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Chapter Text

Light Novels

Series 1

INT1: Chapter 01-12 - 55,603 words (Four Years Later Arc)
INT2: Chapter 13-23 - 53,310 words (Level Transition Syndrome Arc)
INT3: Chapter 24-30 - 58,171 words (Misaki Shokuhou Rescue Arc)

Series 2

INT4: Chapter 31-36.5 - 59,779 words (Category 101 Arc)
INT5: Chapter 37-43 - 75,898 words (Category 101 Arc)
INT6: Chapter 44-?? - xx,xxx words (??? Arc)

Dates of Events

Divergences

• "Divergences" are the events that took place before and after the World War III Arc in Canon. These created the conditions for the events of Intertwined. Throughout the story you will find hints as to what they are, the root causes and such, before they are explicitly mentioned. Can you spot and theorise them before they make it to the TOC?

Year of Canon - Mid to Late-2004

Year of Story - Mid-2009

Four Years Later Arc - 13th May - 23rd May

• 13th May - Chapter 1-2
• 14th May - Chapter 3-8
• 15th May - Chapter 9
• 17th May - Chapter 10
• 19th May - Chapter 11
• 23rd May - Chapter 12

Level Transition Syndrome Arc - 24th May to 28th May

• 24th May - Chapter 13-17
• 27th May - Chapter 18-22
• 28th May - Chapter 23

Misaki Shokuhou Rescue Arc - 28th May

• 28th May - Chapter 24-30

Category 101 Arc - 28th May to 3rd June

• 28th May - Chapter 31
• 29th May - Chapter 32-36.5, 38
• 30th May - Chapter 37
• 31st May - Chapter 38
• 1st June - Chapter 39-40
• 2nd June - Chapter 41-42
• 3rd June - Chapter 42-43

??? Arc - 3rd June

• 3rd June - Chapter 44-??

Socials

Broeckoli (Writer)

Yenth (Illustrator)

Shion_ni (Illustrator)

Chapter Text

Groggy and full of searing pain, just barely dulled by the medication flowing into her veins, Junko Hokaze slowly awoke from within her hospital room.

Purple eyes cracked open by the smallest of margins. The smell of disinfectant assaulted her nose, though the lack of light made it a little easier for her to open her eyes wider and wider. It was a slow, teasing process where her heavy eyelids protested furiously over the effort. Her quickening heartbeat tunnelled adrenaline through her body as she began to worry in the unfamiliar place.

Junko was struggling to remember the outcome of the fight. Her Rampage Dress ultimately could not keep up with the assault from Mikoto Misaka, and while she could fuzzily remember being loaded into an ambulance, she still did not know what happened to Misaka or Kuroko in the end.

In particular, she wondered how her Queen was.

As she garnered more consciousness, Junko’s Rampage Dress began to flicker back to life. She could feel her body begin to warm up as it repaired itself, though at nowhere near the usual pace. Her fatigue was intense, slowing her regenerative abilities down to a crawl.

Then, suddenly, a headache.

A cluster of them.

Junko winced, and all that effort in opening her eyes came to naught.

This was very strange. It has been years since the last time she had these cluster headaches, and for good reason. In the past, a drawback of her powers, particularly as a Level 4, was that the immense draw of energy upon her body and mind would create the conditions for these headaches. Even regular activities would bring them out in small, unpleasant doses. 

It was a significant and potent drawback.

Then Misaki Shokuhou came along, and Junko became her friend and second in command. Then an offer was made to ‘fix’ her brain and prevent any more of these headaches from arising again.

At first, Junko was hesitant. Even as a budding friendship took root, Junko was particularly cautious about any telepath tinkering with her brain. It was a matter of privacy and autonomy, and even the kindest of offers from Misaki were extraordinarily difficult to accept in the beginning. That and the need to have something to restrict herself from pushing too hard with her powers.

But, in time, Misaki became trustworthy in Junko’s purple eyes, and the drawbacks were too steep to ignore when a remedy was at hand. When the offer was accepted and the cluster headaches were removed for good, the lavender-haired girl was already allowing Misaki to do anything to her with her remotes. Being the second in command and a genuine friend of Mental Out, she grew to be enough to trust her Queen with her life.

Removing the ailment did not cause any adverse effects, and, if anything, her powers had finally stabilised.

However, for whatever reason, the cluster headaches had now returned.

As Junko struggled to open her eyes again, she could not help but wonder what had broken the mental programming. 

‘Ah…’

The Adrell.

It was glaringly obvious, to be honest. Junko would have scolded herself for not concluding that straight away, but she had been bashed around like a ragdoll just a few hours prior - at least she hoped it was a few hours prior; God forbid she had been in a coma for a few weeks, months, or years.

Junko knew those things were dangerous.

Kuroko had been too convincing. Misaki had warned Junko about how Kuroko was no stranger to manipulation when absolutely necessary, but damn, was the girl good with words and arguments when she needed to be. No wonder Misaki had become so infatuated with the younger teenager; there was a streak of the blonde within Judgement’s Angel.

There was more than just that which attracted Misaki to Kuroko; Junko knew that only too well. The parallels Kuroko had with a certain dark-haired boy were made abundantly clear to Junko during Misaki’s lovesick tirades and ramblings over the teleporter.

‘Misaki…’

A pinch of bitterness bit at her achy mind, but Junko quickly pushed it away.

Instead, she thought about other Misaki-related matters.

‘I hope we got her out in time… I hope it was all a success…’

Junko had a feeling that she’d find out soon enough.

Then, lo and behold, the door to her hospital room slowly opened.

Junko listened in on the slow and light footsteps that approached from the opening and closing door, the sound picking up as the person walked closer and closer to her bed. She lifted her head a tad and cracked open one of her eyes, but it was a bit too blurry to tell who it exactly was.

But the blonde hair and the way it curled outwards from the middle of the person’s back gave a pretty strong and relieving hint.

“Junko, dear? Are you awake?” Spoke the voice of Junko’s Queen.

A palpable wave of relief washed through her.

“...mm, yes…” Junko forced out the words with much pain, her throat sore and her mouth very, very dry. Her body hated the amount of energy that was being expended into talking, scolding her with another wave of headaches, stings, and sore throbs.

“Please, don’t talk, just rest.” Misaki then offered kindly, looking down at Junko from the end of the bed. Junko sighed and closed her eyes, relaxing her neck and allowing her head to sink into the pillows.

Junko hummed again in an attempt to display that she was still awake and listening. It was the best she could do in this state.

Though Misaki’s voice did sound a little... flat.

“I would do this with my Mental Out, but I’m quite exhausted myself.” Misaki began with that apparently tired voice, utterly drained by today’s events. “But first, I must thank you for your help in rescuing me. I assume you took the initiative, and the risk you took in battling The Railgun was great.” 

Misaki’s gentle and congratulatory words filled Junko with an abundance of happiness. The assumption of Junko being the one to lead it by Misaki also felt wonderful. A small smile quickly and involuntarily formed on her lips, and Junko could only imagine the smile that was on Misaki’s face. Genuine, sympathetic, perhaps even loving.

