A Certain Ticklish Apocalypse

It began on the night of October 31st and should've ended that same night. Touma Kamijou, through no fault of his own, had been embroiled in a conflict between wicked Academy City scientists seeking to weaponize his friends and invading Roman Orthodox sorcerers looking to kill him and destroy the city. For the sake of a friend both he and Index cared deeply for, he'd faced down Vento of the Front, a member of The Right Seat of God, one of the deadliest sorcerers in the world, and defeated her. And Index in turn had saved their friend, the artificial angel Kazakiri, as well as the innocent ten-year old girl being used to control her, from Academy City's clutches with the help of that girl's guardian.

Most thought that the story ended there, if only temporarily. War would come as a result of the mass terrorist attack, but it hadn't started yet and would not start for some time. So for the moment, the story of the incident of October 31st seemed to be over. But no, something else happened that night. As Touma journeyed to the hospital with Kazakiri to reunite with Index, he had an unexpected encounter with yet another sorcerer.

Touma didn't know much about magic and religion, but the man he stumbled onto along the streets full of unconscious and semi-conscious people definitely gave off the sorcerer vibe. His attire didn't feel like that of a Crossist magician, but it had the same bizarre quality Touma had come to expect. He wore a sleeveless yellow shirt and jeans which, by themselves, were not so odd, but then there were the dozens of ropes, chains, straps and other bondage equipment wrapped around his arms, all colored pink or green or some combination of the two. He was wearing open toed sandals that showed off a similar yellow, pink and green color scheme on his toenails, and one each of pink, yellow, and green feathers were sticking up from his hair as if he were attempting, badly, to impersonate a Native American. Add in various other oddities, such as the images of all manner of brushes-from hairbrushes to paintbrushes to toothbrushes-that covered his shirt and the long pointiness of his fingernails, and every aspect of his being oozed symbolism.

Considering the trial the two of them had just undergone, this would have been enough to put Touma and Kazakiri on guard by itself. After all, it made sense that there might be interlopers roaming about looking to take advantage of the chaos that the Roman Orthodoxy had spread throughout the city. So naturally, they would be wary of such an obvious magic-user. But what really drew their attention, as well as Touma's righteous anger, was what he was doing. The sorcerer had, of all things, stripped nude and tied up over a dozen people, all female, who'd been knocked out by Vento of the Front's Divine Retribution spell, and then, as they recovered consciousness, the man had enacted a spell of his own.

The unfortunate women had regained consciousness one after another, laughing and struggling. Feathers, brushes and ghostly hands stroked and tickled all over their bodies. Some seemed to hate it, some didn't. Some were tickled senseless, and some, only a little. Some were given no right to privacy at all, while one or two seemed to wish that were the case. The varying degrees of and reactions to it probably had some magical significance the sorcerer was exploiting for the sake of a bigger spell.

Touma Kamijou didn't know anything about magic. And he didn't need to. "What the hell are you doing?!" Anyone could see that this was messed up. "You can't just grab random strangers off the street for some perverted fantasy!" So he jumped into action as he always did at times like this. "If you think that you can do this just because you have the power to or just because you technically aren't raping anyone, then I will destroy that stupid illusion!"

The fight ended quickly, with the sorcerer barely resisting at all. It actually felt kinda surreal. Touma didn't even remember anything the man had said; his words left that little of an impression in light of everything else. Something about how he would transform the world into paradise, perhaps? It didn't matter; the battle was over and the sorcerer was taken into custody by Academy City forces.

And just like that, the bizarre incident ended, easily overshadowed and forgotten in light of everything else that had happened that day. At the time, no one realized it was only the prologue of a bigger adventure. No one realized how severe the situation was becoming until the day the apocalypse began. No one… except for one girl known for wearing flowers in her hair.

Have You Heard of Tickling?

Flirt=0_Point

A few days later, a girl with short brown hair, a button-down white shirt, a summer sweater, a grey pleated skirt and a default "cute" face that looked good without any makeup walked out of an alleyway into one of Academy City's shopping areas. She looked around and caught sight of a girl with long black hair, a flower ornament, a white t-shirt, a red necktie, and a knee-length blue skirt waving at her. The first girl smiled, and the second one rushed over to meet her.

"Hey, Misaka! I'm so glad you agreed to hang out today. Uiharu's been so busy with some Judgement case that I've been suuuuper bored."

"Yeah, it must be a pretty big one given how busy Kuroko's been lately. I offered to help lend a hand but…"

"She gave you the 'I'm an officer and you're a civilian; you shouldn't be sticking your nose into official Judgement business' speech again, didn't she?"

The brown-haired girl gave a short chuckle that confirmed her friend's words. Her name was Mikoto Misaka, and she was one of only seven Level 5s in all of Academy City, commonly known as the Railgun of the prestigious Tokiwadai Middle School. The girl she was meeting with, by contrast, was a powerless Level 0 named Ruiko Saten. The two had no equality in status, did not attend the same school, nor did they even share many of the same interests. But in spite of that, they had become very good friends over the past few months as the result of their best friends being partners in Judgement combined with several heart-to-heart conversations and multiple shared adventures.

Right now, though, the two of them were being kept out of the loop by Misaka's roommate Kuroko Shirai and Saten's best friend Kazari Uiharu. The two Judgement officers were, in fact, helping a boy with a future-predicting esper ability prevent deadly accidents and it was eating up all their time. Of course Misaka and Saten wanted to help, but the Judgement officers were adamant about them staying out of it this time since it "didn't directly concern them."

So with half their party too busy to have fun, Misaka and Saten had decided to go to School District 4, home of the majority of the city's restaurants, and meet up for lunch at a place called Mad Mutton's Diner. The name had the Tokiwadai student concerned, but Saten insisted that it was good. "I heard an urban legend that the best restaurant in Academy is actually this really cheap and affordable place that no one knows about, so I went to check it out. And you know what? It was true. I promise you, the food here is ridiculously good," Saten had said over the phone, and finding her curiosity sparked, Misaka had agreed to the meet-up.

Glancing over Misaka's shoulder at the alleyway, Saten suddenly got a mischievous grin and got up in the much more powerful esper's face. "...What are you doing Saten?" Misaka asked, trying to read the slightly younger girl's expression.

Saten cheekily pointed to the alleyway and put a hand over her mouth. "Okay, fess up. Did you fry any thugs on your way here?"

Misaka's face turned red and she averted her gaze, her mouth twisted into a forced smile. "What? Oh, no, don't be silly. I just took a shortcut, that's all."

"Riiiight." The black-haired girl was clearly not convinced, but she didn't press the issue. There were times when Misaka would brag about her thug-beating exploits and times when she'd be chagrined over them, and this was clearly one of the latter cases. Teasing her about it would be fun, but Saten felt now was not the most opportune time yet. Besides, she was hungry and wanted to show off her new favorite restaurant, and that outweighed any desire to make Misaka admit to another unauthorized Skill Out bust. "Well anyway, come on, let's go! It's this way!"

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A few minutes later, Misaka looked at her fidgety friend from across the lunch table and sighed. "Out with it; what new urban legend do you have for today's conversation topic?"

