Chapter 53: You've Got to Kill to Stay Alive
Uzume awoke the next morning feeling absolutely gross.
And it wasn't from the grimy rooftop, either. She was sticky with all a matter of fluids and juices: some from him, some her own. Her hair was in her eyes and brushing it back just made her realize how thoroughly those juices had coated her. Her groin still ached from the hours they'd spent going at it. She had to wonder if she could still walk normally. Well, only one way to find out.
Uzume's flailing hand found an industrial AC unit, the steel cool beneath her palm as she hauled herself to her feet. It was then she noticed there was someone missing from this picture.
Where is he? She distinctly remember toppling off of him after what must've been their tenth round and passing out there, so pleasantly exhausted that even the hard concrete felt comfortable. If only her past self knew what she knew now, uttering a groan as she felt each and every spot of soreness along her poor spine.
Uzume smiled as she put her fists against her back and snapped, crackled and popped back into alignment. Worth it, she thought.
Peering over the AC unit, she finally spotted Kagedansu, lying prone on his side, his right deltoid providing a pillow for his head.
And fully clothed.
Uzume, raising an eyebrow in skepticism, strode over to where their clothes had been left. Sure enough, only hers remained. Her libido started acting up again and she came up with a nasty idea.
Strutting over to where Kagedansu lay, she bent down and snapped her fingers in front of his face a few times. Nothing. She then flicked his nose a few times, after which his eyelids started to twitch. Her smile growing wider, she stuck a toe into his shoulder and tipped him onto his back. Sixty-Seven kept playing possum, flopping over even though the corner of his mouth was starting to form a smile of its own. His eyelids had stopped shuddering, so Uzume bent down once again and swiped a hand in front of his face. Like the finger-snaps, nothing. His eyes were closed, which suited her just fine.
"Wake up and smell the dew," she called, before standing over his neck and straddling his face. He wasn't done provoking her, because instead of diving head-first into her, he continued the facade.
Uzume placed a hand on her hip. "Come on, Kagedansu," she said, swiveling herself across his lower lip, leaving a taste of herself behind. "You know we want to."
Below him, the male Sekirei opened one eye, his mouth caving into a grin. "I was waiting for us to say 'please', but then you go and jump the gun."
"Well, what can I say?" she countered, starting an erotic writhe that made her breasts sway out and in; she delighted in how his eyes kept going from her own to her chest. "I have a lot of lost time to make up."
"What, and I don't?" Kagedansu asked, though she felt his left hand sliding under her groin.
She hooked her fingers into the back of his head and pulled him face-deep between her legs, locking them tight.
"Just shut up and eat me," she breathed hotly.
About two seconds later, she had his answer, one that made her arch her back and cry out in pleasure.
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"Nice to see you cleaned up the place," Uzume remarked as she followed Kagedansu into his apartment.
In truth, any other girl (or more specifically, any other haughty blondes she may or may not know) probably would've nagged him to death about the state. The pizza boxes were gone, as were the crumpled-up pieces of paper, but specks of old dinner still littered the carpet. The CDs had been returned to their shelves, even organized by alphabetical band name, but several guitars were still lying about the furniture like a squadron of squatters.
A single album remain un-shelved: "Lord of the Wasteland", by a band she'd never heard of. She made a mental note to look it up later.
Those posters which had fallen off the wall had been re-mounted, if not straight. Upon peering into the corner bedroom, the bunk was (almost) made, with the sheets and pillow at least looking like a human being slept in it, as opposed to, say, a Bengal tiger.
"Now then," said the other Sekirei, taking his own look around the dwellings, "shower."
Uzume was already hooking her fingers into her shirt, but stopped just as she brought it up beneath her bust. For Kagedansu hadn't moved towards the bathroom, but the 4-piece stereo system, taking out the aforementioned album and popping it in the player. He stood there, hand on the lid, until the sound of a nuclear alarm siren rose to the fore, sounding like it was echoing in the distance. Then another followed, with an electric guitar and snare drum bringing up the rear. The image of a stream of people, marching towards mountainside bunkers as plutonium-filled doom approached from across the globe, unwittingly entered Uzume's head; the image chilled yet thrilled her. As Kagedansu finished goose-stepping his way into the bathroom, totally taken by the beat, she herself started getting into the wailing, high-pitched doom.
The water came on just in time for the opening to end and the heavier, more distorted guitars of the first song to take their place. Kagedansu was already singing, right on time with it.
"Blood and dust in the de-sert sa-aannd… Go to wa-aarr, at my com-maaannd!"
Once again, she was taken aback by how his voice could jump two octaves at his com-mand. So much so that she didn't realize that she was staring at his hardened behind.
"Hey, Kagedansu!" she called, blushing red despite all they'd done with and to each other. "You left the door open!"
In the shower, the large Sekirei turned around to stare back at her.
"Look, if you don't want me to see you clothed," he called back, stretching one muscular arm behind his back to wash his shoulder, "there's a very simple answer for that!"
Uzume blinked. Not the response she'd been expecting. Then again, as she slipped out of her capris, her boyfriend had proved himself full of surprises.
'Boyfriend', she thought, beaming brightly. Kagedansu's my boyfriend. Trying the phrase on for size, just the thought of it filled her with so much joy. She felt liberated by it, like a huge weight had taken leave of her shoulders. In fact, she felt so good that the tingling of her tainted crest was gone. It was intangible to her, sliding off as surely as her pink underwear.
