A/N: With my conditions met, I keep my end of the bargain.
XXXXXX
Preparations
Matsu sat at the control panel in her dim, cluttered echo chamber of a room surrounded by the gentle hum of holographic screens. With nimble fingers, she manipulated the holographic images of the train yard Seo had divulged after Tsukiumi brutally beat him the other day.
Since then, his twins had made up their minds to commit a renewed bond to Chiho to escape their loser Ashikabi once and for all. A bum they could accept, even a mercenary, but they refused to be family to someone who'd sell out his so-called friends, even for his Sekirei. What would his price be for selling them out? It didn't matter: the fact he probably had one was too much.
Seo bore the marks of Tsukiumi's wrath, a mosaic of battered flesh and shattered bones like a mangled car retrieved from a river. Chiho had hesitated to wing the twins due to Seo's condition, wanting to ensure he had proper medical attention on standby in case things took a turn for the worse for him during her onboarding process. She had compassion, after all. So it was decided that they put it off until he was at least in stable health and out of the hospital.
Now, Chiho and all her lovelies were at the inn to prepare a counterattack on Kakizaki. Matsu labored tirelessly to breach Kochou's formidable firewalls while Chiho's loyal disciples engaged Minato's flock in a training regimen. It had been suggested to them by the landlady not long before she went out to do 'errands', whatever that may entail.
Benitsubasa seemed not to care so much about Minato being hurt, more so Chiho being hurt because he was hurting. She had grown accustomed to seeing her Ashikabi so cheerful and happy, but since the incident, she hadn't smiled or asked for sex once. This wasn't like her.
'Was he really that special of a guy?' she wondered.
Kazehana danced through the air, her graceful movements a mesmerizing ballet, as she deftly evaded Benitsubasa's lightning-quick punches. The wind itself was her partner, caressing her as she elegantly pirouetted through the onslaught.
With a fluid motion, Kazehana darted back and unleashed a razor-edged gust of wind. The biting assertion tore through the space between the two, leaving ephemeral petals from cherry blossom trees cascading down like a delicate, otherworldly snowfall.
Haihane moved with lightning speed, lunging at Tsukiumi with feral abandon. Tsukiumi sidestepped and countered with precise water manipulation, creating powerful torrents to thwart Haihane's attacks. Haihane skillfully weaved through the woven net of airborne water currents, those that she didn't slash her way through.
Then, she struck like a pouncing tiger, her claw inches from Tsukiumi's face, only to be parried by a timely water barrier. Haihane staggered, and Tsukiumi landed a swift heel kick to her sternum, bringing her down. Tsukiumi then summoned her waterblade, aiming it just beneath Haihane's chin.
"Yield," Tsukiumi said, casting a dominant glare down at her fallen adversary. And friend, perhaps? Tsukiumi's authoritative demand hung in the air, her gaze commanding both submission and camaraderie.
Haihane exhaled heavily. "Yeah, you got me," she conceded. Tsukiumi retracted her waterblade and extended her hand, aiding Haihane to her feet, careful not to graze her fingers against Haihane's razor-sharp claws.
Uzume's veil lunged at Yume like a snapping whip, creating a crater in the dirt where she had stood just moments before. She sent another attack, the cloth moving with mesmerizing grace as it tried to bind Yume.
Yume skillfully evaded Uzume's attacks, displaying precise and efficient movements. "You're quick with those threads, but I'm quicker," Yume remarked, launching a flurry of punches at Uzume.
Uzume deftly deflected Yume's strikes with her cloth. "It's not just about speed, Yume; it's about strategy and finesse," she explained, attempting to ensnare Yume with her cloth, but Yume spun and ducked, narrowly avoiding the trap.
Or so she thought.
Right before punching herself in the rear and doubling over.
"I have full control of that arm now," Uzume said, releasing her puppet. "And now I don't."
Yume rubbed her now-free arm as she regained feeling in it. "That power of yours is quite intimidating," she admitted.
"Indeed. I don't fully grasp it, but–"
"But nothing." Yume hushed her. "The fact you've even been able to bind me shows how far you've come, and the determination and love you have in your heart."
A blaring announcement from Matsu interrupted the training, beckoning the warriors back to her sanctum. "Guys, upstairs! Quick!"
With quick strides and puzzled expressions, the gathering hustled back into the inn, and upon reaching Matsu's hidey-hole, they formed a half-circle around her.
"What's the matter, Matsu?" Uzume inquired, leaning over Matsu's shoulder, the others crowding around.
"You're not going to believe this, but…" Matsu's response was swift, pulling up a new browser window. Everyone's eyes widened as they beheld the playback of captured footage…
XXXXXX
In the desolate expanse of an abandoned train yard, the air hung heavy with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint rustling of wind through long-forgotten metal. Dilapidated locomotives, their once vibrant paint now faded and peeling, stand like silent sentinels amidst overgrown tracks. The sun, low on the horizon, casts long, haunting shadows across this graveyard of steel and iron.