Saten's shoulders jerked and her expression faltered for a moment. Then she put a hand on the back of her head and chuckled. "Oh wow. That obvious, huh?"

"We've been together long enough for me to know when you're itching to spread more of that gossip," Misaka said with a smile that belied the harshness of her words. As odd as she found Saten's rumor obsession, it did have a tendency to liven up conversation. Not to mention Saten had this bizarre tendency to stumble onto something important every so often, though Misaka chalked that up to dumb luck.

Saten grinned in response, but the smile lacked its usual mischievousness and had a bit more nervousness than usual. In fact, Misaka found it quite the odd look for her. "Well, yeah, I do have one I wanted to tell you guys, but… it's a little weird."

Misaka raised an eyebrow at that, and pointedly said, "Remember when you were all excited about The Undresstress? Nothing could be weirder than that."

The Level 0 seemed to take that as a challenge, regaining her typical enthusiasm in the process. "Oh no, that's where you're wrong; this might be even weirder." She leaned forward and darkened the tone of her voice conspiratorially. "So to start, there's this rumor going around that people are tickling each other a lot more than usual."

…. "Huh?"

"It's true! I've seen it myself! Haven't you noticed it?"

Misaka blushed and waved a hand in front of her face. "No, I haven't noticed anything like that." But it was a lie. The truth was, she had noticed something odd about the thugs she'd been taking out lately. The ones in the alley a few minutes ago, for example, were torturing a pair of unfortunate students. And yes, the method was tickling, but not in any normal sense. It was distinctly rapey with the two victims clearly being stripped against their will, and that was why Misaka had intervened.

Saten continued providing her own two cents. "Well, I have. Last week, tickling was, like, something rare. But this week, it feels like it's everywhere. At first I thought it was just people in my class using the rumor as an excuse to pick someone out each day for tickling, like some kind of silly game. But then I started to notice it happening in all kinds of random places: the underground mall, the arcade, on the street. Last night, I could hear several people laughing their heads off in the room next to mine and it went on and on and on for hours."

"So what, there's some kind of tickling fad going around?" It was weird, for sure, but not that weird. Harmless fads came and went all the time. ...Well, not so harmless for people wandering through the back alleys, but for everyone else, there shouldn't be a problem. It would pass in time.

Saten shook her head, however, and waved a hand in front of her face. "No, no, that's not the urban legend. The thing is, this is getting so out of hand that some people are saying it isn't natural at all. It's the result of some kind of brain-manipulating virus."

Misaka did a double-take. "A virus? I take it back; that is weird."

"Yeah, but just think about it!" The overly enthusiastic black-haired girl started to get really worked up, getting into Misaka's face, pumping her fists, and making all manner of exaggerated gestures. "I'm telling you, this fad isn't spreading normally. People who hate tickling one day are suddenly tickling other people the next. People who are normally very shy are pouncing on other people left and right. And did I mention the people in the room next to mine tickled someone for hours? There has to be more to it! These guys are spreading around some kind of disease that makes the people infected obsessed with tickling! ...And a bunch of them are infecting my class…" Saten's voiced trailed off a bit at the end, and she fell back into her seat, blushing and tapping her index fingers together. "To be honest… I might be just a little bit scared they'll come after me soon," she admitted with no small amount of chagrin.

So Saten was ticklish herself, was she? Misaka made a mental note to take advantage of that the next time the black-haired girl's teasing went too far. Out loud, though, she tried to reassure her as best she could. "Please, you're overthinking it because you're paranoid. You're thinking your turn is coming because the kids in your class are having fun with this, and it's making you afraid it won't stop anytime soon. Just relax and let it play out; it'll blow over before too long."

The Level 0 chuckled nervously and scratched the back of her head. "Yeah, you're probably right." Her eyes drifted downward for a moment, but then lighted back up as she switched to a different topic.

Misaka conversed with her friend for a while over lunch, but in the back of her mind, she had two nagging suspicions. First, she suspected Saten really wasn't the slightest bit reassured. Not surprising; the Level 5 Railgun had never been good at helping people emotionally, something that she hated herself for. Besides, how could she convince her friend nothing was wrong when she herself wasn't? That was her other suspicion: something about all of this wasn't natural. Saten had listed too many examples, and Misaka herself had been seeing Skill Outs doing weird tickling things in a back alley, hadn't she? But… could all that really be the work of some kind of virus?

The brown-haired girl was a person of science, and every fiber of her being was screaming that the idea was ridiculous. It was completely, utterly preposterous that anyone-even in Academy City-would be weird, perverted, intelligent, influential and affluent enough to do such a thing. And yet… Perhaps… Perhaps I should have a talk with Kuroko later, just in case.

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"So remind me why it has to be me again?" Touma Kamijou was a very unlucky boy. This situation unfolding before him was proof of that. Someone obviously had a moral duty to interfere, yet whoever did would undoubtedly wind up in a compromising situation.

His friends seemed to know it too. "Come on, Kami, doesn't it get your heart pounding? You get to be the hero who saves that damsel in distress! It's the perfect opportunity to raise some flags, nya!"

"Again, why does it have to be me?" Tsuchimikado's argument, though compelling under normal circumstances, was both irrelevant to the question and, in this case, called into question the moral, legal and mental position of the person who agreed with it. "In the first place, you two are the creeps who go for the lolis!"

From where they were standing on a bridge, Kamijou; his friend, Motoharu Tsuchimikado; and his other friend, Aogami Pierce a.k.a. Blue Hair could hear the distressed cries of laughter of an elementary school girl who'd been pinned down on the bank of the river, half hidden under the bridge, but quite a few boys and girls the same age. It was, as one might expect, a gang tickling, and that by itself was nothing so great that intervention should be necessary, but the attacking ticklers had stripped off the girl's clothes, panties included, and were showing no concern for privacy or pleas for mercy.

Under normal circumstances, Kamijou wouldn't hesitate to jump in and put a stop to something so blatantly wrong. But the perpetrators were themselves children, so his normal method of going in and punching the bad guys in the face wasn't really viable here. On top of that, if anyone were to see Kamijou amidst that mass, it could-and most certainly would-be misconstrued in such a way as to make him look like a malicious pedophile who had orchestrated the whole event. Of course, that would be true for Tsuchimakado and Blue Hair as well, but with the minor difference that they actually were perverts who were attracted to younger and older girls alike.

That wound up being the source of Blue Hair's counterargument. "Look, Kami, I get what your sayin', but we got reputations. If you get spotted down there, it'll blow over eventually, but we'd go straight to a correctional facility. ...Plus, I don't really care either way; I could just stay up here and watch this all day."

"You deserve to go to a correctional facility! And if people catch you staring, that'll happen anyway!" Kamijou sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Although, I can see that nothing will happen if I just walk away and leave it to you two."

"Attaboy, Kami! Now go be that girl's knight in shining armor, nyack!"

Tsuchimikado's enthusiastic shout was cut short as Kamijou wrapped an arm around his neck and started strangling him. "Stop trying to make it sound romantic! This is going to be a completely innocent and platonic rescue, understand?! I'm. Not. One of you!"