Hopefully loving.

“You really are my dearest of friends.” Misaki then added, and the smile on Junko’s lips lost a bit of its edge.

Junko hummed in appreciation all the same, though a hint of something long suppressed lingered within it.

“Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse.”

That caught Junko’s attention.

As did another set of skull-splitting headaches. Junko groaned again and winced.

“Is something wrong?” Misaki then asked, worry likely evident on her face, though Junko did not know with her eyes closed. Given that her Queen was not using her powers right now, not even her passive abilities, most likely, Junko went to allay her Queen’s worries. With a hoarse voice, Junko did her best to speak up.

“...no, just... list-ning.” Junko went for the ‘misinterpretation route’, and it appeared to work as Misaki hummed back before sighing.

“Ah, of course, my apologies.”

Misaki began moving again, what sounded like heels tapping on the uncarpeted floor as the woman repositioned herself. Junko, her eyes still closed, could hear Misaki slowly sit down on a chair. Her breathing was calm, but her aura felt... different. Junko could not quite describe. Having known the Level 5 for so long, it was easy for her to tell if there was something wrong, but sometimes difficult to decipher what it was.

Given that Junko had her eyes closed and had not been told the full story yet, it was impossible to determine what felt so wrong about Misaki at this very moment.

But the hunch was strong.

With a steady but audible breath, Misaki continued.

“The City came after my Kuroko, as predicted. But fortunately, for that moment, The Railgun was there to stop them from seizing her. Her defeat seems to have realigned her to my Kuroko…” Misaki explained, albeit with little detail. It really was just the highlights, and even these felt vague.

‘The way Misaki-sama keeps using ‘my’ when referring to Kuroko…’

Junko was not too sure how she should feel about that. Usually it had a bit of pep when spoken, but it felt a little colder tonight. While a large part of her was a little unnerved and concerned by it, another, tiny, and secluded section of Junko’s mind felt something else.

The Rampage Dress wielder tried to ignore it. Now was not the time to be emotional and personal…

Instead, Junko hummed, coaxing Misaki to continue.

“Frankly, Dolly would have sufficed, but her odds of surviving alone were slim. The Railguns' change of heart has proven to be invaluable, temporary or not.” Misaki's voice sounded almost haughty, a kind of arrogance that had been missing from her for a long time now. It reminded Junko of their Tokiwadai days.

But not in a good way.

Another key soundbite kept rebounding around Junko’s throbbing skull.

‘Misaki was willing to sacrifice Dolly?! Something's very wrong…’ Junko was really concerned now. From the limited interaction so far, both in content and in conversation dynamics, Misaki was raising a significant amount of red flags. For the blonde to be content in possibly sacrificing Dolly of all people was unheard of, absurd in fact, if Junko was told that Misaki would ever have suggested such a thing.

But here Misaki was, saying such words without a care in the world.

‘No, it’s worse than that…’

Mental Out was treating Dolly like an expendable chess piece.

All for Kuroko.

It really did feel like the worst days of Tokiwadai.

Something had gone very, very wrong, and Junko was immediately relieved that Misaki was too tired to read her mind right now.

At least Junko hoped so. 

‘The fact I’m thinking this is not a good sign either. Though I’m sure she would have commented and removed these headaches if it was an act.’ Junko reassured herself, and as the seconds ticked by and her cluster of headaches remained, she felt certain that Misaki was not lying.

In this regard, thankfully.

Misaki’s explanation still felt like it was missing something. But even if Junko had the ability to question her, she knew it would not have been a wise decision. She needed to perform her duties as a second in command and observe Misaki closely before advising her.

“My Kuroko is... hurt. Very hurt. I’ll be calling in her friends and colleagues tomorrow morning to let them know about her current condition.” Misaki continued, her tone cold and analytical. “I may have some use for our old friends. Having them around and aware is a necessity at this moment.” Misaki finished, and Junko could not help but pick up how the blonde was speaking.

‘My’s and I’s… Misaki is plotting something, certainly...' Junko snappily concluded, her sharp mind able to pick up on these certain mannerisms on instinct. 

“When you are well, I’ll explain things further. But for now I want you to rest and recuperate; I shall handle things alone for the moment.” 

And there it was, the confirmation.

‘Please don’t go overboard, Misaki…’ Junko hoped as she furrowed her brow, worrying about the ire Misaki could accidentally attract by going too far with her influence and powers. The woman with the lavender-coloured hair hoped that Misaki did not misread her expressions, but to be safe, she tried to utter a shorthand name and a simple adjective.

“...’tori’s... redhead…” 

Misaki hummed.

“Ah, them.” Misaki picked up on the words immediately, “I believe they are fine, yes.”

‘You ‘believe’ they are fine?’ 

Whatever Misaki was up to, her time and energy were being consumed by it. That only made Junko worry further. The worrisome meter was certainly maxed out now...

But there was nothing Junko could do about it at the moment.

“Their injuries are comparatively less severe than yours, so they should be fine. My focus ability is purely on my Kuroko.”

Just listen, think, wait, and hope.

Hope that Misaki was not in over her head and overkilling a situation. Junko could only assume that this was tangentially related to Mikoto and pondered whether the other Level 5 was in the same hospital right now. The Railgun coming to help protect Kuroko from the City, albeit with partial success, gave some credence to the possibility.

But without Misaki to confirm it and without Junko pushing her luck in prompting her, she realised that she would have to wait for a little longer.

“...and on you, to a lesser extent.”

That was cold.

Far, far colder than Misaki had ever been with her. 

Junko felt her throat tighten and her heart sink. A heavy feeling gripped her stomach, drowning out the stings and throbs around her body. This was a Misaki who was zoned into some sort of objective, sure, but it hurt all the same. Even still, this was different. The bluntness was unnecessary, and she was only ever like this when she was consumed with a critical plan.

Or she felt she needed to push Junko’s feelings away... 

Junko had to be patient and put aside her hidden, hurt feelings for the time being.

The hospital door opened again.

“Misaki-san?” Came the timid voice of Kazari Uiharu. She sounded tired, her throat hoarse and sore. Had it been from crying? Kazari seemed to be the type...

“Yes, Kazari-san? I’m here.” Misaki replied. Junko could hear her shifting from her chair, perhaps standing up from it. The clatter of her heels confirmed such.

“Saten-san is okay. We just talked. She doesn’t remember much, I’m afraid.”

Kazari was noticeably hesitant. The girl always seemed a little nervous around Misaki, owing to the woman’s ability to read her mind and then being made unaware that it ever happened. Perhaps she was worried that Misaki would probe Ruiko’s mind for that missing information.

“That’s alright, Kazari dear. Go get some rest. Our focus should be on my Kuroko now that we know that Ruiko-san is well.” Misaki declared with a suddenly bold voice; that possessiveness over Kuroko was refusing to leave her even when talking to the teleporter’s best friend. 

“O-of course.”

