Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Misaka glares with all the courage she could muster. She held the younger girl on her side, who looked both enthralled and uncomfortable by the older girl’s action.

The car’s engine roared to life minutes ago, covering more distance between her and the ruins of Academy City than she had in the past 3 days with her on foot.

It was a miracle that she'd stumbled upon a clone of hers this far away, this many days after the fall of their home. Yet her reunion with him is what shocked her even more.

Just less than 2 weeks ago, Accelerator had been a nightmare that plagued her worst of dreams. The very voice that he possesses scares her more than any ghost stories her friends could conjure.

Being powerless was something that she will not miss. Touma’s presence - the thing that she sought for, was not here to help her feel with this monster.

Last Order, he'd called her. Hearing that voice again when the pickup truck stopped for her, she was immediately struck with all those nightmares once more.

Staring at him across the flatbed of this truck isn't any better - she had to fight tooth and nail to even touch the rails and brought herself up.

But what motivates her the most was the child that resembles her to uncanny details. My God, she murmured.

He'd clicked his tongue, staring at her with one of his red irises before covering his face once again with that hat he had.

Just like she, they were escaping the incursion that is the Westerners.

When the systems failed; agents, organized crimes, and mercenaries poured into the city, trying to get their hands on the city’s inhabitants.

Esper powers - the Holy Grail of science. Breaking reality in return for supernatural powers. The Westerners had been trying to replicate it with little success. It was only now that they got their hands on the real deal.

“Onee-sama, you're hurting Misaka. Says Misaka at Onee-sama’s tightening grip.” The girl’s voice sounded raspy, barely containing any breath.

Misaka, the original, blinked several times before loosening her grip. She'd been caught up in her trance. Too much thinking. Too many negative thoughts.

“Sorry…” she'd murmured back, pulling hands from the 10 year old’s shoulders. She glanced down at her scalp.

It was surprising when the girl hummed in response to Misaka’s murmur of apology - the fluttering winds against their ear on the back of this moving car hardly provide for a clear hearing ground.

She returned her gaze back to that person and almost immediately, her eyes twitched. How Last Order wound up with this guy is beyond her.

The guy, or Accelerator as she had known him, was reduced to… whatever this is - for what all she's known him, nothing could touch him.

And right now, his hair is moving as they're supposed to; fluttering up and about along with the winds.

His power is inactive.

She has the capability of hurting him. She wouldn't have entertained such a thought unless Misaka was absolutely sure of it.

That choker on his neck is what sold it out. She could feel the connection it has with Last Order - the outputs.

How he came to need it, Misaka doesn't particularly care. He deserves it. To know the irony that befalls him; to know that he more than likely needs the SISTERs to function, it feels so fucking good.

She could just laugh right then and there, mock him, humiliate him, for all the things he's done to the SISTERs, now grounded in their mercy.

Maybe even whip him with her lightning, burn his nervous systems, pop off those pretty little skins of his. She could think of things that would leave the old her mentally scarred with all these thoughts that she's having.

But Last Order’s here… a mere child…? No. She wouldn't go that low. Not ever.

Misaka felt a shift on her arms. Last Order is looking up at her. “Onee-sama, Onee-sama,” original kept the sadness from translating itself into her eyes - a twin tail flashes across her mind at those words.

“How did you get out of the city? Misaka wonders, imagining Onee-sama fighting through hordes in amazement.”

Original giggled at the childish imaginations. She finds herself unable to get used to the childlike behaviors the SISTERs project. She's heard before that chronologically, they're not even a year old.

To be put in a month old body, crammed with 14 years old knowledge. It must've been the things that did wonders on them.

“That's right,” Original couldn't help but pinch Last Order's cheeks, wiggling her face left and right. “Onee-sama fought 300 people to get out.”

That was a lie if it isn't clear though. She didn't fight anyone. She ran, just like everybody else. She got out by running. She didn't dare to look back.

She hadn't been sure if anyone survived such a blast that day. She was alone through the night when she got out of the rubbles.

The walls had fallen. With no one to guard the now non-existent perimeters, she slipped out by accident, only knowing that the hunt for espers was on when she heard the news about it.

She doesn't have any money except for whatever cents that she has - she had to sell her phone at dirt cheap price to even get the clothes and food to escape Tokyo.

