"I just think this is so unnecessary…" Kuroko groaned, her brows furrowing together as if they were trying to form some kind of stitched-up coalition against the situation.

"You're making a huge fuss over nothing," Index quipped back, now dressed in her usual nun attire, much to Kuroko's complete dismay. The summer dress was so perfect, Kuroko thought, her mind flashing back to how adorable Index looked in it. But alas, the dress was gone, replaced by the modest, not-as-adorable nun outfit…

"This is kinship! K-I-N-S-H-I-P! Kinship! There's nothing to be embarrassed about!"

Kuroko let out a long-suffering sigh, slumping a little. "...this is just so stupid…" She muttered under her breath. The heat creeping up her cheeks was just a coincidence, absolutely unrelated to the whole lap pillow situation she found herself in.

Because let's be real here—how often do you find yourself with a nun offering you a lap pillow?

Or any girl, for that matter.

From the corner of her eye, Kuroko caught the ghostly figure of Kamijou Touma, floating around like he owned the place. The guy was dead, for heaven's sake, but somehow he still found a way to be annoying.

"I've never seen you so nervous around a girl before, Miss Shirai. Is it the lap pillow, I wonder?" He snickered like the infuriating spectre he was, hovering just above her head like her own personal poltergeist sent to ruin every aspect of her day.

In her mind Kuroko had already violently throttled him at least a dozen times—an impressive display of multitasking, if she said so herself. In one particularly creative daydream she imagined pushing him off the edge of a cliff.

Just once!

Or twice.

Maybe three times, for good measure.

But alas, here in the waking world, he was still haunting her, providing running commentary on her tragic existence. Being petted by a nun who was probably a year younger than her was already mortifying enough. Did she really need a supernatural peanut gallery?

Oh, what a unique experience this was. She could practically hear the universe laughing at her. And God—if it was God—was clearly having a field day. Maybe it was time for her to start picking up theology after all, considering how often her life seemed to dip into divine comedy.

She was ripped from her thoughts when she noticed Index reaching for the food tray next to the bed. Dread washed over her like a cold shower.

No.

No, no, no.

Please not this.

With a bright smile that could only spell doom, Index grabbed a spoonful of cold , stale porridge and leaned in like this was some cute feeding game.

"Come on, say 'ah'!" She chirped, practically vibrating with enthusiasm as her smile shone like a thousand suns.

Kuroko's soul visibly left her body. She had faced down murderous mages and survived terrifying situations with Academy City's deadliest forces, but this —this was the real nightmare. The lap pillow was one thing, but being spoon-fed cold porridge by an overly enthused nun?

She shifted in her seat, desperate to make a break for it, but Index's arm came down with the finality of a prison door slamming shut.

"Wait—! You don't really have to—!"

"Nuh-uh! Stay put! You need your energy, Kuroko! I don't want you exerting yourself."

Kuroko could only stare in horror as the spoon approached her like a weapon of mass destruction. She winced as the cold porridge hit her tongue, the sludge an odious mixture of slop and sludge. Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, Index kept going , digging the spoon into her mouth with a precision and intent that bordered on psychological warfare.

Kuroko sputtered, trying to tap out as though she were in some kind of bizarre food-wrestling match. "Wait, wait! You're choking me! Stop!" She shouted through gobs of cold gunk, bits of loose porridge spewing from her mouth.

Through it all, Kamijou Touma's ghost could only laugh. Loudly . Of course, he would find this amusing, to see others in such misfortune.

Kuroko's shoulders slumped as a voice—one that grated her very soul—broke the fragile peace of the room.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Kuroko didn't even have to turn her head to recognize the voice. Stiyl Magnus, looking significantly younger and much more appropriate for a teenager, stood in the doorway, holding a small basket like he was about to visit a sick relative.

'At least he's not smoking in here…' Kuroko noted with some relief. That was literally the bare minimum of decency, but hey, maybe her standards for human decency were plummeting.

'God, I hope not ,' She thought. ' I refuse to become that miserable .'

Her so-called 'saving grace' came in the form of two figures: One, an angsty teenage boy who looked like he hadn't seen a decent night's sleep in weeks and seemed to have an uncanny resemblance to every grumpy cat in existence (Stiyl, of course), and the other, a tall, statuesque woman—Kaori Kanzaki. The way Kaori loomed in the doorway demanded attention, her presence overwhelming and naturally screaming for attentive focus. Kuroko's wine-red eyes, betraying her for just a second, lingered on Kaori's body, tracing her from her lovely long legs to her serious and sharp face.

Big mistake.

Kaori's frown deepened, and before Kuroko could even blink, a sharp slap landed on her forehead courtesy of a very annoyed Index.

"Eyes up , Kuroko!" Index scolded, waving a finger like some kind of irritated school teacher.

"Magicians," Index growled, her whole vibe shifting from 'cute nun offering porridge' to 'intimidating battle priestess in three seconds flat.' "What do you want ?"

Kuroko glanced back and forth between the two groups. Index had slipped into defensive mode, and honestly, Kuroko couldn't blame her. She had no idea what these magicians were up to, and neither did Kuroko for that matter. But she could see the effect Index had on them. Both Stiyl and Kaori visibly flinched, their postures suddenly stiff, like they'd been burned by some invisible flame.

Kuroko let out an internal groan. 'Why is it always Kuroko who has to play peacekeeper? Why can't it be someone else, just once? Maybe an overpaid negotiator or a therapist? Surely there are professionals for this kind of thing .'

Still, it had to be done. She had already been humiliated enough for one day; adding a full-scale magical fight to the mix would probably finish her off. The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife, and Kuroko knew that if she didn't intervene, there was a solid chance that Index would launch herself at the magicians in a rage. Sighing in resignation, Kuroko peeled herself off of Index's lap, her legs shaky like a newborn fawn.

"Enough ," she muttered, rubbing her forehead where Index had whacked her with far too much enthusiasm. "Let's not escalate things, okay? We already have enough problems without adding more property damage to the list."

She turned to Index, who was still glaring daggers at Stiyl and Kaori, her cheeks puffed out in frustration. With a lazy chop to Index's head, Kuroko cut off her simmering tirade. "Be nice, Index. I don't want to spend the rest of the day mediating between you and these two."