Watching the spectacle unfold, Blue Hair calmly put a finger to his chin and mused, "But, Kami… don't you keep a loli nun in your room? And haven't you seen Ms. Komoe changing before? And didn't you go out on a date with that flat-chested Tokiwadai Middle School girl? And-"

Shortly thereafter, a four-way fight ensued between Kamijou, Tsuchimikado, Blue Hair, and the terrifyingly encroaching sense that Kamijou's preferences were shifting a bit to match the body type of a certain silver-haired nun who might very well bite him to death if he ever admitted it under the wrong circumstances.

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A few minutes later, the fight ended with Kamijou calling for a truce. During that time, the laughter had continued unabated and was now mingled with crying, and he felt guilty for having wasted so much time while someone was obviously, legitimately suffering nearby. So now, the spiky-haired, stereotypical protagonist was standing in front of the offending children, who paused their assault and eyed him not with the fearful look of kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar but rather the shockingly aggressive posture of hyenas guarding their prey from a lion.

The lack of any fear in the face of an older person's punishment surprised Kamijou, but he cleared his throat, put on an authoritative glare, and firmly declared, "Enough, this has gone too far. You can't just go around doing this to people. It's bad enough that you kids are treating her like this at all, but out in public too? You should be ashamed of yourselves." The children, however, hissed at him like a pack of animals, making him pull back a bit. Was this how kids normally act? He hadn't spent much time around children since losing his memories, but he felt like this behavior was abnormal.

One by one, the kids started yelling at him.

"Get lost, stupid hair!"

"We're trying to play a game!"

"You're not a teacher! Go away!"

Kamijou was at a loss for how to handle this pack or ravenous animals. The level of blatant hostility and disrespect they showed anyone who tried to interrupt their cruel fun was far beyond anything the high school boy knew how to handle. He was about to give up and leave, thinking he would call Anti-Skill and let the teachers deal with these brats instead…

...when one more voice reached his ears. "Please… please help me…! I can't take any more…!" It was a slightly giggly voice, but filled with pain and tears, separated by gasps of breathlessness.

Touma Kamijou balled his hands into fists. "I said that's enough." His voice was low and resolved. "Get away from that girl right now, or I won't treat you like children." He didn't care anymore how young they were or how immoral some might consider it. There was a girl, trapped, helpless and suffering, who was calling out for help, yet these brats had the audacity to demand that it continue unabated? "This is your last warning. I will hurt you if that's what it takes."

For the first time, the childrens' resolve seemed to waver, but then one of them, a long-haired girl with yellow eyes hiding at the back of the group, started defiantly poking the girl on the ground, earning yelps and more sobbing as a result. "I don't believe you. You're just being a bully."

"Yeah, a bully!"

"You're just a stupid, spiky-headed bully!"

"A bully with butts for brains!"

At that, Kamijou snapped. "I don't need to hear any of that from tiny little punks like you!" He rushed forward, officially ticked off. The crowd of kids started to panic and scatter, save for the long-haired girl who'd tried calling his bluff. Either she really didn't think he'd hurt her, or she was too scared to move. Seeing her frozen like that, Kamijou once again hesitated as he raised a fist, and in the end, instead of actually hitting her, he grabbed her with his right hand and shoved her aside.

There was a strange sound like cracking wood, and Touma Kamijou, the boy who wielded the Imagine Breaker, felt his power negate something.

Kamijou froze in that position, staring at the long-haired, green-eyed girl for a moment, then staring at his hand. What had just happened? Was this child trying to use an ability on him? But she looked too young to have any particularly strong powers…

"Recalculating threat value…"

"...Failed."

"Conclusion: eliminate hostile interference with extreme prejudice."

"What?"

Four young voices started speaking at once, but none of them fit the situation at all. One, the girl Kamijou had just flung aside, looked around in confusion as if waking up from a dream. The others became cold and metallic, their speech overlapping. It was a speaking habit Kamijou had seen before and it shocked him. They're being controlled by magic?! Now that he looked at them more carefully, it made sense. They all had yellow eyes: that was not natural, and he now realized it was a large part of the reason he'd been feeling so uneasy about the way they'd been acting until now.

No sooner had he reached that conclusion than the brainwashed kids jumped at him, tearing at his clothes, yanking him toward the ground, and trying to tickle him wherever they could. Suddenly finding himself with an undesired smile on his face and giggles leaking out of his mouth, it appeared as though Kamijou might be outmatched. After all, children though they might be, they had the spiky-haired boy outnumbered by a wide margin, and were quickly covering him. If this were a normal fight, Kamijou would undoubtedly be overwhelmed by sheer numbers and succumb.

But this wasn't a normal fight. These children were being controlled, meaning that with just one touch, Kamijou could wake them up and make them stop. "Youhoho won't contohohohohol these kids you bahahahahahastaaaaard!" Though it was silly-sounding and directed to an unknown person, Kamijou nonetheless called out with resolve and fury as he set about touching the kids one by one, until they were all sitting dazed on the ground, their eyes returning to their normal hues. Kamijou was bent over in the middle of them, his clothes half off, the girl they'd originally tickling underneath him. He was tingly and giddy, but he'd saved these kids. Now if he could just question them about how this happened…

"What the hell is going on here?!"

Kamijou's face froze, and he twisted it around jerkily toward the top of the embankment. That voice… please tell me it's not who it sounded like. But sure enough, a face he recognized stood on top of that grassy hill. She wore a Tokiwadai uniform and looked about the same age as his roommate, 14 years old. She had brown hair and a large number of pigtails that presently were waving around in the wind in a manner reminiscent of demonic tentacles. And on her right sleeve was a green armband with the symbol of a shield on it-the symbol of Academy City's volunteer student law enforcement agency, Judgement.

Kuroko Shirai, roommate and self-proclaimed lover of Mikoto Misaka, and most importantly, the single person in the whole of Academy City who probably had the greatest grudge against Kamijou. And a law enforcement official, no less. This girl, her face flush with fury and embarrassment, turned a finger on the boy below her and loudly declared at a machine gun pace, "I knew you were a foolish troglodyte unworthy of Sissy's affections, but to think that you would stoop so low as to assault unsuspecting children in public! What kind of wild, sex-starved animal are you?! As a member of judgement and for Sissy's sake, I cannot overlook this! Anyone who would act in such a disgusting way doesn't deserve to exist on the same planet as Sissy, much less try to steal her away from me!"

Kamijou immediately rushed to contradict the girl on the hill. "How many times do I have to tell you I'm not trying to steal anybody! I, the ever unlucky Touma Kamijou, couldn't get a girl to fall in love with me if her life depended on it!" But then he realized he was just trying to escape from reality and ignoring the real problem here.

Let us review, shall we? Touma Kamijou was found with his clothes disheveled and half-removed, a silly grin plastered to his face. All around him were children who looked dazed and afraid, and underneath him was a girl stripped naked, her face stained with tears. No matter how one looked at it, it was clear that Kamijou had sexually assaulted her while the other children were forced to watch, and Kuroko Shirai was the last person who would accept any excuses the spiky-haired boy might offer. So Kamijou did what any man faced with the wrath of God and the devil incarnate combined would do. He rose to his feet and started running away as fast as possible.

