That Piece of Glass

Disclaimer: Do not own disturbed twin-tailed girl and gay biribiri.

Kuroko blinked. "It looks-" she cleared her throat and glanced sideways at Saten and Uiharu. The former made a frantic gesture with her hand with a look that could either mean constipation or abject rejection. The latter apparently found the texture of the wall very, very interesting. "Very nice. Onee-sama. Yes."

Forgive me, Lord. For I have sinned.

"Really?" Staring intently at the mirror, Misaka gave an experimental twirl. "Yep. Definitely suits me. Good taste Kuroko, glad you're here. I'm gonna change back, so wait a sec, kay?" The curtain to the changing room closed with a snap.

Briefly, very briefly, Kuroko wondered if all the internal electrical currents have somehow backfired, frying the part of her onee-sama's brain that dictated fashion sense. Or just universally accepted taste, really.

"She wears that to sleep? I mean... a Gekota body suit. I don't even. What." Said Saten, staring at the curtain with the same constipated expression she wore before, which Kuroko interpreted as: What the hell is wrong with this world?

Uiharu still found the wall highly riveting. Probably in denial of the fact that she just saw a fifteen year old twirling around so happily inside a giant, shapeless green blob with a winking frog as its face. Kuroko could relate to her. She would feel the same way too if she did not have two years of nightly mental preparation where she saw Misaka go to bed each day with a different set of ridiculous pajamas. Once dressed as a banana. Complete with peel-able skin.

"You haven't seen anything," she said softly towards the wall, "...anything."

"Huh? What did you-"

"Oi Kurokooo. While I'm at it, can you grab that cow suit over there? The green one with the bell and milk bottle?"

Kuroko buried her face into her hands.

And then Saten said,

Sector D is now blocked. All civilians are to evacuate the premises. All civilians are to

Kuroko snaps the curtain shut, then moves to the window besides Misaka's desk and does the same. An annoying dream, she thinks as she allows a segment of the curtain to remain open and peeks through it.

She sees: a couple holding hands, an ambulance going at breakneck speed, a queue at the crepe stand, debris, a car that turns without indicating, a building half-burnt, a pillar of black smoke in the horizon.

Due to suspected terrorism Sector D is now blocked. All civilians

An annoying dream. Dreams. She does not understand why she keeps having these dreams. Dreams where they – the four of them. Her onee-sama, Saten, Uiharu and herself. Where they do nothing but utterly mundane things. Talk, eat, hang out, shop, gossip. Laugh.

She wonders why she dreams at all.

From somewhere behind, she hears Misaka's subdued footsteps. No more rhythmic pitter patter of skips at four in the morning. Only the dull thuds with the lightness of body from a fifteen year old girl. A dull thud, followed by another one, and another one, and another one.

are to evacuate the premises. A breach of entry will be subject of appropriate

"Another riot?" Misaka says, a hand on Kuroko's shoulder.

subject of appropriate

A shrill siren and another ambulance speeds by. "Uh-huh. Another group of level zeroes and their anti-science sentiments."

appropriate

Misaka scoffs. "Not like magic can suddenly make them a level five. Idiots. They're just into killing people."

judgment.

Kuroko closes the curtain gently and turns.

For some reason Misaka is holding out a white plastic bag with a huge grin on her face. "Ta-daa! Beef bowl!" Misaka says with a certain pride, then thrusts the bag onto Kuroko's unwilling clutch. "It's a special. I haggled with the old man for extra fatty meat, you know."

Staring at the bag, Kuroko cannot help but grimace. "...onee-sama. Beef bowl again?"

"Well. If you hate it that much," Misaka pouts,"you can just go to Saten-san and beg for her awesome five-star cooking anytime."

"She's not here anymore. Her family called her back because of the riots, remember?"

"...oh. Right. Let's invite Uiharu-san then?"

"She's just been promoted in Judgment. I expect she'll be too busy to come." When the silence continues, Kuroko slips a hand inside her pocket taps the broken glass inside with perfectly manicured nails. "Shall I call her and ask?"

It has been a habit lately, that tapping. That carrying around of the razor sharp piece of glass still coated with flaking crusts. She wonders why.

After a while Misaka looks up and says, "no. It's okay. Just go sit around or something. I'll go prepare dinner." She takes the bag from Kuroko and heads towards the kitchen.

