EVER WONDER WHY you never see lightning in a blizzard?
Actually, it's not impossible for lightning to strike during a snowstorm, but much rarer in the winter than in the summer. Part of the reason has to do with temperature. A thunderstorm cell can only form if warm air rises fast enough to the troposphere, and cold air is too heavy. Another reason has to do with humidity. Compared to summer air, winter air is drier. This is because cold air is denser, and so fewer water molecules can squeeze in between the air molecules. Since dry air is a worse conductor than moist air, a higher electrical potential is required before a lightning bolt can discharge.
And that's where the Ace of Tokiwadai fit in. Between the pockets of low humidity. In the wintertime, most electric-type espers dropped a quarter, a half, perhaps even a full level depending on the circumstances. Misaka Mikoto's gigavolt discharges could still ionize just about any kind of insulator, but she was forced to expend more effort to use her powers. This was why the System Scan relegated her to the lower half of the level 5's from December to February.
A stream of vapor shot from the amber-haired girl's mouth as she traversed across the bright, powdery quad. The vapor cloud lingered in the air for a moment and then dissipated, fated to become frost in the morning. Kuroko was with her. Judgment decreed two days ago that all level 5 espers would be accompanied by a level 4 whenever they went outside their dorms. Accelerator's room might as well have been a military base.
"No sign of Dante since his first attack two days ago," said Kuroko. "What do you think he's up to?"
"I don't know," said Mikoto. "All the level 5's can defend themselves, so that leaves only the level 4's, but he already has a level 4 ability."
Kuroko wrapped her arms around her senior and squeezed. Today was unusually cold.
"I have you to keep me safe, Onee-sama," said Kuroko.
"Ah, Kuroko, you're hopeless," sighed Mikoto.
"So what do you think he's after?" she asked, releasing her grip.
Mikoto sipped on the air. "I don't know. He might be testing his powers or trying to find one he's looking for and then running away with it."
"Do you think it might be revenge?" asked Kuroko.
Mikoto glanced at Kuroko and then turned back to her feet. "Maybe. That would be the most dangerous." Kuroko agreed and then looked up.
"Hey, is that…." The two girls stopped in their tracks. Mikoto was afraid to look up. Please don't let it be Tōma.
It was Tōma.
"Well, onee-sama, I'm at a loss for words here," chirped Kuroko. "I was going to say 'it's Tōma, your—', but then I realized that I didn't know which noun to use. Why don't you enlighten me?"
"Friend! Just a friend!" said Mikoto. She'd seen something like this in a movie before. Two girls were sauntering through a park in midsummer when they happened upon a familiar boy. One of the girls used to date the boy and detests him now, the other adored him. The ex-boyfriend said "hi" to the one who adored him.
"Oi! Birbiri!" called Tōma. The boy jogged up to them, greeted his ex-girlfriend to be polite.
"Hey, Shirai-san," said Tōma. "Looks like you got out of your wheelchair." Then the ex-girlfriend reciprocated the greeting in a threatening tone.
"Oh? You noticed," said Kuroko. "Maybe we can finally have our duel soon." And then the boy asked the other girl how she's doing.
"Anyway, how're you doing, Mikoto?" asked Tōma. And then the girl said something.
"Well, I..." And then the girl said something. "I'm doing alright." Did she really say that?
"So what brings you to the middle school district, Kamijō Tōma, the great level 0?" asked Kuroko.
"Just passing through to get to the shopping district," said Tōma. "They're having a big sale over there, you know?" Kuroko scowled. Tōma scratched the back of his head and squeaked a nervous laugh. "Buy one box of oatmeal, get the second one free!"
The ex-girlfriend kicked the guy in the balls at some point, Mikoto remembered. Fortunately, Kuroko wasn't so hotheaded, right?
"Onee-sama!" yelled Kuroko, clasping her senior's wrist. "We're leaving!"
"Hold on, Kuroko. Let me just bring Tōma up to speed on what's going on."
Kuroko eased her grip and sighed, dissatisfied. Mikoto turned to Tōma as Kuroko crossed her arms and looked away. "Have you heard about the recent esper threat?" Mikoto asked.
Tōma shrugged. "I don't keep up with Judgment stuff."
"Well, there's a man called Dante running around Academy City. He's an ability stealer."
"Stealer?"
"Or borrower. When he touches an esper, he absorbs that person's abilities until he touches another esper. We don't know if the transfer of ability is voluntary or not, but we do know that he's currently borrowing the powers of a level 4 telekinetic."
Tōma brushed his hair back. "An ability borrower, you said?" Mikoto nodded.
"I'm telling you this because if he ever gets to a level 5 esper, we're going to need your help to stop him."
Mikoto pulled Dante's profile picture from her coat pocket and showed it to Tōma. "Or if you ever run in to him, you know what he looks like." Tōma studied the photograph and noted his thick spectacles that distorted his eyes like a magnifying glass. "And what does Judgment plan to do to him when he's caught?"
"We're only backing up Anti-Skill on this one. It's far too dangerous for Judgment to get involved."
"So what does Anti-Skill plan to do to him when he's caught?"
