Now dudes and dudettes, here's the next one. Since I wrote some of this before the 4th I was able to update double-mega-ultra, super-style quick...sorta...well not really but faster then I would have otherwise, that is to say I would have updated faster was I not having problems with the third chapter of my Rosario + Vampire fic, so I'm now delayed heavily and writing this to try and help with that.
The next chapter of this however may be a fortnight or so due to my wish to work on some other fics. Most especially my Rosario + Vampire fanfic, and the berserk fic that I still haven't finished chapter one of...and the twenty or so others that...lots to do XD
Fifth Feather
Her heart was pounding, a pulse no battle had ever drawn out. Hands shaking more then a spar with Miya, then a thousand spars against Miya could hope to evoke. She tried to swallow but her throat was dry. Tried to form water to cool it, a few drops all she managed before he brushed against her again.
He wasn't even touching her yet, but already her husband might as well be setting her on fire. She was certain they were somewhere, something was happening and-and-and-
All she could fit in her thoughts was her beloved. About to lay soothing hands to her skin, to quell this ache. She longed for it, his scent, his breathing, his form, the rustle of his clothes. He filled her senses completely. Her dignity would be abandoned soon, she knew it. If he did not hurry then even she would beg, Minato the only thing for which she would let go of her treasured pride. Why were his hands not already upon her?
Yet even as she so longed for his touch she dreaded it with almost equal fervour.
Almost.
How could she hope to survive it, yes he had winged her. More then once he had put his lips to her own but...still, thi-this felt so much more...intimate.
Always before it had been her own task, her own hands, her own will doing it. Though she trusted him with her very being she still flinched from giving herself to him so. On some level she feared to grant him even more of herself, on another she longed to be his no matter the cost...
Though when she thought of it that way it was no true conflict. For every part he had of her she had one of him, both keeping the other's in the safest part of their hearts. Preserving, safekeeping, treasuring. He had not changed her, his power over her remaining unused, she knew somehow that it was no longer even there, the mystical portion at least long dissolved. As to her feelings he would sooner pull out his own heart then force changes to hers...
So why worry so. Why was she fretting, she should instead be delirious with her joy. She was to feel what she had longed for. This was a unbelievably fortuitous happening, well worth the pain entailed.
It was as though he had been waiting for her to arrive at this peaceful conclusion, his careful preparations finished in the same breath that she relaxed. He was even closer now, she could not even focus on all of him at once, she inhaled a few times then nodded to herself (and though Minato was wise enough not to comment on the cute action, her nod was external also) and felt ready.
"Husband...Y-you may begin."
But my dear and treasured readers. Kind purveyors of my humble tale. Noble watchers and listeners to the tales of these lives. This is not the time, we get ahead of ourselves, our tails before our heads and our guts before our brains.
We cannot hope to understand these events if we are to skip ahead. To skim the beginnings, to leap over the happenings and simply view those of their consequences we deem most interesting. We must remember, on a journey of a thousand steps. No matter how wondrous and vital the destination, each step must be given its proper due. Respected for the key piece it is.
With these words in mind I am afraid we must retreat from the heady ending, falling back to the beginnings of a rather normal day...
Well as normal as a day can get when the presence of eight beautiful women, each possessed of otherworldly powers and physiques, is one of the parts of your life you consider (wondrously) everyday.
That is to say not normal at all, somewhat insane by normal standards. Ridiculous in fact.
So let me tell you a ridiculous tale.
It was a reasonably normal morning at Izumo Inn, no seriously it was. Minato slept alone (for once) in his bed, the threatening presence of a certain landlady keeping it that way. Of course whether Minato himself really preferred this set-up was up for debate. Whether his eight young Sekirei preferred it didn't qualify as a question in the first place.
Hence why Tsukiumi found herself walking half asleep out of her room, a scowl on her face despite the early hour. Ever since the she had been winged the proud woman had struggled to sleep anything like as well as she used to. Her rest at the same time far better -when she slept with her Ashikabi- and far worse -when she slept without him- her ability to deal with mornings therefore shrinking in direct correlation with how often she slept in his room.
It had been a week, as such I'm afraid we cannot currently follow her thoughts, we have a rating limitation to stick to.