Index pouted, her lips curling in dissatisfaction, but she reluctantly backed off, her eyes still shooting metaphorical daggers at Stiyl. "Fine ," she grumbled, crossing her arms like a petulant child. "But I'm not happy about it."

Kuroko straightened her clothes, trying to muster as much authority as she could in front of these magicians, despite the absurdity of the situation. She felt like she was trying to herd cats—angry, magical cats, each with their own agenda. "And you two…" she said, directing her frustration at Stiyl and Kaori, her voice exasperated but firm. "I cannot stress this enough—explain yourselves. Both of you. And I mean in detail, not in your usual vague, ominous nonsense. I'm tired, I'm fed up, and I'd really prefer if we could skip the theatrics this time."

Stiyl blinked, opening his mouth to speak, but Kuroko held up a hand, silencing him. She took a deep breath, her expression twisting into one of pure exhaustion as if every molecule in her body was pleading for mercy. "Actually, you know what? I'm out. Nope. I am not dealing with this." She threw her hands up in mock surrender, her decision now final. Without waiting for further explanation, she hopped off the bed and stretched her arms, feeling the satisfying crack of her joints, as if preparing herself to leave the entire absurdity of this situation behind her.

"Look, I've already been spoon-fed cold porridge and had a nun use my lap like it's a personal luxury cushion," Kuroko said, rubbing her temples as if she could ward off an impending headache. "I've hit my limit of weirdness for today. Whatever nonsense you three want to sort out, you can do it without me."

Behind her, she could already sense Index preparing to whine, like an overzealous child who wasn't quite ready to let go of her favorite toy. Kuroko cut that off before it could even start, flashing her a smile that was anything but comforting. It wasn't a sweet, reassuring smile either. No, it was the kind of smile that promised she'd be back to rescue her if things got ugly —but only after having a good laugh about it first.

"Good luck." She tossed that little encouragement over her shoulder, her tone positively dripping with insincerity as she strolled toward the door, as casual as could be. "I'm sure this conversation will be so productive. Really, the height of intellectual exchange."

Just before leaving, Kuroko paused dramatically in the doorway, glancing back at the chaotic scene she was leaving behind. She gave them all a long, suffering look—the kind of look one gives before departing from a particularly awkward family reunion. "Play nice, everyone~" she called out, her voice sing-songy but with an unmistakable edge of warning. She gave one last look at Stiyl and Kaori, then Index, before finally closing the door behind her with a soft but definitive click.

For a moment, there was silence in the room.

Then, from behind the door, Kuroko could faintly hear Stiyl's irritated drawl. "We didn't come here to fight…" he grumbled, crossing his arms like a petulant child. "This is just… 'protocol'."

"Protocol?" Index repeated, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Your idea of protocol is barging in unannounced and being vague? Brilliant."

Kuroko leaned her head against the wall, smirking to herself.

'I give them five minutes before someone throws something .'

It was a bad consensus to have but it might as well work, throwing your whole emotions in this conflict was, afterall, helpful to get your story across. Humans tend to function with the idea of empathy bouncing somewhere around their heads.

Inside, Kaori, who had been quietly observing the situation, finally spoke up. "We came to check on you." She said in her low, serious voice. "Stiyl insisted."

Stiyl grumbled something under his breath, clearly not thrilled about the whole ordeal. That, or he's being incredibly hard on himself for admitting that he cared for Index more than he would like to admit.

"Well, you've checked ." Index said dryly, arms crossed, "Now you can leave."

Kuroko, from the other side of the door, stifled a laugh. The theatrics in there were better than any TV drama she could imagine.

Back inside, Stiyl cleared his throat awkwardly, "It's not just that, we—we brought gifts."

"Gifts?" Index's eyes narrowed. "Like what?"

Stiyl, looking deeply uncomfortable, lifted the small basket he was holding as if it contained some holy relic. "Tea. And, uh… biscuits."

"Oh wow, biscuits." Index replied with deadpan sarcasm, "I'm overwhelmed by your generosity."

Kuroko could practically feel the tension rising, but she resisted the urge to burst back in. No, no. This was their mess to deal with now.

Kuroko leaned against the wall outside the hospital room, her arms crossed as she silently debated whether to return to the chaos she had left behind or go get that drink she'd been thinking about. It really wasn't the best idea to leave them alone but, Stiyl and Kanzaki know better than to cause a fuss in this place, nevermind make trouble whilst she's around.

That's when Kamijou Touma appeared beside her, looking as ethereal and annoyingly calm as ever. He sighed, his expression caught somewhere between mild disappointment and amusement.

"You really just have to make this difficult for them, don't you?" He said, shaking his head like an exasperated older brother who had long since given up on reforming his mischievous sibling.

Kuroko's lips curled into an amused grin. "This is the least they can do after the trouble they've caused me." She glanced down at her left hand, flexing it slightly. The pain had mostly subsided, a testament to the wonders of Academy City's advanced medical technology. Still, the memory of her injuries lingered. "And with all the injuries they caused me, I think I'm allowed to indulge in a little mischief."

Kamijoi raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

"Hmm. I'd say I had it worse back then. You should be grateful you didn't try to fight Miss Kanzaki directly." His tone was light, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of memory—that made Kuroko pause for a second. She shook her head, her grin widening.

"Grateful? Oh, sure, let me send a thank-you note to my dear Miss Kanzaki for not slicing me in half." Kuroko muttered sarcastically. "How lucky I am..."

Still, there was truth to his words. Kuroko hummed thoughtfully, remembering how Kanzaki had been the one to approach her first—an uneasy truce of sorts for Index's sake. Kanzaki was terrifying, sure, but her loyalty to Index had created this fragile alliance. If things had gone differently, if Kanzaki had been more aggressive… well, Kuroko would probably be in far worse shape.

But it wasn't just Kanzaki that weighed on her mind. Today was July 27th —the anniversary of Index's supposed death in the original timeline that Kamijou told her about. There were a lot of things Kuroko didn't understand about that day, and the more she thought about it, the more her head started to hurt.

Too many questions, too much left unsaid. And yet, standing here now, with Touma's ghost floating beside her, it all felt… almost normal. Like everything was still the same, even though everything had changed.

