Day One
Uiharu Kazari sat at her desk tapping a pen as the Sun shined through the window her anterior. With a sigh she leaned back and raised her arms to stretch. She yawned and focused her eyes on the paper in front of her. It was an Anti-Skill questionnaire; a single piece of paper printed on each side. Why did a city so advanced still use paper documents? Wouldn’t it make more sense for the entire process to be digitized? It would be by the end anyway. Something about the implications of not everyone having internet access would be their reasoning, and perhaps that would make sense in a city like Tokyo, but they weren’t in Tokyo. No, they were in the most advanced city in the world. Who didn’t have internet access in Academy City? Skill Out losers? Such people should be culled. Uiharu smirked as she pressed her pen to the paper.
“Do you believe in using force when necessary in the pursuit of justice?” she asked aloud, reading the paper. “What a stupid question.”
Checking the box marked absolutely , she looked out the window with a wicked smile and furrowed brows. After everything she had been through there was one thing this flower headed maiden desired: order. Judgment was too soft—too weak to get the job done. After all, why would Anti-Skill exist if Judgment were to actually do anything meaningful? They were just kids, and no matter how mature, no matter how smart, no matter how adept—they were just kids. A glorified daycare that some took too seriously. An image of Shirai Kuroko flashed by her mind. Spoiled brats with abilities they didn’t deserve .
The clock on her wall ticked and tocked. It was the only audible sound to be heard in her room. Obsolete machinations surrounded her. Changes would have to be made on every level. Progression was stagnated for the sake of comfort. If the city were to unethically operate as one big experiment then such necessities should not be tolerated. Anti-Skill was a limited police force allowed to use excessive force due to the nature of ability users. Surely joining such an organization alone fail to yield appropriate results. Operative word: alone. Yes, she could clean up trash like Skill Out within reasonable bounds, but it wasn’t enough. Four years to get into legislation would take too long. No, it would be four years for the degree to open the door into it. Then another four to get anywhere meaningful. Nonsense. She clenched her pen, shattering the thin plastic. Ink splattered all over her desk, but only a few drops managed to hit the edge of her paper. If only she had a more useful ability… like that Shokuhou Misaki.
Any sound from the clock seemed to vanish as Kazari’s frown was upturned into a smile that stretched across her face. Yes, Shokuhou Misaki. That would be the key to this rather large problem. She bit the inside of her cheeks and widened her eyes as her blood pressure increased. Yes, yes! Why didn’t she think of this before? A lick of her lips and she grabbed the questionnaire off her desk. Everything would fall into place one way or another. A self-satisfied grunt left her lips as she approached the door. Day one of thirty before absolution.
If the good weather were a sign of anything in Academy City it was that the illusion of prosperity could happen anywhere. The hustle and bustle of the shopping district created a light ambient noise that layered with the occasional traffic. Unintelligible voices, heels clacking, bags crinkling, and trees rustling. That was the tepid texture of instruments playing as the orchestra of Misaka Mikoto’s life at present; who herself was casually sauntered throughout the plaza following her blonde haired companion. Misaki had decided to lead the way as soon as they approached that particular district insisting that she knew the best restaurant in the area. There was lighthearted skip in her step as she held her hands behind her back with a hum. The sight made Mikoto grin. When did that woman become so much less uptight? Time was fleeting, and like the summer leaves changing from greens to yellows, oranges, and purples, so did the surrounding people as the years went by. She felt different herself. A vague memory popped into her head and she glanced at a cloud overhead. It was when she was going to commit suicide by Accelerator. Sort of like suicide by cop, which apparently happens occasionally overseas. But no, her would-be executioner wasn’t to be a mandate of the state, but rather an impulsive white haired lunatic. All because she refused to let anyone in. And what if she hadn’t? It would have been easy for her to have outran Touma and finish things herself. She didn’t otherwise have a miracle—an angel—she would have died. A cold shiver traversed her spine that gave her goosebumps all along her arms. She didn’t want to die.
Misaki turned around and leaned forward with her hands still locked behind her back. “Just over here,” she said with a smile.
Mikoto lifted a brow as the two entered a rather average looking mall. The paint was chipping on the sides of the entrance, and all the plants around them were fake. There was a slight grit in the tiled flooring with the white sheen muted to a grayish yellow matte. Was this really the type of place someone as haughty as a self-proclaimed queen would dine? Or shop at all? With her hands in her pockets she began to lag behind as she looked around. The matsuri decorations looked a bit tattered and aged, as if some were at least a decade old. Water lightly splashed from a fountain where the fake marble displayed large scrapes and cracks; the inside looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned in years.
“Come on,” Misaki said, grabbing her hand, snapping her out of her tunnel vision.
“H-hey!” Mikoto yelled as she nearly tripped trying to keep up with her pace.
The pair climbed an escalator where they were immediately greeted with a food court. It was fairly basic: red umbrellas and plastic tables with rounded seats. Mikoto wondered if the inside of prisons also had similar seats and tables. The grip on her arm tightened as Misaki’s speed increased. Turning around to face her she pointed to a faded marquee that read “Cheap burritos and tacos”. Burritos, like in those packages at the 7-Eleven? Eh? Mikoto didn’t know there were any places in the city dedicated to such cuisine.
Before she had a chance to realize, Misaki had already ordered for her. Mikoto blinked. Huh? They stood next to one another off to the side as the sound of sizzling meats echoed through the immediate vicinity.
“What did you order?” she asked.
“It’s a surprise~.”
