Sekirei: Fear of the Dark

Hundreds of puffs of mist rolled out of the mouths of dozens of pedestrians, all traversing the Tokyo sidewalks. Shops around the park cast a soft glow over the streets, the only warm thing on a chilly night like tonight. Cars angrily honked at one another to get a move on, because everyone had someplace to be, and theirs was of course the most pressing of destinations.

A light breeze wafted through the green and swayed the branches of the many willows, which crowded around one another throughout the park. They offered shelter from the lights and bustle, a small grove of darkness in a bright, loud, angry world. One could be forgiven for sliding up to one and sleeping amidst the branches; uncomfortable as it would seem, the price would be minor in exchange for a warm escape. However, it was not the wind that had made this springtime evening especially frigid.

Sitting on a bench, with a too-long lab coat appearing to be the only thing she wore, was a very lovely and sullen-looking young woman. And there was no doubt to her womanliness: shapely around all curves, just about as perfect as a hand-crafted work of art could be, her skin as flawless as sculpted marble. Her head was hung, the intricate crimson mark on her forehead mostly hidden by her short, auburn hair. So oblivious was she that she barely shifted when the wind carried one of the sleeves up to gently bat her face. She shrugged it off, her eyes sliding shut. Those eyes, practically weeping with despair, had stared aimlessly at the ground, their owner unaware of the many amorous looks she was given by the men who passed her by. They strayed no closer than a dozen meters, avoiding her like a leper, for the blood on her jacket raised a red flag to this woman's recent past.

The woman sensed another approaching, footsteps light as they crushed the grass beneath them. With only idle wonder to compel her, she tilted her head enough to see feet, large and without shoes. Baggy black pants covered the legs attached to those bare feet, elastic anklets within the bottoms ensuring they clung without strangling. Were they a Sekirei as well, or just some lunatic who walked the park late at night, sifting through the rest of the trash?

"Rough night?" he asked, his voice a not-quite-booming baritone. He didn't even question the blood on the lab coat. To him, she said nothing.

He remained next to her even as the moments of silence trudged on. Was he planning to challenge her? If so, he'd already left himself vulnerable as this close range. However, he'd probably win anyway.

"That's not your blood, is it?" The question was rhetorical. "So why so glum?"

She felt a ham-sized fist nudge her shoulder, as cold as her own flesh from her chilling aura.

"Come on! The night's still young! Still so much to do, so much to see! And who knows? Maybe you'll find your Ashikabi." The bench groaned as he leaned back against it, a sign that he'd flopped down next to her. His hands were behind his head by the time she deigned to inspect him.

"Though, I'm pretty sure you'll have more luck if you get off your backside and go look for him," he added.

The irony was not lost on her, but did nothing to cheer her up. She finally grew weary of his enthusiasm, and decided that she should clear the air, lest this ignorant soul waste any more time talking to her.

"I'm broken," she murmured, still not meeting his gaze. "I can't be winged."

The male hesitated, his next word devoid of his previous laid-back energy. "What?"

She hugged her knees to her chest, her soft breasts contorting against her well-toned thighs. "Just leave or terminate me. I'm no use to anyone."

"Terminate you?!" The very notion seemed to horrify him. Perhaps he, too, should face his end now, if he could not stomach what was needed to win the Plan.

"Listen, you," he said sternly, his merriness taking on an edge, "if you wanted a quick end you'd be out picking fights with tall buildings and sharp objects, maybe Number Four. But you're not; you're right here, on a bench, wallowing."

"There is nowhere for me to go."

"Well, obviously, if you got no place you wanna be," he huffed. "But I think you're sitting here..."

She felt a hand like matured ham take her own, his finger firmly gripping her soft skin.

"-because you're waiting for a miracle."

For the first time, she deigned to look up. Large frame, fair skin, blue eyes, blonde, buzz-cut hair? She'd heard of this one, though more from his gender than his fighting prowess.

Her slightly uplifting, slightly irritating company, one of the rare few male Sekirei, inhaled like he was about to continue. But at that moment, both he and she registered the sounds of two others on the approach. With their enhanced hearing, they very clearly picked up the words "prize", "collection", and "Sekirei".

"We have to go," her erstwhile companion urged, tightening his grip and attempting to pull her up.

"Why?"

"Because I've run into that kid before. He's bad news."