"Mister Kamijou…" Kuroko began, her voice quieter now, a hint of curiosity seeping into her tone. "I know you've explained this to me before, but how exactly should I remove Index's collar? There has to be something I'm missing."

Kamijou tilted his head, giving her a slightly teasing smile as he watched her abandon her leaning spot and begin to pace, clearly deep in thought. "I told you, didn't I? Just shove your hand down her throat."

Kuroko's face twisted in a mix of disgust and incredulity. "I know you said that, but how exactly does that work? Am I supposed to just… reach in like some kind of medical drama reject ? Come on, there has to be a better way ."

Touma let out a dramatic sigh, as if he were dealing with a particularly dense student. "Okay, fine. If you want a more technical explanation …" He folded his arms and leaned back, clearly gearing up for an info dump. "The collar's magic is tied to a rune imprinted on her uvula. It's not just a simple charm or something that you can rip off with a pair of tweezers. This rune is the anchor to an entire magical binding system designed specifically to protect and control Index's memories. The idea is to make sure that the person removing it has the ability to negate the magic without causing a total collapse of her mental framework. If the rune is removed incorrectly, it could trigger a chain reaction, which in turn could lead to a catastrophic outcome—either erasing her memories entirely or turning her into a walking magical bomb."

Kuroko blinked before groaning; That was a lot of information to take in.

"I know I should be used to all of this, but really, why of all things does it have to be her uvula holding her life hostage? Why not something less... gross?"

Touma gave her a sympathetic look. "I know, it sounds ridiculous, but that's precisely why they chose that spot. It's hidden in plain sight, and anyone without an intimate understanding of how her defenses work would never think to look there. The rune being on the uvula makes it nearly impossible to see without a thorough examination, and even harder to reach. The people who designed it were banking on the fact that no one would be able to tamper with it unless they knew exactly what they were doing."

Kuroko huffed in frustration, rubbing her temples as if trying to push the headache away. "Okay, so what if I just use some kind of nullifying agent, like that anti-magic field if that even exists? That should be enough to deactivate the rune, right?"

Touma gave her a flat look. "That's not going to work."

"Why not?" Kuroko demanded, her voice rising slightly. She was trying to think outside the box here, but Touma wasn't giving her anything to work with. "If it's just a rune, can't I just suppress the magic long enough to remove it?"

"Sure, in theory, you could try that," Touma said, his voice slipping into a lecturing tone, like he was explaining the obvious to someone who just didn't get it. "But you're missing the point. The rune isn't just a basic enchantment—it's part of a much larger and more sophisticated magical system that's directly tied to Index's brain functions. It's intricately linked with her subconscious, and any attempt to suppress it without the proper method could scramble her memories. Worse still, it could activate her self-defense mechanism."

Kuroko frowned. "Self-defense mechanism?"

Touma nodded, his expression turning more serious.

"It's called 'John's Pen Mode'. When activated, Index can access all the knowledge of the 103,000 grimoires stored in her mind, even though she claims she can't use magic. Essentially, her mind becomes a fully activated magical library, and her personality is taken over by a self-defense mechanism called 'John's Pen'. It's an automatic response designed to protect her from threats, allowing her to use high-level spells without any hesitation."

Touma paused for a moment. "Are you following?"

Kuroko just nodded, and Touma took it as a cue to continue.

"In that state, she's incredibly dangerous—imagine someone who knows every forbidden spell in existence, and has no problem using them at full power, regardless of the consequences. And trust me, dealing with that is beyond a nightmare."

Kuroko stared at him, the weight of the situation settling heavily over her. The idea of triggering something so dangerous just by making a mistake filled her with a sense of dread she wasn't used to. She was accustomed to dealing with threats head-on, but this felt different—more like navigating a minefield where every wrong step could mean disaster.

"So, if I try to remove the collar in the wrong way, I could accidentally turn her into a magical weapon?" she asked, her voice low.

"Pretty much." Touma replied, his tone casual, as if they were discussing the weather. "Once she's in 'John's Pen Mode', she's not exactly herself. It's like… well , imagine if all the annoying parts of her personality got turned up to eleven, and then she gained the ability to level entire city blocks without blinking an eye."

Kuroko made a face, trying to wrap her head around that particular nightmare. "Okay, so shoving my hand down her throat is somehow the better option here?"

"Bingo!" Touma grinned, clearly enjoying this far more than he should. "See? You're catching on. The reason it has to be your hand is because of the Imagine Breaker. The rune is intricately connected to the magical system protecting Index's memories, and the Imagine Breaker is the only thing capable of cancelling out the magic without triggering a catastrophic response. Any other method, any other nullifying magic or tool, could disrupt her brain functions or set off the self-defense mechanism."

Kuroko sighed, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility pressing down on her shoulders. She leaned her head against the wall, her earlier bravado fading, replaced by a grim acceptance of what she had to do.

"This is insane. I'm supposed to just… reach into her throat, deactivate a rune, and hope I don't accidentally turn her into a magical nuke?" Kuroko could feel a vein throbbing in her forehead from the sheer weight of these complications and all the possible bad outcomes.

Touma shrugged, his expression lightening as if trying to alleviate her worries. "Pretty much. But hey, it's not all bad. At least you've got the Imagine Breaker. Imagine if you didn't have that—you'd be out of options completely."

Kuroko gave him a sidelong glance, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "That's not exactly reassuring, Mister Kamijou."

He chuckled, his voice echoing faintly in the empty hallway.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm here to cheer you on. Just think of it as a really high-stakes game of Operation. Except instead of buzzing, Index might accidentally summon a firestorm if you mess up."

"Oh. Great." Kuroko deadpanned, rolling her eyes. "No pressure at all. Thanks." She said in chunks, clearly not looking forward to playing this magical crossover of a medical board game for children.

Kuroko reached the end of the hospital hallway where a vending machine sat embedded in the wall, looking oddly out of place but somehow symbolic of Academy City's strange charm. Across from it, a simple metal bench beckoned for anyone needing a moment's rest, but Kuroko wasn't interested in resting. No, she had her sights set on the vending machine—a beacon of hope for her increasingly dry throat. But as she stepped closer, she realized the choices it offered were… unique.