Kazari’s hesitation remained, though Junko wondered if she was feeling anything else after those words from Misaki. An awkward aura then settled on the room. After a few moments, it appeared that Kazari was leaving the hospital room. A click of the door came next, and the two women were alone again.

Though Misaki was soon to follow Kazari anyway.

“I’m going to find myself a bed for the night. Rest well, Junko dear.” 

Junko would happily oblige that comment from Misaki and leave any further ruminations for tomorrow proper. She was already feeling sleepy, and her purple eyes were already starting to involuntarily roll into the back of her head. With a hum, Junko went about fully resting, and Misaki turned her attention away from her second in command, a cruel smirk plastered on her lips.

‘Like I would care about the condition of a Level 0...' Misaki thought callously, walking towards the hospital room’s door to find a nice, comfortable bed to sleep in. 

Mental Out needed some rest before she could carry out the next steps of her plan...

Chapter Text

Before that, the vertical logo of the story by Kiri_Pteryx! She did a really great job in creating both of the logos, and it's so awesome having a logo like this for Intertwined. Thank you again!

Kuroko Shirai Volume 2 splash by Yenth, created for the Twitter post announcing the premiere of Volume 2! Could this be Kuroko's main design for the new volume, or just a hopeful dream if Kuroko can escape Misaki's prison?

Fremea Seivelun fully body by Shion_ni! Deceptively cute and sweet, this is what the average, unwitting citizen of Academy City sees when Fremea is roaming around the City... but for what reason could she be out and about?

Main design for Misaki Shokuhou in Volume 2, by Yenth! Misaki is unwilling to let go of the past, or Kuroko, and it shows in her clothing. Everything appears to be under her control... surely Kuroko cannot defeat a telepath with her powers, right?

Main design for Mikoto Misaka in Volume 2, also by Yenth! Mikoto likes to flaunt her scars, particularly when the one inflicted by Kuroko finally appears after the wound heals up. She calls it 'Kuroko's permanent hickey', much to some others annoyance. Hopefully a certain someone can bring her back to sanity...

Speaking of a certain someone, here is Yenth's Shinobu Nunotaba Volume 2 design! We opted to strike a balance between her manga eyes and her anime eyes, while also making her more handsome in her early 20s. Shinobu can never seem to shake off that white lab coat... 

Last but not least, this is Yenth's Volume 2 design for Awaki Musujime! While her style of clothing may not have changed, the intervening years have been mentally tough for Awaki. Her arms bear the marks of her isolation and depression, but Kuroko's fresh entry into her life gives Awaki the drive to take some positive steps forward.

Chapter Text

In another place filled with bright white light, another woman was trapped within a room. While this room was an imagined place within her mind, and the woman was indeed alive instead of dead, it was still a situation that she could not escape from without the intervention of a stronger power.

Or, at least, that was what seemed to be the case.

Kuroko Shirai continued to float in this white abyss, her eyes closed as she dreamed of old memories and baser fantasies. Once more she had slipped into unconsciousness. Once more her attempts to stay ‘awake’ within this mental lock had failed. 

So, for a time, she simply allowed herself to enjoy the respite of the fake sleep that was induced on her.

It buried the throbbing pain in the back of her right thigh and the stinging cuts that were hidden in her mind-persona but were still healing atop and within her real flesh. Had the doctors not bothered to give her any painkillers, hoping that it might prompt her to wake up? Or did they simply assume that it did not matter, given her outwardly comatose state? Kuroko was no medical expert, so there was no way of knowing.

Perhaps they were actually injecting her with painkillers, but as a cruel tactic, Misaki had altered her pain centres to feel the wounds and bruises regardless. Maybe it was a way to force Kuroko into making her decision quickly, another way to psychologically break her, to wear her down until her spirit snapped and she caved into Misaki's twisted and desperate demands.

Whatever the case, it was no use thinking about it.

Kuroko just wanted to enjoy this dream while she was having it. It was only a matter of time before she was ripped out of it by the forcefully imposed mental conditioning on her mind and before the next attempt was made by herself to stay awake. So she focused on the situation her violated mind had come up with this time round and basked in the loveliness of it.

A dim, fancy room full of love hearts and reds, toys, and lipstick, with giggling girls. The sound of low, saucy jazz rang in her ears, the scents of perfume and certain other fragrances wafting through the air of this lesbian’s paradise.

Admittedly, what Kuroko was dreaming was quite… perverted.

Maybe Kuroko was just bored. The Tokiwadai days were truly long gone, but Kuroko was still Kuroko, and old little quirks never truly went away. She would still refer to herself in the third person, and the ‘desu no’s’ were just repressed by the angst and illnesses of the past few months. Kuroko was feeling a little pent up too, but usually she could keep such issues to herself nowadays. The days of her open perversions were mostly gone, only really slipping out when she was with… her. 

Even then, the past month had little time for such things. So much to do, so much pressure, then the argument… The headaches and pains from her Level Transition Syndrome had dulled her sexual appetite over the past few months as well. Now Kuroko was trapped within the ultimate culmination of this mess, with little idea of how to get out but a wildly off-chance hunch or two.

The situation she was in was shitty to a grand degree; it was only right that she allowed herself a little treat before the mind-dulling pains of her wounds returned. With that in mind, Kuroko allowed herself to indulge in this little fantasy of a dream. 

After all…

It made her smile.

It made her giddy.

It felt like old times.

But it was strange seeing a scantily clad Mikoto in a black and white bunny outfit, juxtaposed with her wilder hair and eyes, adorned by the bags beneath them and the crooked right hand that beckoned her to come closer. 

Then there was Misaki next to her on her right: smug, arrogant… appetising. Kuroko’s unconscious mind really had a sick sense of humour, given that the blonde was dressed in black latex, a whip in one hand and a remote in the other.

There was also the new addition of Awaki on Mikoto’s left. Her sarashi was practically slipping off, just barely covering those naughty places that every straight man or gay woman - and anyone in between - would dream to see and play with.

Kuroko, a goofy smile on her face, began to approach the three.

“Eheheh…” She giggled in a low, lewdly menacing tone, “It’s Kuroko’s plaaaaytiiiime~” She sang with drunken desire, her arms stretched outwards towards the trio, fingers wiggling and ready to play with the alluring adults in the room.

“Kurokoooo~, come to Onee-samaaaa~.”

“Come play with Misaki, Kuroko deaaar~.”

“Shiraaaai, wanna see what’s underneath my sarashiiii~?”

The space between herself and the three seductive women - three different meals for every taste Kuroko had - was closing slowly, teasingly. They smiled and smirked, waved and wiggled, drawing Kuroko closer and closer to an ultimate joy.

Or at least a good round of pampering.

Sometimes some kisses and grapes would do just as nicely as-

But then the film ceased showing this delightful footage, fluttering off of the canister as the projector made tickering noises. Crispy, distorted blacks and whites filled Kuroko’s vision, and soon her eyes ‘opened’, replacing what she had been seeing with the mind-numbing white of her mental prison.