Kuroko thinks she saw a film of moisture on Misaka's eyes, but discards it as imagination. There is no reason for tears, after all. Both Saten and Uiharu are alive and well. And Misaka and her are together living happily together with take-out dinners and bad action movies. Forever and ever and after.

There is no reason.

She continues to tap on the glass with her perfect nails.

The dinner was horrible, of course. There is something about beef bowls that renders it unappealing to the palate by the eighth consecutive consumption. It would have been better if the carnivorous meal was somehow balanced by a side-dish of salad, but the thought of her onee-sama anywhere near cooking utensils sends a shiver down her spine. Not that Kuroko is any better.

"Man, that was great!" Misaka pats her stomach, ignoring the empty bowls and glasses as she haphazardly puts her feet onto the coffee table. She spreads her arms cruciform and leans back at the sofa with a sigh.

In the TV screen Bruce Lee is dealing severe blunt trauma to a few thuggish looking men.

"Indeed. Very... great." If Misaka brings another beef bowl tomorrow, Kuroko decides that she will scream and lock herself in the bathroom. Then she sits up and walks across the room where she picks up a small plastic cup.

Misaka looks up at the offered cup, reaches out and hesitates. "Do I really have to-"

"It's for the best, onee-sama."

She nods. The contents clinks together as Misaka twirls the cup absently."Hey, Kuroko?"

"Mmm?"

"Thanks for everything. I wouldn't have... wouldn't have made it through without you. Without your support."

It is odd that Misaka shows her gratitude so openly. But her onee-sama is broken, of course. And Kuroko is her only pillar of support. After all, it has been one year, three months, twenty-three days and

"Thirteen hours and forty-one seconds."

"Huh?"

Kuroko averts her gaze from the clock and smiles. "Nothing. You're welcome."

The sudden vibration and the rattle of the windows suggest that somewhere something is exploding again. They ignore it. Such common occurrence deserves no second thought.

She hears the annoying clink clanks of the cup as Misaka continues to fiddle with it. It should stop. She wants to shout and wrench it away and see it shatter against the wall. But of course, her onee-sama is still broken. She lets it go.

When Misaka has drowned the pills in a single gulp and washes it down with a glass of water, Kuroko takes the cup away from her and piles it high on top of the dirty dishes. She barely glances at the sight of her onee-sama disrobing to change into her pajamas (not Gekota green but clean, clean white) – when the sight of her naked would send Kuroko into a frenzy of lust only a year ago – and walks to the sink where she stares at the tile and washes the dishes until her hands are raw.

She must have taken longer than usual because it is dark when she steps into the room. Misaka is already in bed, chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. Arms clutching at nothing. Gekota discarded somewhere under the bed. Kuroko sits on the bed and watches for a moment, then stands up to leave.

"Kuroko."

She feels a sudden tightness around her arm and looks down to see Misaka clutching at it. For some reason it reminds her of the scene in a movie where a man was holding on dearly onto a life-preserver. A shark was after him. Or was it a drug-dealing mafia whose deal he busted?

"Kuroko." Misaka says again. Her lips are quivering. That imaginary moisture of film again. "Don't. Don't- don't ever leave me. Please."

Sometimes. Sometimes, Kuroko has dreams where she is all alone in the room. Knees tucked inside her arms, silently staring at the door until Misaka arrives. Sometimes in those dreams. No. Always, Misaka will enter the room with such a broad smile. She will gush about how great her day had been, how kind he is and how utterly blessed she feels to be so in love.

They are dreams with such a strange ending.

An ending where Kuroko will step forward and embrace Misaka, stroking her back and telling her how happy she is for her. How happy she is that Misaka finally finds the love of her life. How she will support them forever and ever and after.

Sometimes she finds herself waking up to a ring of laughter half dead in her throat. Her lips curled into the fading remembrance of a smile.

Such strange dreams.

She pauses. Then leans down and places a kiss on Misaka's neck. Of course she will not, she whispers, and starts unbuttoning Misaka's shirt.

Even if she feels nothing. Nothing.

Nothing.

End.

For real, this time. I hope you enjoyed reading about a yandere!Kuroko as much as I did writing about her. Please review and give me your thoughts, folks. Thank you and tread carefully near seemingly normal schoolgirls. Unless you want to get NICE BOAT'ed.