. How can I feel that way if I...?" She froze, eyes widening. "If I never used my power? Or had I? But... the dumpster... I wasn't touching it and it was far too heavy. My powers... Is it possible that they've...?" The thought alone spooked her, so she halted it immediately. "Not at all. Rest is what I need. After all, Konori did work me awfully hard today. I'll be sure to jot that down on the list of favors I need to return..."

She tried putting herself to sleep, but it was a difficult task to accomplish when it was the single thing in which she invested her attention. It took at least an hour for her thoughts to stray elsewhere, and only then did her eyes finally shut for the last time. Unfortunately, it did not feel like she had rested for long, for she jolted awake at the sound of a thump.

And another thump.

Having just been asleep, Kuroko was puzzled and almost assumed the noise was a figment of an immature dream. Time, however, corrected her mistaken notions. Her senses returned, and she grew tense despite the protests of aching muscles.

The thumps were muffled, which marked distance, but the impact could be felt in the walls. If her hunch was correct, someone, or something, was attempting to diminish the front door, not a good sign given that the front door was not the strongest door. It was a matter of waiting until the thudding stopped, but it was not for the better. The impact stopped because the door at last gave way, and the alarm spewed a shriek that pierced her ears.

Kuroko grew worried. Someone was in the office. Someone unwelcome. If it were a robber, she had no chance of fending him off in her current state. However, to her advantage, she could at least be safe if she chose to stay put in the corner of the closet, which was exactly what she did. In exchange for her well-being, the intruder could do whatever they wanted to the office... Unless it was-

The lights- all of them- turned on in an instant, and the alarm stopped with its furious noise. Kuroko's eyes widened as they wandered up to the ceiling, where they landed on the lone, undecorated light bulb. The light switch for the closet was nowhere near the alarm system, so there was no possible way the intruder could have silenced the alarm and turned on the lights simultaneously... At least not by conventional means.

Misaka had arrived, and there seemed to be no signs that told of her leaving.

Her footsteps, a pattern Kuroko had memorized ages ago, patted along the floor. Investigation took place beyond the closet door, and it did not sound like a petty search. Contrary to Kuroko's predictions, Misaka gave time little discretion, as she was, in fact, giving each room an in-depth purge of every nook and cranny. If she continued at such a rate, Kuroko's hiding place was destined to be blown.

The closer such a subtle sound grew to her hiding place, the closer Kuroko drew to an edge. Judging by how it grew quiet, it could be safely assumed that Misaka gave the kitchen a search. The squeaks of cabinet hinges were all that talked during her time in the kitchen, which was not very large to begin with, and her footsteps returned once she was fruitless.

Misaka strode past the door to the closet, creating a boiling cauldron of fear in Kuroko's bosom. She chose to look there later, however, as the waiting room seemed far more appealing. The waiting room did not offer much sanctuary for a refugee, thus Kuroko's upcoming discovery was not postponed for long.

Soon enough, it sounded as though there was no place left for Misaka to consider looking.

Other than the closet.

Kuroko heard a hefty sigh sound from the other side of the door. The very decibel confirmed the identity of her visitor. Knowing such, dread welled within Kuroko's stomach as the footsteps began approaching her weak fortress. A hand placed itself on the door knob on the other side of the door, and it easily began to turn...

Ever so steadily...

The raw power of suspense tied Kuroko into an inescapable bind.

As the door slowly opened, warning her with a low-pitched creak, a huff of air escaped the hider's nose. There was little use in trying to conceal herself any longer. The moment Misaka walked into the room, she was sure to discover the horrific mess that curled itself in the corner. A tongue, slimy from the overproduction of saliva, ran over her lips as she called for a powerful breath.

"Please... Don't come in here..." she pleaded weakly. Almost immediately, the door halted its journey to openness. Not even a handful of seconds later, it slammed frightfully shut. It was slammed so hard, in fact, it disturbed the light bulb that hung over her head.

"Kuroko..." she heard Misaka's voice, partially blocked by the wooden door, growl. Her tone rumbled with the fury of a lion. "I'm not happy with you."

A spear to Kuroko's heart, those words. How in her right mind could she voluntarily make her Sissy upset? The mysterious illness that had suddenly robbed her of freedom surely robbed her of a right mind as well... But she was clearly well enough to feel the pain, the shame, that had her buckle at the aftermath of each mistake she made because of it. Her eyes, already dull, dulled even more.

"I've already told... you... that I don't want... you to see me..." she rasped.

"Half the city I've torn apart, and I almost forgot to check the one place that happened to conceal who I was searching for. I would've never found you had you chosen not to speak up." The lights suddenly flickered at the sound of a crumble of electricity. For only a second, the alarm released a slight cry. "Would you have let me leave without checking if it truly had slipped my mind? If you had, you would've been stuck here by yourself all night long!" She pounded against the door. Whether it was with the help of her hand or her trusty roundhouse kick was unknown. "That pisses me off! If you were even half as scared as I was..."