She murmured it to herself, this time out loud, and it wasn't just her; that collection of syllables sounded just as good coming out of her mouth. Stretching out her bust, knowing that the man in the shower was still getting a preemptive eyeful, Uzume ran her fingers through her chocolate-brown locks. Soon enough, her side-tail was freed from its hairband, and joined Kagedansu in the clear glass stall.
She pressed her slippery hourglass form against his exterior, her breasts ballooning across his front ribs as she took hold of him. Her eyes locked onto his, beaming amorous signals between the two of them; contact was broken when her eyes slammed shut as he squeezed her round, supple buttock. She squealed in delight and leapt up to his shoulders, seating herself comfortably around him.
What followed was the longest, filthiest shower she'd ever taken.
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Now clothed once again, Uzume was back in Chiho's room at the hospital. Even now, she still felt a little guilty, and a little dirty, despite a quick stealth-bath at the Inn.
Chiho, alas, was in no condition to object to any smell, but Uzume kept hope alive inside. She supposed that was one thing Hametsu got right about her, the sneaky cu-
"Language, Uzume," she muttered, after realizing she'd been mumbling her thoughts aloud.
The petite blonde still lay comatose in bed, the gentle rise and fall of her chest the sole thing that Uzume found comfort in. Seated beside her, the Sekirei longingly placing a hand on Chiho's cheek. The two exchanged warmth, only one truly feeling it, before Uzume leaned down and gently touched her forehead to Chiho's.
"You were right, Chiho-chan," said Uzume. Without moving her head, she gave the girl a small kiss on the lips. "About everything."
She leaned back, took Chiho's hand and began caressing it.
"For some reason, I thought I'd be cheating on you," she began softly, before chuckling. "Well, I guess I kind of did, but you haven't met Kazehana. She can be pretty convincing when she wants to be. She made me realize what a moron I was for thinking you'd have a problem when you literally told me to be happy."
There she went, rambling on. Chiho couldn't hear her and she was still nervous as all hell.
"And Matsu is-"
The reason I can't get you treated at MBI and bring this horrible nightmare to an end.
"Equally convincing," said The Veil Sekirei, "though she's a little more touchy-gropey, and a little more crazy." She chuckled. "You'd like her."
Through her nose, she sucked in a long breath. Here goes, she thought.
"I finally found someone else. He's almost nothing like you, though. He's loud… smart-mouthed… kind of reckless sometimes… But he's a sweet guy. I thought I was already the luckiest girl alive the day I met you, but now…"
She sighed, sounding more like Kazehana than she would've thought possible, if someone had asked her two days ago.
"Ah, perfect timing, Number Ten."
And that was why this was her least favorite place: not the scenery, not the occupant, not the mediocre dining, but the lousy neighbors. This was one particular afternoon where she really didn't feel like putting up with Higa's crap.
She raised herself up spun around, facing her overseer's errand boy.
"Yeah, what is it?" she asked, as irreverently as she could make it.
Kakizaki's response was to reach into his pocket and pull out a very well-developed, well-lit photograph of Uzume.
Rather, of Uzume outlined by the moonlight against the stars, bending over a railing, naked breasts in the middle of flopping against it, while Kagedansu had her by the wrists and was drawing his hips back for another slam-dunk against her butt.
"There's something we need to discuss," Kakizaki informed her. "I'm afraid it's most urgent."
Uzume's eyes were wide with shock, and horror. How had they found out? How long had she been followed, both that day and throughout her tenure as his assassin? Who could Higa have possibly gotten that could keep up with a Sekirei? No one except another-
Kaiha.
Uzume's hand was around Chiho's bed frame, her grip crushing the metal as she struggled to contain the rancid, boiling fury that was spilling throughout herself. The unknowable toxins of Hametsu's taint returned, no longer blocked by her mind.
"That bitch…"
"Yes, that would be an apt description for her," Kakizaki remarked, nudging his glasses higher on his nose, "but beside the point. The man with you was identified as another Sekirei, Number 67, Kagedansu, self-proclaimed 'Shadow Sekirei'."
"And?" Uzume refused to take her eyes off the floor.
Kakizaki sighed. She was going to be difficult, it seemed. "You and I are well aware of Higa's indifference towards your personal life. What you do on your own time is your own business, so long as you do as you're asked and continue to serve Higa's interests. However, and I'm afraid I must agree with him on this, it seems your personal life is beginning to interfere with your work."
Uzume said nothing, her hand beginning to tremble as it continued to mangle the metal clutched within. In hindsight, Kakizaki should've brought a Sekirei with him, lest Ten do something rash. He resisted the urge to back away; in this close a space, at this particular moment, he was at her mercy, and it wouldn't do to remind her of that.
"You failed to terminate Number 3, twice, and on the second time allowed your identity to be compromised and thus far have made no opportunities to terminate her. Even a phone call while out with her would have sufficed, a chance encounter with some of Higa's Sekirei might not have aroused suspicion."
Uzume continued to say nothing, her cheeks beginning to redden with mounting anger.
"Then, there was Number 9," said Kakizaki, locking his fingers together. "Like Three, you made no attempt to re-engage her after your initial attempt, or coordinate anything with us. We understand that both Three and Nine are single numbers, thus significantly stronger than any other Sekirei you've faced. And there was Six, who interfered with your attack on Nine, likewise understandable as to why you couldn't terminate him."
"Get to the point," Uzume growled through clenched teeth.
"And I will," Kakizaki replied calmly, thankful Uzume hadn't noticed him twitch at her outburst. "You see, these incidents alone wouldn't be as much concern, if not for your failure to terminate Number 95."
