Chapter Seven

I was splayed out on my back. My mouth was dry and my body was covered in a cold sweat. I stared up at the ceiling, static and darkness swirling in my vision.

It had been ten minutes since I woke up; a night terror faded into obscurity. When my eyes closed, it was dark. Too dark. So there I was, accompanied by a lifeless bedroom and shallow breaths.

Grimacing, I ran a hand down my face, wiping the sleep from my eyes. Boredom gnawed at my mind like a wolf's teeth against a stripped bone.

Slowly rising to a sitting position, I ignored the tightness in my back or the ache in my arms and legs. I let out a parched groan as my feet touched the hardwood floor.

I dragged myself to the kitchen, keeping my arms in front of me as I felt for the walls. Grabbing a clean glass, I filled it with tap water and brought it to my lips.

Cool, refreshing ambrosia punched through the morning grime. My shoulders slumped and I closed my eyes, nearly falling asleep.

Finishing the glass, I set the cup in the sink and began to backtrack. Each step was slow and measured, carefully maneuvering around what little furnishing the apartment had.

Finally, I was back to my bed. Well, technically a cot with a thin mattress. Calling it a bed was more than a little charitable. Disappointment seeped from my skin as my sore limbs protested at the thought of returning to sleep.

I glanced at the guitar case underneath the cot, temptation worming its way into my heart. Sighing, I knelt down, shivering as my knees pressed against the floor. The case slid out from under the bed and I swiftly pulled at the latches.

Holding the guitar, I sat down on the mattress and placed the instrument on my lap. My fingers dragged across the steel strings—a nostalgic buzz flowing along. A smile tugged at my lips as I plucked at the strings. A thoughtless tune filled the air.

'I'll be there, Ichigo. Count on it.'

A memory surfaced and my mood soured immediately.

Biting my cheek, I strummed the guitar. For some reason, the chord wasn't quite as bright. There was less kick in the bass and a waning bite in the treble. I kept strumming and my thoughts wandered.

I met her. I actually met the original.

And wasn't that a shocker. I knew she had limited involvement in the experiment itself. She was the donor, the framework for the scientists to work with. Maybe she could've been working behind the scenes, but the chances of running into her on the field should've been near impossible.

Or so I thought.

Well, more like a series of convenient events led to Misaka actively searching me out. She must really care for her friends…

My stomach churned as the previous night played out in my head. I lowered my strumming hand, leaving the room in deafening silence.

Tapping my foot against the floor, I stewed in a slurry of frustration and guilt. I thought of Misaka. Of myself. Of the experiment as a whole. Our very short time together, swinging back and forth in a lonely park.

I could remember the warmth of her body as I held her in my arms. The immediate chill when I let go.

Humans were social creatures. They desired interaction. Acknowledgement. Touch. That much was drilled into me by my parents. They were sure to encourage me to hug them every night. My dad said physical touch was very important. Especially for college students who recently moved out—marching forward to make something of themselves.

I replayed the events again. And again. And again. And many more times after that.

Slowly, I could feel myself relax. Anxieties and worries washed away like soap down a drain.

The past was the past. The future was for later. But the present? I could do something with that.

Plucking the strings, I returned to a simple rhythm. Proceeding from here was still a concern. Misaka would be visiting at an unspecified time. The experiment still hung over my head, my own impersonal sword of Damocles.

But that's okay, I think. I can gripe and complain about that when it happens. And if it goes horribly? Then I'll…

I'll…

Unfortunately, I didn't have an answer to that.

V V V

Pages flipped back and forth as I numbly stared at the manga in my hands. No, I didn't buy it because of the nun cosplayer. In fact, I purchased it several days before that whole meeting.

Sadly, that meant I had already gone through it front to back. Several times.

I would've continued practicing guitar, but my fingers were starting to lose feeling. I couldn't leave the apartment. And… yeah, that was about it.

"Ughhh…" I moaned as I fell back on my bed, rolling onto my stomach. "So bored."

There was a knock at the door.

Despite knowing it was coming, I still flinched, my body briefly locking up. Clenching my fists tightly, I quietly paced toward the door. Eyeing the knife on the small table next to the door, I repressed the urge to grab it.