...Or rather, he tried to, but Shirai had already nailed his sleeves and ends of his pantlegs to the ground. Shirai was a Level 4 Teleporter who captured criminals by teleporting metal needles into their clothes and pinning them to whatever happened to be nearby. Touma Kamijou was a boy with a right hand that could negate any supernatural ability, but only if he intercepted it or was touching the user. From this distance against a Teleporter, Kamijou could do neither. "Rotten Luuuuuuuck!"

That day, Touma Kamijou was taken into custody and charged with pedophilia. Incidentally, the two actual lolicons on the bridge had wisely disappeared before they could be noticed.

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And in a certain hospital in Academy City, a group of identical girls were discussing a phenomenon they had little experience with with a frog-faced doctor.

"As we were created under abnormal circumstances, the Misakas do not know if they are ticklish, says Misaka, commencing the explanation."

"To be more precise, we know that we are because some of the medical tests performed on Misaka resulted in a stimulation similar to what we have heard, but we have never experienced anyone intentionally trying to tickle Misaka, Misaka clarifies her fellow clone's slightly erroneous explanation."

"Yes, yes, and additionally, this sensation when implemented properly is said to stimulate a physical response akin to mirth, so Misaka was hoping that through such experience, Misaka might better learn how to express herself, concludes Misaka, providing a completely logical and innocent explanation though she is secretly curious for other reasons."

Three voices speaking in stereo, Misakas 19090, 10039 and 13577, were giving the poor doctor reason to feel a bit cornered for reasons similar to the spiky-haired boy under arrest elsewhere. These three had opted to be the spokespeople for the entire Misaka network, which had recently caught wind of the increase in tickling incidents in Academy City. Several of the nurses and/or patients had started getting handsy lately, so one of the clones-a somewhat more lewd-minded one than most-had decided to do some research, and transmitted the results of that research throughout the entire Misaka network. The details were censored a bit for the sake of 20001, Last Order, but as a whole, the Misakas found what they were seeing very fascinating for reasons they couldn't explain, and in order to investigate further, they collectively agreed that a more first-hand experiment was required. And whom did they trust more to perform the experiment than their most trusted doctor?

All this, the man commonly known as Heaven Canceller had either been told or deduced, and based on those deductions there was only one conclusion he could reach. These girls were discovering a fetish. It made sense; given the nature of their traumatic pasts, the gaps in their mental development and many other factors, a fun and innocent form of BDSM could easily be addicting to them. And for that very reason… "I understand what you're saying, but I don't think having someone my age help you with this is a wise idea." Heaven Canceller, an old and wrinkled man, absolutely could not let himself be the person they experimented with.

Rubbing his forehead with a sigh, Heaven Canceller tried to explain this in a way the clones would comprehend. "This is the sort of thing best done between people of similar age who know each other pretty well and trust one another. Not to mention that you're at a sensitive phase in your mental development and this could have a long-lasting impact on it."

But the clones were not willing to take "No" for an answer, at least not that willingly. "Based on Misaka's research, the activity in question is quite common between family members."

"And you are perhaps the single individual at this hospital that all Misakas feel a familial connection with, Misaka counters in a manner both irrefutable and flattering in the hopes of making you concede to our request."

It was hard to argue with that logic without bluntly talking about sexual matters, but considering that Last Order might be listening via the network, the doctor felt he had an obligation to avoid any rebuttal that brought up anything of a sexual nature. So rather than counter them directly, the doctor tried to redirect their request away from himself. "If you're that curious about it, why not simply try tickling each other? Or ask someone younger, like that boy who keeps getting hospitalized?"

"Misaka does not know why, exactly, but she feels that tickling other Misakas would be wrong somehow, Misaka admits, bashfully turning away her face."

"Additionally, the boy you are speaking about is not currently present, and even if he were, Misaka suspects he would be reluctant to agree, Misaka continues, then further adds, Although to be fully honest, unit 10032 has gone to his dormitory to try requesting that of him anyway. As of yet, though, he has not returned home, and Misaka has little confidence she will even be able to ask him."

"And before you suggest it, Accelerator has been missing since the incident on August 31st, so we cannot simply have Last Order request help from him even in the unlikely chance he would be willing to oblige her, Misaka concludes, anticipating your next response flawlessly."

The doctor had indeed been considering recommending that seeing as Last Order and Accelerator's relationship-though there were a couple signs to the contrary-was innocent enough to allow for such a thing. He also doubted Accelerator would just go along with this embarrassing request, but even so he dearly wished the boy would show himself. Just a little… if he tickled Last Order just a little bit, it would probably satiate these girls' curiosity and leave him far away from this predicament.

"You see now why we need you to indulge us in this, says Misaka with an air of finality."

"Indeed, there is no one else other than you whom Misaka trusts enough to do this, Misaka adds, putting a hand to her chest in the hopes of looking meak and cute."

"Please, doctor, we have nowhere else to turn. You're the only one we trust enough to ask, finishes Misaka, begging you with what she hopes is a successful puppy-eyed face."

Thoroughly cornered and running out of ways to refuse, the doctor fell back on the only excuse he could still think of. "I… need to think about it." He started desperately stalling for time to think up a better excuse.

Have You Witnessed Tickling?

Dinner<10_Point

Later that same evening, all across Academy City, people settled down for a meal with their roommates and friends. At a certain school dormitory, three girls sat around a rice cooker, meat, and several different desserts.

“Uiharu, you really need to do something about this sweet tooth of yours,” Saten said, looking at the unbalanced meal with chagrin.

A girl wearing the same uniform plus as Saten with short black hair covered in flowers tilted her head with a bit of cake in her mouth. “What are you talking about? I’m not eating as many sweets as usual tonight.”

“That just makes me even more concerned.” The first speaker sighed and put a hand to her head. “Do you really think you’ll be able to perform your Judgement duties full of nothing but sugar? You should consider cutting back more. Like, a lot more.”

Uiharu, however, simply puffed up her cheeks and crossed her arms indignantly. “I can perform my Judgement duties just fine, thank you for asking. I’ve never had trouble with what I eat before, and I don’t plan on stopping.”

Another sigh escaped Saten’s lips, but she chose not to press it any further. Instead she looked back down at the meal, which was mostly gone at this point, then over to her other companion, Banri Edasaki, who had been silent and stealing glances at her phone for a while now. “Hey, has Haru’ue texted you back yet?” This was a point of greater concern; the fourth member of their dinner party was late and none of them knew why. Making jokes and keeping the mood light had been working for a while, but by now, everyone in the room was getting worried.

Edasaki’s response did nothing to improve the atmosphere. “No, she hasn’t. I don’t get it. Eri said she’d be right over just as soon as she was done with her math homework, and there wasn’t that much left.”

It was unlike the quiet Eri Haru’ue to be so late. And it wasn’t as if Haru’ue didn’t know that Edasaki was concerned. They were both telepaths, and while Haru’ue was only a Level 2 and too weak to speak telepathically to her friend, the Level 3 Edasaki could speak directly into Haru’ue’s mind. At this distance, Haru’ue should still be in range, so she should know how worried Edasaki was becoming. The fact that she didn’t send a text to let them know how much longer it would be before she arrived in spite of that was the most unsettling part.

