The first thing that Shirou felt when he woke up that morning was fatigue. His head throbbed and his eyelids were heavy.
The second thing that he felt was panic, chiefly caused by the sleeping woman using his arm as a pillow. The duvet was pushed to the side, so nothing but a white juban protected her modesty.
He quickly grabbed his own side of the bedsheet and freed himself from its shackles, but his memories of the previous night hit him before he could do anything drastic.
…That's right. He wasn't expecting to share his living space with anyone, so he only had one bed. Despite his misgivings with the woman, he had suggested that she take it for herself while he slept on the floor; he could buy a new mattress the next day.
Her counter-suggestion was that they should share for the night.
Why did he go along with it? Who could say? It seemed harmless at the time. The bed was large enough that it wouldn't have been too awkward, and it would allow him to keep enough of a distance to protect himself if she tried anything. It was an added bonus that they'd both be able to get a restful sleep out of it, really.
Only, he wasn't expecting her to stare at him like a hawk stalking a mouse from the moment they lay down. Her gaze was unflinching, unmoving, and yet not a single utterance came from her from that point on. No amount of space between them could ease his discomfort.
As such, the only way for him to react was to stare right back. He resolved himself to stay vigilant in case she acted out until she either relented or fell asleep.
He could not remember either of those two scenarios coming to fruition. Somewhere along the line, his consciousness must have left him.
And so, here he was with an extremely volatile entity cuddled up to him.
Taking great care to not wake his impromptu bedmate, he slipped his arm out from under her head and pushed himself onto his feet. The throb behind his brow worsened the moment he became vertical.
He couldn't remember the last time that he'd ruined his sleep cycle this badly.
Shirou entered his new kitchen with led feet. His brain working on autopilot, he opened his refrigerator to find…
Nothing.
Ah. He didn't have the time to do groceries last night. The apartment was bereft of any food, be it raw ingredients or prepared meals.
…Or was it?
He eyed the gift basket sitting on the island counter.
A fruit platter for breakfast didn't sound too bad.
The patter of feet on hardwood grew louder from the bedroom.
"Ahm… good morning, Ashikabi-kun," greeted the awakened she-devil with a drawn-out yawn. "Did you sleep well?"
She finally decided to get up, did she?
"No," he answered succinctly
The woman chuckled– not that he could fathom why. If he looked tired, then she looked like an absolute wreck. Despite that, her amusement was worn proudly; her smile didn't match her bloodshot and baggy eyes whatsoever.
Those eyes lowered to stare pointedly at the halfway-chopped pear on his cutting board.
"What's for breakfast, Mister Chef?"
"…Go put some clothes on," he shot back without acknowledging her comment.
She picked at the hem of her undergarment. "Why, getting embarrassed by little ol' me?"
Besides the housewarming gift, she came empty-handed. He couldn't exactly force her to sleep in that heavy three-piece uniform of hers, but she really would have to go pick up her night-time accoutrements if she thought that she was going to be staying here. Aliens owned pyjamas, right?
Shirou didn't let her get under his skin. He closed his heavy eyes and sighed. "It isn't proper for a woman to be walking around a man's house undressed."
Lamentably, she interpreted his request as a suggestion and chose to ignore it. She pulled out a dining room chair facing the kitchen and made herself comfortable.
"Do you have a plan in mind?"
The man eyed her quickly, only half paying attention as he washed a cluster of grapes under his kitchen tap.
"A plan?"
"To eliminate the others."
To be so flippant about the murder of her own people… how frightening.
He joined her at the table and placed his newly-made ensemble between them. Not owning any dishes yet, he arranged the various sliced fruits inside of the basket in which they were delivered. A cloth was used as a lining to keep it sanitary.
"You know more about them than I do," he countered. "Do you have any suggestions?"
She smiled sweetly. Or rather, that's what he'd assumed she was trying to do. The attempt was perverted by her disheveled state.
"Hm? I don't know much about them at all; nothing more than what the director could tell you himself. I'd assume they all have their own quirks."
Getting anything out of her was like pulling teeth.
Shirou frowned. If she wasn't playing coy, then they were at a serious disadvantage.
"The ones who confronted us yesterday," he brought up as an example. "The girl was able to control her weapons remotely. Was it telekinesis?"
"Most likely," was her lackluster response. "Telekinesis, levitation… or anything really. I don't think it matters."
His eyebrow twitched, but he otherwise kept his cool. "You don't seem too concerned about any of this."