Underneath the door handle was a wooden chair jammed against the frame. It wasn't particularly sturdy, but it might buy me a second or two if worse came to worst.

I awkwardly leaned over the piece of furniture to look through the peephole. Misaka stood on the other side, arms crossed. She was frowning, but it didn't seem to be out of anger or frustration. Giving the girl one last look, I moved the chair away and unlocked the door.

Late morning light cut into the barren entrance; an uncomfortable pressure built from behind my eyes as my vision rapidly adjusted. Misaka blinked, almost as though she wasn't expecting to see me.

For just a second, we stood in complete silence. The second passed and I angled myself out of the doorway. "Come in…"

"Sorry for intruding," Misaka muttered politely, slipping out of her shoes and lining the heels against the raised step.

I closed the door behind her and the electronic lock clicked into place. Taking a quiet breath, I stepped ahead of Misaka and led her to the 'living space'. She followed without a word.

The room was as neat as usual. The cot was in the left most corner; the dresser across from the bed; and closest to us was a short dining table. The fall themed table cloth added some sorely needed character to an otherwise spartan room.

"Make yourself at home," I said half-heartedly.

Misaka's gaze traveled across the space, briefly lingering on the manga sitting on the bed sheet. She moved to sit at the table, her back facing the wall.

"Oh, right." I motioned in the general direction of the kitchen. "Do you want anything to drink? There's, uh, water and milk."

Tracing her fingers along the rugged table cloth, Misaka opened her mouth before hesitating. Slowly exhaling, the original glanced at the kitchen before giving an answer. "No thanks."

…

"Gotcha."

I gingerly sat down across from the girl, my back facing the entrance. My heart was beating at a rapid but steady pace.

There was an emptiness in the air. So silent that it was almost blaring.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The faulty faucet cried in the kitchen, dividing the atmosphere in two. I gripped my skirt from beneath the table and gulped.

"It's a nice place," Misaka idly commented, tapping her fingers on the tabletop. "How did you get it? The… the other Sisters never mentioned where they lived."

Humming, I glanced at the windows, covered as they were by dark curtains.

The apartment? It was something to do with-

Neon orange filtered past my vision, pockets of air briefly cutting through the monotony of the viscous fluids-

The goggles were heavy on my head, body foreign and constricting-

The warehouse was empty, save for a single clone. She stared at me with empty eyes, a thick stack of papers in her hand. She held them out, weakly urging me to take them.

I blinked.

I blinked again.

"Ahem," I cleared my throat, rolling my shoulders. "It was provided to me due to circumstances. From what I understand, most of the clones reside in organization-owned facilities."

My attention was brought back to the girl as she shuddered, a conflicted look on her face. "-lones?" She whispered something I couldn't make out.

Running my hand through my hair, I continued. "Anyway, I was given the keys to this place… a couple weeks after my creation. Honestly, I'm not sure what the scientists were thinking when they gave it to me. But who am I to complain? It's not like I have a choice."

Misaka's knee bobbed as she leveled an intense stare in my direction. "You- nevermind." The original's mouth clicked shut as she forced her fidgeting to a halt.

Using as little movement as possible, Misaka glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze quickly latched onto the case under the bed. "Is that what I think it is?"

"If you're thinking of a guitar, then yes?" I raised a brow, confusion leaking into my voice. "What else would it be?"

"H-huh? You know… like, what the other Sisters usually have. In the cases, I mean." Misaka floundered, bumping her leg against the table. She winced, trying and failing to cover it up.

I gave her a flat look, resting my elbow against my knee and pressing my chin into my palm. "You mean the F2000 bullpup assault rifle. Or maybe the Barrett M82A1. No, those are usually held in violin and cello cases respectively."

"Oh."

Contrary to my expectations, Misaka didn't fall back into the dreary silence. She sat straighter, expression evening out. "You play the guitar?"

"Yeah…?" Obviously, I wanted to say. But it wasn't actually that obvious, was it?

I trailed off, waiting for Misaka to move on.

She didn't.

She sat there and maintained eye contact. The original didn't say a thing and it took me a few seconds to understand her intentions.

O-oh. She wants me to talk about myself. That's kind of… weird? It's been a while since I last shared any of my hobbies.