Suffice it to say that Tsukiumi was angry at the world, her half awake mind unable to muster the energy to be embarrassed at the tide of profanity washing through her mind. She scowled at the door to the bathroom, scowled at Haihane (garnering no reaction, mainly due to the Clawed Sekirei being fully asleep still, a line of drool and bubble at her nose attesting to her sleepwalking) as the other girl stumbled past her. Scowled at Matsu through the door as she waited to perform her morning rituals.
When she finally got into the room she scowled at her face in the mirror, then waved her hands absently before her for a moment. A deep breath and she plunged her face into the ball of water that floated before her, the cold shocking her awake.
'of a whor-!'
The trailing end of her thoughts took her by surprise, a deep blush spreading across her face as she hoped that she had not been muttering to herself as well. Such vulgarity was entirely undignified for one such as her, even if it was a little justified seeing as she had been denied her own husband's bed for an entire week.
She did start muttering at that, her low words attesting to the unjust tyranny of Miya-sama and the strain upon her heart that sleeping alone granted and not least the difficulties of sharing a room with Musubi and Haihane both of whom were restless sleepers, indeed without Minato's calming presence she often woke up in some strange combination of submission hold and erotic position as the two girls dreamt of their two largest interests.
These mutterings were rendered too incomprehensible to be worth transcribing by their source continuing to wash, brush, gargle, rinse and so forth as she spoke them. Then she went to attend to another aspect of morning cleansing and well...I don't think we need to have a description of that, do you? I mean a narrator should try to capture as much as possible but...
Moving on, Tsukiumi left the bathroom much refreshed, ready to face the day with her usual indomitable spirit, even getting down to breakfast and finding that it was Akitsu who sat beside Minato today did not dull her spirits. Though that meant she still had four days before it was once more her turn. Such minor matters would not hinder her spirit.
She took her seat and ate with a fierce, slightly worrying, determination. Attacking her food as f she had a personal grudge against it, heedless of the others slowly stopping their own meal, one after another, instead staring at her one woman war on...food?
It was not until she had finished her meal that she looked up and found the rest of those at the table to be staring at her. Even her blush at the attention was angry, rising in a sharp movement that made Minato jump.
"Your food is growing cold, you should focus your attentions on your own meals."
With that the water mistress turned on a heel and strode from the room, sparing no time in her march back to her room. Changing quickly she set about attacking her chores...almost literally.
Blasting water at every remotely dirty surface in the bath, Tsukiumi took half the normal time to get the room sparkling brightly, perhaps a little too brightly as her overzealous water jets had almost damaged the surfaces they aimed at. However the room was cleaned and there was no damage so that was that and it was time for the next tas-
bumsploooosh
Had she not been standing exactly where she was Tsukiumi might have commented that 'bumsploosh' was the particular sound made by an ageing water pipe, one of it's weaker joints exposed near it's entrance to a bath, that had just been blasted with an almost industrial strength water jet, finally succumbing to natural forces, bursting and spraying a powerful stream of hot water into an exact spot on the opposite wall.
Since she happened to be standing in that exact spot Tsukiumi's thought went more like; 'Wha-! Arrghh! Hot, ow ow! I'm slipping! Ouch, urgh!' 'urgh' being the sound your thoughts make when a high pressure stream of hot water slams you into a wall while you're wearing a maid outfit, 'Blub, blub. How do I turn this damn thing off!'
This was the point where she remembered her own abilities and promptly diverted the water jet out the window, gathering the moisture from about the room and sending I the same way, so leaving the room just as clean as before the burst pipe. There wasn't even a mark where she'd hit the wall so surely Ooya-sama wouldn't be too angry at her-
"Tsukiumi-san."
The whisper ('right behind me, how does she do that!') chilled Tsukiumi's spine, making her shiver even as she turned around to see the usual fear induced hallucination of a massive Hanya mask. She wondered -with the corner of her brain too stubborn to shut down even at this level of gut melting fear- if there was some trick of Miya's that created that particular shape, it did seem too consistent to be a hallucina-
It is definitely because of her almost bladder-controlling fear that Tsukiumi stopped poking holes in the easy explanation of the floating mask as a fear-induced hallucination. Which is fortunate as continuing to ponder it might have scared the narrator into his own hallucinations, embarrassing ones involving those present who aren't inhumanly terrifying. Like Tsukiumi.