“Aww, you undid your hair…”

“What…?”

Kuroko suddenly heard footsteps and a sweet voice from behind her, all while she remained uncontrollably floating, her long salmon-coloured hair almost wrapping around her in this gravity-less state.

“Oh my, oh my… Did I interrupt some pleasant dream, dear?”

Kuroko whipped around in a mixture of a barrel roll and a swim, her hair flailing wildly, finding that a blonde Mental Out had once again intruded into her mind. 

“Oh.” Kuroko uttered dryly and with a tinge of disappointment at the woman standing a few metres away, “You.”

Misaki wore a khaki suit dress this time around, with hints of pinkish-red sticking out as much as her signature white gloves. Kuroko figured that it must have been what she was physically wearing outside of the mindscape, and it kind of reminded her of their old Tokiwadai uniforms. Kuroko wondered if it was purposeful.

The Fifth Rank giggled at the bitterness that lingered in Kuroko’s voice.

“I can only imagine how frustrated you are after such a difficult month. Perhaps when this little matter of ours is resolved, we can spend some alone time together~.”

“Still delusional, I see…”

The flirtation was not appreciated, and Misaki’s expression and tone shifted in response to the multi-levelled rejection.

“Not as much as you are, Kuroko.” Misaki began, smirking as a remote appeared in her right hand. She placed the tip close to her mouth, hovering just over the edge of her lips. “Still scheming a way out of my Category 101? It’s rather hopeless, you know? The fail-safes alone would be impossible for you to deal with, even with how smart and tenacious you are.”

Misaki closed her eyes and twirled the wrist of the hand that held her remote, as if it were some modern magic wand casting a devious spell, as she spoke with arrogance.

“It’s simply not worth the wasted effort.”

That cheery tone mixed within clashed harshly with the despicable situation that Misaki had put Kuroko in. Why Misaki would continue to act like this, knowing how jarring it was to Kuroko, could only be guessed upon. The more Kuroko watched and listened to it, the more it tainted those times when Misaki was genuinely happy and playful.

The days that were spent having lunches and dinners at cafes in the middle of Judgement work, to the long nights together, cuddling and kissing and talking about their futures, among other things.

All were now marked with the corruption of this act, the show of villainy that was meant to wear Kuroko down like fast-travelling rubber on tarmac.

Kuroko sighed heavily as she shifted her levitating position, one leg straightening so her foot nearly touched ‘the ground’ while the other leg remained bent, her arms slightly outstretched at her sides for a reassuring balance midair. Misaki opened her eyes as she heard Kuroko shift, her university attire making a light shuffling noise.

The blonde watched carefully from a distance as a hurt, pained Kuroko verbalised the words that Misaki had already sensed her forming thanks to her ability.

“Honestly, I preferred the fake Misaki with the whip, not the fake Misaki threatening to wipe my mind and the minds of my friends.” It was more haughty than usual, Kuroko’s tone, a throwback to her days in Tokiwadai - appropriate given how this nightmare started today.

But it was the tone that Misaki knew Kuroko would use against some of the most arrogant criminals in Academy City. 

“I’m a fake?”

It rubbed Misaki in all the wrong ways, though Kuroko’s intention with her words was not to be cutting per se. 

“This isn’t who you are.” Kuroko started softly with a shake of the head, “You’re playing some grand villain, but you hate it. I can tell.” Kuroko’s voice remained quiet and close, a shift from the sourness of earlier. She looked upon Misaki with a gaze equally as soft as her voice, ridden with sympathy as much as it was drowning with sadness.

Misaki swallowed imaginary saliva. 

Kuroko then took a long blink as she thought of what to say next, genuinely attempting to keep herself calm rather than letting her sense of deep betrayal get the best of her. Her wine-red eyes reappeared and looked at Misaki deeply, as if she were the one prying into a soul.

Not the Level 5 telepath with a gun-shaped remote to her head.

“Look, I know you’re scared about my transition to a Level 5. I certainly am, but you cannot keep doing this. You’re throwing away everything by continuing to be irrational over this; irrationality to compensate for prior irrationality is insanity, Misaki.” The gentle pleading of Kuroko’s tone seeped into Misaki. “I know you’re not insane, Misa, but I know you’re frightened. But if you worry about me not forgiving you-"

However, Kuroko had pushed her luck, even as she dropped Misaki's shorthand name to cushion her blows.

“It’s not the lack of forgiveness I worry about, Kuroko.” Misaki clarified with a shake of the head, “It’s you getting yourself killed. It’s you leaving me.” Her expression was tense, her brow knitted as she awaited the next words from Kuroko. Her pessimism was rife, but fuelled by the thoughts that lingered in Kuroko’s infiltrated mind.

“You think we can just go back to how we were after this?” Kuroko kept pushing regardless, her voice riddled with surprise; she felt far too stubborn and correct not to keep going. “Forgiveness or not, we’d need to rebuild trust. We’d need to rebuild whatever love remains between us.”

“‘Whatever love’?”

“Yes, Misaki.”

Both were scowling now as their words dripped with poison.

The emotional shifts were too easy to slip into, too quick, and far too abundant for a proper conversation. No matter the effort made by either party, they could not help but slip in their vexations and insecurities, their desperations and fears.

“...”

Their personalities were clashing far too much now to be considered ‘compatible’.

“I’m not... I’m not going to lie to you and pretend you haven’t broken my heart.” Kuroko said wearily, her body becoming a little slack as a mental exhaustion wrapped around her like a life-sapping blanket.

Misaki winced as her scowl dropped from her face. She loosened the grip on her remote, allowing it to slowly float off and upwards. That hand then went to her forehead. She rubbed and pinched at it as she closed her starry eyes tightly.

Mental Out was feeling so weary.

Why couldn’t Kuroko just give in?

‘No matter.’ Misaki thought regretfully.

“...then I just have to mend it.”

“Misaki-”

“Enough.” 

Misaki's hands whipped from her forehead to the remote that floated by her head. With a flourish of an outstretched arm and a singular press of a certain button, she muted Kuroko, her words no longer making any sort of volume, her thought process seized and silenced.

A new kind of horror envelops Kuroko as she finds she could no longer string a word in her consciousness. An odd haze annihilates not only her ability to speak but also her ability to even form a sentence.

She can only watch as Misaki monologues once more today.

Or was it tonight?

Kuroko can not tell.

“This conversation is pointless, and given that you will relent, it is not needed either.” Misaki spoke presumptively, arrogance once more dripping from every crevice of her mouth, “I visited you to say hi, to check in on you, to see if you’ve seen sense, but clearly you’re still stewing in your stubbornness ability. So, let me make things abundantly clear once again.”

Misaki stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and her beloved. Kuroko felt her body shift downwards and watched as Misaki motioned the remote forwards, then felt on her forehead the tap of its sensor end. Misaki pressed a button, and visions of what Misaki had seen and engaged with today flashed through her mind.