Red bean soup with grains, a chili drink, rainbow tomato juice—who thought these flavors were appropriate for the sick and injured? Kuroko squinted at the neon labels, trying to make sense of them. Among the bizarre options, one drink stood out as relatively sane: coconut cider.

"Well…" she muttered to herself, "At least that doesn't sound like it'll murder my taste buds."

She checked the price: 300 yen. Affordable enough—even for a student with limited funds like her. Except…

She tapped her pockets, searching for loose coins. First the hospital gown pocket, then her pants, then back to the hospital gown pocket. Nothing. Not even a 10-yen coin to her name. Kuroko huffed in frustration but wasn't ready to give up yet. No, she had one last trick up her sleeve—the timeless tradition of hoping someone had forgotten their change in the coin slot.

She bent down, peering into the narrow gap. Empty. Not a glimmer of spare yen.

"Seriously?" Kuroko grumbled under her breath, feeling her dignity slip away bit by bit. But she wasn't one to back down so easily. Plan B was simple—check under the vending machine. If some poor soul had dropped a coin, it would have rolled under there, right? That was just physics.

She knelt down on the cold tile floor, arm reaching under the machine as she blindly searched for any forgotten riches. It wasn't glamorous, but Kuroko had her pride. She'd get that coconut cider if it was the last thing she did.

Above her, Kamijou's spectral form floated lazily, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. "This is getting ridiculous to watch." He commented dryly, "Why don't you just go back to your room and grab some coins?"

Kuroko scoffed, not bothering to look up from her search. "And interrupt their much needed conversation? I'd rather not, thank you very much. Besides, wouldn't I just ruin the mood?"

Kamijou raised an eyebrow. "Even if that's the case, it's still better than watching you crawl around on the floor like some kind of stray animal."

"And I don't want to be a nuisance either." Kuroko retorted, her voice muffled as she shoved her arm deeper under the machine, desperately feeling for any metallic edge. "So suck it up, Kamijou."

She could hear Kamijou sigh in that way that made her want to throttle him. "Fine, whatever. Keep searching, then. It's not like you actually look pitiful or anything..."

"Who are you talking to?"

Kuroko was about to respond with a witty retort when a new voice cut through the air, startling her so much that she jerked back, banging her head on the vending machine with a loud thunk.

"Ow, ow, ow…" she grumbled, rubbing the back of her head as she scrambled to her feet, her eyes landing on Fukiyose Seiri, her fellow classmate—and now fellow patient.

Fukiyose looked… surprisingly healthy compared to the last time Kuroko had seen her. The bandages were still wrapped around her limbs, but her color had returned, and the sickly pallor was gone. Unfortunately, her unimpressed expression hadn't changed one bit. She stood there, arms crossed, giving Kuroko a look that could curdle milk.

Kuroko froze, caught red-handed—or rather, coinless—as Fukiyose's voice cut through her concentration like a knife. She straightened up awkwardly, brushing dirt off her knees as if that would somehow restore her dignity. "Fukiyose... fancy meeting you here…" She said, attempting to inject nonchalance into her voice, though the strained tone betrayed her.

Fukiyose crossed her arms, eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. Her unimpressed gaze flicked to Kuroko's left hand, which Kuroko had hastily tried to hide behind her back. The stern look softened into something bordering on concern—albeit wrapped tightly in layers of frustration. "You've injured yourself again, haven't you? Banged your head too hard it seems. Care to enlighten me on what happened this time?"

Kuroko suddenly found the walls of the hospital hallway infinitely fascinating. She shifted uncomfortably under Fukiyose's scrutiny, her eyes darting everywhere except at her classmate.

"Well, it was just... some mishaps, you see. Slight miscalculations, one could say…" Kuroko mumbled, forcing nonchalance though the weight of Fukiyose's glare made her want to curl up and vanish. She could already tell there was no escape from this interrogation.

"Oh really now?" Fukiyose's eyebrow arched, her arms still crossed in the stance of a class representative who had caught a delinquent red-handed. "Pray tell, what exactly were those miscalculations?"

Kuroko opened her mouth, trying to piece together some half-baked excuse that might let her off the hook. Unfortunately for her, Kamijou Touma—ever the opportunist—chose that exact moment to chime in.

"Getting caught by your girlfriend , obviously…" His voice echoed in her mind, dripping with mockery. "How are you going to talk your way out of this one, Miss Shirai?"

Kuroko's cheeks flushed a faint pink, and she clenched her teeth, glaring at the floor as if willing it to open up and swallow her whole. She hated how easily Kamijou could push her buttons, even in death. And worse still, she couldn't even snap at him without looking like she'd completely lost her mind.

Kuroko was already trying to work her way around that after being caught looking like a schizophrenic.

Fukiyose's brown eyes remained fixed on her, growing more skeptical by the second. There was no mistaking the suspicion written all over her face, and Kuroko knew she'd need to come up with something—anything—to salvage what was left of her dignity.

"Well..." Kuroko started, floundering for a moment before her instincts took over, a forced grin slipping across her face. "It was that pesky magician getting the better of me, you know? But nothing that this Kuroko Shirai can't handle!"

The moment the words left her mouth, she cringed inwardly. Speaking in the third person. Again . Why did she always revert to that when she was flustered? It only made her sound more ridiculous, especially now, with Fukiyose staring at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"You really are frustrating to deal with." Fukiyose said, her voice carrying an edge that spoke of long-suffering patience. She sighed, arms still firmly crossed, her expression a mix of exasperation and reluctant concern. "Just move out of the way. It's painful watching you grovel on the floor like that."

Kuroko scrambled to her feet, her face flushing with embarrassment. "Hey! It's an honest living!" She protested, though she couldn't ignore how hollow her words sounded. She was fully aware of how ridiculous she looked—and yet she wasn't about to let Fukiyose see her crack, not completely.

Fukiyose's eyebrow remained raised, her expression clearly unimpressed.

"I don't think crawling under vending machines for spare change qualifies as 'honest living,' Shirai. Especially for the heiress of a prestigious family like yours. I still don't understand why you act like you're financially struggling when your family is practically rolling in it. It's practically offensive."