Amidst this scene of decay, a figure moves with an ethereal grace that belies the surrounding desolation. Her every step is deliberate, a whisper against the crunch of gravel, her presence a contradiction to the decay that surrounds her. She wields her blade, not so much an instrument of steel but an extension of her will, with a grace that belies its lethal purpose. Miya Asama drifts between the trains like a wraith. Her traditional kimono, immaculate and vibrant against the rust and grey, flutters softly with each measured step.
Suddenly, the quiet is shattered by the appearance of Sekirei, emerging from the shadows like specters, unknowing of the horror that awaited them. They are formidable, each exuding an aura of deadly intent, their eyes fixed on Miya with a mix of hatred and confusion. The air crackles with the tension of impending conflict.
Then, in a blink, Miya strikes, heeding no mind to their aggressive warnings to beat it. Her movements are a blur, a dance of deadly precision. Her sword, a gleaming arc of steel, sings through the air, its edge catching the dying light as it finds its mark again and again. Each strike is a whisper, each block a poem, her form a fluid testament to years of disciplined training.
Around her, the Sekirei fall, one by one, their attacks futile against her skill. They are formidable opponents, each a master of their own craft, but against Miya, they are but leaves caught in a storm. She moves through them like a force of nature, unstoppable, unyielding.
As the last of them falls, the train yard returns to its eerie silence, the brief interlude of violence now just a memory. Miya stands alone amidst the fallen, her breathing steady, her expression unchanged. The setting sun casts her long shadow across the ground, a solitary warrior in a forgotten world, her victory as silent and profound as the desolate landscape around her.
She wanders inside the building where more screams are heard.
XXXXXX
"No way..." Kazehana muttered in awe.
Matsu's expression grew grim, her fingers dancing across the holographic screens, searching for answers. "There's no telling what Minaka will do now…"
The group exchanged worried glances, realizing that this unforeseen turn of events had the potential to escalate their already perilous situation. Miya had always been an enigma, but her actions now had thrust her into a new, alarming light.
Benitsubasa's voice, tinged with a trace of irreverence, breaks the silence. "Well, so much for espionage," she quipped, her comrade Haihane nodding in agreement, their ease amidst the turmoil a stark contrast to the others' disquiet.
"Looks like the heavy lifting was done for us this time around, Red." Haihane said.
"No, you don't understand," Matsu said, adjusting her glasses. "With this development, the Sekirei Plan has just flown out the window. There's no telling what Minaka will do once he finds out."
Uzume said, her voice laced with concern. "What could have provoked Miya to unleash such devastation?"
Matsu interjected, her fingers still flying over the controls, "Miya's rampage was a reaction to Minato's condition. Take it from me: her calm demeanor was a facade. She's a walking atom bomb, and his nearly dying triggered her."
"How do you know this?" Uzume asked.
"I spied on a conversation they had a couple days ago. She admitted to feeling a reaction to him." Matsu replied. "Now that she's involved, the rules have shifted. It's anyone's guess what will happen now."
A digital chime signals another twist, all eyes drawn to the monitor as Matsu's expression crumbles. "Oh no, the twins!" she exclaims, the gravity of her words sinking hearts. "Hikari and Hibiki have been terminated!"
"What?!" the group's outcry is a chorus of shock and anger.
"By who?!" Tsukiumi's scream is a lance of fury.
The silence that follows is profound, as Matsu's words, heavy with the weight of loss, seal the twins' fate. "…Karasuba." The name is a cold wind through the chamber, leaving a frost of realization on each warrior's soul.
"Great," Uzume sighed. "as if things couldn't possibly get any worse…"
"It does…keep watching." Matsu said despondently.
XXXXXX
In a scene painted with violence and loss, Kochou lies defeated, her life force ebbing away on the cold, hard ground. Miya, the embodiment of ruthless justice, stands towering over her, her blade dripping with the finality of death. The Ashikabi, stricken with grief, kneels and weeps, his cries echoing the tragedy of their severed bond. The landlady's gaze pierces through him, her eyes unyielding as steel, her intent as lethal as the blade she wields with unmatched skill.
Flexing her wrist, she raised her blade without an ounce of pity, shredding through her victim's flesh and cries like a scythe through wheat. A scream later and he was no more.
XXXXXX
"She just killed Kakizaki…" Matsu muttered, horrified.
Miya took a glance upward, her eyes staring into the souls of everyone watching her over the airwaves. "I know you're watching. I await the victor on the island. Give The Game Master my regards."
The live feed cut to black for but a brief moment. When it returned Miya had disappeared without a trace amidst the battlefield of slaughter.