Even now, she hasn't eaten since yesterday. Academy City Banks doesn't work outside of, well, Academy City.

She wouldn't contact her parents, fearing that they might go after any of them.

She had to embark alone. The train only takes you so far - especially with the limited amount of money that she has.

She wouldn't steal nor will she beg. Never.

“It must've been tiring, fighting all those people.” Accelerator joined in on the conversation, pulling away that hat that has been obscuring his face.

Again, the relatively relaxed expression that Misaka had on evaporates quite literally, immediately. “Yeah? What about you then - how'd you get out?”

“Hn. Like I'd answer such a nonsensical question.”

“He was fighting God! Says Misaka answering Onee-sama's question!” Original perked up at the girl’s cheerful reply, both her hands raised.

Original smiles softly and ruffles the girl’s head. “He must've had his ass beat, then.” she snickers, glaring while also catering to the child’s definitely running imagination.

The guy didn't even react to her mockery. All he did was reach into that bag that he had beside him.

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of the snickers bar. Again, she hasn't eaten in days. Her mouth waters at the chocolate thingy.

She could smell a phantom scent of all those sundaes that she's had all those times with her friends - things that she took for granted.

Her stomach churned. She's starving.

God damn it.

She doesn't have a destination in mind - not that she wants to be away from home to begin with.

She's just basically trying to lay low whilst trying to figure out what she should do. Before getting in the flatbed of this truck, she was gonna head off south.

Touma's hometown. At least, from what she'd heard from him. It's somewhere south.

That was the plan - originally at least. A part of her also hoped that he'd be there. Seeing these two somewhat rekindled her hope.

At the same time, it did the opposite. Accelerator had to keep Last Order alive to function. And Accelerator just so happens to be the strongest in the world.

Capable of taking a world ending amount of nuclear strikes with not even a sneeze at the dust. It scares her just how much the difference in power is.

The truck came to a halt. Last Order wiggles out of original’s hold. Accelerator jumps down, surprising the older brunette when he'd stumbled, limped, even.

He had this crutch on. Even worse, that bag he has on makes him look even more miserable. Original stayed on the bed of the truck, watching as the little girl held his legs when he paid the trucker, who refused but we're forced to get the money anyways.

Original felt a mix of things, watching the little clone walk away with that monster in such a familiar fashion.

“We're going to Gifu Prefecture. Says Misaka already imagining herself playing in the snow!” the little clone had told her.

The older brunette had tried coaxing her into coming with her. The clone hadn't flatly refused her, but the rejection still hurts.

Though the clone did ask her to come with them instead, stating “Lots of ice cream and show skying” as a must-do things along with several others.

Misaka wants warm suns and beaches. Refusing it with a smile… hoping that the little clone would at least change her mind.

All those things she'd done for them, and still the Control Tower had chosen to go with him off all people.

She'd felt salty about it. Grumbling words with her writhing stomach at its emptiness, watching the clone waving at her, walking down that road, holding the hem of the bastard's jacket.

The engine of the car roared to life again.

It moved once more. Slowly it went further down the road until the sight of the two were nothing but a small dot in the distance.

From what Misaka could see, that bastard does care for her even a little. He'd held her close and had only slept when original came earlier.

He'd even had that look of responsibility in his eyes. One that Misaka had recognized to be similar to that of a protective beast.

He wouldn't let harm touch her, lest he wreak havoc to the thing that did so.

But did it wipe off his slate clean? No. He was still a murderer in her eyes. One life doesn't clean off ten thousand deaths.

He must've known that. He must have.

But it still has her wondering - what got him like that? To be a crippled caretaker of a childish version of people that he'd once massacred in a gleeful psychotic killing spree?

She huffed. That sort of thought, she shouldn't mingle for too long. Her empty stomach is painful enough on its own. Thinking about him will only hurt her more.

Right now, she should think about the place she's going to… somewhere warm with ocean waves crashing against orange hot sands.

She could imagine herself eating sundae on those sands, an umbrella shielding her from the blazing sun… with him beside her…

She blushed a little at the thought, her knees closing in on her chest. She was smiling. God, she liked him a little too much. Is this what being 14 really supposed to be like - all about boys?

Maybe.

But still though… there was this nagging feel in the back of her mind.

Touma… did he really make it?