Kuroko crossed her arms defensively, huffing as she tried to maintain her composure. "Maybe because I am financially struggling. Things happen. Unexpected expenses, you know? I don't get every dime of profit either…" Her voice trailed off, the excuse sounding weaker the longer she spoke. Fukiyose's gaze was like a spotlight, making it impossible to keep up the pretense for long.

Fukiyose didn't buy it for a second.

"Unexpected expenses like... your money flying out of your pockets?"

Kuroko blinked, momentarily thrown off. "How'd you know that happened to me?"

Fukiyose sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose, the way she often did when dealing with Kuroko's antics. "Never mind." There was a hint of resignation in her voice—a familiar sound that always accompanied her interactions with Kuroko. It was as though she wanted to say more but was holding back, maybe out of pity or sheer exhaustion.

Kuroko studied Fukiyose's face carefully, searching for any cracks in her stoic demeanor—some sign that her frustration might soften into something gentler. Did her brow furrow just a little less? Were her lips about to curl into a reluctant smile? Kuroko couldn't help it; there was something oddly satisfying about knowing she could get under Fukiyose's skin, even if it came at the cost of her own embarrassment.

Maybe it was the way Fukiyose's patience seemed endless, even when Kuroko was being her most ridiculous. The girl never fully lost her composure, and that made Kuroko feel like Fukiyose was... memorable. She was frustrating, sure, but at least she was memorable, an indelible mark on her life.

Kamijou's ghostly voice slipped back into her thoughts, dripping with that same annoying sense of amusement. "Still staring at her, huh? You know, Shirai, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're acting like a teenage boy. You get this look in your eyes every time she gives you any attention. You sure you're not secretly enjoying all this concern?"

Kuroko's face twitched, heat rushing to her cheeks at the accusation. She clenched her fists, shooting a quick glare at Kamijou's floating form, though she knew full well Fukiyose couldn't see him.

"Shut it, Kamijou…" She muttered under her breath, pretending to adjust her hospital gown collar as if that would somehow make her feel less exposed.

"I'm not enjoying it." Kuroko insisted internally, her mind racing as she tried to shake off the accusation. But she couldn't deny that there was a tiny part of her—a part she'd never admit aloud—that felt oddly reassured by Fukiyose's watchful eye.

It wasn't something she was used to. Concern wasn't exactly an experience she encountered often—at least not in the way Fukiyose delivered it: Practical, direct, and with no sugar-coating. It was the kind of care that didn't coddle, but it was there all the same, woven into every exasperated sigh and eye roll.

Kuroko let her arms drop to her sides, unable to keep up her defensive posture for much longer.

"I'm just... unused to this." She admitted quietly, half to herself, half hoping Fukiyose wouldn't notice the small crack in her confident façade. She wasn't the kind of girl who needed to be fussed over. She was supposed to be independent, the girl who handled everything on her own.

But here she was, a little too focused on how Fukiyose stood with her hands on her hips, her head tilted as though debating whether to keep scolding or offer actual help. Kuroko's heart did a small, unwanted flutter at the sight.

Kamijou's mocking laugh echoed in her ear, smug and relentless. "See? This is exactly what I'm talking about. One kind word from her, and you're already turning into mush. And now you're even checking if it helped her? Don't think I don't notice."

Kuroko gritted her teeth, determined to fight back the warmth creeping up her neck.

"So are you moving or not?" Fukiyose's voice cut through the tension, her arm pointing down the hallway in an impatient gesture, making Kuroko acutely aware of how heated her cheeks were becoming.

"I am, you don't need to be so hung up on this." Kuroko retorted, putting as much sass into her tone as she could muster, even though her embarrassment was threatening to bubble over.

She thought it would elicit some kind of reaction from Fukiyose—maybe a scolding, maybe an annoyed sigh—but instead, Fukiyose simply looked a tiny smidge more annoyed.

"Just hurry up. I'll buy you a drink too." Fukiyose sighed, one hand resting on her hip, though there was a glimmer of amusement playing across her features. "Honestly, it's just sad watching you search for coins like that. Pitiful, really."

"Laugh all you want." Kuroko grumbled, sidestepping to make room. "And those drinks are weird, I'm telling you."

"I'll be the judge of that..." Fukiyose muttered, stepping in front of the vending machine, her expression shifting to one of deep skepticism as she scanned the options. Kuroko watched from the side, noticing the moment Fukiyose's eyes widened in utter disbelief. "...how is this place selling unhealthy drinks...? Isn't this a hospital? Seriously, chili soda? Spicy ginger cola? Tonkatsu energy drink? What are they thinking?!"

"That's what I was saying too…" Kuroko mumbled, her arms crossed. "But if that offer still stands, can you get me the coconut cider one?"

"Shameless." Kamijou quipped, and Kuroko could only huff in mild annoyance. Fukiyose was offering; what else was she supposed to do?

Fukiyose rolled her eyes, reaching into her pocket for some coins. As she did, she glanced over her shoulder at Kuroko, her expression softening just slightly.

"Index visited me earlier, by the way," Fukiyose mentioned casually, clicking a few buttons on the vending machine before inserting her coins.

Kuroko raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself.

"And how did that conversation go?"

Fukiyose paused, her hand hovering near the vending machine's buttons for a moment longer than necessary. She let out a slow breath, her body tensing as if she was about to remove a fish bone stuck in her throat.

"She wanted to apologize." She began, her voice uncharacteristically soft, as though every word cost her effort. "For what happened the other day, specifically. You know, with the magicians? She thought it was her fault for… getting me caught up in it."

Kuroko watched her carefully, noting the way Fukiyose's shoulders seemed to slump slightly at the memory—how her breath seemed to catch, as though the emotions were still too raw to fully express. There was something odd in her posture, a kind of hesitance that Kuroko rarely saw from the usually confident girl. Kuroko could tell that what happened yesterday had shaken Fukiyose more than she was willing to admit.

"And what did you say to her?" Kuroko asked, her voice quieter now, watching Fukiyose carefully, the sarcasm and bravado stripped away.