The quiet is broken by the digital chime of a phone notification, a summons reaching Uzume, Haihane, and Benitsubasa. "What's wrong?" Matsu's voice carries a new edge, the edge of impending change.
Uzume hangs her head and sighs, "It's Minaka. Discipline Squad business. He ordered us to escort you and Minato's other Sekirei to the tower. He mentioned something about a proposition. Chiho needs to be present too."
Tsukiumi rises, her tone laced with suspicion and challenge. "What does he want with us?"
"He'll tell us when we get there," Uzume says, her hand tightening around her phone. "But if you refuse, it seems we won't have much choice in how you arrive."
"So you'll need to bring us in by force is what you're saying?" Kazehana replied.
"Exactly," Benitsubasa said, cracking her knuckles. "So don't try anything funny."
XXXXXX
At the tower, 20 minutes later…
Minaka glared over his desk at the flock of Sekirei surrounding him. "A lot has happened in a very short amount of time," he began. The Sekirei, statuesque and silent, form a semi-circle of anticipation, their expressions one of stoicism and subtle fear. They stand rigid, warriors in a moment of stillness, as Minaka continues, the words falling like hammer blows.
"The Sekirei Plan has, as of now, been forced into its final stage and it will start tomorrow." Minaka's voice broke their silence, crisp and clear, yet there was an undercurrent of something that could have been construed as regret.
The Sekirei's stillness was a stark contrast to Minaka's restless energy; his voice fractured the hush, clear and sharp, yet tinged with the shadows of a possible lament. The pause that followed was heavy, laden with the portent of ominous tides, until Minaka pronounced the fate-sealing decree: "Your Ashikabi, though on the mend, will not rise to the occasion for the endgame in time. It is with a leaden heart that I must revoke his place within the game, for he cannot stand at the frontline when the final act unfolds."
A collective gasp cuts through the room, the sound of shock and confusion as the implications dangle before them like a guillotine's blade. Tsukiumi, her voice a mix of defiance and despair, breaks the silence: "What does that mean for us?"
Minaka's face was an inscrutable mask, his pause calculated, a theatrical harbinger of the gravity of the words that had yet to spill from his lips. "You stand at a crossroads," he intoned. "With Minato out of the fray, I am faced with the grim task of extinguishing his flock. Yet, there lies another path..."
Matsu, ever the catalyst, leans forward, a spark of urgency in her tone: "Go on…"
Minaka, now the bearer of a twisted olive branch, offered a sliver of hope: "Before doing so, I would like to give you a second option. Chiho's cursebreaker can allow you all to stay active participants if you would be open to the idea of being remarked. I'll give you all until tomorrow to make your decisions. This meeting is adjourned."
Chiho, her voice a soft tremor, spoke up. "Is there... is there no other way? Must it come to this?"
Minaka gave her a nod, "I'm afraid so."
As the words fade, the Sekirei are left to ponder their fates, the silence once again claiming dominion over the room, a silent witness to the turmoil within each of their hearts.
"An insult to the bond we cherish," Tsukiumi declared with a fire that belied the ice in her tone. "I reject this farce. Chiho holds a place in my heart, but my soul is eternally entwined with but one."
"Indeed," affirmed Kazehana, her voice the standard of rebellion. "No other could ever stand in Minato's stead for me."
"I share these sentiments," Matsu affirmed.
Kuu sobbed, her tears an endless cascade. "I belong with my Big Brother now and always!"
Minaka, his head bowed in a rare gesture of defeat, gazed upon his desk as if seeking answers in its inanimate grain. "So be it," he murmured. "I advise you to make the most of the time that remains. My thanks for your valor in this game we play."
As the silence stretched on, the Sekirei shared looks of mutual understanding. No words were necessary; their resolve was as clear as the tears that marked their faces. They would face this together, as they had faced all before—with unity, with strength, and with an unwavering commitment to the bonds that had become their very essence.
As they filed out of the room, Minaka cast his gaze to the ceiling above, "Love," Minaka mused, "is both the cruelest and the kindest force we contend with."
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A/N: I know this chapter was short, but I feel it gets across the idea well enough. The next chapter will likely be one of the most emotional ones.
I apologize for having held this story hostage. I was in a dark place at the time and I felt unappreciated. It did result in quite a few wordy reviews from DJMan, who enjoyed the story much like I predicted he would, so I'm happy it wasn't all for nothing. With Twisted Wings now complete, I do hope it gets more feedback in his stead. It was an 11 year project and it feels good to finally have it done after all this time.
I feel good when people tell me they enjoy my work or offer constructive discussion. I want to experience that feeling again and again, thousands of times over like others do. Is that wrong?
In all likelihood, I'll have Veil finished sometime next year. After that, I plan to make a sequel to it. Hope to see you all there.