Finally, Uiharu stood up. “I say we head over to her room and look. If something happened, maybe we can--”

While the flower-headed girl was getting fired up, there was a sudden knock on the door. They all looked over in surprise, and Uiharu tentatively went over and looked through the peephole before flinging the door wide open. “Haru’ue! Where were you?! We were all getting worried!”

The girl now caught in Uiharu’s embrace was a shy-looking girl with brown hair who quietly apologized. “I’m sorry, I got a bit tied up,” she responded, reciprocating the hug.

When they pulled apart, it was Edasaki’s turn to grab onto Haru’ue. “Eri, why didn’t you text me back and let me know everything was fine? We were all getting scared!” It came out as a chastisement, but Saten could tell that Edasaki was saying that because she was still scared. Her concerns hadn’t completely faded yet, which made sense. Saten couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be ghosted by someone you know can hear what you’re saying. If Haru’ue didn’t have a good reason for it, Edasaki would have every right to be mad.

Haru’ue frowned and looked down for a moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t check my phone. I rushed over here after…”

Edasaki pulled back a bit, her eyes furrowing one moment and widening the next. “After… what? What happened?”

Haru’ue mumbled something very quietly.

“What?”

Taking a deep breath, Haru’ue raised her voice just a bit louder than normal for her and responded, “I got… tickled.”

Edasaki and Uiharu tilted their heads, but before they could so much as grunt in confusion, Saten reacted loudly and visibly, letting out a moderate scream and backing away theatrically. “Be careful, you two! She might be infected with the Tickling Virus!”

There was a brief silence punctuated by Uiharu letting out a sigh and putting her fingertips to her forehead. Edasaki looked back and forth between the two, blinking her eyes a bit. “Uh… What?”

Uiharu waved a hand and spoke with a groan in her voice. “Just another urban legend Saten’s picked up. Apparently there’s a virus going around making people tickle each other. Or something like that.”

“What? That’s just silly!” The telepath’s face scrunched up in an almost-smile, but then she and Uiharu both turned their attention back to her best friend. “But is that really what happened? Who did it? Why did they do it?”

Haru’ue shook her head with a sigh. “Some upperclassmen grabbed me on the way here and pulled me into a different dorm room. I didn’t see which one. Then they just… started tickling me. Nothing else. It took a while for them to let me out, and when they did I ran straight over here.”

“A while is putting it mildly; you’re over half an hour late.” Uiharu’s tone was harder than normal as she gazed off into space. Then, snapping herself into full-on Judgement mode, Uiharu questioned further, “Did you recognise any of the people who did this? It’s a small crime, but it does qualify as assault and bullying. We should report them.”

But Haru’ue shook her head. “I didn’t. I don’t know why they picked me; I’ve never seen any of them before.”

“I’m telling you, it’s because they’re infected with the virus!” Saten blurted out. Whirling on Uiharu, she pressed for an agreement. “You think so too, don’t you? I know you’ve been seeing what I’ve been seeing in class. And now this? This is too weird; people don’t just do that to random people.”

“There’s no way anyone would make a virus that could do that sort of thing, and even if they could, they wouldn’t,” Uiharu flatly rejected. “Although…” As she and Edasaki guided Haru’ue over to the table and one pressed the other to eat something, Uiharu mused aloud. “It is true that we’ve been getting more and more reports of tickle-related assaults at Judgment lately. We’ve been ignoring them because we had more important things to worry about, but…”

Tickling is one of those things that falls into a moral grey area. Everyone knows that doing something to another person without consent is wrong, but when it’s tickling, no one takes it seriously unless they have a fetish for it or a powerful fear of it. Why worry about an increase in tickle attacks when there are lives that need saving and violent criminals that need to be brought to justice? Surely it’s all in good fun anyway. But thoughts like that only apply to people who haven’t been directly affected by it. It’s one thing when these acts of assault are happening out there somewhere else; it’s another altogether when they happen to you or someone close to you. That’s simply the way humans are.

For example, suppose two third-world countries go to war. For them, that war is a devastating event that ruins the lives of the people living there. But for those living in first-world countries, that war hardly matters if at all. People living in Japan or America will happily watch anime in blissful ignorance rather than worry about the wars of distant countries like Chad and the Central African Republic because it’s easy to remain ignorant of the pain of people who are far away. And tickling--even tickling assault--is a far less terrible thing than any war, so naturally few people had been paying it much mind. Only now, when her friend had been targeted by a group of strangers, did Uiharu start to reevaluate her assessment of the situation.

“I know you’ve been busy with that big case,” Saten said while Uiharu sank into contemplation, “but this is getting bigger than you realize. Maybe people are doing it more because they know you’re ignoring it.” In truth, Saten didn’t honestly feel that was the case. Her urban legend hunter’s instinct was telling her there was more to it than just that, but getting Uiharu to accept that there was a situation at all came before trying to make her take the idea of a “tickle virus” seriously.

The flower-headed girl hesitated for a moment, and then added a new piece of information. “The thing is, although the number of reports has been increasing, those all came in from witnesses. None of the victims ever reported anything to Judgment or Anti-Skill. And when Konori asked Yomikawa about it, she said, †˜If nobody presses charges, there’s not much we can do.’ That’s also part of the reason we haven’t been looking into this.”

At that, Haru’ue, looking down, voiced her own opinion. “Maybe… they’re too embarrassed to say anything. I mean… if I wasn’t friends with you, I wouldn’t have said anything either.” She fidgeted with a cookie in her hands, having picked it up at Edasaki’s prodding but not taking a bite of it yet.

A brief silence fell over the table. Haru’ue stared at the cookie. Edasaki and Uiharu stared at Haru’ue. And Saten stared at Uiharu, silently urging her friend to do the right thing. Finally, Uiharu’s gaze hardened and she nodded with a slight grunt. “Alright, fine. This has gone too far. I’m looking into this tomorrow, charges or no charges. I’m sure Shirai will agree with me.”

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“What ridiculous, unscientific nonsense!” But in a certain Tokiwadai dormitory at that same moment in time, Shirai was as far from agreeing with Uiharu as possible.

Misaka sat across from her in the dining hall looking abnormally chastised, head down and eyes closed with her hands clasped in front of her on the table. After saying it out loud, the story did sound pretty silly after all. An increase in tickle attacks? That would be a weird conversational topic by itself. But adding in Saten’s urban legend just made it far less credible and more of a joke. She considered briefly saying that was exactly what it was and switch topics.

But what her roommate said next stunned her too much for that, making her hands holding her tea shake. “Honestly, Sissy, I don’t understand why you would go that far for that troglodyte! I know he saved my life that one time, but that doesn’t excuse his actions today!”

Misaka blinked in surprise. What was Shirai talking about? “Troglodyte?” There was only one person she called that, and he was… “Woah, hold on! What does he have to do with any of this?!”