Fukiyose hesitated, her fingers brushing against the vending machine as if searching for the right words. She looked down, her gaze distant, trying to steady herself. Her other hand moved tentatively to touch her throat, a reminder of the incident the other day—the memory of what had shaken her. Her fingertips brushed her neck, as if she could still feel the impact, the fear that had settled there. Kuroko wasn't used to this kind of vulnerability that Fukiyose was showing, and admitting it now felt like Fukiyose was laying herself bare, exposing the weakness Fukiyose had tried so hard to hide.

"I... didn't really know what to say." She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, but... for a moment, I almost blamed her. And that scared me." Fukiyose shook her head, "I mean, it's ridiculous, right? Here I am, supposedly the level-headed one, the one who should know better, and yet I felt that irrational surge of blame. It made no sense, but it was there. Just acknowledging that I could feel something like that—something so petty and unfair—made me feel weak."

Kuroko could sense how Fukiyose was slighting herself for thinking this way, and she could hear how her voice kept going distant.

"It was like this sudden realization that maybe I'm not as composed as I think I am, that maybe all this time I've been fooling myself into thinking I'm stronger than I really am. And just admitting that, even to myself, feels like I'm tearing out a part of me that I'd rather ignore." She took a shaky breath, her eyes betraying a vulnerability that Kuroko rarely saw—her usual confidence stripped away, revealing raw uncertainty.

"It felt easier to blame her than to face up to how scared I was. And that realization... made me feel pathetic. I mean, what kind of person does that?" Fukiyose looked over at Kuroko with a troubled expression, "It made me feel weak—like I couldn't even handle my own emotions without trying to put the burden on someone else. It was frustrating to admit, but I guess... I guess that's the truth."

Kuroko's chest tightened at Fukiyose's words, watching as she looked back towards the vending machine. Kuroko could see it now—the fear that had been lurking just beneath Fukiyose's frustration, barely masked by her outward composure. It wasn't just anger directed at herself—no, it was fear, raw and unfiltered. Fear of the helplessness Fukiyose had felt, fear of the danger they'd been in, fear of how powerless she had been in the face of it all. Kuroko knew that feeling too well.

It was hard not too.

She remembered it all too clearly—the desperation that had been evident in Fukiyose's eyes yesterday, the way her hands had trembled slightly as she hugged Kuroko, her hold fierce and protective, as if trying to shield her from the world. She doesn't need it, but to Fukiyose she think it was a much needed action. Startling her, making her just as overwhelmed, holding the woman back in return with the same firm conviction.

It had been a rare, startling moment of vulnerability, Kuroko would admit that much. She was losing hope the other day and If it hadn't for Fukiyose's action the other day… well Kuroko might as well had still be searching for Index today.

Kuroko had felt that same helplessness, that same gnawing fear, and yet seeing it reflected in Fukiyose had made it hit even harder. The only user of Imagine Breaker wasn't used to seeing Fukiyose appearing anything but composed, strong, and unyielding. She was called the iron wall girl for a reason, so seeing that iron moult into a disgusting shade of brown rust made Kuroko frown.

And now, in this moment, Kuroko realised that Fukiyose needed her—needed her the way that she needed her from the yesterday debacle.

Kuroko Shirai at this moment didn't care about her bravado or keeping up appearances; all she cared for at this moment was about being there for someone who had been there for her. For Fukiyose Seiri who had selflessly been there for her when it was the girl herself that needed the comfort the most from yesterday.

Fukiyose Seiri, who was struggling to keep it together even when she was scared witless from all of the events that happened to her.

( Respect was written anew, Kuroko marvelled how a person like her could still be this strong even when things had gone south for her. It was really admirable.)

At this moment, Kuroko's previous image of Fukiyose had shattered as someone that's invincible, showing Kuroko the real, fragile humanity beneath her rough exterior—a side Kuroko knew she was privileged to see, and now she understood that it was her turn to be the strong one.

Without thinking, Kuroko shot up from the bench she had found comfort lounging in, her body moving before her mind could catch up.

Seeing Fukiyose… Seeing her like this—vulnerable and shaken—didn't sit well with her, and she couldn't stand it any longer. She refused to see her be like this.

She marched over to Fukiyose, her heart pounding in her chest, and without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around her in a firm, protective hug.

Fukiyose stiffened, clearly caught off guard. The drinks she had just retrieved from the vending machine slipped from her hands, clattering to the floor with a dull thud.

Unknowingly to her, Kuroko had just casted a spell that made Fukiyose's Seiri's face be set in a blaze, a sharp noise can only indicate the teen's shock.

"S-Shirai–! what are you—?" She stammered, her eyes widening in surprise. Fukiyose's voice faltered, her resistance more out of confusion than anything else, her hands hovering awkwardly in the air, unsure whether to push Kuroko away or pull her closer.

The sudden proximity made her heart race, her thoughts stumbling over each other as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Her usual composure shattered entirely, leaving her flustered and at a loss.

"Th-this is... not what I expected…" Fukiyose managed to utter, her voice cracking, her confusion evident as she struggled to react.

Kuroko held on tighter, her face buried in Fukiyose's shoulder. Her own cheeks were burning without her accord, but she refused to let go even if shame doused her like she had been poured with a cold bucket of water.

"Just... shut up for a second…" She mumbled, her voice muffled. "You did this to me, hugged me yesterday, so... I'm just returning the favour nothing more." She paused for a moment, her voice softening awkwardly. "Besides... you looked like you needed it." She hesitated, then continued, her voice trembling slightly. "I-I know it's awkward, but it's okay, alright? You don't have to be the strong one all the time. It's okay to let someone else help you. Even if it's me."

Kuroko felt her heart pounding in her chest, and the words felt clumsy, but they were genuine. She tightened her embrace just a little more.

"I'm not really good at this kind of thing, but... I'm here. And... you don't have to carry everything alone, you know? It's okay to let someone else be strong for you sometimes."

She was trying her best to fight off the embarrassment—after all, Fukiyose had done something for her, and she wasn't about to back down now, even if her heart felt like it was going to burst from the awkwardness. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.

"Look, it's okay to feel shaken sometimes. You're always so strong, you know? You deserve a moment to let someone else help... even if it's someone as ridiculous as me." The red haired felt her heart ring loudly in her mind, and the words she uttered felt so clumsy, but it was from within the heart.