"I guess I picked up the guitar several days ago. Came across one of those secret money cards in the alley and I suddenly had some disposable cash." I caught a glimpse of recognition in Misaka's eyes at the mention of 'money cards'. I filed it away for later. "It was the cheapest instrument I could find, so I went and bought it."

"Why did you buy an instrument?" Misaka asked, subtly leaning forward.

Suppressing a frown, I clasped my hands in front of me. Why is she so interested all a sudden?

Why else would you buy an instrument, other than to play it? Unless…

"If this is about me cribbing your violin skills via Testament, just know that I had to re- I had to learn guitar from scratch. No cheating involved."

"No! It's not that at all!" Stopping herself short from slamming the table, Misaka's eyebrows scrunched together. "Wait, why does Testament have my violin skills?"

"You don't- no, nevermind. The whole point of the experiment is to create 20,000 battles between the third-ranked Level 5 and the first-ranked. So naturally, the scientists equipped every clone with as much data regarding you as they possibly could. This includes stuff like your musical skills, athletic abilities, et cetera."

At least, that's my working hypothesis. At first, I assumed the similarities were requested by Misaka, but that falls flat now, doesn't it?

Misaka sighed, slumping back. A tired, familiar smile overtook her countenance as she gazed into the distance. "It all comes back to that, huh? That damn experiment."

"Obviously." I tried not to scowl. I really did. "It's kind of important. Just a tad."

Shooting to her feet without warning, Misaka towered over me. I scrambled back; an erratic pulse thrummed.

"What I'm trying to-!" The original's speech whimpered out and she instantly lost her brief bout of bluster.

I stared at her with wide eyes. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck as I struggled to keep my breathing in check. Forcing my lips into a smirk, I stretched my arms over my head. "W-warn me before you do that, would you? Caught me off guard there."

Paling considerably, Misaka took a long step forward. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"

Having forgotten where she was, Misaka kicked her shin full force into the table.

Thunk.

Doubling over, Misaka inadvertently rammed her other shin into the table. This was followed by falling face first onto the tabletop.

"Oww…"

I sat there in complete and utter bewilderment. Misaka slowly raised her face, a red mark beaming on her forehead. Tears formed as she fought off a furious blush.

"Do you need an ice pack?"

Wiping her eyes, the girl shook her head. She took a deep inhale as she struggled to stand back up. Misaka wore a fragile smirk, failing to cover up her dismay. "Why don't we… go grab something to eat?"

"Sure." I scratched the back of my head, still reeling from the emotional whiplash. "We can do that."

V V V

I took a large bite of a hamburger. Flavors exploded in my mouth—a cacophony of different ingredients and tastes mixing and mashing together in harmony.

Then I moved on to the fries. Each was lightly salted. Crispy, but not burnt. The final touch of ketchup made the side dish complete.

Last but not least was a small bottle of milk, washing away the world's sorrows. A moment of clarity settled. I basked in its freshness. Bathed in its sublime comfort.

"You… really like that burger, huh?" Misaka watched as I continued to scarf down the meal.

Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I rushed to swallow my food. "Mm. It's pretty good. Not quite the same level as In-N-Out, but better than most fast food joints."

Which was surprising, considering how this restaurant was clearly a parody of McDonald's.

Seriously, MocRonnall's? Couldn't you have come up with something more original? Honestly, how has The Ron not dropped a lawsuit on this place?

"In-N-Out? What's that?"

I grabbed a fry, watching as a family of four stepped into the shop. The door closed with a quiet thwump and I sighed through my nose. "Nothing really."

Misaka scowled, snatching her cup and taking a harsh sip through the straw. Much to my astonishment, the girl didn't make another ridiculous blunder. I was half-expecting her to erupt into a fit of coughs.

Hm…

Examining my meal, my gaze traveled back and forth between our trays. Mine was relatively full and I was nearly done with my burger. Misaka's, on the other hand, only has a solitary drink.

It was just about midday. This food joint was close to the apartment, but it still took a couple minutes of travel.

"Hey." I called out to the girl.

Misaka's head perked up as she quickly gave me her attention. "What is it?"

"You, uh-" I extended my pointer finger, gesturing toward my fries. "Do you want any?"