That tree spurts out of nowhere. She had been somewhere at that time, playing that crane machine when the world lost its colors.

She'd been sprinting to it, knowing that if there's someone that is taking care of it, it'd be Touma.

And then that blast came, engulfing the world in a flash of white with a searing hot white noise that made her feel like her hearing was a mistake.

She was lucky enough to survive - she wasn't underground nor was she in a building.

That tree was anything but scientific. I mean, seeping the world of colors? Abnormally shaped like a Kabbalah diagram? Flashing colors like a gem, too?

She knows that Touma could somehow negate abilities with his right arm. That's how Accelerator was defeated to begin with.

But that? Even the blast and the flash feels truly supernatural. Could he negate that?

If he didn't make it… then… what now…?

There was pain in her chest - it hurts.

Had he died…? The sting of tears in her eyes, her throat constricting.

If he were to negate it, it wouldn't have resulted in a blast. He didn't make it. He wouldn't have. Not to that scale - the craters left over the blast radius would've even killed Accelerator from lack of oxygen.

When she gets there… What's she gonna do, anyways? She's not gonna be sunbathing on the beach. Her whole body is sore. The last thing she wants is sun directly on it.

Not to mention, she wouldn't be able to eat anything sugary. She hasn't eaten in this long, her body isn't used to the sudden change of eating habit. She'll throw up at ice creams.

Really, nothing good awaits her there. She'll be alone in that small town, where everyone would more than likely mention the brunette when those Westerners came, asking for any strange sudden appearance…

Who wouldn't know about a brunette teenager, with no background, who emits Electromagnetic fields that disrupt microwaves whenever she's around?

When the truck leaned upwards from the hill, the rocking broke Misaka out yet from God knows how many trances already. Looking back, she could see the crossroad still from where she'd departed from Last Order.

Sucking up a tear, she slammed her fist over the hood of the truck, alerting the driver.

When it stopped, she threw herself down the rails, profusely apologizing to the driver and began sprinting down the hill.

It really should've been a mistake - she's mourning the death of a loved one, though however one sided that feeling is.

But the last thing she wants to be in right now is alone. She learned her lessons when she pushed Kuroko and the others away.

Last Order might not be someone she's known for some time. She's only known of the little girl’s existence for less than a day.

Barely 4 hours. Maybe even less.

She was one of the SISTERs. The Control Tower, from what the little girl had told her. She's the centre of her brain. The only one with emotions.

A touch of her younger self.

She wants that. To be back where everything isn't as messed up at the present day. God, what she would do to be back in time…

Running down the hill like this, might've been one of those things. But without the promise of breaking down the physics of time? Not so much.

“Oh shit, oh fuck. Oh SHIT, OH FUC-AARGH!”

She fell down.

“God fucking… that hurts!” Her sobbing felt more justified now.

She'd fallen on her knees then on her stomach. Nothing too painful, nothing too serious. But her knees were scraped. She shouldn't be wearing a skirt when doing that, definitely.

She looked over to her knees… her legs don't look so smooth anymore. But yeah. That's bound to happen at some point.

She got up and ran again. Even for a 14 year old, she's got plenty of stamina. She's a fast runner. She's fast as fuck.

But with her legs like this? She looks like one of those zombies in OG CoD. It wasn't bleeding that bad, but the blood trailing down on it does add to the macabre sight.

Her breaths were beginning to exasperate as the distance narrowed. But even then the crossroad looked still plenty far enough for her to feel it taunting her.

Her lungs felt cold and hot at the same time by the time she reached it. And her knees were beginning to feel super painful.

She could hardly run. Her empty stomach certainly adds more to the difficulty. But seeing those two backs - smaller and larger ones, it motivated her even more.

Maybe it was her loud breathing, or the soles of her shoes slamming down on the ground or even the oncoming car from behind, but those two turned around just as they were within hearing distance.

She stopped running. Her legs were about to give out yet again. She's gonna puke but there's really nothing to let out.

She hadn't started sweating throughout the entirety of her sprint. Stopping seemed to allow her body to do just that.

She was leaning forward, careful not to touch her bloodied knees, wiping away the now flooding sweats.

Accelerator looked amused. For someone who had seen more blood than there are waters in an Olympic pool, he certainly does have a grim look at her wound.

“The fuck happened - did the car crash already?” He'd probably meant that as a taunt. There was no bite in his tone. Which is weirding her out anyhow.