Grief had stricken more than just Kuroko, so it seemed. Kuroko felt too weak, and petrified, to bother departing from the closet in hopes of comforting her visitor. It might have been for the better; if Kuroko had troubled herself to rise, costing her much of her precious well-being, it would have been in vain. Misaka departed from the presence of the closet door for a while. The moment Kuroko began fearing that Misaka abandoned her, the door opened again, this time violated by an intruder.

Misaka entered the closet baring a grim expression. It was that same grim expression Kuroko had seen on occasions. Though it was a familiar face, she took no liking to it, for it swirled her pupils into a grimy war between fear, pain, shame, and anger. Every wrathful side of Misaka had been bred into one sick, twisted hybrid that drove all askew from her path.

That expression paused when her eyes landed on the pitiful thing that slouched in the corner.

Pain won the war of her expression, for it melted as she dared to draw nearer. Closer. The details of her eyes, upon which Kuroko fearfully marveled, extended to untold definitions and it made her all the more fearful. What did Misaka think when she saw two bloodshot eyes, a mouth that fought to contain an overhaul, ghastly skin, and quivering limbs? Would that expression ever wish to tell her? Or did it sadistically ache to watch her forever squirm in the dark?

Misaka knelt before her friend slowly, presenting a quaint glass of water that had been retrieved from the kitchen. Kuroko stared at it doubtfully before forcing herself to peek back at her face.

"I don't know... if-"

"Drink it," Misaka insisted. Her tone softened once attacked by the awareness of her own harshness. "Please. Plain ol' water won't do you much harm."

Misaka stood corrected, for the moment Kuroko, in an act of blind faith, brought the brim of the glass to her lips, she broke into a storm of coughs. The liquid, like raw liquor, burned its way down her throat, and it was only for so long she could withhold the need to beg it to stop. She sent a hand to hold her throat, hoping gentle rubs would soothe the stinging that erupted in her core. Though they may have been useless, a series of pats on the back granted by her neighbor was reassuring.

Having developed a fear from it, Kuroko placed the glass on the nearby ground the moment she had the strength, but Misaka insistently returned it to her. A long pause erupted between them, and when Kuroko dared to try breaking it, Misaka stole the honor.

"I know it hurts," she hushed, bringing the dreaded glass closer to her friend, "but you have to trust me."

Kuroko seemed awfully hesitant, but time eventually convinced her to comply, albeit reluctantly. The water still burned, but not to the point that it stole her breath for a second time. It was clear by the paint smeared across her face that the experience was not pleasant. However, victory approached them sweetly, humbly offering an empty glass.

"Please don't tell... me I have to... drink more..." Kuroko murmured, to which Misaka gently shook her head as she reached for the glass resting in her loosening grip. Only then did the cup truly earn the right to retire on the floor, and it was segregated to a place where it would receive little disturbance.

Had she not been so ill and miserable, Kuroko would have taken kindly to Misaka's improved presence. She sat herself beside the other, leaning against the wall. One of her arms, far more healthy than the sickling's, snaked over her shoulder, pulling her close. With little resistance, Kuroko rested against her pillar. The warmth that came with being close almost distracted her from the hand that easily crawled on top of hers: Misaka's hand, whose fingers sewed themselves between hers to create a loving union. Though it was faint, the stronger hand had been inflicted by a slight quiver as well.

"You really scared me, know that?" Misaka's smooth voice rang through the quiet. There was little Kuroko could say to provide acknowledgment, so she settled with a nod. Misaka continued. "There was a reason I wanted to know where you were."

"And I... gave you a reason... why I didn't want... to be found," Kuroko retorted. Though weak, her words seemed just as lively as a healthier version of herself.

Misaka's breath deepened as if to reflect anger, a frustration she caged and would not dare release. Not now, in the very least. In place of prejudice, there flooded a glint of compassion.

"I understand why you didn't want me to trouble myself for your sake. You haven't been able to do terribly much for yourself lately, have you?" Where was she headed with such talk? "I don't think you realize how you and I are exactly alike in that respect. We're always the helper and never the helped, and we like being that way." Her grip on Kuroko's hand tightened, and the lump in her throat stalled her from continuing smoothly. "There was a time not too long ago, though, that made me realize everyone had to be helped at some point in their life, even myself. Not every burden can be shouldered alone no matter how rough or tough we may think we are."

Kuroko frowned and allowed her brows to sink.

"Except this isn't a big deal. It's just a little fever."

She froze when a droplet splattered on her forearm. The sensation of liquid revived the close memories of a screaming throat, but the context drove them far in little time. With widening eyes, Kuroko slowly lifted her pounding head, and she fearfully peered above her. Misaka looked down at her solemnly. From the brim of her eyes leaked bitter tears.