"I told you," Uzume hissed, "take her crest or let her leave, she's still out of Higa's hair."
"That's not the point, No. 10," said a voice from the hallway.
Both Kakizaki and Uzume turned to the newcomer, hands in his pockets and dressed in white business attire, accompanied by a nervous, chesty girl of his own. Neither got a good look at her, as she was standing behind him, but she was not the one they needed to address.
"Sir?" asked Uzume's conversation partner.
Higa stepped in, his Sekirei following close, as he looked right into Uzume's eyes. Higa's were like a lizard's: cold-blooded and without sympathy, just silent calculation.
"Each time you've given up," he said, emphasizing the last words, "the target in question has connected back to your personal life. Your second attempt at No. 3 came after she was winged, and after you became familiar with her Ashikabi. You had numerous opportunities to attack No. 9 while she was speaking with her would-be partner, but you retreated and haven't engaged her since. That same Ashikabi, Sahashi, I believe his name was, had a vested interest in No. 95's successful escape, which you aided in."
"And," Higa cut her off before Uzume could speak up, "with two other opponents to occupy him, the most you could deal to No. 67 was a flesh wound. Once more, someone you know."
Uzume's face looked like it was going to morph into a scowl, but her lip began trembling and it turned into a sob. The girl that stood behind Higa peered around his shoulder to see her; her master may have felt nothing for her, but she seemed different, more so from the others.
Higa strode up to her, towering over her as she sat on Chiho's bedside, looking down at her past his nose. "I won't tolerate any more failures," he said sternly. "I believed your lack of trying was due to fear of the targets' power. I see now that you were only using that as an excuse, and that your real reason was that you show sympathy towards them."
Uzume's captor then about-faced away, leaving her somewhere between frustrated, furious and defeated, and stopped as he was about to exit the door.
"Terminate him," Higa said over his shoulder. "Otherwise, find someone else to care for your Ashikabi. Come, Kujou."
And with that, The Ashikabi of the East departed.
Kakizaki stood in his boss's wake, his sight going from the door, to Uzume, then back to the door, then once more to the destitute Sekirei, before departing himself. He told himself that he should check back with Kochou, and see how she was faring against Number 2.
That left Uzume alone, with no one to talk to but her comatose Ashikabi. The brunette said nothing, simply sitting still and stewing in her own despair. What was she supposed to do, refuse Higa's order and have them pull the plug on her Chiho? She could never do that! Even if it didn't mean she'd die, she would never do that to her Ashikabi, not when the last thing Chiho likely experienced was whatever horror Hametsu subjected her to, before he'd shut her inside her own body.
Uzume began to cry, her brow furrowing and her eyes scrunching shut as she wept tears of hopelessness.
"Chiho," she sobbed, exactly as she had in her dream, "I'm sorry."
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It was around 2 PM the first time No. 67 arrived at the Inn. His appearance didn't go unnoticed, but no one came out to greet him. One with knowledge of the Landlady's parameters would've gleaned where at least some of the tenants were, if the sounds from the back were any indication.
"Weee! Over here, Musubi!" called a petite voice.
"All right, here you go, plants!" came another, this one older but about as mature.
"Come now! Our instructions were to wash the walls, not besoil ourselves with the hose!" snapped a third, the only adult present from the sound of things.
"What?" the second voice retorted cheerfully, and obliviously. "We're fine! We've got our bathing suits on!"
"Doing chores doth not encompass spraying water all over thyselves whilst gardening!"
"… But you have a bathing suit…"
"And she's The Water Sekirei!" the first voice chimed in. "She gets wet all the time!"
"I've a mind to remind thee of why I am called thus," growled the third. "If thou art so eager for a bath…"
"Nah, maybe when we're done. Want me to wash your back?"
Tsukiumi's frustrated screech reached Miya just as Kagedansu happened upon her in the kitchen.
"Hello, Kagedansu-san." She gave a slight nod towards her visitor. "You're much later than usual."
"I slept in," replied The Shadow Sekirei, "but I made it, and that's what counts, right?"
"Slept in, hm?" the landlady's smile grew the slightest bit wry. "I wonder what your pupil might say, if he discovered your morning-"
"Indeed", he speedily said, looking like he was just caught trying to quietly fart without anyone hearing it. "Onemustwonder."
Kagedansu was many things, a majority of them nice, but for all his stealth powers-
"You're terrible at hiding things, Kagedansu-san," the landlady remarked with a smile. And given that Uzume had also come home late this morning, in a far better mood than when she had left, the pieces in Miya's mind began falling into place.
"Heyyyeeee." Kagedansu's backpedaling had carried him all the way to the wall as he tapped his empty left wrist. "Would you look at the time? I should really be findingMinatorightaboutnow."
And then he was gone, forgetting that even without Sekirei hearing, anyone could've heard the sigh of relief explode out of his mouth from the hallway.
"Well I'm happy to see his spirits up again," Miya said to herself. The denials, the hasty exits, the just-good-enough excuses, although far less subtle coming from Kagedansu, reminded the widow of how her husband used to act. At least, at first, when Miya had begun to return his gentle touches while he adjusted her, or when she invited him to stay with her past the operations. A Sekirei he may be, but Kagedansu was now exhibiting the signs of a man smitten with a woman.
Takehito… How I wish you could've seen them grow up… Miya gently clasped her hands to her chest. You would have been so happy.
The next few to see Kagedansu were the three ladies out in the back: a child dressed in a cobalt blue one-piece swimsuit, plus two buxom women in bikinis.