“I'm… I'm just… haaaah.” The older brunette was still wheezing her lungs out. She's never running like that ever again.

Last Order took her hands off of Accelerator’s hem and started running towards her, exclaiming “Onee-sama! You're hurt,” such and such with her third-person tick and all.

The little girl went on to examine the older girl’s knees on the side of the road. They hadn't had a bandage. So they used whatever it was that they had.

That being - a water bottle, half used disinfectant cream, and a pile of napkins that they'd probably stolen from a diner, courtesy of Last Order’s ‘Need for emergency supplies, says Misaka looking at a certain wound on his head’ type of stuff, which got the white haired guy scoffing and stuff.

Said guy was leaning on a nearby road marker whilst the two technically sisters joked and laughed with each other.

Misaka could feel his gaze on her. He wasn't glaring - she's felt his glare before. It was not pleasant. It felt as though she's going to swallow her own tongue.

There was definitely something different about this Accelerator from what she's used to.

She… doesn't know how to describe it. He was scary. Very. Scarier than anything she's ever seen. His very appearance screamed of danger. That he would skin you alive for even the slightest of irritation.

Everything about him is easy to hate.

Too easy. As though that was all there is about him. Made to be hated. Nothing more.

But now? It's still the same.

He's still scary… that was for certain. He'd remained the same, the way he carried himself. On a surface level, nothing has changed.

But a level 5s brain tends to examine things down to the last minute details. (Minute, read as ‘my newt’.)

His eyes were softer. Bitter, but not hateful.

They say that the eyes are the window to the soul - a hateful soul shows like a storm gathering on the horizon.

She'd see it in the tight set of his jaw, the rigid posture, the way his gaze would fixate with an almost predatory intensity.

There was a sneer playing at the corners of his lips, a subtle tightening around the eyes that spoke of deep-seated resentment.

None of those words describe him anymore. The same she'd associate with him.

He really did change.

The bitterness was there, a lingering taste of something sour that life had forced down that greasy throat of his. It lined the edges of his gaze, a faint shadow in their depths.

Yet, there was no active malice burning within. It was the weariness of someone who had been hurt, perhaps betrayed, but hadn't allowed that pain to fully curdle into outward aggression.

Something changed him.

And it's making her curious. 

Chapter Text

She wasn't gonna ask either of them outright. She plans on talking to him as little as she can manage. 

She still hates his guts more than anything, but a mutual need to survive was in order. Only brief, necessary exchanges about their predicament, logistical details, nothing personal would pass between them. 

She would keep her gaze averted, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. Every clipped word would be a testament to her disdain.

Nothing would come out right if she were to just directly accuse him. It would devolve into her shouting with him probably just staring at her while she rehash old wounds, and ultimately, it would only be her who was hurt.

She was still too raw, too quick to anger where he was concerned. But she was aware of their problems. They're not in the condition to be handling that just yet.

The irony wasn't lost on her - forced into proximity with the one person who could still ignite such a visceral fury within her when she couldn't be with one that brought forth the opposite of said anger.

Having Last Order asleep right on her back helped with the older brunette with managing herself. 

It'd been maybe around 40 minutes since they'd started walking again. Her legs still hurt, but what can she do? At least her knees were covered with proper medical adhesive this time. 

There were no cars to stop by, no bus coming by. They were lucky with that truck back then. She could even hear Accelerator murmuring something about that choker on his neck. 

Talk about that choker, what is it supposed to do, anyways? She knows that it connects Last Order and him, transferring something that she couldn't exactly see nor read. It is kinda like radio networks.

Last Order also mentioned a wound on his head. She could vividly recall his head slamming on the ground when Touma delivered that final punch.

Was he really that frail to get brain damage by something that weak? And him using that crutch to walk, too? Now that's just too much.

She was dying to know - her naturally curious mind was going on an overdrive to find out.

And it must've leaked onto her face because Accelerator started talking in that irritable voice of his again. “What're you looking at, brat? You got something to say or what?”

She bit back a sharp retort. Engaging him directly was exactly what she wanted to avoid. Instead, she focused on a loose thread on her sleeve, pretending intense interest in its frayed edges.

“It’s… nothing,” she mumbled, not meeting his gaze. “Just thinking.”