"And hey, you're not alone in this. We'll figure it out together, alright? Even if I'm not exactly great at this comforting thing." She let out a small, nervous laugh, her voice cracking slightly. Kuroko swallowed, feeling the awkwardness bubbling up, but she pressed on. "You know, it's okay to let someone else be strong for you sometimes. I mean… even someone like you deserves a break, right?" She let out a nervous laugh, her grip tightening slightly.

"It's not like you always have to handle everything by yourself. And... if you need someone, well... I'm here, even if I'm not always great at this kind of thing." She felt her heart pounding in her chest as she continued to ramble, sure she was repeating her words at this point.

And

Kuroko was just too focused on trying her best to fight off the embarrassment—after all, Fukiyose had done something for her, and she wasn't about to back down now from a favour.

…even if her heart felt like it was going to burst from the awkwardness.

For a moment Fukiyose seemed to be shocked. Silence course through the place and for that short instance she felt Fukiyose shift, her arms maybe, returning to hug her.

But instead. The noise alerted them.

Fukiyose's face turned incredibly bright like the lights from a Christmas tree, and she stammered, trying to shove Kuroko back with more force.

"Cut it out! This is... embarrassing! We're in the hallway for crying out loud!" Her resistance grew more determined, her hands pushing at Kuroko's shoulders. "Seriously, Shirai, let go! People are going to stare!" Her voice grew increasingly frantic, and her eyes darted around nervously.

Fukiyose's resistance became more panicky, her arms pushing against Kuroko's shoulders, her face growing even redder by the second. Kuroko never thought that it would be possible to be that inhumanely red.

"What is wrong with you?" She hissed, her eyes darting nervously around the hallway. "Do you have any idea how weird this looks?! Let go already!"

Kuroko, of course, ignored her completely, tightening her hold just enough to keep Fukiyose from slipping away.

"Just relax." She murmured, her voice strained with embarrassment. "It's just a hug. Nothing shameless, alright? Im returning the favour that you did for me yesterday. Besides…its not like we're doing anything inappropriate here."

Fukiyose's eyes widened, her face now practically scarlet. "Inappropriate?! Who said anything about that?! You're impossible!" Her words were flustered, tripping over themselves as she tried—and failed—to maintain her usual composure. She pushed harder, her hands pressing into Kuroko's shoulders with more force. "People are definitely going to stare! This is beyond shameless, even for you!" She added, her voice cracking slightly as she tried to fight her own confusion and embarrassment.

And as she said that, lo and behold. A pair of older passersby walked by, their amused chuckles echoing down the hallway. One of them nudged the other with a grin.

"Oh these kids are so passionate, aren't they?"

The other nodded, a knowing smile on their face. "Calm down young lady, your partner is not going anywhere. Don't hug her so tight, poor kid looks like she's losing air." They continued on, their voices filled with gentle laughter.

Kuroko felt her entire face and mouth hang, mortification coursing through her. She clenched her teeth, trying to fight back the embarrassment that threatened to overwhelm her.

"W-we're not doing anything like that!" She protested, her voice strained, but she still refused to let go. Her hold on Fukiyose tightened, though her bravado was clearly starting to crack. "See? They just don't understand." She mumbled, avoiding Fukiyose's gaze, her cheeks burning. "You should just accept it, Fukiyose. Fighting it only makes it worse."

Fukiyose let out an exasperated sigh, her face still flushed as she reluctantly gave in, her arms falling to her sides. "You're impossible, you know that? You don't need to do this." She muttered, though her voice lacked any real bite. She was clearly defeated, her body going slack in Kuroko's embrace. "But I swear, you take things too far when you do."

Kuroko tightened her gripped, her expression softening as she thought, 'Maybe I don't need to, but I want to. You need this, even if you won't admit it.'

After a moment, Fukiyose's tense posture softened, and she let out a shaky breath. Kuroko could feel her relax, even if it was just a little, and that made the awkwardness of the situation worth it. She knew Fukiyose needed this—just as much as she did.

Eventually, Kuroko pulled back, her face still flushed but a satisfied smile playing on her lips. Fukiyose looked at her, her expression caught between exasperation and something softer, almost grateful.

"You're ridiculous." She said, shaking her head.

"I know." Kuroko replied, her tone light. "But you liked it."

Fukiyose rolled her eyes, bending down to pick up the fallen drinks. She handed one to Kuroko, who accepted it with a small nod of thanks. As they stood there, Fukiyose's eyes flicked to Kuroko's left hand—the one still wrapped in bandages—and her brow furrowed.

"Index mentioned your actual injury." Fukiyose said, her voice softer now. She reached out, taking Kuroko's hand in hers, her fingers brushing over the bandages gently. "You really should be more careful, you know."

Kuroko's face warmed at the proximity, her heart skipping a beat as Fukiyose's fingers lingered on her hand. Fukiyose didn't hesitate, her grip firm as she turned Kuroko's hand over, inspecting the bandages more closely. Kuroko stammered, and now it was her feeling out of sorts. "I-I said it's nothing serious." She muttered, awkwardly trying to pull her hand back, but Fukiyose held on.

"Stop being stubborn," Fukiyose insisted, missing how hypocritical she sounded given the prior moment, her tone carrying a hint of frustration. "Let me check it properly."

Kuroko swallowed, her voice softening. "I-I... fine, just make it quick." She mumbled, unable to meet Fukiyose's gaze. But as she felt the warmth of Fukiyose's hands holding hers, the embarrassment she expected to overwhelm her instead gave way to something gentler.

There was a comfort there—a kind of reassurance she wasn't used to. She let out a small sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly. The concern in Fukiyose's touch made her heart flutter, but not in an unpleasant way. It was calming, as if the weight she had been carrying alone was now being shared, even if just for a moment.

Fukiyose frowned, her other hand moving to check Kuroko's forehead for any signs of injury.

"Index did say you hit your head too, and after what I saw when I found you… Let me see." She insisted, her hand brushing Kuroko's bangs aside as she inspected her forehead.

Kuroko felt her breath hitch at the sudden closeness, her eyes widening slightly as she tried to keep her composure.