"'Scuse me, I was-" The newcomer halted as he averted his eyes from the blonde to the brunette. "Anyone seen Minato?"
"Oh, Minato?" Musubi asked, tugging down on one of the light green triangles covering her modesty. She handed Kusano the hose. "He went inside to wash out the sponges."
"And nearly a half-hour since, he has yet to return" said Tsukiumi, crossing her arms and frowning. "I would hate to think my husband is shirking his responsibilities."
Kusano let out a little "Grrrr, big brotherrrr…" of her own, mirroring Tsukiumi and in the process spraying her with water.
"Ack! Take heed of thy aim, clumsy child!"
Kusano sprayed her again, this time aiming for Tsukiumi's face. The two locked eyes and translucent lightning sparked between them as Kagedansu took another look around the yard. Then he hopped up to the roof, Musubi following close behind.
"What're you looking for?" she asked, then thought for a moment before speaking again. "If you're still looking for Minato, he doesn't come up here very often."
"I have a hunch…" the Shadow Sekirei mused. He then quickly jumped down and got the hose away from Kusano.
"Hey!" the little girl squeaked, before being sprayed with water once more. Then Kagedansu turned the hose on Musubi, nearly causing her to fall over in surprise before she started incessantly giggling. Finally, Kagedansu closed his eyes and gave himself a face-full of water, much to the surprise of Tsukiumi.
"Right," he said, dropping the hose to the ground, water dripping from the tip of his nose. "Now that that's settled, I think I might know where he went."
"Ku, can you go turn off the hose, please?" Musubi asked, one final huff making her enormous chest bounce. Kusano, who had moments before looked ready to cry after being sprayed, grumpily complied, at least satisfied that everyone got what they deserved. Well, everyone except her and Musubi, that is.
Once the spigot had been shut, everyone wiped their feet at the back door and followed Kagedansu upstairs. As they reached the top and proceeded down the hall, Tsukiumi gathered a fairly compelling notion of what Kagedansu was thinking. As they approached Matsu's hidden door, Kagedansu held up a hand and the column halted behind him. Very slowly, he put his ear to the wall and listened. Tsukiumi impatiently wondered why, until she remembered the kinds of things Matsu might be prone to do if she were alone. And, granted, alone she may indeed be.
But if she were, Kagedansu wouldn't have then taken his ear off the wall and gestured for Tsukiumi to proceed instead of him. Which she did, hammering the door around with her hand and getting a full view of her worst nightmare.
They'd found Minato, alright. They'd found him shirtless, on the floor, with a naked Matsu straddling his hips while he had his hands squeezing and twisting her mammaries as lustily as she was panting in response. An equally naked Kazehana had her gigantic breasts flopped down over Minato's eyes, the two women engaged in a game of ring-around-the-rosy with their tongues. Not a kiss, but quite close for Sekirei.
"MINATO!"
Minato bolted upright, the bridge of his nose sliding out from Kazehana's cleavage, followed by the rest of his face as Matsu toppled off of him. "Ts-Tsukiumi!"
"Speaketh not my name, when thou art carrying on with not one but two nude trollops! Didst thou spare a single thought for thy wife?!" she squawed, then whipped a finger down at his fellow cavorters as the raven-haired one stood. "And thou, Kazehana, wert to assist with the chores!"
"So I got a little sidetracked," she teased flirtatiously. "Can you blame a poor girl?"
"I most certainly can!" Tsukiumi fumed. Kagedansu began slowly backing away behind her. Musubi and Kusano were looking at Minato: the former in perplexity, the latter in less wrathful (if not equally jealous) zeal.
Tsukiumi's husband started waving his hands around.
"No, wait, Tsukiumi, I didn't mean t-" He shook his head. "I only came up to put on a dry shirt, and, um-"
"Silence!" she snapped. "Thou hadst thy fingers sunk into Matsu's naked bosom, and with Kazehana's thy vision was filled!"
Tsukiumi clenched her fist in pure, unchained fury. "If thou wishest to see breasts…"
She then clasped her hands beneath her cleavage, squishing her breasts together as she broke eye contact.
"... then why canst thou not stare at mine?"
A stream of indecipherable gobbledygook came tumbling past Minato's lips as he searched for a suitable answer. Tsukiumi was sporting a blush of her own, the corners of her mouth turned down as she felt more than just her husband's eyes on her. But the two who'd started all of this, still entirely without clothes, were eying one another.
Kazehana, still standing behind her hubby, already had a plan coming together. A glance at Matsu told her The Wisdom Sekirei was on the same wavelength.
Making sure to face the wall so Minato's eyes didn't stray towards her boobs (as much as she liked it when he ogled her), Kazehana slid by while he and Tsukiumi continued to have their lovers' stare-down. As she did so, Matsu motioned to Kagedansu with her hand, a signal that he caught from behind Tsukiumi.
"Right. Whenever you're ready, Minato," he said, walking backwards and hooking the shoulders of Musubi and Kusano. "Come on, troops."
"What? Why?" Musubi asked, though she came along well enough. Ku yipped in protest but was powerless to resist.
This left Kazehana and Matsu free to enact their plan. By now, Kazehana had slid behind Tsukiumi, who was too busy glaring accusingly at Minato to take notice. Matsu kept her eyes firmly on Minato's wonderful hands, tracking their movement as Minato continued to try (and fail) to find his words.
Time seemed to slow for Matsu, a sly grin stretching her ruby lips. As Minato's hands neared alignment, she raised a hand to his back, just below his shoulder blades. Kazehana had finally gotten behind Tsukiumi, and Matsu's movement gave the green light.
