(A/N) Hey everyone! I'd like to provide a content warning for this chapter, as it deals with explicit themes. Read at your own risk.

I'd also like to apologize to all of you on pa treon. Usually, you'd get this chapter a bit early so that you could vote for the week's illustration, but a poll will not be opened due to the story's contents. The full version of the image will be available on Questionable Questing and my Discord server.

Shoutout to NoSchittSherlock for beta-reading!

X

Alone at the bar, Orton was quiet as he slowly got his establishment ready for the day's customers. The morning sun had barely risen and he wouldn't be open until closer to noon, but it wasn't like he had anything better to do. With his wife and child still being in bed, there wasn't anyone around to talk to.

His front doors opened.

He didn't bother to look up; it must have been one of the villagers. They did this every once in a while thinking that they could sneak a drink in at the crack of dawn before their wives could get on their tails.

The man sighed.

"We're not open," he grumbled, his attention planted firmly on the countertop that he was wiping.

"Hm? That's not great to hear."

Once he heard the voice, Orton's eyes snapped up.

"It's you two," he remarked, bewildered. "You didn't come back last night. I figured you'd either gotten offed by whatever's out there or you just skipped town."

It was only then that Orton noticed the condition that Alice and Yamada were in. Their clothes were in tatters and they were covered from head to toe in wounds of varying severity. Yamada's arm dangled loosely at his side, though his hand had a firm grip on a cellular phone.

"I've got ya! Don't shuffle around too much."

The man rushed out from behind the counter and did his best to support them. He offered them each a seat, which they quickly sank into.

Yamada groaned as he leaned into the chair's back. A hand rose to cover a patch of bare skin that didn't seem to be bleeding but definitely looked sore.

"Orton?" he heard his wife utter behind him. He turned around to find her peering into the pub area, their son in tow. "What's all this commotion about?"

Randall was mute. His fingers dug into his mother's skirt tightly, and his wide eyes were firmly planted on the two injured people drooped over one of his father's tables.

Yamada smiled.

"We're fine; just a little roughed up is all. You'll be happy to know that there won't be any more mysterious deaths or disappearances."

Orton's tense brow relaxed. There was a glimmer of hope in his eye.

"You mean–"

"It was a pack of wolves," Yamada explained. "A whole lot of them. We've been in touch with our employers, and they mentioned that they were probably forced to migrate due to deforestation on the other end of the mountain. They'd usually be a lot more hesitant to get near humans, let alone attack them, but there probably wasn't enough food to go around with a human settlement so close by. They were pretty ravenous."

Alice didn't say anything to refute the statement. She seemed to have this ever-present grin plastered to her face.

Orton's wife took a step forward, forcing Randall to follow suit lest he be forced let go of her.

"Is that why you're so hurt?"

"There were a lot of them," Yamada repeated. "We would have sent more personnel if we knew then what we know now. Regardless, I'd still keep out of that area for the next few days. There will be more people like us stopping by to deal with damages caused to the ecosystem."

"…"

Orton's shoulders drooped.

He couldn't believe it. Just like that, it was all done and over with? Would his daughter–

"You killed them. You killed them, right?"

Randall had run up to them. The boy's hands were balled into tiny fists, and tears and snot dripped down his face, getting in between gnashed teeth. Countless bottled-up emotions were coming out all at once.

Orton sighed.

"Randall–"

"Killed them dead," Alice responded with a savage smile. "Every last one of them."

Surprising everyone, Randall ran up to the woman and buried his head in her midsection as he hugged her tightly. She had the air knocked out of her, as injured and caught off guard as she was.

Randall's shoulders shook as he started to wail. He held onto the woman as if she were a lifeline.

Alice looked like a fish out of water. There was a child crying in her lap, and she didn't really know what to do about it.

"Thank you…"

The cry was barely audible, muffled as it was. Alice wore a strange expression as she caressed the boy's head soothingly.

As if not sure about what she was supposed to do, Randall's mother hesitantly approached and scooped the boy up into her arms.

"I'm sorry about him."

Alice did not respond, but perhaps her lips, with how they were oddly upturned, were supposed to indicate that she didn't mind.

The sound of what could only have been a helicopter was audible through the walls of the pub.

"…Those are the 'other guys' I was talking about," Yamada explained. "I gave them a call earlier. They're our flight out of here."

Orton closed his eyes. A huff escaped him.

"We appreciate what you've done. I'll make sure that everyone in the village cooperates while your people clean things up."

Yamada nodded in thanks. He and Alice pushed themselves to their feet and made their way to the door.