The girl stared at me as though I'd spouted complete nonsense. Thankfully, she promptly decoded the message in her head.

There was a flash of understanding; it was swiftly smothered by a mask of self-confidence. She smirked and crossed her arms. "No, you should finish it. I already had something, so I'm not hungry-"

A deep, rumbling growl permeated the air. Like a trope from an anime, Misaka found herself eating her own words.

She froze in place and I stared at her, not bothering to laugh or crack a smile. Misaka's ears brightened to a vibrant red.

I pushed the pack of fries to her side of the table; Misaka wordlessly accepted them.

…

Swallowing the last of her fries, Misaka lightly wiped her mouth with a napkin. She took a breath, briefly tensing up. She exhaled, but the stress still lingered.

"Ichigo, why do you want to play the guitar?"

This again? I silently questioned. Why is she so interested in that? Clearly not because of Testament, judging by her previous reaction.

No matter what reasoning I conjured, I couldn't fathom her motive. So I set it aside, if only to save me the headache.

"Because it sounds like fun." I shrugged, half-lying. "When I'm not patrolling the designated experiment areas, I don't have much else to do. I like music, so learning an instrument seemed like a perfect use of time."

"I see." Misaka watched me with wide eyes. Her lips scrunched up as she bit the inside of her cheek. "Do the other Sisters also do stuff like that?"

I reflexively snorted, too slow to hide it. My hand quickly hid my mouth, knowing the amused sneer wasn't a good look. "Of course not. As if they have the capacity for hobbies."

Misaka clenched the edges of the table and the trays clattered. She remained seated and her face twisted in muted outrage. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Nothing." My hands searched for something to grab but came up empty. My legs strained as I lifted from the chair, crouching low enough to appear still seated.

The original's eyes squeezed shut and she let go of the table. She took a few seconds to compose herself.

When her features finally relaxed, I allowed myself to sit back down.

"Sorry, I… I shouldn't have lost my temper like that." Misaka's lips quivered as she looked away in shame. She suddenly slapped her face and stared me in the eyes. "Could you explain what you meant by what you said, please?"

I sighed for the nth time that day. "The clones only care for the well-being of the experiment. It's their sole purpose. And it's not like they need to pass the time, being hooked up to that amalgamation of a Network."

"That can't be true." Misaka murmured before raising her voice. "You must have seen them care about something- anything!"

"I…" Frowning, I mulled over the thought. Whenever I tried to talk to the clones about the experiment, it was like shouting at a brick wall. No, even worse than that. It was like talking to a customer support bot, limited responses and all.

When was the last time I spoke to one of them? It wasn't that long ago. What did she say…?

There was an unsettling feeling that I couldn't quite pinpoint. It plunged down my chest, pulling at my sides, and rooted in my stomach. I gulped—a cold sweat slipped along my spine.

"I can't think of anything," I said without confidence. The conversation through a closed door lingered; 10033's stare bored into me.

The image faded from view, replaced with a similar, yet infinitely more expressive face. Misaka scrutinized me in a mildly uncomfortable fashion. Fortunately, she didn't abruptly lean forward or anything like that.

The original glanced at my empty tray. Then at hers. She hesitated briefly, then said, "You look done. Wanna get some fresh air?"

I relaxed, nodding my head. "Sure, we can do that."

The two of us placed our trays on top of the trash can and walked out of the restaurant, thanking an employee as we passed him.

Automatic doors closed behind us with a soft shwoop.

Warm August air weaved around us, buckling against our stride. It was light, with a quality unbefitting of the cityscape. Or perhaps it was perfectly fitting Academy City's—leaps and bounds ahead of the world in technology as it was.

Misaka and I walked for some time, meandering along the pathways of the city. While there was a building or two that seemed odd, there was nothing I hadn't seen before.

Trees lined the sidewalk to our left. Tall arrow-shaped bushes stood tall to our right. The path forward was made of multicolored bricks. They were arranged in a diagonal pattern. Red, then gray, then yellow, then brown.

I was a short pace behind Misaka; she walked forward with a steady confidence that I couldn't help but envy. I could mimic her just fine, but to feel it? To be so assured of your ability and strength?