Kazehana smiled. "Why stop there?" she asked, before reaching around, grabbing the front of Tsukiumi's bikini top, and yanking it down.
Minato's hands sprang to life in surprise, just as Matsu had predicted. Factoring in distance, timing, and the variables involved in a human body's sudden forward acceleration, a firm push sent Minato towards his self-proclaimed wife.
And landed his hands in perfect squeezing-position on Tsukiumi's tits.
Both Minato and his bikini-clad blonde had their faces fill with red like thermometers; Kazehana and Matsu could practically see the steam rising from them. Small tremors began resonating through Tsukiumi's head and neck, causing her breasts to jiggle in Minato's hands. Minato looked like he'd entered a dungeon chamber only to find a mountain of goodies inside: did he proceed or get out while he still could?
Whatever his choice, Kazehana had faith that he'd make a good one.
"I'll finish changing," she said as she passed the pair of paralyzed persons. "Have fun, Tsukiumi."
Satisfied by their handiwork, Matsu and Kazehana retreated into their respective rooms, waiting either for the yelling to resume or the blue lights to appear.
Downstairs, Musubi agreed that Ku raised a good point: why doesn't Minato stare at Ku's chest like he does everyone else's? Kagedansu washed his hands of the discussion despite Musubi's insistence that he clue them in. After all, Minato didn't stare at his chest, either, and Kagedansu didn't seem to mind. So what was the problem with Ku?
"He just doesn't, okay?" the large Sekirei said.
"But whyyyeee?" Kusano whined.
Kagedansu sighed. "'Cause you're too young, Ku. Give it a few years."
"I-am-not!" she protested.
"Ah boy, here we go…" he muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Everyone is always saying I'm too little to know anything!" The Green Girl squeaked. Why can't I?! Why can't Big Brother look at Ku's chest?!"
"How to put this…" Kagedansu pressed his index fingers to the underside of his chin.
"I always thought it's to show that he loves us," Musubi said, prodding her milky flesh with her finger. "That's what Kazehana said, anyway."
"Weeeelllll…" Kagedansu scratched the back of his head and gave a slow shrug. "She wasn't wrong…"
"So why doesn't Big Brother stare at me?!" Ku demanded.
"Because if Minato did whatever you guys are probably talking about," another youthful, feminine voice chimed in, "either Tsukiumi or Miya would kill him, literally."
The trio looked down the hallway to see the penultimate tenant of the Inn stepping through the front door.
"Uzume," Kagedansu said, a slight nod towards her.
"Hey, Kagedansu," she said, a small bit of bashfulness in her cheeks, before diverting her attention to Musubi and Ku. "You guys doing something outside?"
Musubi nodded. "We're washing the back wall. Tsukiumi was helping us, but she's still upstairs talking to Minato."
At that moment, a blue light began shining down the stairwell, and everyone's Sekirei hearing picked up muffled moans.
"Of course she is," Uzume and Kagedansu sarcastically said simultaneously. The two then looked at each other for a moment, then shared a chortle.
"I was actually going to help out, since Minato is otherwise engaged," Kagedansu said. A twinkle entered his eye as he snuck a none-too-subtle glance at Uzume's boobs. "You should join us."
Uzume's eyes shifted over to Musubi, wearing a bikini that was fighting for its life against the bubbly brunette's well-filled endowments, and had to wonder just when, exactly, this idea to volunteer had entered his head.
"I actually need your help with something," she said, readdressing Kagedansu.
"We'll help!" Musubi and Ku's hands shot in the air.
"I thought you were already busy," Kagedansu noted.
"We'll multitask!" Musubi declared.
Uzume smiled and shook her head. "Sorry, guys, but I need someone who's a little more… sneaky."
"I can be sneaky!"
"Me too!" Ku added.
"Yeah," Kagedansu lied, "but are you this sneaky?!" With that, Kagedansu vanished, but not entirely, as they could still make out his silhouette. He ducked his head and jumped over them, taking flight from the back door and disappearing from view.
"That's not sneaky!" Musubi called after him, before chasing after him. "I can still find you!"
"Wait for me!" Ku shouted. Musubi stopped to lift Ku into her arms, as the little girl wasn't strong enough to jump around the rooftops like her older sister Sekirei. Ku hugged herself to Musubi as No. 88, still wearing her tight-fitting bikini, took off in the direction he'd gone.
Uzume sighed. It seemed she'd have to go off and find him now, too. She consoled herself that now, if she were to run into him as The Veiled Sekirei, it would be better than her initial plan. She spun around to leave-
And ran smack into Kagedansu: standing behind her, arms crossed, gigantic shit-eating grin on his face.
"How's that?" he asked.
Uzume looked over her shoulder, then towards him again, her brain trying to process what just happened. "How did… How?"
"Through the air, I am He-That-Walks-Unseen," he quoted in English. "It's what I do."
Uzume nodded, beckoning him to follow her. After this was finished, what she would probably do is throw up.
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"So, what's this thing you need my help with?" he asked as they touched down on yet another roof. "Because I didn't know we'd be heading this far west."
"I, well…" Truth be told, Uzume hadn't quite thought this through. She'd just needed some way to get Kagedansu and herself out of the house, away from the rest of Izumo Inn, and away from Higa.
"Yeah?" Kagedansu asked, as he neared her in his arc of flight. "You, well, what?"