Her thoughts cut off by some strange impulse, Tsukiumi meekly accepted the tools that Miya thrust her way, resigned to spending the next few hours puzzling out how to fix the pipe she had broken, all the while holding the water in the right place with her powers.
When noon rolled past and lunch came upon the Inn Tsukiumi found herself the only one with a chore still undone for the day, her labours to fix the bath having exhausted her (holding water so delicately inside the pipe for so long had been harder then expected), and dirtied the bath. Meaning she had needed to clean it again after that and had only begun her other chores an hour ago.
Though her bubbling rage had hardly faded she kept it under far better control during the second meal of the day. Though she still snapped at anyone who tried to bring her into the conversation she did at least eat with something close to calm, no longer holding a grudge against her meal.
Once she finished eating Tsukiumi wasted little time on pleasantries, bustling outside and attending to her final task. Pruning a particularly vicious, decorative plant. It hid among several equally beautiful flowers, unfortunately this one possessed wicked thorns and an awkward position, anyone pruning it having to contort themselves around the rest of the flowers, damage to any of which would summon the wrath of Miya and Kusano.
The youngest of Minato's Sekirei normally took care of any plant related chores, however this particular one had given her a nasty cut when she accidentally made it grow, the wound enough to keep her avoiding it weeks afterwards. So instead Tsukiumi found herself with a pair of clippers, wishing she had the space to just make a nice water blade.
'So slow!'
Feet braced awkwardly in almost the only bare earth available Tsukiumi cursed quietly to herself, wondering what on earth was making her day go so badly, vaguely hoping that it might be the run up to something really good happening, like Minato kissing her, or Miya changing her position on premarital intercourse.
"Ah, well I don't really think any of us are ready for that just yet." said a quiet voice near the house, the gently masculine tone telling her that her that not only had she voiced her thoughts but the worst person possible had heard them.
Whirling to berate him for sneaking up on her, she succeeded in changing the subject. Though hardly the way she had been trying to.
The distraction instead came from her tripping over her own feet, even her inhuman grace unable to keep her awkward stance balanced through a sudden turn. Tumbling messily, right into the plant she had been pruning.
No matter how tough a Sekirei is still not invulnerable. Something testified to by the trio of long thorns that sunk into her leg a few inches above her knee, then tore back out leaving a surprisingly large wound in their path. Trying in vain to get back out without further hurting herself she was rather glad when her Ashikabi's arms came around her, Minato lifting her with surprising strength -for a human- out of her sprawled position. Carefully ignoring her exposed undergarments as he did so.
Pride would dictate that she tear free of his arms the instant she was capable, the wonderful warm sensation his touch sent through her overruled that idea. Instead Tsukiumi snuggled deeper into his careful hold barely remembering to feign indifference when he placed her down. She opened her eyes, which had slid shut instinctively when she found herself in his hold, and found her focus drawn not to her bleeding leg but to what lay at the start of the blood trail. A bed of flowers, trampled down by Minato when he retrieved her.
Following her eyes the peaceful young man drew her gaze with one of his smiles, saying simply, "I'm sure Ku-chan and Miya-sama will understand." Averting her face to hide her blush (badly) Tsukiumi was therefore highly surprised when a male hand brushed across her leg, sweeping her coat out of the way.
'H-h-h-h-h-h-he-he-he's! Wh-wh-wh-wha-what d-d-do I d-'
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, desperately trying to control her breathing, struggling not to simply faint, Minato oblivious beside her.
Minato had been worried about Tsukiumi all day, she seemed in an especially fowl mood, for no discernible reason. He'd analysed every moment of the last few days, asked everyone yet all he could come up with was that she was feeling grumpy...because. Musubi had even volunteered -with her usual oblivious cheer- that she was not on her period. Then just as brightly asked if there was any possibility of it being the start of pregnancy, her bear aura appearing almost as quickly as the rest of his Sekirei (excluding Tsukiumi) had pounced on the conversation.
That mess had taken a while to sort out.
Nevertheless he had been worried and her behaviour when he came to confront her, the mere fact she had not noticed him arriving, just worried him more. Then she had compounded the whole thing by falling over, he had been frantic with worry rushing to her side fearful of some terrible disease capable of inflicting itself even on Sekirei.