The woman popped a grape into her mouth.
"When you slaughter a pig, do you care about the colour of its pelt?"
…What an unpleasant analogy.
"I've never slaughtered a pig, so I wouldn't know." He tried for a different angle. "Just give me the 'basics', then. You said 'even the director could tell me that much', right?"
Her eyes squinted shut. Instead of speaking, she filled her mouth with an apple slice.
He waited for her answer stoically.
"You're overthinking it, Ashikabi," she spoke in a tone that belied her faked joviality. "A lemming with a weapon is still just a lemming."
As he spoke, he gauged her reaction carefully. "None of them are more dangerous than you, is what you're saying."
Her thin-lipped smile was all the answer he got.
A canned jolly tune started to play from the bedroom. It looped a few times, neither of them moving to check what it was.
"Ah. That's my phone," the woman exclaimed half-heartedly. She left the table, and for a few moments, Shirou was left to his own thoughts.
As much as she didn't want to say anything, the alien's silence was telling enough. She made it sound as though the other "competitors" weren't anything to worry about, but he was almost certain that there were at least a few others like her.
Threats.
"How many?" was the question. If not all one hundred and eight, then what, five? Ten? Twenty?
It was a forgone conclusion that not all Sekirei were equal. He just didn't know where his partner measured along that scale.
She came back fully dressed.
"Sorry. Takami-chan's in a bad mood, so I'll be going to work now. See you later, Ashikabi-kun."
The sudden announcement threw him off. She had almost reached the door before he caught her by the arm.
If their relationship was going to function this way from now on, they would need to work together. There were urgent matters that needed to be attended to that he wouldn't have the time to deal with alone.
"Wait."
For once, she listened. The woman faced him expectantly.
"Take this," said the white-haired man, placing a folded piece of paper in her hand.
X
"You look like shit."
The words left Takami's mouth faster than her brain could filter them out. When Karasuba entered her office, the first things that she noticed were the sunken eyes and dishevelled hair.
There were days when the younger woman showed up looking pretty bad, but never this bad.
"And you look like a mummy," was the Sekirei's relatively-lighthearted riposte. It was strange: from her appearance alone, she would have thought that MBI's "dog" would have been in a much worse mood. "What happened?"
Hah. She was pretty banged up, wasn't she?
Takami rubbed the side of her bandaged cranium gingerly while her other hand dug through her coat pocket for her pack of cigarettes.
"One-oh-eight's adjustment was sabotaged. Some Ashikabi thought they were hot shit and tried to wing her before she could be released."
"They were unsuccessful?" guessed the Black Sekirei.
"You could say that, but the girl slipped away from us, which means that she's effectively been freed of our custody prematurely. I bet Minaka's about to milk this mess for all its worth. I don't know what the fucker's up to, but expect some kind of announcement from him soon."
Karasuba yawned. "So you're asking me to run damage control?"
"Absolutely not. The opposite, in fact," denied the head researcher hotly. "I want you to stay the hell away."
The tired woman hummed in understanding. "Makes sense. If Minaka' going through all the trouble, then he probably won't want anyone interfering–"
"Fuck Minaka," spat Takami. "Now that you have an Ashikabi, you're part of the plan too. Things are bad enough as they are, and I don't want to deal with your bullshit on top of that."
Following her outburst, Sahashi Takami expected a large number of reactions from the violent Sekirei, most of them being some variation of a passive-aggressive threat. What she didn't expect was…
"Sure thing, Takami-chan!" Karasuba acknowledged cheerfully.
The older woman blinked. For her to be so acquiescent was pretty rare.
…A little too rare.
When Karasuba placed her katana on the desk and turned to leave, she knew something was up.
"What are you trying to pull, here?"
Number Four squinted. "What do you mean? I'm not supposed to be doing anything right now, right? I've got other stuff to do, so take care of my weapon for me."
…She was never one to hand her sword over so easily. She always did because it was MBI's policy to not carry blades or firearms when not on duty, but she'd damn well keep it on her if ever she thought that she could get away with it.
Visibly disarming herself sent a clear message: that she had no intention of disobeying explicit commands.
Sadly, it was always the implied commands that she ended up twisting the most.
"And what might those 'other things' be?"
Karasuba stuck a finger down the collar of her jacket and pulled out a note.
"My Ashikabi-kun has a job for me," she said, handing the paper to a stiffened Takami.
…Him.