Uzume landed and turned to face him. She hung her head, more so because she couldn't bear to look at him for what she was about to do. "I… Can't find my Ashikabi."
Silence from him.
Uzume kept her head low, her face hidden. She'd spent weeks gaining his trust. He'd trusted her to see him safely home, knowing that second sake shot would probably knock him out. He'd accepted her offer to sleep in her room and the thought never once crossed his mind that she'd try to terminate him. He'd passed out drunk with three other Sekirei present and he'd trusted all of them to leave his crest be.
If there was one Sekirei naïve enough to buy a bald-faced lie like hers, it was No. 67, Kagedansu.
"Hmmmm…" he mused, raising his hands up out of Uzume's sight. She kept still, though her nerves were frying faster than a fly in a bug zapper. In a moment, he walked past her, out of her sight, and through the wind his footfalls continued for another few steps. Then, they stopped. And they remained stopped for a while.
It was only when Uzume remembered how easily he'd snuck up on her that she spun around. Kagedansu was standing on the edge of the roof, the back of his gi fallen down just enough to reveal a piece of his crest. He had one hand on his hip, the other above his brow like he'd just snapped a salute.
"What's he look like again?" asked The Shadow Sekirei.
Smack.
As if his faith wasn't enough, he was taking his trust to puppy-dog levels. Might as well have been a slap in the face, as far as Uzume was concerned.
"It's a she, actually," Uzume said, forcing herself to smile.
Kagedansu swung around to gawk at her. His eyes rolled up, then sideways, then this way, then that, his eyebrows also going this way, then that, in ways Uzume hadn't thought eyebrows could move.
"Wait-… Then-… So you…" Kagedansu lowered his arms. "What the hell were you doing with me, then?"
Still forcing herself to smile, Uzume said, "What? I'm flexible." She leaned forward seductively. "You of all people should know that, Kagedansu."
He nodded. "That I do. So, what's she look like, then?"
Uzume walked over beside him. "She's a little shorter than me, with long blonde hair and probably wearing a pink hat." If her old photos are still up-to-date, Uzume silently added. "She's 15."
"And where'd you last see her?"
"I already checked there," Uzume lied. "I don't know where she might've gone. She likes to shop around here, but there's a lot of stores to cover."
"Right," said Kagedansu. "I got it: I'll stay up here and keep watch for a bit, see if she comes out anywhere. Meanwhile, you go down and start checking the shops, on our side of the street in case she comes out. Meet back in-"
"A half-hour," Uzume finished for him. When she caught his frown of disbelief, she added, "What? Us girls like to look at things before we buy."
He grumbled some sarcastic question about boys not doing the same, then swept an arm past her. "Your show, you're the boss."
The brunette Sekirei nodded and hopped down, falling three stories before landing amidst the stupefied civilians. She then dashed down a nearby drive, moving between the buildings past where Kagedansu stood. She had a half-hour, to make sure there were no other Sekirei around and to stash her clothes. After that, it would be time for The Veiled Sekirei to claim her next victim.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Uzume swept the area for miles around, sticking to the ground and hiding behind skyscrapers where she could. It seemed Sanada Nishi was somewhere else today: none of those kids he rode with were fooling around anywhere.
She made sure to check back frequently, to make sure Kagedansu hadn't wandered off or otherwise abandoned his post. Not that he'd just ditch her out of the blue, he was too sweet a guy, but if another Sekirei got past Uzume or Kagedansu thought he saw Chiho…
Well, if he does see Chiho, then either I finally get that miracle or-
She stopped herself. He was a nightmare she didn't want to think about, not when there was enough on her mind already.
When at last her time ran out, the brunette tossed away her belly top and jeans, her white veils encircling her once again. Approaching from the east, The Veiled Sekirei soared from a nearby apartment complex and landed opposite her target. He had his back to her, surveying the street below.
"Sixty-Seven," she said. The Shadow Sekirei looked over his shoulder, meeting her gaze through the pale cloth that shrouded her face.
Again, his response was silence. He merely turned to face her, his yellow eyes narrowing slightly as he looked her down and up.
"You already know my number," he said, spreading his knees, "but I still don't know yours."
"Ten," was all she said. He'd forgotten, or misheard, that time Number 101 had mentioned her number. It seemed like another lifetime, that battle for ownership of The Fire Sekirei.
"Oh, yeah," he said, recalling now. He raised his fists, then opened his fingers slightly. "You got a name to go with that number?"
"No," she said.
Her opponent shrugged, his contemptuous look remaining. "Of course not."
She was wary of the blinding speed at which he could move, meaning she was already strafing to the side as he rushed her. Their feet touched the ground at the same time, and they repeated their movement, Sixty-Seven dancing on the edge of the roof as The Veiled One circled inward. She shot a white harpoon at him, anticipating his next charge, but likewise he'd already shifted tactics. His leap was half as long as the previous two, more like a step, and his next step carried him to the side.
Here was where he lunged, with a right-cross like a comet careening towards her face. The assassin bobbed under it, her veils fluttering from the wind of its passage and closing around his wrist. She tried to use his momentum to pull him onto a congealing spike, but his arm locked and refused to budge. So instead she launched the spike point-blank. One hand unbound, he merely slapped it aside.
The Veiled Sekirei started a little, at how casually he'd done that. A duck, a turn-aside, maybe trapping it under his arm, but she never expected something so… cold.
The split-second lapse in her rhythm gave him the advantage. Using his bound hand, he swung it between them and turned them back-to-back. His elbow met her in the back of her head, stunning her and causing her veils to loosen up. But he wasn't done yet, it seemed, for he took her by the wrist with his now-free hand and yanked them back around, his leg following with a vicious roundhouse kick to her hip.