"R-really, Fukiyose, it's fine," she said, her voice coming out softer this time, almost shy. "You don't need to fuss over me—"

"Quiet." Fukiyose interrupted, her eyes narrowing as she focused on Kuroko's forehead. "I want to make sure you didn't hurt yourself worse than you're letting on."

Kuroko let out a soft sigh, feeling the warmth of Fukiyose's hand against her skin. There was something soothing about the gesture, even if it made her feel a bit shy. She tried to make a half-hearted protest, but her words faltered, and instead, she found herself leaning into the touch.

Just slightly.

"You're always this stubborn." Fukiyose murmured, her voice tinged with exasperation but also a hint of softness that made Kuroko's heart flutter.

Kuroko huffed, her lips curving into a small smile. "Yeah, yeah. But you know... maybe it's not so bad having someone stubborn enough to put up with me." Her words were awkward, but they were soncere, her gaze flicking to Fukiyose's face, catching the faintest hint of a smile in return.

Fukiyose shook her head, letting out an amused breath. "Honestly, Shirai, you're impossible." But she didn't pull away, her fingers still brushing gently over Kuroko's forehead, as if making sure everything was really alright.

How many times had she said Kuroko was 'impossible' now? Kuroko had already lost count.

Kuroko swallowed, her heart fluttering again, but this time it wasn't out of embarrassment. It was a strange, comforting feeling, like the weight of her worries was being shared—even if just a little. She could feel the way Fukiyose's hands lingered, gentle but steady, and the way her expression seemed to soften, almost as if she was letting her guard down. Kuroko's eyes followed the way Fukiyose's lips parted slightly, the faintest crease of concern on her brow, and she couldn't help but feel the warmth of being cared for.

Just as Kuroko was about to say something more, the moment was abruptly interrupted.

And then the same pair of older passersby once again came by.

Their amused chuckles echoing down the hallway. One of them nudged the other with a grin. "Oh, they're still at it again."

The other nodded, a knowing smile on their face. "Back in our day, we wouldn't have dared be this open in public. Young people are so careless these days. Honestly, we need more people like us, setting a good example." They continued on, their voices filled with gentle laughter.

Kuroko's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, and she clenched her teeth, trying to fight back the embarrassment that threatened to overwhelm her. "W-we're not doing anything like that!" she protested, her voice strained, though she still refused to let go.

The older couple just laughed, walking away as if they hadn't done anything wrong, their teasing comments still echoing in the hallway.

Kuroko's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, and she could see Fukiyose's face matching hers. They shot away from each other as if being that close was suddenly too much to bear, like touching something scorching hot. But even as they did, Kuroko couldn't help but glance at Fukiyose one more time, her eyes lingering for just a moment before she looked away.

"This is your fault, you know." Fukiyose muttered, her voice carrying a mix of annoyance and something softer. "You always make things weird."

Kuroko huffed, her lips twitching upwards despite herself. "My fault? You're the one who got all close in the first place." She shot back, her tone half-defensive.

"You were the one who wouldn't stop being close!" Fukiyose countered, narrowing her eyes, though there was no real malice there—just the exasperation that was all too familiar between them.

"Well, maybe you should stop making it so easy to want to hold… on…" Kuroko murmured, her voice growing quieter, a hint of shyness slipping through. Fukiyose's eyes widened for a moment, caught off guard by the honesty in Kuroko's words.

"You two look like you're in some kind of romance drama." Kamijou commented with a chuckle, his voice teasing. "Feels pretty romantic, if you ask me."

Kuroko shot him a glare, her right hand twitching. "You are the worst." she hissed, clearly done with his antics. Without hesitation, she raised her hand, the Imagine Breaker glowing faintly as she swiped it through Kamijou's form, effectively making him vanish—if only for a little while.

When Kamijou reappeared moments later, he had a wide, teasing grin plastered on his face. "Ooh, looks like someone's touchy today," he said, winking in Kuroko's direction.

Kuroko groaned, her patience finally at its limit. She pressed her palm to her face, shaking her head in exasperation. "I swear, I can't deal with this." she muttered, looking away from him and turning her attention back to Fukiyose, her eyebrow raised and wondering just how badly the girl had hit her head.

Trying to recover some semblance of coolness, Kuroko cleared her throat and gave Fukiyose a sidelong glance. "You know, Fukiyose, you should count yourself lucky. Not everyone gets to walk with someone as impressive as me." she said, attempting to sound suave, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

Fukiyose just looked at her, completely deadpan, her unimpressed gaze lingering until Kuroko's confidence visibly deflated. Kuroko's face turned a shade redder, her smirk fading as embarrassment set in. She quickly turned forward, her pace picking up to almost a power walk.

"Come on, we should hurry," Kuroko said, her voice a bit strained, doing her best to mask her embarrassment as she walked faster.

Fukiyose sighed, shaking her head as she followed close behind. "Oh, now you're in a rush? You were the one trying to act all smooth a second ago, despite your clear bout of insanity." She complained, her voice trailing behind as she tried to keep up. "Honestly, you make things so much more complicated than they need to be."

Kuroko's mind was racing, the entire event making her heart pound. Her hasty steps were an attempt to put some distance between herself and the overwhelming feelings she couldn't quite process. Despite herself, she thought back to how Fukiyose's expression had softened, the warmth in her eyes, and it struck her again—how pretty Fukiyose had looked in that moment, her guard down. It was a thought she tried to push away, but it lingered, stubborn and persistent.

Fukiyose's voice and complaints seemed to drown out into a background murmur as Kuroko's thoughts circled back, her eyes darting forward to avoid giving away the shy smile threatening to form on her lips. She was still learning how to deal with this closeness, with the vulnerability of relying on someone else, but maybe—just maybe—it wasn't so bad after all.

"Are you even listening to me?" Fukiyose's voice cut back through, sounding both annoyed and slightly amused. Kuroko picked up her pace even more, her embarrassment now boiling over.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening," Kuroko called over her shoulder, her voice cracking slightly. "Just... hurry up already."

Fukiyose groaned, still following close behind. "Honestly, you run away from your own feelings faster than you do from me." She let out a huff. "Ridiculous ."

Kuroko couldn't help it—her face burned even brighter, but a small laugh escaped her lips, mixing with the frantic rhythm of their hurried footsteps.

Authors note:

Hi its been a while :D