He had been deeply shocked to realise that she had simply fallen, the idea that she was even able to fall had not occurred to him. Though it was rather easier to link it to the crumpled girl he had picked off the ground. Her eyes tight shut, teardrops at their corners showing her frustration at the day. Minato carefully put her on the wooden decking around the house, rushing to grab a first aid kit, returning just in time to see her eyeing the damage his 'rescue' had done to the flowers. A flex of guilt coiling when he realised how upset Kusano was likely to be. Apprehension at Miya's response coming a little slower.
He smiled at her, assuring her that it would be fine though he himself wasn't too sure of that. Rather then dwell on that he chose to lift her long outer coat off of her leg, the garment obscuring the wound that gushed blood onto the planking.
Pushing back his fears Minato set to preparing what he would need for cleaning the wound, trying his hardest to ignore the whimpers and flinches she made when he had yet to even touch her. He grabbed antiseptic (knowing how easily thorn wounds became infected, knowing her immune system still wasn't invulnerable) and dressings, a few paper stitches ready for as soon as he got the blood and dirt cleaned away.
Even as he finished with that task her feeble movements stilled, her body calming and her mind finally relaxing after a day of tense frustration. That letting him in just enough to sense her mind calming also. Her voice surprised him a little, her normal tones of calm and confidence ringing for the first time that day.
"Husband...Y-you may begin."
Smiling a little at her formality even now, Minato wiped a damp cloth across the wound several times, finding that her body had already stemmed a good portion of the bleeding. He was careful to ignore how much she shook with each pass of his hand, he doubted she would appreciate being soothed...with words at least.
On impulse he lowered his head and gently pressed his lips to her torn skin. Laying a kiss on her wound, ignoring the metallic taste and instead channelling his feelings into tha-
The pain is distant, unimportant compared to the bliss that is his touch; her chastity slipping into her beloved husbands hands, right where she wanted it to be.
As if the rush of of-what-is-mine-but-not-of-me thoughts (the strangeness of feeling the unique print of another's mind never really faded for him) wasn't enough. The set of wings of light that spread from her back confirmed -firmly- that saliva to blood was enough of a DNA exchange for her to Wing.
They stared at each other in utter and complete mortification. Embarrassed tears forming in blue eyes, Tsukiumi caught between the desire to shake him or kiss him or something, the blonde girl wishing desperately that he had plucked (almost) any other thought from her mind. Minato trying to defuse the tension and reassure her- wait! He had felt an echo in that thought and that normally only happened when he was linking to more tha-
When seven Sekirei -who had just had a very, very, very incriminating chain of thought accidentally broadcast into their minds- of varying size, shape and temperament but constant enthusiasm, tackled Minato in a great pile. The young man barely catching sight of Tsukiumi's leg, the wound healed by his unwittingly directed energies. Then he was caught up in a eight perso- no nine person, Tsukiumi just dived in. A nine-person wrestling match with a deeply non-violent goal in mind.
In the Inn kitchen Miya sighed to herself. Then she put down her vegetable knife, making sure that the meal was going to be okay for the few minutes she would be away. Then she reached for her blade.
'Time to remind my residents of what is not allowed in Izumo Inn.'
Fifth Feather; Pain
Well I did tell you it was ridiculous.
Oh you dirty-minded people. Did you think this was something other then what it is? What twisted perceptions you must have XD
I believe I mentioned that some of the prompts would be surprises, or maybe it was said in reply to a review. Either way, SURPRISE! Who among you saw that one coming? If you did, please feel free to mock me for my incompetence. If you didn't then don't worry, as long as you enjoyed it I will not mock you, if you didn't like it then my apologies are expressed by my lack of mocking. No matter which we arrive at I have not mocked anyone. Except myself, and Tsukiumi I suppose.
There will be other prompts like this, where the obvious interpretation will be going straight out the window. In the meantime I ask as ever for your inflowing opinions and views. Oh and the next Feather is already decided, I'd give my reasons but they'd give it away. Other feathers remain your choice.
Oh and I do apologise for my narrator. Seems that it got the idea it was allowed into the story somehow. Silly meta-fictional concept, freedom is for characters. I promise you all it won't happen again.