"Is it really fine for you two to be walking around right now?" Orton's wife asked worriedly.

The ragged-looking man squinted reassuringly over his shoulder.

"Don't worry. We probably look a lot worse than we feel."

Orton was left alone with his wife and child. A pensive look crossed his face.

He might not have been a genius, but he certainly wasn't an idiot either.

Showing up in a military aircraft, just the two of them dressed in heavily-reinforced fatigues. Coming back with burns, tears and slashes littering their bodies, but no bite marks.

There was much more going on than met the eye, and definitely more than what those two were willing to admit. Whatever had been terrorizing this small community probably wasn't a wolf pack at all.

Catching them by surprise, he pulled his family into a hug and took a deep, steady breath.

… And yet, he would not hold it against those two. Those that were lost were already lost, but those that were still alive could still be cherished. And for that, he was grateful.

X

"The two of ye look like shite."

Shirou smiled blankly at the pilot who came out of the chopper to greet them. He was the same one who flew them up the other day. Behind the helicopter was a military transport aircraft; dozens of uniformed men and women dropped down from it carrying various bags and tools.

The Association's cleanup crew had arrived.

"I made up an excuse to keep the civilians out of the way for a day or so. Will that give you enough time to get rid of whatever's left of the apostle village?"

The pilot scoffed.

"Who'd'ye think we are?"

"Right. Sorry."

"Anyway," the gruff man continued as he leaned into his aircraft to grab something, "you two make yerselves comfortable for the night. I cannae take ye back down today."

The pair blinked in unison.

"Why not?" the white-haired man asked simply.

"We're on top of a mountain. Not enough fuel to make it down'n back."

Even Karasuba, who for the most part tended to stay out of these kinds of conversations, couldn't help but pipe up.

"Just refuel before you come back up."

"No," the pilot denied the suggestion instantly. "Don' want'a. Too much money and time."

"…"

"…"

"…"

Karasuba slapped a fist into her palm.

"That settles that. If we have to stay a little longer, then we can go look for a bathhouse, right?"

Shirou could only sigh.

"I told you already. There's no way that a place like this would have–"

X

Shirou didn't quite know what he was feeling.

Or rather, he was feeling so many different things, so many conflicting emotions, that his mind froze up and refused to let him feel one way or another.

He sat in a large outdoor tub, though the cool touch of the evening air was somewhat mitigated by the hot coals under the flooring heating the water. The decking around the tub wasn't so much of a hardscape as it was a solid piece of stone from which a crevice was carved to make way for a body of water, and yet, the rough surface wasn't unpleasant against his back. His wounds from the previous day had healed for the most part, so there was no stinging feeling when he shuffled around.

It was comforting. He didn't know what inspired such a bath house –it was neither Japanese nor anything British, after all– but no part of him found it unpleasant or foreign. They were the only ones here, to boot. The area was usually separated by gender, but the owner of the inn attached to the location had told them that it was theirs for the evening:

And yet, he was far from comfortable.

Karasuba was at his side, smiling.

All they had were towels covering their persons. There was little between them.

It was frightening.

It felt natural for her to be at his side as she was, and yet he knew that it was wrong. He was hyperaware of her right now specifically because of easy it was to forget about her intrusion in his personal space entirely.

He took a shaky breath.

"You've been in a pretty good mood.," Shirou remarked, keeping his eyes planted firmly ahead of him.

"Hm?"

He heard a splash next to him, but he didn't turn her way.

"I guess it's…" she trailed off for a moment. "I'm amused. That boy seemed so happy earlier, and I couldn't help but find it funny."

"And why is that?"

What an innocuous conversation. It was a nice way to keep himself distracted.

"It really was more of an off-hand observation, really. Humans are quick to praise others for anything done to their own benefit, and yet, I wonder if he would have thanked me so sincerely if he knew that my act of kindness wasn't so kind at all."

Shirou leaned back and allowed himself to sink a little deeper in the water. He rested his head against the hard stone behind him.

"Does it matter? If that boy thinks you're a hero, then that's what you are."

Karasuba burst into laughter.

"Ooh! A hero. Yes… I like that! Hilarious."

"I'm not joking."

The laughter ceased. From the corner of his eye, he could see that the smile dropped from her face.

"That so?"

"Pure good and evil don't exist in this world. What is good to one person won't be good to another and vice versa."

"I can't say that I'm not surprised to hear you say that," she admitted. "Considering how much you like to deal in absolutes."

"Sometimes the good outweighs the bad, and sometimes the bad outweighs the good."

