Hello all! Wow, it's great to be back on the forum after YEARS of being absent. Like I said in my profile, I've been working on getting winged these past few years. Maybe that's why I'm so fond of Sekirei; I understand that winging is a big deal. That, and who doesn't like a bomb-ass anime with busty chicks fighting for their men? In any case, I decided to try my hand at another Fanfic after being on a sabbatical of sorts.
Here's the deal: A Kazehana-centric, AU where the action begins a little before the main story. I'm not replacing Minato but my character will be stealing one of his Sekirei. What can I say? I fall hard for a girl who can drink ;) It may start a little slow, but it's mainly a romance and I have to intro an OC to you. Plus, I'd always kinda wondered what would happen mixing my world with the world of Sekirei.
On that note, please note that what you see here in this fic is merely MY sick, twisted world of fiction and DOES NOT represent the U.S. Navy, helicopter aviation, or how operations are conducted in Japan or abroad in general. Take it as the fiction it literally is, and not as a bona fide look into what goes on. Some stuff is legit, other stuff notsomuch, so please, don't think horribly of us based on what you read here.
I owe a lot of thanks to lord of the land of fire for writing and publishing The Wind Flower, as it was a major inspiration for this fic. If any of you have read this fic, please realize I'm not trying to copy, plagiarize, or otherwise sponge off his work. If any of you feel this way – or if lord of the land of fire is reading this and feels I have done so – please let me know, and I'll take the fic down. I sure hope it doesn't come to that, though.
Anyway, on with the story. This got more long-winded than I thought.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sekirei, the OCs are based on real people so I can't really claim ownership. Let's be real, who really wants to steal someone else's OCs anyway?
The American Ashikabi
Prologue
Freedom. Pure, inexorable freedom. That was what flying represented to him. And here, flying rooftop-level over former Tokyo (now Shintou Teito) he found his heaven again. He loved his "big, gray warbird" and being able to fly it. The deep, steady thrum of the rotor blades spinning overhead, the perceptible whine of the turbine engines, the rush of the wind slipping past his windscreen; oh yes, this is what he lived for. Up here, there were procedures to follow, things to remember, tasks that needed to be done. Things that allowed him to forget her. Luckily, it was what kept him alive and his crew out of danger.
"Watch your altitude, Jonesy," he chided lightly.
"Sorry, Digger," the junior pilot responded, increasing collective. The helo rose up about fifty feet.
"Trim is your friend, use it. Don't hold that trigger switch down for too long," he advised the nugget; excuse me, the F.N.G. The kid just reported last week, and it was determined that he needed to take a night tour of downtown. Plus, it was nice to get away from Atsugi for a while…even if it meant delaying his Friday night plans.
"Sir, you trying to kill me before I retire?" a voice from the back chimed in. "Night flights are scary enough without wet-behind-the-ears J-Os trying to kill me!"
"Huh, no faith in your HAC, I see," Digger mumbled.
"Sorry, Senior," Jones answered back. "I was just amazed at how big that clock tower is. Which company owns that one?"
"That would be M.B.I., L-T; Mid Bio Informatics, I think. That sound about right, sir?" his question was aimed at the HAC.
"Yup, they started construction on that during my first JO tour out here," he answered. "Crazy how much has changed."
The skyscraper in question rose easily above the rest of the throng, in the heart of the city. Its tall, jutting spires seemed to pierce the tranquil, dark sky. The spotlights seemed to float around it like a swarm of insects, and easily distracted the uninitiated. He too had been mesmerized by its sheer size. It's one thing to look at something like that from the ground, another thing entirely to fly by it at 1000 feet…and still be below its top deck. That brought a smile to his face, thinking about all the advantages being a helo driver held over the jet jockeys.
"Navy November Echo 7-1-0, Teito Approach," the radio broke his reverie.
"Teito Approach, November Echo 7-1-0, go ahead," Jones answered.
"Yes sir, traffic two o' clock level, two H-60 helicopters heading east toward Teito Tower, over."
They looked, "In sight; we'll keep clear, Approach. Over." They were answered with two clicks on the mike.
As they trucked west, they saw red lights blinking from within the cacophony of the cultural lighting, the steady, bright shine from the navigation lights helping to segregate the two helos as they came closer, going down the right side. Sure enough, two H-60 models, much like their own, with the letters M.B.I. painted on the side in big yellow letters. They waved at the Japanese pilots, not expecting a response; it was dark after all, despite the full moon shining down from the clear night sky.