Shirai’s gaze was sardonic and accusatory as she pointed a finger at her senior. “Don’t play dumb with me. You know he was arrested today for assaulting children, don’t you? That’s why you made up that stupid †˜tickle virus’ story. Honestly, I think it’s noble of you to want to repay him, but even you must realize that the only reason he’s not getting dozens of years-to-life in prison is because he himself is still legally underage. Given that fact, I would argue that he’s already getting far more mercy than he deserves. Plus I would think if you were going to lie like that, you could make up a story with at least a modicum of believability. Although that childish inability to lie is cute in its own way and a good foil to your childish tastes, but--”

“Wait, wait, stop, time out!” Misaka cut off the flamboyantly gesturing and ranting Shirai before she got too far off on an ironically hypocritical tangent. The teleporter was clearly convinced she understood the situation perfectly, but for Misaka, everything she was saying was breaking news. “You’re saying that idiot was arrested for assaulting little kids?! No, no way, I can’t believe that. This has to be a mistake or a set-up or something.”

Shirai sighed and shook her head with her eyes closed. “I applaud your commitment to the act, but I was there. I was the one who made the arrest. And if you saw the state those children were in after he had his way with them, you’d have shocked him unconscious yourself.” A very haughty and slightly malicious smirk came to her lips as the teleporter raised her own teacup up to her mouth. “Then again, it’s really not so much of a surprise. Men are such untrustworthy monkeys, after all. Even the best of them is completely lacking in every way that matters.”

She was clearly enjoying this. Misaka didn’t really understand why, but Shirai seemed to be under the impression that the “idiot” Touma Kamijou was a romantic rival. Which was of course completely ridiculous as Misaka acknowledged neither Kamijou nor Shirai as people she might potentially fall in love with in the first place… although, on the other hand, considering that Kamijou had saved her life multiple times, she had gone on a fake date with him once before, and that he had this… tendency to just… get under her skin somehow, she supposed she could understand why Shirai would think there was more to it. But that wasn’t important right now. What was important was that Shirai seemed convinced of Kamijou’s guilt, but Misaka suspected that was more because of the one-sided rivalry than anything else.

It was Shirai’s arrogant denouncement of Kamijou that prevented Misaka from jumping to any conclusions. He did something like that? Just because he’s a boy? No way. He may be a pervert, but there’s no way he would go after little kids. ...Huh? Why doesn’t that make me feel better? The Railgun’s eyes wandered down to where her noticeable lack of cleavage was for a moment, but she then pushed such self-pitying thoughts from her mind. No, think it through. He has this weird habit of getting caught up in crazy stuff, so… Shirai probably spotted him right after he had saved those kids, right? ...But wait, if that was the case, why didn’t they just say that themselves? Were they that ungrateful? Or did they just not know how much danger they were in?

“Kuroko.” Coming out of her deep contemplation after several seconds, Misaka interrupted Shirai, who was still rambling on about the inferiority of men and how society as a whole would benefit from a more open-minded consideration toward the idea of same-sex relations. “Tell me more about what happened. I want to hear every detail.”

Shirai let out an audible groan. “I would rather not reflect too deeply on such a disgusting event. I’d much rather talk about our future toge-”

“Kuroko.”

The strength behind Misaka’s words and in her eyes, cut off the teleporter, who seemed startled by how serious she was. After a second’s pause, she dropped whatever schemes were going through her mind, and explained everything that had happened that afternoon. “Well, it started when I found him in a most compromising position in the middle of a group of elementary school students, one of whom was completely undressed. I apprehended him immediately, of course, and called for backup. I tried asking the children to verify what happened, but they all appeared to be in a state of shock; either they couldn’t remember or didn’t want to. Almost the only thing of value I got from them was that their last memories were of being tickled.

“Anti-skill arrived on the scene surprisingly quickly after that. I hadn’t called them yet, so I assume a passing civilian must have done it. They took that spikey-haired boy into custody and transported the children to the hospital to check for injuries and help with trauma. To be honest, I thought the procedure went oddly smoothly.” Shirai’s expression turned contemplative toward the end, but she readily shrugged it off as a pleasantly quick end to an unpleasant event.

Misaka, however, was not convinced. “What about that idiot? Didn’t he say anything?”

“He did protest his innocence at first, spouting something about the kids being mind-controlled or something, but he gave up right around the same time Anti-Skill arrived. I guess he realized lying wouldn’t help him.” Shirai delivered this addendum with the air of one describing the final futile acts of resistance from an insect. It was clear she had chosen to not even consider that Kamijou was telling the truth.

Misaka, however, found this new information startling. It was too coincidental. First rumors about a tickle virus, and now Kamijou was saying something about mind control? And given the nature of his ability and the detail about all the children not remembering what happened, it seemed pretty obvious to Misaka how Kamijou would have realized the mind control was happening: it was an esper power he had negated. In which case, one primary suspect came to mind, but… before suspecting her, Misaka thought it would be best to talk to the boy first.

“Kuroko, can you get me into the correctional facility he was taken to? I want to hear his side of the story.”

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In a different area of School District 7, a doorbell rang and upon opening the door, the resident inside found a white-clad nun collapsed in front of it, with a male calico cat similarly collapsed on top of her head. “I’m dying. Please feed me,” was her simple plea.

“Oh you poor thing,” the person inside lamented. “Did Kamijou not come home tonight?”

The nun, Index Librorum Prohibitorum, weakly shook her head as the resident helped her to her feet. “Nope, he’s pulling another one of his disappearing acts. I don’t know where he is, and there’s no food in the fridge. Honestly, why does he always get involved in something right when we run out of food?”

The inhabitant of the room Index entered smiled weakly in response, hearing the genuine concern hiding beneath the gluttonous thoughts. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be alright. It is Kamijou, after all. He’ll spend a few days in the hospital and be right as rain afterward like he always is. In the meantime, let’s get you something to eat.”

“I want meat!” Index suddenly screeched, switching from the verge of death to greedily in her benefactor’s face in an instant. But that too changed in the next instant. “Hold on… something’s wrong.” The girl’s face hardened as she examined the room, switching from that of a child who understood little beyond food and the lack thereof to that of a professional in her element.

After all, Index was also known as the List of Prohibited Books, the one who had memorized 103,000 grimoires. In scientific Academy City, it was rare for her to encounter something she could readily identify, but when she did, it practically took possession of her, commanding her attention, because magic didn’t belong in this city and it certainly didn’t belong in this home. “Symbols of wind, earth, and water, as well as more abstract concepts of laughter, cruelty, purity and indulgence have been arrayed in a peculiar manner throughout this space. But the arrayment is off…” Index didn’t expect her host to understand, but someone had rearranged her room into a magic circle, and not just that, but one following a system outside those listed in the grimoires--the work of an original grimoire creator, most likely. Even Index couldn’t properly decipher its meaning; most likely no other magic user other than the maker and possessor of the grimoire could either.

“Hey, who was it that arranged the room like this?!” Index said, snapping her attention toward the other person in the room. She was expecting to hear something about a decoration company or something.

But the answer she received… “Why… we did of course.” ...was beyond her expectations.