He'd clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes out the corner of her peripherals. 

And then they were back to that silence again. She kept her eyes forward this time. Just the interactions they had just now were enough to boil her blood.

That leaves her a grumbling girl, walking on the side of the road under the late afternoon sun with nothing ahead in sight.

Now this was something that she had to voice. 

“Exactly what are your plans?” She doesn't turn to look at him, just shifting the little girl sleeping behind her back. “It's nearly 6 pm and we're still walking.”

“You got a problem with that?”

“Of course I do!” She exclaimed just enough for him to see the irritation on her face. “My leg hurts, I'm hungry, Last Order needs a bed to sleep on, and it's getting dark!”

“There's food in her bag. We'll stop when there's a place to stop. Stop complaining.”

“Do you see anything up ahead? Clearly not only do you need to fix your eyes, you also need to fix your planning capabilities first before planning a trip!”

In the end, she turned her head towards him anyway. She barked on and on as they continued in with the staring match. Her voice turns louder until she's basically shouting.

Accelerator doesn't seem to want to cater to her outbursts but failed to keep himself in check either as the seconds came to pass. 

The older Misaka doesn't notice the shifts happening on her back, the tappings trying to get her attention and the insistent voice drowned by theirs.

She doesn't know what it is he said - perhaps it's just her subconsciousness coaxing her into exaggerating the words he'd said. 

She finds herself letting out her electricity.

Just like she always does… always 

uncontrollable…

… It was supposed to bounce. 

He was supposed to reflect it off onto the ground; maybe elsewhere. Hell, maybe even back to her.

She didn't expect him to spasm, to hear that crutch of his to clatter, the thud of him when he fell down to the side onto the road. 

Even worse - Last Order screamed. 

Her blood runs cold when that happens. 

A part of her was relieved beyond measure when the little girl jumped off of her back. The relief souring a tad when she noticed the way her hair stands.

She stood there in quiet contemplations at the sight of him hurting, eyes fluttering deliriously, Last Order trying to get him out of the state he was in.

Original knows that he was hurt. 

Original was very much aware of it the moment she'd seen him. 

Original just hadn't expected it to be severe enough to cause him to lose his power. 

“Onee-sama! What have you done?! Misaka shouts in frantic panic, rushing to Accelerator's side.” 

Her small hands hover over him, unsure of what to do. Tears well up in her large eyes as she looks back at the other brunette, a mixture of fear and accusation in her gaze.

Misaka watches the scene unfold, a strange cocktail of emotions swirling within her. Guilt, yes, a sharp pang of it at seeing Last Order so distressed. 

The carefully constructed facade of invincibility had shattered in a single, uncontrolled burst of her power. It wasn't just the head injury; something else was clearly wrong.

“I… I didn’t mean to,” Original stammered, her voice barely a whisper. The sight of Accelerator sprawled on the asphalt, his face paler than usual and contorted, was unsettling. 

She had expected a reaction, a furious retaliation, not… this.

“I thought… he'd… he… but he's Accelerator…”

Last Order continues to sob, her voice choked with worry. “He’s hurt, Onee-sama! You hurt hi-!”

Original couldn't hear the rest of the words. Her ears were ringing. Her mind, moments ago a whirlwind of irritation and frustration, now felt strangely empty. 

She hadn't intended this. She had expected the usual dismissive deflection, the casual display of his overwhelming power. This… this was different. This felt wrong.

“I… I didn’t…” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. The anger had completely evaporated, replaced by a chilling dread. 

She took a hesitant step towards him, then stopped. Accelerator is starting to stir, a low groan escaping his lips. His eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, then slowly honing in on the little girl on him, and then towards Original. 

There’s no immediate anger in his gaze, just a profound weariness, a flicker of something that almost looks like… defeat.

“Damn it…” he rasps, pushing himself up with difficulty, his hand clutching his head. “What… the hell was that for, Third-string?” His voice is strained, lacking its usual sharp edge.

Original doesn’t answer, her mind still reeling from the unexpected outcome. She had wanted answers, and in a twisted way, she had gotten them. 

He was vulnerable. 

Terribly, surprisingly vulnerable.

What had she missed?

The wound on his head. Last Order’s mention of it. His reliance on the crutch. His uncharacteristic weariness. 