Even in all her fumbles and awkward moments, Misaka wasn't someone to be trifled with.

What is it like to have that kind of power? Would all my problems be solved? Or would it be yet another burden added to the pile?

Misaka came to a stop. She shuddered, fists clenching. The girl held the pose for a second before relaxing.

Then she spoke without turning around. "I spent an afternoon with a Sister before. It feels like it happened months ago, but it's only been a couple of days, hasn't it?"

Huh? My arms itched.

"I only recently learned about Project Radio Noise, but there were rumors floating around that I had been cloned for a while now. At first, I thought nothing of it. And when asked about it, all I could think about was how creepy it was."

The sounds of dogs barking rang in the distance. Misaka's fingers twitched and her shoes shifted against the pavement.

"I thought about being replaced. That I'd wake up one morning to find a stranger with my face talking to my friends. Living my life with nobody the wiser." The original took a breath. "And… I was also insulted by the thought of having all my efforts—my blood, sweat, and tears—replicated with the push of a button."

"Then I met one of the Sisters. I found her the same way I found you. I went in expecting the worst. Prepared to fight for more than just my life, but my very existence." Misaka turned around.

Her eyes glistened, brightly reflecting the warm afternoon rays. Her brows were scrunched together in agony. But her expression? It was a horrible marriage of joy and sorrow. Her lips wrenched upward in a mockery of a smile.

"That Sister, she was nothing like me at all! When I first confronted her, she just… meowed at me! She was trying to save a cat stuck in a tree. And after that, she stole my ice cream and my Gekota badge!"

Huffing, Misaka shook her head, a fond expression persisting past the heartache.

"What?" I uttered, not fully comprehending her words. Licking my lips, I thoughtlessly opened and closed my hand as though I held an invisible stress ball.

"I know the Sisters can seem… odd." The girl gazed off into the distance, shadows dancing across her face to the tune of her bangs. "It's frighteningly easy to dehumanize them. But… I know that each one of them is a person worth saving. And that includes-"

Misaka suddenly paused, gaze trained on something behind me.

Turning my head over my shoulder, I saw what grabbed the girl's attention. It was an innocuous ice cream truck, unremarkable in all respects.

The vehicle screeched to a stop and the window rolled down. An older man, maybe in his late thirties, peaked out of the truck. He wore a bright pink hat, complimented by a welcoming smile. "Hey there, it's been a couple days. How have you two been? Not getting into any sibling spats, I hope?"

I cautiously glanced at Misaka, hoping to gauge her reaction. She was momentarily shocked, clearly recognizing the man. "H-hey, you're that ice cream guy," she said. "We've been good. Haven't fought my sister once since we last talked!"

Concealing a scowl, my fingers twitched in paranoia as I regarded both Misaka and the vendor.

Right… Misaka did mention the clone stealing ice cream from her.

A sense of unease draped over me like a well worn coat. The word 'sister' remained in my mind, even as I tried my best to ignore it.

Taking a breath, I caught Misaka staring at me.

There was an uneasiness behind her features. Maybe even some worry.

Oh yeah, the conversation.

Saying nothing, I turned to the ice cream vendor and nodded along, unsure if the clone bothered to speak to the outsider.

"Anyway!" Misaka injected some energy into her voice and stepped up to the truck. "Why don't we get some ice cream? What flavor do you want, Ichigo?"

"Uh, vanilla?"

Smiling, the original retrieved her wallet. "Then we'll have one vanilla and one strawberry-vanilla cone."

"One vanilla and one strawberry-vanilla cone, coming right up!" The vendor disappeared into the truck, only to reappear a moment later with two cones in his hand. "Here you two go. And keep it up! Family bonds are a precious thing." He held out the cones to Misaka, who gave the vanilla to me.

I gently grasped the sweet, a thin piece of paper separating my fingers from the cone. It wasn't heavy, but nor was it light. If I wasn't careful, it could easily slip from my hand, ruining the ice cream.

It reminded me of… simpler times. When the worst thing in the world was wasting perfectly good ice cream, returning to the stand with a heavy heart and a lighter wallet.

An engine softly hummed and tires rolled across smooth asphalt. I paid it no mind as I brought the cone to my lips and took a bite. It was sweet. Cold. A completely ordinary ice cream cone.