Chatter: Misaki explaining Kuroko’s transition to a Level 5, likely confident that she could just wipe their minds of the conversation in the near future.

An argument: Misaki, Mikoto, and Awaki arguing over the stupidest of things, the cutting insults biting Awaki the most as she tried to stake her claim, watched by anxious, troubled Ruiko and an enraged, offended Kazari.

New arrivals: That scientist with dark violet hair beckoning Mikoto away, the arrival of old friends and rivals from Tokiwadai Middle School, concerned about her condition.

Komaki Makigami: Kuroko’s ever-diligent friend from another branch who always tried her best to keep Kuroko within her jurisdiction and limits.

“Makigami-san arrived today, and she’ll be at my beck and call whenever I need her.”

Misaki pulled the remote away from Kuroko’s head, and her dead, starry eyes pierced Kuroko’s wide, wine-red ones.

The implication was clear: Misaki’s first pawn had come.

Mental Out twisted on her heels and walked off with an empty smirk on her lips.

“Six more days, Kuroko dear. Then, well..." Misaki trailed off and let the threat hang in the air. “I’m afraid my faction will be down a member, and Judgement would have lost a valuable officer to boot. That would be such a shame, ne?”

Kuroko was infuriated but also fearful as Misaki’s empty voice reverberated around her skull.

This whole experience alone was a testament to the ability of Mental Out, the many insidious categories that could warp and entrap a mind in a vicious, biting snare that would rip a mind apart.

To have such things inflicted upon her friends, no matter how close, no matter how innocent, or even just the potential of it, was frightening.

Suddenly, Misaki skipped and danced as she twisted back around like a schoolgirl. She bent forward, her hands behind her back, tilting her head as she closed her eyes and flashed a large and bright smile that was completely out of place.

“I love you, Kuroko! Have a pleasant sleep, okaaaay~?” Misaki said with the sweetest voice she could muster before she flickered and dissolved out of sight, leaving Kuroko alone within the mindscape of the blonde’s creation.

Kuroko took a breath she did not know she was holding. Her chest felt light as panic flooded her body, a terrible anxiety gripping her as a clock she could not follow continued to tick down.

The teleporter was scared that there was nothing she could do.

“Misaki…” Kuroko whined wearily, her rough hands coming to rub and pull at her face. She continued to float about in this dead, white space, barely able to control where she drifted to. Kuroko looked around again, as desperate as ever. There in the distance, yet also within her eyes, were the algorithms and calculations of the quantum mechanics she could theoretically manipulate.

Theoretically.

“I’ve got to stay awake and decipher these calculations. I think it’s my only chance, but God knows what I’m looking for.” Kuroko talked to herself, or was it her thinking to herself? “But how can I keep myself awake?” Kuroko then pondered, trying to jog her brain cells to come up with some kind of revelation quickly. Every second counted. There was no point in dilly-dallying, not when those six days could encroach so quickly between her spells of forced unconsciousness.

Suddenly a train of thought entered the station.

“Wait, this is my mind and imagination, surely. In some way it must be, at least, no matter how much of this is Misaki’s ability. I can still dream too. I can even dictate my dreams a little in this prison, far more so than the lucid dreams I rarely have in the first place.” Kuroko rambled to herself, trying to find coherence in the realisations and ideas churning in her mind by ‘verbalising’ it.

Her brow furrowed as the first tinges of sleep bit at her eyes, slackening her body.

“So if my mind is vividly conjuring people and objects, what if I could find a way to ‘pinch’ myself to stay awake? I’m still feeling pain, so…”

Then, as the throbbing pains and hot stings hit her, an epiphany.

“A spike! That’s it! A spike… Kuroko just needs to imagine a spike!” Kuroko shouted as a mental image of the spikes she always used flashed before her. Those things had been by her side for years. They were some of the most distinctive and memorable images of Kuroko, to herself and the wider public.

Imagining them clearly, from the width and height to their exact sharpness and feel, was so easy. Now it was just about making the flashing images of them before her eyes physical and tangible. 

Kuroko outstretched her arm and ignored the star atop her right hand, twisting it around and opening up the palm of her right hand. She moved these blurry, flashing images of her spikes to overlay over her hand, imagining that a singular spike was there and present atop it. Fighting through the encroaching fatigue and weird dizziness she was feeling, Kuroko narrowed her gaze and brought forth every drop of mental juice she had left in her tank.

“Concentrate, concentrate…” Kuroko mumbled to herself with strain, a drop of sweat pooling from a sweat gland on her forehead. As it formed a salty bead, losing traction and slipping down her skin, Kuroko clasped her hand over the clearest image of a spike she could muster.

Kuroko felt contact.

The spike existed.

“There!” Kuroko shouted, a rush of achievement hitting her like a glorious hot shower. She grinned as she panted, finally taking a fresh ‘breath’ within her mental void.

But now came the next part, and Kuroko immediately felt daunted.

She knew what she had to do. She had to inflict pain on herself. But this was never something Kuroko wanted to do. Sure, the myriad of light and deep scars on her hands were evidence enough of her willingly taking blows to minimise a fatal hit to a comparatively minor injury…

But this was going to be self-harm.

That did, however, serve a similar purpose.

Kuroko gulped as she started to tremble. There was no other choice, and the call to sleep was becoming stronger and stronger.

“Well… here goes nothing.” Kuroko said to herself with a trembling voice.

Kuroko brought the hand gripping the imagined spike upwards. She then outstretched her other arm, curling it into an L-shape ahead of her torso and chest. Clenching that other hand, she braced herself as best she could as she brought the sharp spike harshly down onto her fake flesh.

The stabbing of cloth, skin, and wet, bloody muscle echoed through the white void.

“FUCK!” 

Specks of crimson red painted the empty space, both close and far away from the scene of the crime, the momentum of her strike twisting her body where she floated.

“ARRGGH!!”

Kuroko pulled out the spike with tears in her eyes before bringing it back down on a new spot on her arm, stabbing and then tearing at the sleeves, skin, and muscle to bolster the overwhelming sensation of agony in her limb.

“STAY AWAKE, STAY AWAKE!” 

Kuroko screamed as she continued to bring the spike up and down, up and down, while her imagined arm and ripped blazer sleeve healed in sync with the blinking of Kuroko’s weeping, wine-coloured eyes. Dementedly, she screamed at herself again, urging herself to fight back against the urge to sleep and the suffering of the self-inflicted slices and stabs.

“STAY AWAKE!!”

It was Kuroko Shirai’s only choice, lest she enslave herself to a lie.

Chapter Text

Soap's vision of how Misaka changed in the four years since WW3 and INT. 'Snapped Misaka' might be a bit of a trope, just like Level 5 Kuroko, but there's something fun and charming about it. I try my best to make it as interesting as possible, as well as having it be grounded and 'realistic'. As Series 2 progresses, we'll see more and more as to why Misaka snapped like she did, and what exactly is behind those 'hallucinations'...

Soap's idea of MikoKuro in INT! 