Index was suddenly grabbed from behind by someone--male and also someone else she knew, she suspected--who shoved a damp rag over her mouth and nose. The scent of chloroform filled her nostrils, and she slowly drifted off with only questions in her mind. How was this possible? How could these people she’d trusted have gotten involved with an original grimoire holder? The only thing she heard as she drifted off was an answer to a different question that was only mildly reassuring. “Don’t worry; I’ll still make sure you have plenty to eat before we begin, alright?”

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Later that night, Haru’ue and Edasaki said their “goodnight”s to Uiharu and Saten and returned to their own dorm room. It was late, and the two were preparing for bed. Edasaki was speaking directly into her friend’s mind about idle things, trying to keep her entertained and distracted from her all-too-recent mistreatment. Everything seemed to be going well: Haru’ue was perking up bit by bit, and Edasaki started to believe that everything would be back to normal--at least for the night--before long.

But then, things started to take an unexpected turn...

It started when the two were changing into their pajamas. Edasaki and Haru’ue had just finished stripping off all their clothes, underwear included. They were both girls and very good friends not to mention roommates, so it wasn’t a big deal or anything. Or at least, that’s what Edasaki had always assumed. But when she turned around, she was surprised when Haru’ue suddenly hugged her from behind. “Huh? E-e-eri? W-w-what…?” Edasaki’s real voice slipped out of her mouth at the unexpected skin-to-skin contact. She didn’t know what to expect.

Haru’ue responded by burying her face into Edasaki’s shoulder. “Banri? Could we… maybe sleep together tonight? I’m still a little scared.”

“O-o-oh, sure, of course.” Edasaki calmed down at the trembling in her friend’s voice and started speaking directly into her mind again. “It’ll be alright. I’ll be with you all night if that’s what you want.”

Haru’ue mumbled a “Thank you” verbally, and Edasaki patted Haru’ue’s hand and head reassuringly. But Haru’ue didn’t pull away. “You’re always so good to me, Banri. I’ve never had a better friend than you, not even Uiharu.” Instead, she simply readjusted her hug her hands were just barely touching the bottom of Edasaki’s small, bare chest.

Edasaki’s face reddened deeply, becoming more and more acutely aware not only of where her friend’s hands were but also of Haru’ue’s own flat chest pressing up against her back. “I’m beginning to understand how Misaka and Uiharu feel all the time,” she thought, then hurried to try and make it sound like a joke when she realized she’d accidentally transmitted that thought to Haru’ue. “I mean, you know, this kinda seems like the sort of thing Shirai would do. If someone walked in, they’d get the wrong impression.”

“Wrong impression?” But the way Haru’ue questioned that statement shattered any notion Edasaki had that there was anything innocent about this situation. It wasn’t the tone of confusion she used when she didn’t understand the meaning of a phrase. It wasn’t a tone of confusion at all, in fact. Those words weren’t even a question about what Edasaki was saying. No. They were questioning the truth of the statement, and by further implication, Edasaki’s deeper feelings.

Edasaki felt her mouth dry and said nothing for a moment. She sank quickly back into denial over what she thought she’d heard, and tried to move the process forward again. “A-anyway, let’s put on our pajamas and get in bed. I’ll do whatever I can to help you feel safe.”

“I don’t want to.” Haru’ue’s grip did not loosen; her pose did not shift. Her reply as they stayed there, with Edasaki growing ever more stunned and psychologically cornered, was: “I… want to sleep together like this… tonight.”

“.........W-w-w-w-w-w-what?!” Edasaki’s mind started to short circuit and verbal words slipped out of her mouth again. “W-w-what are you saying?” She almost jumped out of Haru’ue’s arms, but the other girl had always been… well, shy and vulnerable. Edasaki could never bring herself to do something that might hurt her, even now when she was feeling more and more like the demonic spirit of Kuroko Shirai herself was breathing down her spine.

“I’m saying… I… I love you.”

What was left of Edasaki’s functioning mind blanked. Eri loves me. Eri… loves me? What? Like a friend or…? What? The declaration of love wasn’t processing. Haru’ue was her friend. Her best friend, yes, but that was as far as it went, wasn’t it? It had always been that way, hadn’t it?

But as she sat there trying to recover, on some instinctual level, she knew that was not true. As the pieces of her thoughts started to click back into place, a re-evaluation of every thought she’d ever had about Haru’ue swept through her mind like a maelstrom. Every moment she thought Haru’ue was cute, every time she wanted to hug and protect her, every time she thought she never wanted them to be separated; the more they rushed through, the more confused she became. Were these really just the thoughts of one friend to another? Or had they evolved into something… more? Surely she’d never looked at Haru’ue’s body lustfully before. Then again, puberty as a whole was jarringly new to her, having fallen unconscious years ago when her body was too young for such things and only regaining consciousness a few months back. She didn’t know much of anything about love and lust and such. Was this normal? What was normal? Was homosexuality still considered abnormal or was that a thing of the past by now?

“Do you… Do you…?” Haru’ue was trying to ask that critical question that Edasaki was now asking herself. But she didn’t have an answer. For that matter, she was surprised Haru’ue did. Weren’t the shy ones supposed to be too shy to say stuff like this? How did it get to the point where she was the one declaring her love? Was Edasaki really that far out of the romantic knowledge loop? She didn’t know the answers to any of these questions, and it was at this point that Haru’ue’s arms slackened and started to pull back. “...I see…” Edasaki slowly turned around to see Haru’ue, her head and arms hanging, eyes gazing at the ground. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.” A dead smile came over her face, and a couple of tears started to slide down her cheeks.

“!!!” All questions and hesitation vanished from Edasaki’s mind. She practically threw herself onto Haru’ue, renewing the hug of her own volition. “No! No, I do! I do. I love you… Eri. I just… didn’t know it.” To be honest, she still didn’t know it. But Edasaki did know two things for certain: that Haru’ue was the most important person in the world to her, and that she absolutely never wanted to see her cry. Even if it turned out to be a lie, she would make it the truth. If that was what it took to make Haru’ue happy, she would do it.

That was why she didn’t realize it. “You… you do?”

“I do. I… love you.”

Her sexually and romantically inexperienced mind couldn’t comprehend it. “Th-th-then… can we… together… like this?”

“I… Yes. If that’s what you want.”

Edasaki simply assumed she’d learn as she went along. This was Haru’ue after all, her best friend for years who even came to rescue her when she was trapped in her own mind and no one else could hear. She trusted her implicitly.

Haru’ue pulled back with a much more genuine though still somewhat tearful smile. Her face--her lips--started to move toward Edasaki’s and the higher ranked telepath did not resist. She accepted the kiss and accidentally leaked a thought to the lower ranked telepath’s mind. “Woah…” Haru’ue’s hands then reached out and stroked Edasaki’s skin, lightly from just below the armpits down her sides. Edasaki’s grip around Haru’ue’s back tightened and she giggled a bit into her mouth. “Ah! Careful; that tickles!”

That was the last, most critical warning sign. And she completely failed to see it.