I exhaled through my nose, not sure what I was expecting.

"Ichigo," I raised my eyes. Misaka stood firmly, settling on a resolute expression. "You're my sister. I am going to save you too."

Letting the statement hang, I took one last bite of ice cream and carefully freed my right hand from the cone. "I know you mean well and I appreciate it. Really, I do. But we only have one thing in common. Our DNA. We are not 'sisters'."

Misaka took a short step back, almost as though she was physically struck.

Grimacing, I turned away from the girl. "It's… I don't mean to insult you or turn away your help. You mean well, I can see that plain as day. I just don't want any misunderstandings between us. That's all."

Sludge smeared its way down my throat and to my core as I said my piece. Bile was raring to launch upward and paint the ground white. But even so, I wouldn't lie to her—spin some beautiful picture of how wonderful and touching our bond could be.

Hastily subduing a groan, I finally tore my attention off the sidewalk and back to the original.

Misaka was silent, taking in my words. She lowered the cone of ice cream, a frown tugging at her lips.

"You weren't always like this... were you?"

My heart stuttered and my already diminished appetite vanished. It was like a bucket of cold water poured atop my head slowly and painfully.

My gaze flickered between my unwanted dessert and the girl. But rather than return the look, Misaka stared to the side. Her jaw was slightly clenched and her shoulders tensed.

I sighed, not quite sure what to make of the girl. But if she was going to act like that, then I once again couldn't hide the truth.

"That's right."

A car sped by, currents gently pulling at my hair and clothes.

"Before... before all this, I had a life. One that was my own. It was average. Ordinary, I would say. But I liked it that way." I reminisced, glancing at the orange sky. It was like a canvas, splattered with vibrant hues of warmth and summer.

"I'm an adult, y'know." Misaka snapped from her thoughts, finally looking at me. "Graduated high school. Went to college. Working toward my bachelors. It was fun. And look at me now. All..."

I trailed off, thinking better of what I could've said.

"...honestly, all that pales in comparison to what I actually lost." I clenched my fist, feeling my nails dig into my palm. But it was never strong enough to pierce skin, for better or for worse.

Misaka pursed her lips and the cone cracked in her hands. "Ah-!" Misaka scrambled to keep it together but ultimately failed. Now both her hands and vest were covered in strawberry-vanilla.

Bringing a hand up to my lips, I silenced a snort.

"Hey!" Misaka stomped her foot, cheeks taking on an intense red. "It's not funny...!"

I shook my head in tired amusement. "No, I suppose it's not." Easing my grip, I flinched as my nails pulled from my skin. Dark, purplish indents remained.

Well, I thought, feeling a cool breeze run along my face. That's that, I guess.

Talk about ruining this little… get together? Hangout? But it could've been worse.

Y'know what? This was nice. A bit stressful, but what's life without a few bumps in the road?

"Hey, Misaka?"

The original sobered remarkably fast, any traces of embarrassment gone with the wind. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. For the hangout, I mean." I gazed fondly at the past, a new appreciation slowly growing. "It sure beats worrying about the experiment." I tacked on semi-humorously.

Misaka glowered for a second, before her countenance suddenly cleared. She wore a thoughtful look, tilting her head slightly to the left.

"Is… something up?" I wasn't sure I liked that look. She remained silent, eyes squinting as ice cream dripped down her fingers. "Misaka?"

"I got it!" The girl clapped her hands together, having the decency to look sheepish when strawberry-vanilla scattered through the air.

Clearing her throat, Misaka wiped her hands on her vest before continuing. "You should stay at my dorm tonight!"

…

"What?" I stared at the girl incredulously.

Stepping up to me, Misaka put her hands on her hips. "I don't want you taking part in the experiment. And you don't want to either. So what better place to stay than my dorm? There's no way the scientists would make a move there. It's perfectly safe!"

"I see." With a skeptical hum, I softly bit the inside of my cheek, trying to make sense of Misaka's idea. "Assuming I agree to this, how am I supposed to sneak into your dorm to begin with?"

Misaka smiled, relief clearly swelling despite my reluctance. "That's the best part. You wouldn't have to sneak in at all. I think you're the only person who could pull it off and I don't say that lightly."