They weren't just signs of minor inconvenience. They were indicators of something more serious, something she had carelessly disregarded in her anger.

Had she truly been so consumed by her own feelings that she hadn't considered the possibility that he was genuinely vulnerable?

She looked down at her hands, the faint crackle of residual electricity still clinging to her fingertips.

They were lucky someone stumbled upon them, noticing the fallen albino on the side of the road. Otherwise, it would've been one hell of an awkward and painful walk.

He's been quiet throughout the 15 minutes they've been in this car - either trying to sleep, watching out the window and groaning in pain at each of his movements. 

Misaka stares at the back of his head. She was the only one at the foremost back of the car, sitting here with the kind person's belongings. 

Last Order was on the guy's lap, audibly sniffling and occasionally whispering, "Is Accelerator okay? Is he going to be okay, Misaka asks worriedly," while the man driving would offer reassuring words.

Misaka felt a pang of guilt with each of the tiny girl’s sniffle. Last Order’s distress was a constant, tangible reminder of her recklessness. 

She wanted to reach out, to offer some comfort, but the younger clone’s earlier words still hung heavy in the air.

She shifted uncomfortably, the stranger’s discarded jacket bunching beneath her. Her gaze drifted back to Accelerator. 

Even in the dim light of the car's interior, she could see the unnatural pallor of his skin, the way his brow furrowed in what looked like pain even in his sleep-like state.

‘Vulnerable . ’

The word echoed in her mind. She had always seen him as an insurmountable force, an entity of pure, terrifying power. 

The memory of his casual deflections of her strongest attacks was still vivid. It was almost impossible to reconcile that image with the broken figure slumped against the car window.

What had Touma done to him? That final punch… she remembered the sickening thud, the way Accelerator’s head had snapped back, crashing onto the floor with pebbles and rocks.

At the time, fueled by her own anger and the urgency of the situation, she hadn't given it a second thought. 

He was the enemy, the one who had caused so much pain and suffering to her sisters. He deserved it.

But now, seeing the aftermath, the lingering consequences of that single blow, a seed of doubt began to sprout in her mind. 

Other than killing the clones, exactly what did he do to warrant such a reaction from Last Order - which also translates to the reaction of the entire SISTERs Network?

That was the question that truly gnawed at her. What could the infamous Accelerator, the monster who had once systematically murdered her clones, have possibly done to earn the unwavering affection of the remaining Sisters, especially THE Control Tower?

She had glimpses, fragmented and confusing. Last Order’s frantic worry, her tearful defense of him. The almost maternal protectiveness the little girl displayed. It was baffling, a complete contradiction to everything Misaka knew about him.

Her memories of Accelerator were stained with the metallic tang of fear and the burning rage of loss. He was the embodiment of their suffering, the architect of their nightmare. 

How could Last Order, a direct link to the memories and emotions of the entire network, feel anything but terror and hatred towards him?

There was an answer that she could come up, one that fits the criteria of what had happened just mere minutes ago.

It was that he'd given up his power.

It should be obvious enough when she saw that crutch that he'd sat on back on that truck.

It was a wonder that he was even able to support his own weight. He must've used his power to stand.

Another thing was the way his hair had fluttered in the wind just earlier - he was once the centre of a tornado. Literally. 

Not a strand of his hair had dared to move out of place.

Those should have been obvious hints that she had completely missed.

The signs were all there, subtle yet undeniable in retrospect. The reliance on a crutch was the most obvious, but they all pointed to a significant reduction, if not complete loss, of his immense power.

It couldn't have been a complete loss. Otherwise, the choker wouldn't have been there or that it was worse than him losing his power. 

What could possibly be worse than losing your power when you were the strongest in the entire world? The ability to manipulate Vectors in it's absolute sense.

Unless… the choker wasn't just a monitoring device. What if it was also a limiter, a way to regulate what remained of his power, especially in his weakened state? 

Maybe it was preventing a catastrophic backlash from the head injury, or perhaps it was somehow tethered to Last Order's well-being, a fail-safe to prevent him from reverting to his former destructive tendencies.

The thought sent a fresh wave of unease through Misaka. If his power was diminished, he was vulnerable. And if the choker was somehow compensating for that vulnerability, then her impulsive attack might have had far more serious consequences than she initially realized.