A breeze swept over the quad and lifted the loose snow into the air. Kuroko rubbed her hands together and breathed into her palms to warm them up.
"That's not up to them to decide," said Mikoto. "The penalty for an adult to attempt to murder an underage esper in Academy City is death."
"Death?" repeated Tōma in disbelief. Mikoto nodded.
"The point of Academy City is to farm espers, after all. Anyone who interferes with the city's operation is punished without mercy."
"Onee-sama!" yelled Kuroko, still turned away. "Are you done yet?"
Tōma and Mikoto connected eyes one last time. She licked her chapped lips and smiled. "Be careful," she whispered.
A FEW MILES AWAY, a howl punctured through the silence in District 10. Dante clutched his head and buried it into his lap. He trembled in his seat, eyes watering from the pain. Quick puffs of air forced themselves in and out of his lungs. The roars of a dog barking jagged on his ears like broken glass.
"Jesus, Dante. Wan' me to call fer a doctor?"
Fighting through the violent spasms, Dante managed to squeak out a weak "no".
Virgil ran upstairs and poured a glass of water. When he came back down to the basement, Dante was drenched in sweat, heaving breaths, but the demon had apparently left his body. Hands still trembling, he grasped the cup of water that Virgil offered him and chugged it all in two gulps.
"The hell was that?" asked Virgil. His voice sounded like it had been dipped in phlegm and hung in a chimney flue. "You coulda moved a mount'n with that holler."
Dante shook his head. It hurt to breathe. He looked around and tried to recall where he was, but his vision was mired in perspiration. With painstaking effort, he made out a TV set embedded in the inky darkness, then an armchair, then a wine cabinet. He made out Virgil, face tattered by wrinkles and the cuffs of his wool sweater rolled back to his elbows, exposing his beefy forearms. By his feet, a gold and black German shepherd was panting with his head tilted to one side. This was the basement in Virgil's house, he remembered.
He dislodged the glasses from his face and wiped the sweat-soaked lenses with his shirt. "Who's the mutt?" he finally asked.
"That's ol' Cerberus, the neighborhood roamer," said Virgil. "You're alright, son? You look like you just done fought off the devil."
Dante chuckled and massaged his forehead. Virgil grabbed a bottle from the wine cabinet and filled two glasses with bourbon. After a few seconds, Dante's heart rate returned to normal and his breathing became steady.
"I'm fine now," said Dante. "Thanks for the water."
Virgil nodded as he handed him a glass of bourbon and settled in the armchair across from Dante. Cerberus, uninterested, walked to the corner and lay on the linoleum.
"Five years," said Virgil. "Five years you were gone. We all thought you was dead."
"Most of me is dead. Don't you see? I'm already halfway to hell. I'm just looking for a way to pull that part out."
Virgil sipped on his bourbon and then lit a cigarette that tasted like a dirty coin. Dante played with his glass, contemplating if he should drink something so strong after an attack.
"What're you gonna do now?" asked Virgil.
"I know it was Judgment who burned it down, Virgil. They killed everyone I knew."
"So yer' gonna go and murder the boys at Judgment?"
"No, no, I don't want to kill anyone, I'm not like them. I just want some peace and for these fucking headaches to go away."
"So what are you gonna do, Dante? You ain't answered me yet." Virgil sucked on his cigarette and then puffed out a column of smoke that billowed toward the ceiling. Dante took a sip of the bourbon and grimaced as a wave of warmth emanated from his stomach and rippled through his limbs. Cerberus walked over to Dante and ensconced himself beside him.
"I don't know, Virgil," said Dante as he scratched Cerberus's head. "I'll get rid of this headache one way or another." Dante took another shot of alcohol. "Either I'll do what they did to me, or I'll die trying."
Virgil shook his head and finished the remaining bourbon with a glug, crossed his legs. "Lookatcha. Yer' still young. Don't be stupid and go throwin' yer' life away like a damned fool."
"Like I said, Virgil, I have no life to throw away."
Dante weaved his fingers through the fur on Cerberus's back. Virgil finished his cigarette, lit another, and stared at nothing in particular. "If yer' gonna go and burn down all them buildings, then why'dja throw away that fancy fire ability you had before?"
"I used to be a telekinetic myself, Virgil. You remember that." Dante warmed himself with another sip of bourbon. "Besides, a telekinetic can also light things up if he wanted to. He just has to concentrate, is all. Shift up the molecular speed distribution instead of uniform molecule moveme—"
"Son, you best stop right there. I'm sorry I asked." Another puff of smoke shot from his mouth.
Dante downed the contents of his glass, placed the dog on the floor, and stood up, waved away the smoke. He thanked Virgil for the drink and threw his spectacles in the dustbin.
"I don't need them anymore," said Dante. "I reshaped my cornea so I can see better."
Virgil cleared his throat and finished off his second cigarette. "Are you going?"
"Soon."
"Don't get yerself killed."
Dante headed upstairs and sprawled his body out over the futon. He dragged himself into a restless slumber.
By the time he woke up, the stars had tuned into visibility. Dante fled into the night, and Cerberus followed.