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That night, voices of ticklish laughter rang up in many private rooms throughout Academy City, but events in two of these rooms in particular would have an especially notable impact on events to unfold. In one, a silver-haired nun, forcibly stripped of gaudy habit and restrained in a ridiculous number of knots was tormented and abused by close friends…

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This is bad! Even as she laughed madly, squirming in the frustratingly tight restraints, Index could feel the taint of the magic infecting her mind. Her captors had tried being relatively gentle with her at first, but Index was a master of escape, as a certain Shinto magic user had learned on the last day of summer, and just as in that case, they’d been forced to tie knot after knot until she looked like she was partaking in some sort of haphazard amateur bondage kink. And in some ways, she was, but the bondage was not the kink in and of itself, as she knew painfully well by now.

No, the hairbrushes scrubbing her soles and the paintbrushes flitting over her nipples and, occasionally, her clit--those were the true nature of the torture being inflicted upon her. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I WON’T AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA LET YOU HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAVE WHAT YOU WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHANT!” Even so, Index struggled and writhed, slowly undoing one knot after another even now. She had to. If she didn’t escape, she’d-

“There’s 103,000 magic grimoires in your head. If we were interested in just trying to make you tell us what they contain, torturing you probably wouldn’t be a smart idea,” the boy at her feet commented, focusing the hairbrushes on her heels for a moment--a less ticklish spot so she’d better be able to hear his words. “However, you should know by now that’s not the purpose of this ritual. No matter how much you deny it, you can’t avoid what’s happening to you.”

He was right, and she did indeed know it. She could see every strand of the mana invading her skull. She could analyze every aspect of her changing mental state: her increasing desire to allow the ticklers to do as they pleased in spite of the fact that it was too much--no, because it was too much--and also her building desire to go out and seek revenge--to tickle others long past their limits. And these were just the first stages of a larger rewiring. Ultimately, this was a brainwashing spell designed to make a person possess a particular nature and spread it further at the behest of the original caster while still maintaining a semblance of free will. The caster wouldn’t control her directly; she would aid in twisting the world into one of tickling and perversion because she would want to.

That was why she had to resist. If she could analyze it, she could break it down. If she could break it down, she could find a flaw. If she could find a flaw, she could unravel the spell.

...Well, that’s how it usually worked. But there was a catch in this case. Index couldn’t speak because she was laughing too hard nor could she rearrange the magic circle into a harmless state because she was bound. She had the knowledge required to dismantle the spell but no means at her disposal to do it.

The hairbrushes pushed their dozens of points forward and back, top to bottom, from her heels to her toes and focusing hard on her devilishly ticklish soles. The paintbrushes swirled over her pink nubs, mingling tickling with unwanted pleasure. And inside her head, it was as if these feelings were permanently taking root: as if her conscious mind was slowly being locked into a perpetual state of tickling so that her forcibly twisted subconscious would drive all of her actions going forward. And she couldn’t do anything but resist.

And she would resist. She would resist all through that night and well into the next day. But ultimately, it would accomplish little more than to delay the inevitable for less than 16 hours. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHHH, TOUUUUMAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” She would call out for the one she most trusted in the adamant trust that he would rescue her. But he didn’t. And before it was over… she would be calling out his name for a different reason.

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And in another room, a relatively normal night between two close friends deteriorated into something else. Reassurance led to confession. Confession led to love. Love led to eroticism. And that eroticism… was a trap.

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“Eri?” Edasaki looked up at Haru’ue dumbfounded and submissive.

Never in her darkest, most secret dreams did she imagine that Haru’ue would be so in-control in bed. Kissing on the floor, had become kissing in the bed. Kissing in the bed had become touching each other in sensitive places under the covers mingled with a bit of playful tickling here and there. The two became tangled up in one another, Edasaki being utterly overwhelmed by unknown feelings and just allowing her normally nervous friend to take the lead. Just a moment ago, Haru’ue had been lying on top of her, their legs wrapped around each other chests pressed together, each fondling the other’s pussy, all while liplocked. But then, Haru’ue had pulled back and looked down at the thoroughly pinned and tamed Level 3 Telepath with an expression the latter had only ever seen on one other person: Kuroko Shirai.

That was the only reason she recognized it. The face of a sexual predator sizing up her prey. “Banri… I… I can’t… hold back any more!”

“What?” Edasaki was more than a little frightened by this. For one thing, she had been under the impression Haru’ue was already not holding back. But more than that, she felt on an instinctual level that something about this was wrong. Even though it was Haru’ue… No, because it was Haru’ue. Something about her was wrong!

But knowing that something is wrong and resisting it are two different things. Frightened though she was, Edasaki was still caught up in the throes of her first sexual experience--very close to cumming, very much on edge. So she was slow to react. And that slowness cost her her only remaining chance to escape before Haru’ue’s full passion descended on her.

“EEEP! EEHEEHEeheeheeheehee! WAHAHAHAhahahahait!” Faster than Edasaki could have ever anticipated, Haru’ue had pinned both of her hands over her head with one hand and dived into her left armpit with the other, tickling and wiggling right in the center of it. Quickly switching over to telepathic speech, she practically screamed, “Wait, Eri, that’s my most ticklish spot! I can’t take it there!”

“I know.” Haru’ue’s acknowledgement was not accompanied by mercy, but another kiss and an increase in rubbing her body against Edasaki. The sensation of Haru’ue’s nipples rubbing against her nipples, her vagina rubbing against her vagina, and her tongue rubbing against her tongue gave Edasaki immeasurable pleasure beyond what she’d ever imagined. Her body instinctively wanted to melt into it--to hand itself over to Haru’ue completely--but at the same time, those fingers in her most ticklish spot made her buck and squirm. Her audible voice was laughter-filled and muffled by the kiss while her telepathic one was pleading for mercy, or at least a moment to breath. These pleas when ignored, and when Haru’ue pulled back from the kiss, she switched her hand from one armpit to the other while uttering a truly terrifying statement. “I know. I know it tickles too much. But I… I can’t stop! I just can’t!”

Haru’ue knew where all of Edasaki’s worst tickle spots were. They’d been friends for ages, there was no way she didn’t know. Being naked in bed together like this even let Haru’ue know about tickle spots Edasaki wasn’t aware of. In spite of that, and in spite of having been cruelly tickled herself mere hours ago, Haru’ue was putting her through the same treatment. And when her mind started asking, “Why?!” the answer was perhaps the most hard to understand.

“Because I love you too much! I need to tickle you!”

It was an impossible conundrum to understand at first, but Haru’ue was quick to educate Edasaki, moving her hand down between her legs and tickling--not fondling but tickling--her pussy and clit. “Please… let me show you, Banri. I know… you’ll love it too.”

Something inside Edasaki snapped at that point. Or perhaps it clicked into place. Even as she started to lose herself to the sensations. Even as she experienced her first orgasm. Even as her body ceased all meaningful resistance and allowed itself to be abused and raped, a final, clear, sad thought was transmitted from Edasaki’s mind into Haru’ue’s. “Oh. I get it. Saten was right. You are infected with something.”

And within five minutes, any negative aspect to the situation was forgotten. Edasaki’s secret passions were slightly rewired and fully unleashed. The two continued to make love all night long, ultimately switching positions to the one that felt most right, with Edasaki on top tickling and molesting Haru’ue.