The pain shooting through The Veiled One's right side was enough to shatter her stupor. When 67 drew back to kick her in the front, not even resetting his leg before doing so, she swept a veil around like a mace and chain to take his other foot out from under him. Her white servants formed another drill-like point at her hand, but her prone foe corkscrewed himself to kick it away.
Tucking his knee to his chest, The Shadow Sekirei swept himself to his feet. The Veiled Sekirei met him with a tangled maelstrom of flapping white, not giving him an opening to attack. Against the swirling vortex of death, he backed up. It was slow, as he kept both feet on the ground, but The Shadow Sekirei was definitely retreating. The white-clad monster advanced a step, then another, subtly closing the distance between them, two tendrils detaching from her back and stealthily winding down to her hips.
The back of his ankle touched the rim of the rooftop, and she almost lashed out, but held on to her ace.
And it was good that she did, because like the hair-trigger on a rifle he went off, leaping back to the next rooftop and engaging his active camouflage. She never let her eyes leave him, following his shimmering silhouette through the air. He touched down behind a large ventilation shaft, on the sunny-side, and was out of her view. She landed in front of it, having aimed to keep herself out of his reach.
She kept her distance, allowing him to make the next move. Moments passed. Nothing happened. He couldn't have gone down it, the duct would've been opened in front of her eyes. The urge to charge was fought back; patience was something she knew 67 more than possessed. Or, at least, once upon a time.
Warily, her veils snaked along the sides of the vent unit, hugging it, looking like some invisible hand was dragging a paintbrush across the metal. Right as it reached the corner, the tendrils snapped shut around the final side and crushed the shaft like a soda can.
No scream, no resistance, no body. The Shadow Sekirei had somehow slipped away.
The crumbling concrete alerted her. 67 had pushed off the opposite lip of the roof. He must have fled in a straight line away from her, using the vent to hide his body. The ambient sounds of the city, as he demonstrated at the Inn, were more than enough to hide his footfalls.
And now he was rocketing towards her, needing only one step to correct his course.
He was too slow; the veiled mercenary greeted him with a wall of thorns. A second step was taken on his part: to roll down beneath, then up, smashing a fist into her abdomen. Number 10 had only a shred of warning and in twisting her body aside, she got away with a shot to the underside of her ribs.
God damn did it hurt! If this was the price to avoid a gory hole punched through her guts, it almost didn't seem worth it! The Veiled One doubled over, rolling back as he swung again, the morning star of his fist whooshing over her head. The wind of its passage caused her shroud to come loose, and as she finished her back-roll, she paused a moment to readjust it.
Now, from half-a-dozen meters away, her opponent was eying her, the windows to his soul narrow as the wheels in his head started turning. He lowered his hands but kept his legs bent, his reaction time more than enough to evade at medium range. The Veil was grateful for the respite, though she could never let her opponent know that.
Now he was slowly raising his hands again, his fingers opened instead of their usual closed fists. An idea had breached his braincase, and The Veiled Sekirei had to wonder just what kind of scheme her yellow-eyed adversary had.
He charged, hopping from one foot to the other in a zigzag, too rapidly to attack him. Instead she gave him the red carpet treatment, two veils unrolling from her hip on either side of his path. To her bewilderment, he didn't alter course. The edges of the non-existent carpet chased him from their tips, snaking towards his back and hardening into rectangular blades.
But that still left her open, as she ducked a quick one-two swipe before he whirled away, his hand clawing for her face. She danced opposite, though his fingers still hooked on her veil and would've pulled it off. She was thankful that her weapons left her hands free for more mundane things, those same weapons chasing him down. He jumped forward between them and ran his fingers along the sides, clamping around where the cleavers ended and the softness began.
So gripped, he pulled her towards him, turning sideways. She was quicker, her high-heeled stiletto catching him in the right arm. He winced, and she flicked her leg to toe-kick him in the jaw. He tried for an upward open-palm to her face, but she swayed aside. Though doing so almost gave her away, as his fingertips nicked the edge of the veil that hid her face.
It was like this that her veils caught him like a boa constrictor, wrapping around his body as he wriggled and writhed to break free. His elbows jutted out and his knees did so as well, but the most they did was allow him to breathe. He looked like an embalmed corpse: all that were missing were the ankhs and scarabs. He'd need them, because it was time to end this.
Through force of her will, the white that trapped him forced him around, his arms and legs still pushing against his cocoon. The deadly bandages parted around his back, a quick slice from another tendril opening his gi and exposing his black crest. She reached out to touch it-
And the next thing she knew she was staring at 67's chin, his limbs now wrapped tight and his torso having spun 180-degrees to face her. And then she was taking a vicious headbutt to her hairline, sending her senses reeling. She felt something snag on to her cover and pull on it, still aware enough to keep hold. Through the haze, she saw the gold-capped shape tear free of its bindings, then taking two of them and tangling them together.
Sufficiently tangled, it grabbed the mess and swung her around. She came around just in time to feel herself crash to a wall.
She slid off, and fell, down to the filthy alley below. Suddenly she stopped, the whiplash from halting so suddenly shoving an ache into her neck, and making her injured ribs whine in pain. She saw the cause of it: her foe hadn't just tangled those tendrils, but tied them into a knot, and it was caught on the corner of the stone rooftop above.