She couldn't let herself forget about how much of a danger that man posed. Being under Karasuba's implicit protection was a powerful tool unto itself, even more so if she was playing along for shits and giggles.
The Sekirei smiled sickly, clearly relishing the nervousness on her corporate superior's face. Her eyes gleamed excitedly as Takami slowly read the orders given by the biggest unknown in the entirety of the Sekirei Plan.
Takami's eyes widened, and Karasuba's perverted expression grew wider.
"This is a grocery list."
X
Shirou sat on a park bench, his shopping bags placed to his left. He was staring intently at the cellphone held in his hand.
More specifically, at the message and location marker that were sent to him.
There's a cute Sekirei over here! First come, first served! You could be the one to give it wings!
Minaka Hiroto's message was unexpected, but also quite confusing. The phrasing implied that it was a mass text sent not only to him but also to other competitors.
But why? Anyone who received the notice would already have a partner. Finding an "unwinged" Sekirei would be redundant.
Maybe it was an opportunity to eliminate a potential enemy before they could get on their feet? There was definitely a competitive advantage there… but then why say "First come, first served"?
Unless…
Could a competitor partner themselves with multiple aliens?
If so, that would change everything. The chances of winning would rise exponentially for every–
Our fates are intertwined, forever and ever.
"…"
He sighed and picked up his bags. Thinking about such things was useless right now. Whether that was something he could do or not, he didn't doubt for a second that it would just cause more problems down the line.
For now, it was best to just take the invitation as a different kind of opportunity.
Before he could put his phone away, it started to ring. He silently brought it up to his ear.
"Ashikabi-kun."
It was his partner.
"Is something wrong?"
"You could say that. You must have received the director's message by now."
Of course. She worked for the company that was sponsoring this competition, so it made sense that she'd already been aware of it.
"I have. Will you–"
"Sorry, but I'll have to sit this one out. MBI doesn't want me getting in the way of their plans."
Though he was annoyed, Shirou did little else than sigh. He already figured that his partner being an MBI employee wasn't the norm, so these sorts of inconvenient exceptions were to be expected.
"I'll go ahead on my own, then," he told her.
"…"
CLICK!
She hung up on him. How rude.
With an exasperated huff, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and started walking back to his apartment. Once he finished putting away his new dinnerware set, he would see just how many birds he could kill with one stone.
X
So this was it.
Admittedly, the public park looked less like a public park and a lot more like a forest taken straight out of a fantasy setting. If he were to guess, he'd assume that the unwinged Sekirei had something to do with the overgrown environment.
…Or maybe not. Far from able was he to assume what their kind was or wasn't capable of.
Shirou eyed the ruined gate that no longer fully enclosed the premises. The sight of the overturned military vehicles and unconscious MBI personnel made it obvious that he wasn't the first one to have arrived.
It wasn't preferable, but still an expected outcome.
The bright side was that he wasn't too late either. He knew this because there wouldn't have been a pair of Sekirei fighting each other right in front of him, otherwise.
A man and a woman –neither having a distinguishable magical scent– attacked each other with abilities that, nonetheless, were very thaumaturgical in appearance. The man controlled fire with a wave of the hand, whereas the woman spawned spears and walls of ice seemingly out of thin air.
Since he was on his own right now, however, it wasn't smart to overreach. Going in for the kill right away could leave him exposed; the smartest thing would be to see how much he could get away with without putting himself in any danger.
Other than those two, there was a black Mercedes-Benz S-Class parked a few paces back. Peculiarly, it was a much older model; when he used to live in Fuyuki, his neighbour had an identical vehicle, so it must have been dated fifteen-some-odd years, give or take. Its age alone implied that it belonged to a third party, and not to the downed paramilitary group– possibly the partner of one of the Sekirei, or even a getaway driver.
He set his sights on his first target.
Let the prodding begin.
"First shot."
X
Homura conjured another burst of flames to melt the icicles before they could reach him. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain caused by his self-immolation.
He couldn't go on like this… but even so, no matter how broken he was, no matter how much his own body rejected his nature, relenting was not an option.
For the sake of all the birds who had yet to find their wings… he would endure.
Another volley of ice spears was sent his way. The man wasn't able to melt all of them this time, so he was forced to jump to the side to avoid getting hit.
This Sekirei… she was a scrapped number, so why…
"Why are you here!?"
His heated question was met with a drawled reply.
"My Ashikabi-sama has a wish… and I… will make sure that his wish is granted."