“Of course it is,” she said, sighing.
Within a couple minutes their food was served on two medium sized paper plates. Before Mikoto could get a good look Misaki grabbed it and promptly walked to a table several meters away.
Sitting down, Mikoto asked, “Why are we sitting so far over here?”
“This is my favorite table,” she said, looking over her shoulder to the right.
Hm? Mikoto followed her gaze. Her eyes widened slightly.
“You get a really nice view of the plaza. It makes it look nicer than it really is. It’s kind of like out of a movie,” she said as a tender smile faded across her lips.
Ah. Mikoto felt her cheeks flush a little. Biting her bottom lip she turned to the food in front of her. Some kind of burrito covered in cheese?
“Oh? They’re called enchiladas. I think you’ll like what I got you,” she said, turning back as she took a plastic fork out of its wrapper.
“I would have expected a fancier place than… well,” she said, also taking out a fork.
“Sometimes the places you least expect end up being the best~,” she said with a wink.
Huh. Misaka took a bite of the cheesy tortilla. The flavors of grilled chicken and salsa filled her palate. Pause. She savored the flavors as she closed her eyes. With a brief swallow she began to furiously shovel the remaining enchilada and a half, as well as all the rice and beans, into her mouth. Misaki stared blankly for a moment as she leaned on her gloved hand. A small hum of satisfaction left her lips as she watched Mikoto lift the plate up to lick the remaining contents.
“Not only do you look like a puppy, you act like one too~,” she said with smile.
Mikoto blushed and flipped her head away, reaching for the glass of water on the table. In an instant the contents vanished. She looked at the table pursing her lips with beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead. Misaki put a hand to cover her mouth as she started giggling at the scene.
Starting to bite her lip, she dashed from the chair at speed faster than the eye could see, causing quite the gust of wind to stir around the court. It took her seconds to locate a fountain, to which she unscrewed the jug on top and poured it down her throat. Luckily, there really wasn’t anyone else around to witness such a barbarically cute act as Misaki thought.
“My, that was quite the scene you just caused~,” she said as Mikoto took a seat.
“I feel like I just ate out of a volcano,” she said, sticking her tongue out to examine its swelling.
“Well, that’s what happens when you eat without thinking~,” she said.
Mikoto ignored her and stared at her tongue, attempting to touch it with her index finger before pulling it away. Misaki gazed at the idiotic image before her. Even though her hair was longer, her tomboy demeanor hadn’t changed one bit. Although somewhat calmer and more in touch with her emotions, Mikoto was every bit the dope she was several years ago. The two had hardly talked since arriving in the mall, or at least, about anything interesting. And yet, Misaki couldn’t help but feel she had been having the most stimulating experience she had had in an awfully long time.
“So,” Misaka said, clearing her throat as she adjusted her posture on the hard round seat. “What have you been doing all this time?”
“Hnnnmmm~?”
“From what I remember, you made a big show of leaving everyone sans Junko, and then were only seen periodically by… well, anyone.”
“Ah~. Curious as a cat are we, Misaka-chan?” she asked, flipping her hair before leaning her chin into her palm.
The two stared at one another for a moment before Mikoto finally spoke up. “Are you just going to dance around everything I say? I guess that’s just like you, isn’t it.”
There were several seconds of silence more. “You said it yourself,” she said with a sigh. “Sometimes you just need a change of pace.”
Mikoto rubbed a hand through her hair. “And that’s also why you didn’t end up going to college?”
Misaki frowned. “With my ability I could get into any school of my choice, and perhaps do nothing at all to graduate at its peak with honors,” she said, her pupils drifting past Mikoto. “Is there really a point?”
It was as though Misaka Mikoto were listening to a recording of herself, but the specifics were different, and the voice was sweeter with an airiness about it. It was as if she connected with someone on a level she always failed to in the past. She wasn’t sure how to process such a thing, like there was a thick fog permeating throughout her mind. Of all people to relate to it simultaneously made the most and yet the least amount of sense. Just when she had become friends with Misaki in the past—she vanished. It felt like their friendship never mattered, as if they weren’t ever friends to begin with . Mikoto couldn’t help but scoff, but not for that. No, because she had nearly done the same thing the night previous. To everyone else. Misaki merely followed through with conviction the thoughts that danced around in the icy palace of Mikoto’s mind.
“Shokuhou,” she said, staring at the table, her bangs covering her forehead.
She tilted her head and stared at Mikoto.
“What was it like?” Mikoto asked.
“To what?”
“To abandon everyone.”
“Ah. That.”
“Yes, that.”
“Are you bothered by that?”
“Yes.”
Misaki wasn’t expecting that answer and felt her heart rate increase. Before, Mikoto would have never been so brazen about her feelings. She really had developed emotionally. As fun as it used to be to lightly chastise and bully her over being so silly and immature, it was a welcome change for her not to beat around the bush. The song and dance in the ballroom of their relationship became infinitely less complex by that measure.
“I see.” She said, raising a finger to her chin. Now it was Misaki that felt the envelopment of a slight fog in her mind.
“Did… Did you just not care?” she said, causing Misaki’s star glinted eyes to peer up at her.
There was a minute of silence between the two.
“I guess friendships don’t mean much of anything to someone that truly is conceited right down to her very heart,” Mikoto said with a wavering tone in her voice, excusing herself from the table as she looked to the ground.
Misaki sighed before grabbing the trash off the table and disposing of it. She watched Mikoto approach the escalator and pondered her next course of action.