"Alright then," I conceded, hoping I wouldn't regret what was to come. "Lay it on me."

V V V

This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea.

I sat on a bench near the sidewalk, all by my lonesome. In my hand was a small Gekota themed cell phone. It was a quaint device—reminding me of those Hello Kitty watches.

And it was on this phone that Misaka's brilliant plan was set into motion. It was opened to a particular contact: Misaka's roommate. As expected, one of the original's close confidants was also an exceptionally powerful esper. Level 4 Teleportation! What I wouldn't give for a power like that.

Or any power at all, really.

But with that in mind, you can gather what's supposed to happen next.

I was supposed to 'convince' Kuroko that I was her roommate and totally not a fugitive experimentee. And while I enjoyed voice acting as a pastime, that didn't make me a trained infiltrator.

This was the original's roommate for crying out loud! Tricking Misaka's friends all those days ago was by complete chance and frankly, shouldn't have worked. I wasn't anything like the original.

Name one thing we had in common.

Exactly. So how was I supposed to do this again?

Sighing, I slumped against the back of the bench, knowing I was being dramatic. Misaka gave me a general rundown of her relationship with Kuroko, so I had a decent idea of what I had to do.

Checking the phone, I saw that the roommate had finally responded to the message.

I adjusted Misaka's silver hair pin one last time before shutting the device. Standing up, I crossed my arms and tapped my foot in anticipation.

"Any second now." I muttered aloud.

Then I heard it. The sound was alien to my ears, almost like it was digitally composed and comped into the environment.

Nonchalantly glancing over my shoulder, I saw a young girl standing there. She wore the same uniform as myself, just a size smaller. Shirai Kuroko marched over to me, teetering between worry and relief.

Take initiative. Misaka is clearly the older kid here.

"Hey, Kuroko." I smiled, uncrossing my arms in a subtle show of lowering my guard. "Sorry for calling you out of the blue. I appreciate the help."

"O-oh, of course, Onee-sama." Kuroko stuttered, caught off guard by the instant show of gratitude. "You know I'd do anything for you."

"I know, Kuroko. I know." 'Onee-sama'? Isn't that how the clones refer to the original? Hm. Testament doesn't seem to have a proper translation for the word, aside from the literal definition. I'm just going to assume it's a term of endearment.

Either way, this is a good start. I stood beside the girl as she put a small hand on my shoulder. Maybe Misaka was right. I suppose I'll find out once we're behind closed doors.

The world shifted around us. I stared with wide eyes, careful to avoid Kuroko's attention. When I thought about teleportation, I knew it was instantaneous. But here, it was almost like the environment changed positions, rather than us.

Aside from slight changes in material between our feet, there was no sensation of travel whatsoever.

It was pretty cool, all things considered.

Buildings; trees; railways; parks; they all blurred as we traveled faster than the speed of light. My breath was stolen as I witnessed a power truly larger than life for the first time in this short existence.

For a second, I caught sight of the large exterior of the dorm, golden lights shining through various windows. Before I could take in its details further, we were indoors.

Kuroko let go of my shoulder, not even winded after that extraordinary display. I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe in the wake of the experience. But it was fleeting, as I had more important things to focus on.

"Thanks again, Kuroko." I stretched my arms above my head, releasing the last of my excitement as my back popped in response.

My eyes traveled across the room, taking in every detail. The space was modestly decorated. Two beds sat right in front of the door, side by side with a short table in between.

Past the beds were three huge windows nearly twice my height. In front of the windows closest to the walls were two small study desks, accompanied by even smaller drawers. There were also two massive bookshelves full of textbooks.

The symmetry ended there, however, as there was a wooden folding door on Misaka's side of the room and the bathroom door on Kuroko's side. There was also a short fridge/freezer combo on Kuroko's side as well.

Overall, while a little spartan, it was a nice dorm room.

"It has been… very lonely around here, since you've been busy." Kuroko started, fingers creasing the hem of her skirt. "But you seem to be in a better mood. Has something changed?"

There was a light ringing in my ears at the girl's tentative questioning. She didn't know about the experiment, I knew that much, but I must've laid on the relaxed attitude a bit too strongly.