A ball of flames hurtled straight into her, but a wall of ice stopped it in its tracks.
He cursed under his breath. She might not have access to her Norito, but neither did he.
They were at an impasse; the longer he wasted time with her, the higher the chances that the young Sekirei would be taken away by someone other than her destined one.
He couldn't have that.
Mustering the last of his strength, Sekirei Number Six squared his feet–
His opponent had just enough time to shift to the side before her left arm was torn from her body at the shoulder.
BANG!
A thunderous clap followed the attack. Whatever that was that had struck the woman had done so at supersonic speeds.
For a moment, she stared at the missing limb dumbly.
Homura wasn't given the time to process his shock –nor the scrapped number, her pain– before the vehicle at her back exploded.
BANG!
His eyes widened before he was forced to use his arm to shield them from the second, larger explosion caused by the burning gas tank.
"Ashikabi-sama!" screamed the scrapped number through her pain.
Damn it! Sekirei Plan or not, he didn't want humans getting caught in the crossfire of their battles.
Luckily for them, the passengers of the car came out of it mostly all right. A younger boy in a singed white suit was held underarm by a much larger, silver-haired man. A blonde girl with pigtails stood next to them looking a little worse for wear, with burns littering her body and blood dribbling down her face.
Homura mentally commended the male Sekirei for being nimble enough to save his Ashikabi in time. If he could only figure out where–
A hole was blown through the pigtailed girl's chest.
BANG!
"Mitsu–"
The Ashikabi's shout was cut short as the man holding him started to sprint away. They were gone before the girl's body even hit the ground.
Even injured as she was, the scrapped number moved to follow.
Homura snarled and traced what he assumed to be the trajectory of the attack in the hopes that it would lead him straight to the assailant.
Beyond any shadow of a doubt, it wasn't another Sekirei.
It was a gunman.
His beliefs were confirmed when a glint coming from an opened hotel window caught his eye.
He found the bastard.
The Sekirei Guardian moved nimbly at a pace that no human could ever hope to match. Another high-calibre bullet was shot at him, but thanks to knowing where it was coming from, he was able to avoid it by the skin of his teeth.
BANG!
Propelling himself with his flames, he scaled the side of the building. Within seconds, he had reached the gunman's perch and was prepared to burn them to the–
His heart dropped the moment he passed through the window.
There was a desk pushed to the middle of the room.
Taped to it was a strange rifle-looking weapon. A lens stuck out where he assumed the scope would be, and it sat on a bulky stand with an articulated joint near its top.
Whatever this weapon was, it was unmanned.
As he began to search the room for clues, Homura noticed that the contraption's metal casing started to expand.
"Shi–"
X
BOOM!
On the roof of another building a few blocks away, Shirou watched apathetically as the top floor of the hotel burst into flames. He could already hear the sirens closing in from a distance. He alerted the manager of a gas leak on the top floor ahead of time, so with any luck, no bystanders had died.
As he thought. Projecting a remote weapon station was incredibly taxing, but it turned out to be well worth the effort. It was an added bonus that the alien gave him the excuse to detonate it right under his feet; it wouldn't have lasted that much longer, otherwise.
All but one target –or perhaps two– had escaped, and he was fairly certain that the unwinged Sekirei had been reached by one of the early worms. He hadn't been able to make as big of a dent as he would have liked, but he needed to be cautious at this stage, and caution rarely got any results worth mentioning.
He hunched over and sighed.
With that in mind, he probably wouldn't have needed to go through all this effort if MBI hadn't taken his actual guns from him. Unfortunately, for appearances' sake, he couldn't really ask for them back.
The projected console that he was using to control the RWS disappeared, its utility having faded to nothing along with the gun itself.
"One kill, one unconfirmed death, three got away," he summarized for the newly-arrived individual standing behind him. "How much was the daikon?"
"Three hundred yen a kilo," Karasuba answered with a smile.
He clicked his tongue. "Prices in big cities are always the worst."
Shirou picked up his suit jacket and folded it over his arm. As he gathered his things, Karasuba continued to stare at him with a cheerful expression.
"Ya know, Ashikabi-kun, playing the game this way isn't any fun at all."
The man tilted his head in confusion.
"I'm sorry?"
The muscles controlling the Sekirei's mouth didn't disturb her upturned lips by a single millimetre.
"I don't know where you keep finding these toys of yours, but you didn't even need to lift a finger, did you? Here I am, raising my own expectations only for you to waste time making corpses out of riffraff."