Failure to communicate. She tried once more. "Why would you care what happens to me?"

He paused; she felt his grip tighten a little more. After a moment, her attempted rescuer continued to tug on her hand. "Look, I'm sure you've probably had better days than this, but now's really not the time for stupid questions."

He didn't, no, refused to understand. An icicle materialized from the ground at her whim and jabbed at his arm, forcing him to tear it free lest he be left with a bloody hole punched in it.

"Save yourself," the Ice Sekirei told him. "Go. Find your Ashikabi. My fate isn't one to share."

Rubbing his wrist, he gave a frustrated sigh. "Fine. Go ahead and mope. Just remember that one person's trash", he said as he turned to leave, "is another person's treasure."

And as quickly as he came, he was off again.

"Even if said treasure wants to be left alone..." she heard him mutter.

The sound of his footsteps leaving was followed by another pair approaching from the front.

"So that's how he got away! Ngh, now I want him even more, Mutsu!" whined a youthful voice.

"One thing at a time, Hayato." This one sounded older, not as deep or resonant as the first man, but far more mature in its timbre.

"I told you not to call me that! I never gave you permission to speak so informally! I am your master!"

"You're my Ashikabi." By now, the two were standing right in front of her. "That's not how it works."

She sat there, waiting for the end to come. If this one had already winged another Sekirei, then he must know there's something wrong with her. The mark on her forehead gave her away for what she was. He would cast her aside, just like MBI had done, or terminate her.

A soft, warm hand, which felt like it had never done a hard day's work in its life, took her own, laying another on top of it.

"You must be cold, out here alone."

Like with the first male, she said nothing. She was wary of him, though, as another had already tried to take advantage of her body that day.

"Do you have a home? Or an Ashikabi?" asked the boy, Hayato. She decided that, like the last one, the air should be cleared so he could just get on with his life.

"I have neither," the icy woman replied. "As I told the other one, I'll never have an Ashikabi. My wings are forever shorn."

"Well, as my friend so eloquently put it, that's not how it works."

She felt one of his hands tip her chin up to look at him. His eyes were partially obscured by the shadows, but the moonlight gleaming off of them reflected a mix of moods: hope, ambition, friendliness, and more than a little possessiveness. This last one in particular... For some reason it stirred her, fulfilling her fantasy for what an Ashikabi would be like. If nothing else, she could tell that he wanted her, and badly. Though for what purpose?

"You'll come home with me if you want," he told her. "I'll give you a place to stay, and some new clothes. I'll be your Ashikabi."

Her fleeting hope faded as the knowledge of her situation reasserted itself, and her eyes drifted down from his own. "I told you: you can't be my Ashikabi. No one can."

Her eyes widened when she saw him smile. "You'd still be my Sekirei, even if I can't wing you," said Hayato. "And that would make me your Ashikabi, now wouldn't it?"

You'd still be my Sekirei. Her lips contorted to silently mouth the words, and for the first time since she'd escaped, a small but noticeable fire lit inside of her. She stood, her stolen lab coat barely covering her lower half, if at all. The boy who'd offered her a home took off his own jacket, an expensive piece of tailoring which no doubt cost him a small fortune, and slung it around her waist. He tied a knot at her left hip, holding the makeshift skirt in place. Already he was looking after her.

"What's your name?" he asked, as she allowed him to lead her away. His sword-bearing companion flipped his blade around to rest on his shoulder, relaxing his tension.

"Akitsu," she said. "My name... It's Akitsu."

"Well, Akitsu," said Hayato, as he walked her over to a waiting limousine, the door held by a chauffeur, "welcome to my collection."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sahashi Minato sat hunched-over at the desk in his apartment, an invisible cheese-grader scraping against his forehead as he continued to pore through his textbook. By this point, he'd long ago exhausted his energy for studying when he'd finished off the last of his instant-ramen. All he had left driving him was his own desire to prove himself wrong: that he wasn't a screw-up, that he could achieve where he'd failed before, that the echoing nags of his mother could finally shove it, and that the light-hearted but potent taunts of his little sister would cease being held over his head.

Of course, if he failed again, his mom would bring the axe down on his allowance and Yukari would never let him hear the end of it.