Kuroko really did have quite a bit of a growth spurt 😭 MikoKuro will always be the classic Yuri pairing within ToAru, and it was really nice to write some sprinkles of it within the final battle of Series 1. 

An animation by Silent! 

I think if Kuroko didn't 'save' Mikoto, this unhinged version of her would really become true LMAO. Knowing INT Mikoto, though, this is probably something she has ended up doing 💀

“Will it save MISAKA 14,821?”

“Will it help MISAKA feel safe again?”

“Will it stop MISAKA from being stalked?”

"Will it bring MISAKA back to life?”

““““S̸͈̾ā̸͑y̵͛͂s̴̯̿ ̵̫̃M̷̼̒ISAKA as she feṡ͝t̸͒͘e̶̒̓r̸̊s in th̸̎͂e̶̞̽ ̴͌̿d̸irt.””””

goobers

Let's see if we can make NunoMiko sail in INT 😎

I nearly forgot this little gem from very early on in Series 1 LOL

Claw!Koto!!

Finally, a quick and silly animatic! 

Nunotaba really does have a lot on her plate... 

Chapter Text

While Kuroko was beginning her ghostly escapade, stumbling across a confession she was not meant to be seeing, another ghost was hosting a keen and adoring visitor.

Whose confessions were subtle and indirect, yet so obvious and clear.

The spirit of Frenda Seivelun, sitting with her legs crossed on the end of the double bed in the bedroom, was observing Ruiko Saten. She was returning from the bathroom after a shower of serious length, with only her white shirt and black panties on her person, as well as the fresh white bandage around her healing left hand. The bedroom itself was lightened by the new addition of a lightbulb at the mount point above, brought in by Ruiko herself, installed with some ranting about the gloominess of the place. 

While the whitened, ghostly Frenda twirled with a strand of the black rags that kept her modest, Ruiko was ruffling her long, damp black hair with a white towel. The younger woman - if Frenda really was nineteen now, so maybe Ruiko was still the younger woman in a technical sense - looked suitably refreshed. She looked happier, in fact, far different from the weepy and rambling girl that had arrived yesterday afternoon, disguising some of her angst by screwing in a lightbulb. While Ruiko still looked exhausted, she at least appeared more comfortable and relaxed.

Frenda’s mouth parted as she went to speak, instinctively taking a gasp of air to fill her non-existent lungs. “All told, I’m still surprised you stayed overnight.” But Frenda was still surprised that the girl had tucked herself into the bed that the dead blonde was now, somehow, sitting upon.

Frenda would do anything to help Ruiko feel more comfortable, to give a sense that Frenda was real and tangible and not some spectre forcefully pulled from the afterlife, not some translucent figure floating about like in those kid shows. It felt taxing on Frenda, and probably on Fremea too, but she had to stress the limits of this ghostly state as much as possible.

All for Ruiko’s sake. Frenda was certain that Fremea would understand and perhaps even appreciate it.

“There was no other place I wanted to be, Frenda.” Ruiko replied with one open eye and a little smile as she came to a stop by the end of the bed, still rubbing her head with a towel. She twisted around and took her own seat on the mattress, keeping her gaze locked onto the Norwegian as the mattress fought against her. 

Frenda clipped into the mattress as it shook, but Ruiko paid no mind to it. Looking at the long-haired blonde with the ugly heat scar across her waist, the leader of Branch 177 happily reminisced about the night prior. 

Ruiko had spent a good hour or two just looking at Frenda while fatigue slowly overcame her. Her last image before falling to sleep was Frenda smiling and humming at her, somehow lying atop the bed beside her. Ruiko did not understand, nor want to ask, but she was happy that Frenda seemed so real and there.

Frenda, meanwhile, hid the creeping and bubbling thoughts in her mind.

The alarms that were flashing in her psyche.

She was not dumb to romance. To Frenda it was apparent that Ruiko was feeling more than just a strong kinship, more than just a desire to reunite and ‘save’ a long-lost friend. The lingering stares, the longing smiles that were as soft as linen - it was so plain to see that Ruiko had an everlasting affection for Frenda. It refused to leave her even in the years after her death, the speed at which it raged into life not matched by how long the fire had lasted within Ruiko’s soul.

Still, Frenda did her best to bury the worries. While Ruiko joining was not a topic, it was best to simply focus on the simplicity of her presence and the chatter that would arise from it. Frenda returned the smile that Ruiko sent her way and began to ponder something else.

Frenda would have been lying to herself and Fremea if she said she did not have a sort of burning curiosity over Ruiko within her stitched-together gut. Ruiko was a fascinating girl and was fun to be around and chat with, even before her untimely demise at the glowing green particle waves of her former team leader.

The spectre swallowed fake saliva as she repressed the fear and dread that erupted within her broken belly. The trauma of those last moments in life haunted Frenda even in ghostly death.

In the here and now, the limitations of Frenda’s form meant she could not tell what kind of shampoo and soap Ruiko used. The blonde ghost could not even really guess, but she presumed it was something flowery like before. Frenda was quite impressed that she even remembered that detail, though time in the afterlife may have meant her memory was faulty. It could have just been an illusion triggered by the big white flower pin that Ruiko always wore. 

Ruiko suddenly hummed. It was a long, drawn-out hum that hinted at the mental conflict in her mind, a sign that it was bursting out from the privacy of her mind to the publicity of her spoken words.

Frenda raised a suspecting eyebrow as Ruiko brought the towel to her lap. 

“My little bro looks up to me being at Judgement. So I do feel bad, considering all of this.” Ruiko then admitted it for the first time, proving Frenda’s intuition to be correct. 

Frenda felt terrible hearing it; being the number one cause for the distress within Ruiko was an awful burden.

“But, with all that is going on, with Mental Out pulling all these strings… maybe it’s a good thing that I just slip away from everyone. It’s not like I’m needed or anything.” Ruiko then finished with an empty little laugh, looking away from Frenda with a solemn smile and looking at the carpet below. 

Frenda’s expression dropped too, into a frown.

“Don’t say that…”

It almost made Frenda feel resentful towards Fremea for bringing her back, seeing Ruiko so torn.

Almost.

“But it’s the truth.” Ruiko replied as she looked back up, shrugging lazily. “I’m just an outsider, really. A measly Level 0 with a dash of friendship-nepotism. I always had this fear that Kazari and Kuroko dragged me into Judgement to not make me feel left out, to give me a stable income while I do the relatively easy admin stuff.” 

The solemn smile and tired gaze remained throughout.

“These past few days have kinda confirmed it.”

Ruiko finished with that same voice full of bitter humour and destroyed self-worth, her eyes closing as she forced a wider smile to grace her lips. Her freshly brushed teeth appeared as Ruiko put on her act, an act of false strength to reassure the ghost beside her.

“...”

But Frenda remained silent, and it prompted Ruiko to open her eyes again. 

Ruiko looked at the blonde curiously. “Frenda?” She said, a pit of worry emerging in her tummy as Frenda grimaced a little, her eyes glancing towards the door of the bedroom for a moment. After that moment, Frenda returned her gaze towards the dark-haired teenager.