Toys? The projected firearms, she meant. His partner must have been watching from somewhere close by.
Though he couldn't for the life of him understand what she was getting mad about, she brought up a point that the thought would be important to highlight moving forward.
"…One of them died instantly, another avoided the bullets quite easily, and the rest were able to keep themselves alive with varying degrees of success," he outlined instead of addressing her comment directly. "It was a small sample size, but the gap in their ability was significant."
She yawned and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I said that already, didn't I? Most of my kind don't know their ass from a hole in the ground. They're sheep."
She did in fact say something that, if paraphrased, could be interpreted along those lines, but that knowledge wasn't really "knowledge" at all, considering how she insisted on being as unforthcoming about the details as possible.
"Karasuba."
When he called her name, the woman's face clamped right up. For once, her eyes actually focused on his own.
He didn't know if it was a matter of pride or simply that she didn't like talking about other Sekirei, but they wouldn't get anywhere until they could find a middle ground. "How many of them can put up a fight?"
Seconds ticked by as she did nothing else than stare at him. Right as he started to think that she was going to keep her mouth shut again, she asked in return, "When you talked with the director, did he tell you which number I was?"
Which "number"?
I would like to formally congratulate you on the winging of Sekirei number four, Karasuba.
It flew right over his head at the time. It must have been a code for something, but he didn't believe it to be of any importance.
"I think so. He called you 'number four'."
With her smirk in place once more, Karasuba explained, "MBI has had each and every one of us physiologically adjusted since birth so that we don't kill our cute and frail Ashikabi by accident. Our number corresponds to the order in which were first modified."
Shirou hid any outward reaction the best he could. He had thought that the company was collaborating with the aliens, but from what he could infer, it was more accurate to say that MBI owned them. If the Sekirei were raised in MBI's custody, then did this "Sekirei Plan" really have any intrinsic relation to the species at all?
"And how do these 'adjustments' correlate to ability?"
The grey-haired woman began picking at her nails. "MBI didn't want any mishaps, so the first ten adjustments or so were much lighter than those that followed. We have much more of our strength available to us compared to the others. The ones that got away from you today are likely part of that group."
The man nodded, mentally lamenting the fact that his partner couldn't even be bothered to remember anything about nine of their most noteworthy adversaries. "So you're confident in your ability to win against any Sekirei outside of the first ten?"
Karasuba chuckled. Her hand absently reached for a sword but dropped down to her side once she realised that she didn't have it on her.
He couldn't tell if she looked frustrated or elated.
"Don't be silly, Ashikabi-kun. Whether they've been heavily-adjusted or not makes no difference to me. I'm the strongest, after all."
Shirou stared into her narrowed eyelids scrutinizingly. Whether it was true or not, that is what she believed.
"What was wrong with saying as much when I asked you this morning?"
Her cold, sliver orbs met his own.
"You asked if any of them are more dangerous than me."
"I did."
"I don't know."
Her response threw him for a loop.
"You just said that you're the strongest."
"And does that make me the most dangerous? Whether you're strong or not didn't really matter to that girl you gunned down remotely; how much I can kill them, or how much they can't kill me is irrelevant as long as there's an opportunity for a weakling to make a pain of themselves."
Ah. That was a fair point, admittedly. She might have been a little too self-confident for his liking, but at least she could think about their situation in a reasonable fashion.
He couldn't help but wonder if she had a particular "weakling" in mind when she said it, but there wasn't any point in bringing it up now.
Light and purposeless maneuvers wouldn't be as useful –or as advisable– now that he was expected to proceed along with his partner for the foreseeable future. Before he acted again, he would hire someone to attack MBI's servers and scrounge as much documented information on the one hundred and eight Sekirei as possible. Any information that that Karasuba had yet to share with him would be best revealed on a file-to-file basis so as not to miss anything.
Shirou let out a small laugh, then smiled gently at his companion.
His expression was met with tense one of her own. For a moment, he could have sworn that he heard her make a strangled noise for whatever reason.
"I suppose you're right. Let's go… hm?"
She pressed her lips against his, cutting his sentence abruptly with an munificently long kiss. When she pulled away, the woman turned around and walked towards the staircase with their groceries in hand.
"Why did–"
"No reason in particular," she answered before he could finish his sentence. Shirou was left alone on the rooftop.
"…"
As he thought. Trying to decipher what went through that one's head was a lost cause.