He began to become lost in his thoughts, a dangerous thing considering the junior pilot's earlier actions. It had been nearly six months since he returned to Japan for his Super JO tour with a Romeo squadron. In all the confusion after he finished his tour with the fleet replacement squadron (FRS), he needed to escape. It didn't help that the situation back home was being dragged through the mud, it felt. Pain-stakingly slowly. Starting the feel the sting of tears, he was brought back to reality and blinked quickly several times to clear it, re-caging on what was going on with the helo.
It seemed that he was missing the conversation between the senior aircrewman and the junior pilot to his right. He couldn't help but smile; Jones was just an honest-to-goodness kid that reminded him a lot of how he was when he first came to Japan. The kid wasn't thrilled about the decision the FRS made about volun-telling him to go, but he soon found some of the charms of living in the Land of the Rising Sun.
"-and I'll tell you this, sir," the aircrewman was rambling on, "Asian women are far more cooperative than American broads."
"Don't let your wife hear that, Senior," the HAC piped in. "Those American broads are known for being quite cantankerous at times."
"Sir, I'm not taking the fuckin' S-A-Ts, so ditch the big words. Secondly, the success of any good marriage is making them think they can't win you over. Why do you think I act like such an asshole all the time?"
"'Cuz you're from Noo Yawk?" the HAC emphasized the heavy accent.
The senior chief sighed, "…with all due respect, sir, fuck you."
The helo's occupants erupted into peals of laughter, helping to relieve the earlier pain he'd felt. As the laughter died, his eyes started to wander over the rooftops on the left side of the helo. And did a double take.
"Hey Senior, ten o' clock low, is that…?" he started. Is that a woman jumping rooftops…in a DRESS!
The aircrewman grumbled, "Why is she free running in a dress? What the fuck is she doing?"
"I don't know. Jonesy, keep it straight and level."
"You got it, Digger," Jones replied. "You want me to slow down?"
"Yeah, do that." The nose pitched up and they began to slow. "Just above translational lift."
"Roger."
Sure enough, the moonlight shone down on a curvaceous woman in a very short dress with long, dark hair jumping the rooftops. She crossed the expanse of the roof at amazing speed then, effortlessly, bounded into the air almost as if floating before landing on the next roof. He couldn't believe his eyes. As they flew by, he twisted in his seat to keep her in sight as long as possible. He saw her look over at the helo, and he could have sworn she waved, but it was hard to tell. The wardroom would not believe this!
"Man, she looked kinda cute from afar," Digger commented, the helo far beyond the flying woman.
"She was also pretty stacked," the aircrewman quipped. "I thought Asians didn't have big tits."
"Yes, they do; Hitomi Tanaka has huge tits! Maybe this chick isn't Japanese."
"That could be a possibility, and don't pick the one exception to a very tried and true rule, sir. Not to rub salt in the wound, but you know what woulda helped?"
"If you say FLIR, I'm going to kill you," Digger laughed. They hadn't used it all flight, and that would have been the perfect opportunity. Too bad that damn thing takes too long to initialize.
"Just saying, sir," the aircrewman noted. "Maybe we'll see something about it on the news."
"Doubtful. Let's get back up to speed, I'm in a hurry to get my weekend started."
This is wonderful! She leapt from roof to roof; relishing the cool wind tickling her face as she practically flew through the air. Being able to do this was one of the many reasons why she loved being alive, the thrill of her activity keeping the dull ache at bay just long enough for her to allow a smile to cross her lips. She felt as though nothing could ruin this night, and it had just begun.
The sound of the helicopter behind her didn't really bother her. After all, M.B.I. was known for keeping tabs on their property. It didn't occur to her to even look at it as it began to pass by, nearly at eye level.
THUMP, THUMP!
Her heartbeat hit so hard, she was nearly toppled mid-flight, and she could feel the color rising in her cheeks, the heat beginning to flow from her heart into her entire being, the slight stirring in her loins. Am I reacting…?
It wasn't until that moment that she noticed, out of the corner of her eye she saw not black, but haze gray. And in large, block letters on the tail it read: NAVY. Her heart still thumped with a vengeance, and the heat seemed to be getting more intense as the helo got closer. Intrigued, she looked over and ventured a small wave. But, with the fact that she was jumping from roof to roof, they probably wouldn't notice. Then the heat slowly began to dissipate, her heart rate gradually returning to normal.
As it flew by, she stopped on the next roof and watched it disappear from sight. The wind picked up slightly and blew her hair out behind her like a streamer. Resting one hand behind her head, she mused,
"It seems Fate has decided to interlope tonight. A very pleasant wind is blowing."
Well, how about it? Have I lost my touch, does it sound promising? Tell me what you think, even if it is "Pound salt, your fic sucks." I'd rather know that early on and stop torturing you uselessly.