She quickly swung herself around, and good thing, for she barely missed her enemy's double-footed flying-stomp. He landed amongst a few startled civilians, who were already starting to panic and flee. Time seemed to slow as he careened past, his two yellow orbs catching the tendrils that were snaking down her legs. Through her hooded gaze, she saw his flailing hand swiping at her veil, but she moved her head back in time.
Her veil.
That's what he was after.
That white shroud, thanks to the MBI satellites, was her only shield against The Discipline Squad. She'd been lucky, when Kazehana had unmasked her, that Minaka hadn't been looking for The Veiled Sekirei yet. If she lost her fluttering mask in the open again, she might as well take her own crest, save them the trouble.
Twisting her body towards the wall, shielding her face from his gaze below, The White One hoisted herself to the ledge. Ducking out of his sight, she pulled the knot to herself and examined it. No doubt about it: that was a fine mess he'd made of it; she was surprised he hadn't tied up his hands in this tangled hedge.
Her only recourse was to cut it loose, quite literally. She did her best to make a clean slice, but cloth-on-cloth, even while hard, didn't yield the neatest of slices. She inhaled, closing her eyes as her ribs groaned in agony, and prepared to rejoin him below.
That was when she felt a hand grab the top of her veil along with a handful of her hair.
Instantly her hands clamped around her skull, his overwhelming strength nearly pulling her off her feet.
Under his breath, his low baritone next to her ear, he snarled, "This is for all the others, you bitch."
Another fist smashed into her previously uninjured ribs. The Veiled One hacked a cough as the air was shocked from her lung. Then that fist hit her again, and again, and again and again as she struggled to breathe. Her opponent wouldn't let her: each time she gasped for air he only struck her harder.
She tossed and turned but his hands wouldn't budge, beating on her ribcage like an upside-down meat carcass. It was then that she realized: he didn't care about the veil. He didn't care why she wore it or what it might hide. All he needed to know, it seemed, was that she would focus her efforts on protecting it if he tried to take it off. Because now that he had her, he was content to pulverize her lung until she drowned in its liquefied remains.
It was time.
The white strips she had tucked away on her back unleashed their rage upon their mistress's attacker, slashing his gi to ribbons and tearing at the skin on his chest and arms. She couldn't see; she didn't have to see. All she needed to know was that her target was behind her, and he was standing still.
She felt the fist that held her shroud begin to tug harder. The tendrils that tore at his top now circled his waist; more descended from her legs to continue their butchery. Her white cross-top ascended from her neck to trap 67's arm, ensuring that he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to.
A palm slammed into her back, right between her shoulder blades. It was the hardest she'd ever been hit: harder, even, than the shots to her ribs. The shock from it caused her entire body to seize or a moment along with her weapons, and the hand continued to drive into her until she'd been shoved away.
Uzume stumbled forward, eyes closed as the vertigo pummeled her full-force, a cool sensation cast about her head and chest. At first, she thought it was leftover shock messing with her senses, but as she saw her veils swaying around her arms and legs, she realized what she was feeling was a breeze.
He vision cleared fully and she squinted as the sun's rays hit her eyes, unfiltered by her veil.
"Oh no." She spoke her thoughts aloud.
Her breathing was ragged; The Now-Unveiled Sekirei hoped her lung hadn't collapsed. Awkwardly, but nevertheless wary, she about-faced towards her enemy.
Kagedansu merely stood there, bleeding bright red from the deep gashes in his chest. His shoulders were slack, his eyes wide in horrified disbelief, the veil in his right hand fluttering between his lax fingers before slipping free and blowing away in the wind. Those same yellow eyes followed it as it departed the rooftop, before swinging back to stare at her.
"No…"
The unveiled Uzume remained unmoved as Kagedansu raised his hand to his face and looked at it. He mouthed words, but from how little his lips moved, Uzume couldn't tell if they were Japanese or English.
She allowed him this; the more time he wasted on wrapping his brain around this whole thing, the more time she had to recover.
"Why?" he whispered. "Uzume… Why would you do something like this?"
"Sekirei fight until there's only one," she retorted harshly. "That's the name of the game, isn't it?"
Kagedansu began to tear up; his lip started to tremble.
"You're right," he admitted, his voice shaking. "It is."
The big man sunk to his knees, arms hanging by his side.
What's he playing at now? Uzume thought.
The blood on his chest was mixing with the tears dripping from his jaw. She locked her chocolate-brown eyes with his own luminous yellow. Her ironclad stare was met with a pink-eyed look of complete and total anguish, not a shred of hostility left. It was completely gone.
Uzume felt a small clench welling up in her throat. One side of her lip twitched. She couldn't show weakness. This wasn't the first Sekirei who'd given her that look; she never let it get to her.
Kagedansu's throat muscles shifted as he choked back a sob. "Go on…" He nodded over his shoulder. "Do it."
The Sekirei that was once veiled blinked, trying to shut out those eyes that were boring straight through her heart. It didn't work: as soon as she could see again, Kagedansu's sad stare of surrender remained.
I have to, she told herself. For Chiho's sake.
She took a step forward. It felt like someone had shackled cinderblocks to her feet.
It's either him or Chiho. What choice do I have?
That was when her beloved Chiho's visage repeated those same fateful words in her mind.
No one can have just one person in their life.
She shook her head, but that feeling in her throat had risen to her face, and the tension was leaking down her cheeks from her eyes.
Be strong, Uzume, she told herself. You can do this. You ca-… You have to do this.
Those two eyes of his were nearly shut with despair, as he let out one, final, mournful scream.
"DO IIIIIIIIT!"