“In the first place, are you absolutely sure?”

Ruiko blinked.

“...?”

She was not too sure how to reply to that. Frenda noticed that immediately and decided to elaborate, wishing that she could place her transparent hand atop the younger woman for an extra bout of reassurance.

“This might be a massive misunderstanding. They all sound so very busy and stressed, particularly this Uiharu bestie of yours.” Frenda argued, but Ruiko did not want to hear it.

“She went behind my back.”

Frenda shook her head. “I don’t think that was her intention.” She reasoned that, to the best of her knowledge, Uiharu was not the kind of girl to do such a thing. Frenda hoped Ruiko would see that.

“But to not send me a text? To ‘forget’ I asked her to do that? To then try and make up an excuse for it?” But Frenda’s attempts at excusing Ruiko’s closest friend were not working. Ruiko looked completely disbelieving at Frenda, unable to accept her line of thinking. For a brief second a side of Ruiko’s lips tugged down. 

“Anyway, why does that matter to you? Don’t you want me on your little sister’s side? For me to be here with you, to keep you company while we gather what we need to bring you back?” Ruiko asked a bundle of questions after that little display on her lips.

“I…” 

Frenda found herself a little cornered. It was not as if Ruiko’s tone was rude or judging necessarily, but it did feel as if the younger woman was trying to shut Frenda down when it came to this topic. Frenda let out a bit of fake air from her hollow form.

“I want you to be sure you make the right decision, essentially.”

The Uiharu avenue was not working, so, with a sigh, Frenda told the truth. Ruiko’s lips opened just a little, and she looked back towards her bare knees and feet.

“...mm.”

Was all Ruiko could utter, though that was more a hum than anything else. Frenda pushed her point further.

“I do care about you. I want the best for you.”

It was still the truth.

Even if a small part of her, selfishly, wanted Ruiko to stay.

Ruiko looked back towards Frenda with a smile that was far more genuine and real than before.

“...thank you, Frenda.” Ruiko said softly, and Frenda returned the smile in kind, nodding once while making a chirpy little noise in her throat.

“Give Uiharu one more chance.” Frenda insisted lightly while Ruiko was in better spirits. “Go back to the hospital tomorrow and have a chat with her. Don’t reveal anything, of course, but…” Frenda paused for a moment as she tried to find the right words, all while Ruiko watched and waited patiently. Her blue eyes, faded by her ghostly state, looked upwards as she tried to fish out the right sentence.

Soon those correct words came to her. Frenda finished her briefing after those few moments passed. “But don’t throw everything away based on miscommunications and doubts. In the first place, I’d feel terrible if all of this were just a series of unhappy accidents.” Frenda remained honest and true, relieved when she saw Ruiko nod in what appeared to be agreement. 

Still, one issue stuck out to the Judgement member.

“But what about Mental Out?”

It was a good question, but the smirk on Frenda’s lips suggested that she did not find it to be much of an issue at all.

“As Saiai would say, I’ll make super sure Fremea remembers to free you all from her grasp!” Frenda declared with a thumbs up and a wink, prompting a slightly tired smile and closed eyes from Ruiko.

‘I still need to ask her more about her past and her friends. This ‘Saiai’ sounds ‘super’ fun.’ Ruiko thought before opening her eyes again, breathing out her response. “Heh… thanks…” But Ruiko was not entirely comfortable with the laissez-faire attitude on display. She had some faith that Fremea would pull through in the end, but it was not complete.

Ruiko knew that she had been manipulated by the young girl. Therefore it was difficult to completely trust Fremea’s intentions, even if Frenda had that sway over her little sister. 

“But I don’t think allowing myself to be mind controlled by Shokuhou is the best play here, even if I won’t remember you when I reject Fremea’s offer.” Ruiko said with some worry, worry that Frenda did understand.

“We’d meet again, I’m certain.” Frenda replied with a determined nod and confident voice. “If not here, then wherever we go when we pass on. My mind is fuzzy when it comes to that, but, in the end, I don’t remember anything bad about the afterlife.” 

“That’s comforting.”

Frenda speaking in such a ‘manner-of-fact’ way also helped with digesting the weight of all that, from the philosophical to the spiritual.

Frenda grinned. “Yeah! It’s not like I had the most innocent life, after all. I’m surprised I wasn’t chucked into hell for all the stuff I’ve done, haha!” Before breaking out in a little giggle.

Ruiko did not find it as funny but smiled all the same, humming.

“Mm… Maybe it’s for the really evil people, not for those trying to make a living and survive in a super crappy world like this.” Ruiko suggested with a bit of hope, fuelled by the evidence that Frenda was giving about the supposed rules of this apparent afterlife that followed death.

Frenda’s grin remained.

“Ah, you sound like my friend now too!”

“Oh, shush! Anyone can use the word ‘super’, you know?!”

“Or ‘ultra’, if you want to spice it up like Saiai does!” Frenda bantered back, and Ruiko rolled her eyes with a bemused smile. “But, essentially, stay positive! I’m sure your friend will hear you out.” Frenda returned to the main point of this latest conversation, not intending for Ruiko to forget her advice and request. “Third time’s the charm! Then you can make your decision with a clear mind and conscience.”

Ruiko absorbed the levelheaded words carefully and methodically, digesting each syllable and the thought behind them with precision. Frenda’s point of view made a lot of sense, and besides…

There was such a thing as a ‘three-strike system’ too, was there not?

With a slow nod, Ruiko stammered her reply. “Ye-yeah…” For as hesitant and unsure as it was, the girl wanted to follow Frenda’s advice.

Frenda was her friend.

Frenda was… maybe more than that.

That, essentially, required a level of trust.

A knock on the bedroom door followed next before it opened, revealing a certain little sister and her red beret.

“Søster? Ruiko?” Fremea called out with an upturned eyebrow, curious about the continued presence of the pair within the bedroom.

“Fremmy!” Frenda called out happily, standing up from the edge of the bed. Ruiko’s eyes widened for a moment as a wave of guilt and uncertainty hit her like a pile of falling bricks.

“Oh, Fremea…” Ruiko said with a forced grin and a little wave.

Fremea, as tired as she was, immediately picked up on that discomfort.

“Whyaaa… You look very down, Ruiko.” She said at first before asking the obvious. “Feeling alright?” Fremea took a few steps forward, closing the door behind her to maintain the enigmatic energy field within the bedroom. 

Ruiko’s heartbeat quickened.

Whatever was inside Fremea, whatever she was ‘contracted’ to, sensed it immediately. It sent its instructions immediately.

A faint hum, not at all perceptible to the other two in the room, was Fremea’s reply to the creature within her.

“Hey, I know you’re hesitant about everything, me included, but you can be honest with us. In the end, neither of us will begrudge you for turning my offer down.”

Ruiko swallowed as the lump in her throat remained.