She glanced at Last Order again, the little girl's small face still etched with worry. If Accelerator's weakened state was tied to her in some way, then Misaka's actions could have endangered both of them. The weight of that possibility settled heavily in her chest.

But if he had truly lost his power, or a significant portion of it, then why hadn't he said anything? Why maintain the facade of the untouchable Accelerator? Pride, most likely. 

The arrogance that had always been his defining characteristic wouldn't allow him to admit such a crippling weakness, especially not to her.

And yet… the fact that he hadn't lashed out at her earlier, spoke volumes. He had absorbed it, and the strain had clearly been immense.

Something truly fundamental had changed. 

The Accelerator she knew, the one who could casually swat away her lightning like an annoying fly, was gone, or at least drastically diminished.

And Last Order… her affection, her fierce protectiveness, it made a twisted kind of sense now. He had become vulnerable, and the network, in their own unique way, were rallying around him. 

Perhaps he had even put himself in harm's way to protect them, a thought that was almost impossible to reconcile with the monster of her memories.

The silence in the car felt different now, charged with the weight of her newfound understanding. 

She looked at Accelerator, no longer with just hatred, but with a strange mix of disbelief, grudging curiosity, and a dawning sense of the complicated reality of their situation. 

He wasn't the invincible force she had always believed him to be. 

And that single, terrifying truth changed everything.

He'd tapped at the back of the driver’s seat. They're to be dropped by on an Inn up ahead. 

The driver did as he'd asked. Inching closer to the side of the road before stopping fully. 

Misaka doesn't really know if he'd have any money or not. She doesn't have anything other than this clothes on her back and the hat that she got. 

Accelerator handed the driver a 5000 yen bill. Just one. Just that single paper has Misaka's eyes widening a little. She should've known that he'll have money. 

He had plenty. And he doesn't seem to want to spend it all right away. 

A wise choice of him.

It wasn't so wise anymore unfortunately when he'd ordered a room with a single bed.

The older brunette would've imagined Last Order to run around the room when they first stepped in. That wasn't the case however. She was still as sad as she had been in the car. That didn't stop her from trying out the bed’s softness, though.

He went straight for the couch - setting down that bag he'd been carrying this entire time throughout the walk before laying down on it. 

The bag - another thing that her hateful mind had been avoiding to notice. Really... just... really...

“You brats, take the bed,” he said out loud. There was still a lingering pain in his voice, raw. “Don't forget about the battery, Last Order.”

She glanced at the small figure of Last Order, who was now bouncing gently on the mattress, a small, hesitant smile finally gracing her lips. 

Then, her gaze flicked towards the narrow-looking couch and the clearly uncomfortable position Accelerator had already settled into.

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over her. Annoyance at his presumptuousness, a flicker of concern for Last Order, and a grudging acknowledgment of his… thoughtfulness? It was a strange mix.

“And where exactly do you expect to sleep, then?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

He shifted slightly on the couch, wincing. “Here.” His voice was dismissive, as if the prospect of a cramped and likely uncomfortable night was of no consequence.

She scoffed. She kept herself from shouting her words, at least. “You can barely stand without that crutch. That couch looks about as comfortable as a pile of rocks. Not to mention, you're… hurt. I'll take it, twig.”

"Like I'll let that runt lay on my hand again," he finally said, his voice flat. "And I'd rather not have you glare at me all night for regretting taking this shit.”

His words, though gruff, held a hint of something… protective? It was another confusing contradiction to the image she had of him.

"But…" Misaka began, suddenly feeling uneasy about the arrangement.

"No buts," he cut her off, a flicker of his old irritability returning. "Just deal with it, Third-string. I'm not up for debate." He closed his eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

Misaka stood there for a moment, her mind still racing. She looked from the small, moving up and about around the room, pulling something from the choker before heading for the nightstand. 

He was injured, visibly so. His movements were stiff, and she had seen the pain flicker in his eyes. It was especially worse when Last Order took that thing out - he looked like he was… limp?

The couch couldn't possibly offer him the rest he needed. But looking at how cozy he looked all of a sudden, as if immediately asleep, that got her to calm at least.

She sighed, the fight draining out of her. Arguing with him further would likely be futile. The guilt from earlier by the road washed away the need to validate herself.

"Alright," she said, her voice softer this time. "But if you start complaining about your back in the morning, don't expect any sympathy from me."