"Do you really believe that?" she whispered.

Of course.

It was Misaka.

Misaka always knew when Kuroko was lying.

With shame, Kuroko averted her gaze.

"Not entirely."

"Why do you say that?"

"B-Because... something strange happened before... I started feeling this way. I was being chased by... a stranger that claimed he... knew things about me. And... when I was cornered..." She displayed her shaking free hand. In the light, it could be seen that it had been assaulted by a chalky blackness and orange fragments of rust. "This dumpster of all things... was suddenly on top... of him. When... I thought I was sure to die... someone saved me."

Misaka became remarkably still. So still, in fact, the aura around her grew thick with a sudden blanket of tension.

Kuroko saw blue erupt from her neighbor's head, and it struck the defenseless light bulb above them. Almost immediately, the pitiful thing shattered, pelting the ground below with merciless shards. To their luck, not a single piece bothered them. Again had the room succumbed to the fearsome powers of the darkness, but Kuroko could have sworn it gave Misaka the courage to hold her tighter.

"You said this man knew who you were?" Kuroko nodded against her rib cage. Nothing more came from Misaka's lips. Not for a while, at least. When the time came, after listening to a modest amount of traffic, including an ambulance, fly past the building, she finally revived. Her fingers that interwove with Kuroko's tightened slightly, an attempt to hold the structureless girl in place. A free hand slowly brought itself to her face and made a cheek subject to a pair of strokes. Kuroko relaxed at the feeling. Misaka's was a light and airy touch, and it seldom grew tired. As soon as her eyes closed, hoping to capture sleep, her eyes opened again.

The sensation of breath could be felt against her nose. Each gust beat against her clammy skin. Though it was a warm breath, it sent chills down her aching spine. No longer could Kuroko find the desire for sleep, for Misaka's mouth gradually eased open.

"Kuroko, can you promise me something?"

A promise. Kuroko feared it would be one she could not keep.

Many times in her life she had made petty agreements with petty people, and she could most certainly say she broke them multiple times. She did not break them for the sake of breaking them; they were just petty. Utterly unimportant and easily forgotten. Kuroko did not value promises often...

Unless they were sworn to Mikoto Misaka.

"I don't know... if I'm eligible..." she whispered, shivering at each breeze.

The breeze paused, only to return as a hurricane. For a reason unknown, Kuroko's heartbeat quickened. She could feel something. A storm her way rolling, and she could not avoid it. Or did she want to at all? Would she had she the mobility? Likely not. Kuroko loved the rain and the wind. She heard the chimes create a gentle chorus in a storm; they sang darling words of affirmation. Not a thing was amiss. Be calm and let the storm pass.

The storm at last arrived.

The wind stole her breath in one unseen union in the dark. One collision of faces set the room adrift in a sea of gentleness.

How warm, that storm, now pressing against her. She could feel the plushness against her quivering lips. In truth, Misaka's quivered as well, but neither objected to drawing it out as long as possible. The desire to have it never end made it seem to last forever.

But all storms had to come to an end.

Misaka's mouth parted from hers with a subtle click that violated the silence, but she did not consider pulling away. She ground her forehead against the other's, sandwiching their auburn bangs between a peaceful collision. Her hand continued to stroke Kuroko's cheek as she took well-needed air.

"I need you to promise me this one thing," she shushed a second time.

Never had such a mellow tone sounded so desperate.

Kuroko could never deny such a need, so she nodded weakly.

"I will," she croaked.

"Attagirl," Misaka replied. Happiness had been sprinkled into her tone, and her hand shifted occupations. Instead of caressing her cheek, her intricate fingers moseyed up to one of Kuroko's twin pigtails. One she undid with ease, and she distributed loosening hair across her back. The opposite, at a more awkward angle, struggled to accomplish the same goal. "Promise me you won't tell anyone about what happened tonight. Not Uiharu, not Saten, not Konori, not the teachers at school, not Judgment, not Anti-Skill..."

Misaka kissed her for that?

"I don't... understand..."

"You don't have to." Misaka guided her friend to lie down, where she rested her head in her lap. The union of their fingers broke, but not to the dismay of Kuroko; both hands gave her all the protection she needed. "You just need to trust your Sissy for now. You still trust me, don't you?"

Kuroko's eyes narrowed. Though there was no light to permit her vision, she knew that Misaka guarded her valorously.

"Always..." she whispered. Misaka motioned her approval with the pat on the cheek.

"Good." Was all she heard. "Get some rest, now."

The warmth of an embrace. The soothing of aching bones. The tranquility of a shivering body. The softening of a headache. All lead to a quick plunge into slumber despite any circumstances.