He'd have to get some minimum-wage employment, becoming another of many wash-outs that drifted aimlessly from job-to-job, mooching off of people for food, and further lowering the Japanese standard of living. Not that he cared what anyone really thought about him, but like his push to pass, it was himself that he wanted to hold in high regard. And right now, stuck in this low-rent, one-room apartment, he was about as far down as he could get without being homeless.

Sighing, he stood up from his books. He needed to clear his head, or he was never going to get through this. His patience had finally run out and while he knew he was just making up an excuse to get away, he also knew that he was on the verge of going stir-crazy. So, he slid his long, lanky arms into the sleeves of his jacket, checked his messy black hair in the mirror (he hadn't left his apartment since he'd awoken that morning), and walked out the door. Strolling down the stairs outside, his mind began to wander with his feet.

He ended up wandering a lot farther than he would've liked, had his mind not drifted at the second crosswalk. Not many were out right now, but the sounds of Tokyo still filled the mid-afternoon air. So, he'd been left to his own thoughts, contemplating where his life might go, walking past the cafes and seeing all the happy couples there. Frankly, he envied them. He'd never kissed a girl, let alone gone on a date. His mother and sister may have had something to do with it, but he knew the blame rested firmly on his shoulders. If he would ever man up and taken charge of his life, he might've stood a chance at co-ed social interaction.

But then his first exam scores had come back and that hope had all but circled the drain.

Sighing once more, and without paying mind to where he was going, he turned a corner into a shadowy alley way, surrounded by two-story buildings. The path was a little darker than Minato would've liked, and he was about to turn back when the boom of thunder reached his ears. From around the corner it came, about half-way down this lonely back drive. Against his better judgement, he jogged toward the sound. The scene that greeted him was an unusual one, to say the least.

Three women stood at the other end of the alley, all of them long-haired, all of them well-endowed. Two were clothed in matching S&M gear, one indigo, the other dark violet; one looked angry, the other perturbed. If not for the differences in apparel, along with the former being a bit chestier, they'd be exact duplicates of each other.

But the third woman... She was something else entirely.

She wore a tight-fitting purple Chinese dress, one that reached down just far enough to preserve her decency. Sections up the middle torso were cut out, revealing some of her midriff. They also allowed a good view of the largest, most magnificent breasts that Minato had ever seen. Her hair was tied back with a violet ribbon, the raven-colored locks flowing behind her shoulders. She appeared taller than the other two, but that might be attributed to her high-heeled shoes. In short, she looked positively stunning, easily the most beautiful creature Minato had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, like a goddess straight out of myth.

"You didn't even give your numbers before attacking me, and now you fight me two-on-one," she said, her voice a sultry alto. She sounded more put-off than anything, and from the bottle of liquor she held, Minato could probably guess why.

She held out her free hand, like she was motioning for a car to stop. "I'll be the better woman. I'm Sekirei No. 3, Kazehana."

"Wagtail"? thought Minato.

The twins' sudden fear was palpable. "Crap, she's a single number?" uttered the less angry one.

Minato didn't know what this was all about, but his inner good samaritan compelled him to intervene.

"Hey! Leave her alone!" Minato shouted, regretting it instantly as the three diverted their attention to him. Why am I getting involved in this?I should be running!

"Stay out of this, kid!" the angrier girl shouted.

"What she said," Kazehana added, then readdressed the twins. Lightning flashed and the lone woman was twisting herself high the air, a gust of wind shooting from her outstretched arm. It slammed into Ms. Angrier, sending her flying back against the wall.

"Whaaa…?" Minato was in shock. That or he'd eaten something funny for lunch and was now hallucinating.

"Hikari!" The other girl moved out of Minato's sight, moving to her partner's aid.

Flexing her legs as she landed, Kazehana balled up a wad of air as chain lightning lashed at her. She vaulted back as Minato started shimmying away from the battle, praying they'd get too engrossed to remember he was there. If there was ever a time for him to go unnoticed by the fairer sex, he hoped it was now.

Wind and thunder collided over and over again, the ronin getting occasional glimpses of the three as they bounced off the walls. And the ground. And occasionally that one fire escape that overlooked the corridor he was in. Once again Minato was confounded by the fact that he was still here, instead of making a hasty retreat to, well, literally anywhere else.

And just what is going on here?! Minato silently shrieked, his eyes still hypnotically trapped by the embattled wind sylph.