It was a very reasonable and kind set of words. There was kindness and abundant understanding within them, and the cautious, almost consoling gaze of Fremea signalled the young Norwegian’s sincerity. There was no apparent threat here, no ominous aura, nor any weird black and distorting shapes emanating from or around her.

Then in the corner of her eye Ruiko caught Frenda looking back at her from the position just a tad forward from her.

Frenda nodded a little and smiled.

Ruiko was safe here.

“Thanks…” Ruiko uttered after a moment. “Sorry, I don’t mean to, uh, still be so… ‘off’ towards you?”

“Oh, don’t worry, don’t worry. I get it. Even within Academy City, this is a really unique circumstance, isn’t it?” Fremea said honestly with a head-tilted smile, and Ruiko wondered how the girl’s red beret did not fall off.

It was like it was glued on there. Frenda had that exact same trick - whatever it was - way back when.

“What were you up to, by the way, Fremea?” Frenda suddenly asked, curiously and intrigued.

“...” Fremea did not immediately reply. She looked away from the two and dug for a diplomatic but truthful answer. “I was with an ally of mine. Business…”

Implication hung in the air.

“Ah…”

Ruiko uttered as a vision of a dead, cloned Misaka flashed in her mind.

The idea of who this ‘ally’ could be never even crossed Ruiko’s mind.

Noticing the fresh discomfort, Fremea focused on her other task for the day. “We’re trying to track down a power source as well for Frenda’s full revival. Of course he’s stored in some secret facility in the City, so it’s taking some time to gather the clues we need to find him.” Fremea explained, still remaining vague.

“Ahhh, that angelic asshole…” 

Though Frenda’s reply gave a very clear hint to Ruiko as to who Fremea was referring to.

“Oh, I see. Right! Makes sense!” Ruiko quickly replied after that with a slightly nervous disposition, nodding just a little too much and just a little too rapidly, eyes closed and a fake smile on her grinning lips.

Fremea’s eyelids twitched.

“...hm.” 

Ruiko was very on edge, and it was starting to put her on edge too.

Nevermind the thing screaming at her to force a decision, here and now, for the sake of their shared mission.

“Let me know when you leave, alright, Ruiko?” Fremea said instead, ignoring the biting comments and tempting whispers that floated between her eardrums. But the aggravation in her voice was present, if not just a little, a perturbation that Ruiko was very quick to pick up on.

“O-of course…” Ruiko replied with a stutter. Her head looked away towards the corner of the room, and her hands grasped on the damp towel atop her lap. 

Frenda flashed a look of disapproval towards Fremea.

Fremea went to correct her little error.

She took a few steps closer to Ruiko, closing the distance between herself and the troubled teen. Ruiko looked back towards the younger girl, her heart beating hard and fast in her chest. It was impossible for Ruiko to not feel a slight tingle of terror around Frenda, given the small amount of details she knew. She did her best to repress it, but Ruiko knew that if she did not have the cover of having recently showered, the bead of sweat that travelled down the side of her face would not have been mistaken for post-cleaning moisture.

Fremea stopped before Ruiko, and the older teenager looked up towards the smiling, soft and slightly rounded face of Fremea. While the latter half of her teens was but a year away, Fremea’s childish youth still lingered in her cheeks.

Fremea then held out an open hand.

“I don’t mean to pressure you, and I do trust you. But, essentially, I always need an answer before you step out that door. What if my specified telepathic shielding wears off, or your hairclip falls out? I can’t risk another telepath butting in with my quest, can I?” Fremea explained with a calm and gentle voice, still beckoning Ruiko to reach out for it. Ruiko instinctively moved a hand to glance a touch at the hairpin attached to the side of her head, the tips of her fingers grazing the cool painted metal.

After a moment, Ruiko relented. While her left hand - wrapped in a fresh white bandage - gripped her towel, her right hand reached out for Fremea’s.

Ruiko grasped it softly. Despite the threat that Fremea was, Ruiko could not help but hold the girl’s hand like she was grasping a delicate Victorian doll.

“Ye-yeah… Soon.” Ruiko replied after a little shake of their hands. With a breath, she found more confidence. “Give me one more day, okay? Then you can, you know, do a Shokuhou to my brain if you need to, haha!” Ruiko offered with a little laugh.

“Selvfølgelig!” Fremea then said in Norwegian, confusing the sole Japanese girl in the room.

“Eh?”

“She said ‘of course’.” Frenda pointed out with a bemused voice.

“Oh! Ahahaha…!”

As Ruiko laughed, a laugh more real than most these past few minutes, Frenda could not help but think one thing.

‘Please make the right decision, Ruiko…’

Even if Frenda did not know what the ‘right decision’ really meant to her…

Chapter Text

An alternate point of view of Kuroko and Shizuri's first ever meeting, by Yenth. I wonder if these two will get along in the future...

A more classic Nunotaba sketch from Yenth, with some canon and INT vibes. Perhaps set in the intervening years between the final canon divergence and INT...

First sketch of Judgement Aurore by Shion! We hope the introduction of some Original Characters enhances the depth of the writing and cast of INT, and soon we'll be adding specific OC tags to Intertwined proper.

Next are the two sides of Aurore, as part of Shion's full body drawing efforts. The serious and the sweet, what will Aurore's story ultimately entail?

A sketch of Aurore's smart-casual attire from Chapter 42.

Back to Series 1 now (remember when I called them volumes like a dumbass?) with an old sketch of Kuroko's Series 1 design. A case of 'Stealth Mode' as Kuroko becomes more naturally androgyne as the story progresses, and as Kuroko evolves...

This was actually the very first drawing that Yenth did for Intertwined, if I remember correctly. Unfortunately, this Kuroko found herself working in a Victorian Era factory the night prior to this photo and got her left hand mangled by the machinery : (

More Shion full bodies! This time of Nunotaba. She insisted I did not show the original version, I'm afraid 😔 But I promise it was quite good! Pants Nuno...

Next is Ayu Mitsuari, who was introduced in Chapter 43! Can she be Misaki's foil for a change, or will she fail once more and continue to be in Mental Out's shadow? 

A Yenth sketch of the silly dream Kuroko hard in Chapter 36.5. Kuroko is still a perverted lesbian at heart. Goober.

A lot of the inspiration for how Takitsubo and Hamazura would be in INT came from this drawing. Takitsubo has a substantial amount of confidence and surety now, while Hamazura is still smitten (a bit fretful about the danger his girlfriend will always face...).

First sketch of Saiai Kinuhata before we settled on the eye colour (we went for the faint amethyst instead of the yellowish-brown) by Yenth. We love tomboys. 

Old-ITEM by Shion! We hope these full bodies give you a clearer vision of what the characters look like four and half years after World War Three!

Finally, Kanon, Artificer6's OC! A they/them, Kanon really isn't a fan of those secret agent types... Under no circumstance let them meet Aurore!

And super finally, the full quality, textless versions of the Series 2/INT4 cover art, for wallpapers and the like. 

I really think Yenth cooked hard here, probably her best artwork. I wish it got a little more attention than it did, but alas...