I need to handle this carefully. The direction I take this conversation could affect Misaka's friendship.

And the last thing I wanted to do was harm something that Misaka held dear.

Making my way to the original's bed, I sat down on the soft sheets and allowed a more somber expression to take hold. I methodically ran each potential topic through my head, letting no mistake slip through the cracks.

"Things have been nice today. Not better overall, but I promise that things are… looking up." I offered, not completely sure of my words. According to Misaka, there were only 5 more facilities before the project was no longer operational. That by tomorrow, the experiment would surely be finished.

To be blunt, I had no faith in her.

Bankrupting the project? Something on the scale of the Level 6 Shift would never be put down by something as insignificant as 'funding' shortages. And I said that much to Misaka as well. She listened, but didn't really give a counterargument. So I would wait and hope for an answer.

In the meantime, I'd pretend to give her the benefit of the doubt. It did no one any favors to be a constant downer.

"Do you really mean it?" uttered Kuroko.

Pausing for just a moment, I asked myself, how would Misaka answer that question?

The original flashed in my head, in all her imposing, outlandish, bumbling glory.

Then the answer came surprisingly easily. I put up a confident grin and puffed my chest.

"Of course. Just who do you think I am?"

The girl's eyes glistened and her lips quivered. Without warning, Kuroko leaped into the air with arms outstretched and cried "Onee-sama!"

I awkwardly caught her as she buried her face into my stomach. My brows scrunched up in confusion as I automatically started rubbing her back.

Wow. Didn't realize Misaka's roommate was so… childish?

The image of a powerful teleporter quickly broke down as she clung on tightly. I really hoped she wouldn't notice any discrepancies in weight.

There was a low buzz as Kuroko held me tighter. It was guttural, almost like the revving of an engine. It took me far longer than it should've to realize exactly what it was.

Misaka's roommate was sniffing me.

I froze up, jaw hanging as I struggled to process the situation.

"Hm… did you change your body wash, Onee-sama?" Kuroko's voice came out muffled as she pressed on. "You've really been spending too many nights away! It's been so quiet—positively dreadful. We must make up for the time lost!"

Is this what Misaka meant when she said Kuroko's a tad 'mischievous'? Because if so… she needs to read a dictionary.

But enough was enough. Powerful esper or not, I wasn't going to enable her deplorable fancies. I grabbed Kuroko's shoulders, gently pushing her away.

"Onee-sama?" Kuroko's brows creased in worry as she removed herself from my vest and raised her eyes to meet mine.

According to Misaka—at times like this—all I needed to do to get Kuroko back in line was a good, hard wallop. But as shameful as the girl's actions were, I wouldn't turn to physical violence. Hitting a kid, or any person for that matter, just felt wrong.

So I did the next best thing. I frowned, leveling an appropriately stern gaze at Kuroko. Clearly, nobody had spent the time educating this girl on what was and wasn't acceptable behavior. I wouldn't turn a blind eye to it.

I watched as Kuroko turned white as a ghost, shoulders beginning to tremble. Disappointment settled in my gut as I questioned the nature of Kuroko and Misaka's relationship.

"Kuroko," I spoke softly. "I'm not going to hurt you. But you do know that there are things you shouldn't do, right? That some actions, just because they feel right, doesn't mean you should act on them."

Shame colored Kuroko's cheeks as she avoided my gaze. She fidgeted, clearly wanting nothing more than to teleport out of the embarrassing position. "Well- I mean- but our l-love…" She couldn't even spout out her declaration without stumbling over her words.

Letting go of Kuroko, I leaned into the mattress as she jumped back, nearly tripping over the knee-high table.

My eyelids grew heavy as I regarded the girl. Exhaustion bulldozed its way into my psyche and I lost the energy to keep scolding Kuroko.

"Okay," I mumbled, upheaving the sheets and climbing underneath. "I'm going to bed. Feel free to turn off the lights whenever."

"Ah- Onee-sama! What about your clothes?"

Ignoring the girl, I shut my eyes and pretended to fall asleep. Kuroko could only groan in frustration as she moved to turn off the lights.

"Goodnight, Onee-sama."

…

"Night, Kuroko."