Said sylph darted back, the twins moving forward and calling forth more lightning. The indigo-clad one, Hikari, shot off her bolt but the other, whose name remained a mystery, did not, because she caught Kazehana's own attack and was knocked out of the air. Hikari passed the window that was the alley mouth but was struck by something, her diminishing grunts telling Minato that she was tumbling away from the mouth. After that, Kazehana hopped to the middle, back where he could see her, and held a hand out on either side, her head swinging back and forth as she found herself between her two foes.

What none of them knew, however, was that Kazehana was exactly where she wanted to be.

The crackle of power warned her of the impending attack and she was off the ground, twin balls of electricity colliding right where she'd been only a second ago. Her arms remained outstretched as a pair of transparent spirals shot from each hand, the gusts twisting with her body as she somersaulted through the air. Then she pushing off the back wall, unleashing a slipstream behind her that both propelled her over Minato's head and buffeted her two opponents.

The woman of the wind landed to his left, her hair and split sleeves jostling in the whirlwind surrounding her. On the opposite side were the twins, looking somewhat battered by dirt and scrapes. Despite their numbers, it seemed Kazehana maintained the upper hand.

Kazehana gestured with her hand again, and another whirlwind began to materialize. Minato realized what was about to happen and flattened against the wall. However, he quickly remembered how air pressure and wind currents worked, and so found himself running to the purple-clad valkyrie's immediate right. Surprisingly, she was kind enough to hold her rising storm until he was safely behind her.

"Now blow," she commanded.

The whirlwind exploded out of her hand and the twins' shrieks could be heard rising from the ground. In a moment, they had disappeared into the sky. Minato stared up, the wheels in his head spewing smoke from trying to process everything he'd just witnessed. A voice brought him out of his retrospection.

"I know this is a lot to ask..."

Minato's gaze slowly returned to Earth and he found himself face-to-smiling-face with Kazehana. His heart hammered in his chest; after seeing what she just did, not even her amazing looks could stifle his terror.

"But you wouldn't mind keeping this to yourself, would you?" she said. In spite of his fear, there was something alluring in that smile, something that went beyond his natural male reaction to a beautiful woman. He couldn't explain it, because every rational fiber of his being was telling him to run for the hills and get as far away from all of this insanity as possible. Yet there he was, standing immobile before a woman who could launch people into orbit with a flick of the wrist.

"Uh, well-" Minato struggled to find words.

Kazehana's eyes grew a little wider, half-pleading, half-seductive, as she leaned in closer. "Pleeease?"

Her face was a little flushed. Her lips were only a few inches away from his own. Despite his usual politeness, the thought crossed his mind to try and kiss her.

Instead he sputtered, "O-of course. No trouble at all, Kazehana-san."

Quickly pulling back, Kazehana about-faced away from him.

"Thanks a bunch," she said, and began walking. She stopped. "One more thing…"

Minato froze. What horror was she about to unleash upon him?

"I never did catch your name."

Minato relaxed a bit. He was high-strung, but who could blame him? "Minato. Sahashi Minato," he said, bowing.

"Well, Minato, Sahashi Minato-san, it was nice meeting you," she said, and resumed walking. Minato likewise hurried back to the sidewalk. He wondered where she was going, because he'd just remembered which alley he was in, and the path Kazehana tread only led to a pair of dead-ends.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A short while later, from an overlooking ledge, Kazehana watched Minato leave the alley. Something was fluttering in her chest; it had been from the moment she'd laid eyes on him. Thank God she'd been an experienced fighter, because had it gotten worse she might've found herself in a bit of a pickle. For goodness sakes, she leapt towards him knowing that he'd be put between her and the Lightning Twins. And if she'd followed her core and reached out to take him as he ran past her...

She screwed her eyes shut and shook the budding fantasy away, but the afterglow still remained. The sensation pushed against wounds left by her old love, though it fought an uphill battle. She paid it little mind; from experience, this was something best combated with repression and liquor shots.

She put a hand against her bust, willing her heart to calm. It only obeyed once Minato-san was out of sight, at which point she could finally relax, unwind, and resume her mid-day sake. Her body's reaction said that he was the one for her, but she wasn't about to throw herself into some stranger's arms, Ashikabi or no. Heartbreak was not something she was in a hurry to revisit.

And yet, try as she might, she couldn't fully dismiss the idea. He seemed like a nice enough kid, and he'd been ready to step in on her behalf, knowing zilch about her. That was more than she could say for her last lover.