He didn't even bat a glance. Not even a hum.

She turned her attention to Last Order, who was now sitting up on the bed, watching them with wide, curious eyes. Misaka managed a small, reassuring smile.

"Come on, Last Order," she said gently. "Let's get you settled in."

As she helped the little girl under the covers, she glanced back at Accelerator. 

He looked smaller somehow, less imposing without his usual aura of power and menace.

Misaka found herself wondering, not for the first time that day, just who this new, weakened Accelerator really was. 

And what it meant for their unlikely and uncertain future.

Not that much of a surprise - Accelerator was the last to wake up. It wasn't until that Misaka watched the hyper energetic girl, while she sat on the bed rubbing her eyes, as she climbed up the guy’s lap and shook him up by the collar. 

There was a clicking sound before that shrill of high pitched, nerve grating kiddy voice that a certain group of people actually finds attractive.

(That's not how children talk, mate. Get that shit out of your mushy head)

The two had a conversation of sorts - one that he'd start to whisper, one that the little girl followed also. One that the older Misaka couldn't exactly hear into the whispers.

He made a motion with his hand after clicking his tongue, like he was shooing her away. Last Order did just that.

Misaka watched as the girl went from his lap, onto the bathroom, with the sound of running water rushing in the background almost at the same time she entered. 

She seems hyped. Particularly so, especially for someone who had just woken up. 

Original doesn't really want to pry into what exactly they'd be talking about. But what got her curious was exactly why these were in the situation they were in. 

Less than 3 weeks ago, he was a murderous psychopath. Why would he be the one to take care of a younger version of his victims less than a month later?

Unless…

“Accelerator…” She started. “You're not that type of person, are you?”

He glanced at her, trying to push himself up with his crutch. “What type?” He'd grumbled, finally heaving a relieved sigh after fully standing. “Whatever shit you're thinking, that ain't it.”

She rolled her eyes, turning over when Last Order ran out of the bathroom with a wet, freshen face. “I'm ready! Shouts Misaka as Misaka-”

“Shut it! Don't scream so early in the morning, damned kid.”

“But Misaka can't help it! Shouts Misaka as Misaka-”

“Quiet down, Last Order. He might wake someone up if you keep shouting.”

The little girl gasps a little bit too dramatically to be genuine. “If that happens, he might get yelled on! Says Misaka as Misaka worries over his well being.”

The guy in question clicked his tongue. The older Misaka just laughed. She got up too, going on to wait outside the bathroom as he washed his face. 

She did the same. 

…

“You're watching her quite intently.” She remarks. He scoffed, to which he also pulled his gaze away from her, into the side instead. 

The world outside is still blueish. Not yet any hint of orange from the sun. It must've been still 5 in the morning.

Misaka turned her gaze to the child ahead instead. She huffed. “You cared for her. What changed, Accelerator?”

He rolled his eyes. “Like I give a shit... Something happens to her, I'm as good as dead as well. There's that.” There were no hesitations. Not even a beat after her question. He wasn't even trying to lie. 

He's not lying. She can see that. 

Her shoulder tenses up a little. “So long as it concerns me, that brat won't die from anything.” 

“Then, once it no longer concerns you?”

“I'll leave.”

…

“Just like that?”

“Yes.”

Misaka pauses. 

…

She was worried over nothing. Guilty to nothing. He hadn't changed. Just tempered down due to something that dangers him too.

She shouldn't have felt bad. 

The tugging on the edge of her lips turned down. “Then leave. I'll take care of her myself.”

“And if I say no, thirdstring?”

She feels a crackle bouncing between her finger tips. “The longer you stick around, the more you'll hurt her once you do.”

“I'll leave once my business with her is done.”

“When is that?”

“Once I think that I'm done.”

She could really just punch through him right now. She felt bad over nothing the other day. People like him don't change that quickly. Perhaps, never will. 

She hates him. Knowing that he's a completely defenseless vegetable now made it even more reassuring that he can't do anything back. 

But the fact still doesn't change; Last Order cares for him. But as for him? Everything he's said… he cared for her just as much as she cares for toenail. 

She wants to do something about him. But Last Order won't let that happen. But whatever he'll do and he's done to Last Order… she'll pay back 10 fold once the little girl realizes what sick person he really is. 

For now… she'll be tolerant. 

For now.