"And me?" she asked.

"You?"

Something pressed up against his side. He shivered.

"Me," she repeated. "Does my evil not outweigh my good?"

She was not given a direct answer, nor was it one that she could have expected.

"I think– in another time, maybe– you would have made for a good hero."

"…I thought you said you weren't joking."

"I'm not."

Shirou didn't know what else to say, but Karasuba wasn't making any effort to fill the silence. He was afraid to look her way since he was fairly confident that he would find her trying to bore holes into his head with her stare.

An explanation, then.

"Political activists and first responders are one thing, but storybook heroes are mostly glorified through this kind of violence. One side hails them for their accomplishments, the other hates them for the death they bring. It's subjective, isn't it? Whether you see the lives they've taken or the ones they've saved. It's the same with what we've done here."

His side felt warmer.

"Speaking from experience, Ashikabi-kun?"

The Holy Grail War. The reason why the Sekirei Plan caught his eye to begin with.

It was… probably fine to tell her…

"There's a magic called the Heaven's Feel," Shirou revealed. "Essentially, it preserves the soul of a person and allows it to interact with the living world. In practice, think of it as a way to bring back the dead, if in a conditional, roundabout way."

"I see. So you've met these 'heroes' in person, is what you're saying."

He nodded.

"And I'm like them, Ashikabi?"

The man thought about it for a moment.

"Yes. I'd say you are."

From that moment on, they continued to soak with little further discussion.

For a little while, at least.

"Compared to the other Sekirei, I'm probably the vilest you'll ever come across," Karasuba said. "I called them 'creatures of love', once. I wasn't lying. I'm the exception."

He looked at her.

"And I thought I told you that it doesn't matter."

Such a straightforward answer. So ambiguous in its meaning. The words themselves didn't carry any weight beyond their face value, and yet…

"…It's funny."

"Wha–"

She was on top of him, her face inches away from his own. Their skin was pressed tightly together; her towel had slipped off of her as she moved.

His heart hammered in his chest. He could feel hers do the same.

She grabbed his hand and guided it along the length of her arm. His fingers, lax in her hold, traced her well-defined shoulder.

"My figure is not soft," she said. Then moved his hand again until it was resting atop her breast. She pressed his palm firmly into her chest. "My breasts are not large. I was not made to comfort a man, nor was I made to love one. My body is muscled so that I can move quicker and strike harder. My features are sharp so that I can be more intimidating, not more attractive."

Shirou felt paralyzed, and yet he knew that it was not at all the case. He simply didn't move.

"It's hilarious," she purred– no. It was nothing more than a whisper. The rasp in her voice was starting to sound different to his ears. "A killer, a hero, a creature of love… the difference means very little to you, doesn't it?"

"I… suppose so," he breathed out. Her lips drew so close that they tickled his own.

"Show me, then. I'd like to understand a little better."

They kissed.

If the ephemeral black wings had once again sprouted from the woman's back, Shirou could not tell. He lost track of his hands for a moment, and when he found them again, they were planted firmly on Karasuba's bare waist.

Shirou deepened the kiss. He felt the Alien gasp into his mouth.

A lithe hand travelled down his chest, then his stomach. It hesitated for a moment before pulling his towel away and grabbing his crotch.

He lurched, but it only served to push his lips harder against hers.

A tongue forced its way into his mouth. It was a familiar feeling: just like the first time she kissed him. Then, he didn't fight it due to his wariness. Now, he allowed it to happen because…

Because…

Fingers stroked his shaft tentatively, the stimulation making his penis swell in her hand. Her touch was both foreign and familiar in a way that only made sense to him as long as he didn't think too deeply about it.

Karasuba tightened her grip. The rough treatment drew a grunt of discomfort out of him, but it soon turned into a moan once she sat back and forced the head to press against her taint.

The woman allowed their upper halves to separate. They were both breathing heavily.

Her face was beet-red, her lips peeled back to show teeth and her eyes were glossy. It looked less like the expression of an aroused woman and more that of an esurient animal with its prey trapped under paw.

There was nothing wrong with this moment. This was as it should be.

Karasuba's hands rose to his face, her thumbs pushing his lips out of the way and tracing the edges of his teeth. She seemed entranced by the sight of the digits sliding over his canines over and over again.

Shirou tensed. In a fashion that was almost abrupt, he pulled her down onto his lap.

She exhaled sharply. The sudden movement splashed water all over their upper bodies.

Her slit pressed down on his erection. Her stomach pressed against his. The novel feeling of that warmth –being able to feel her pulse so intimately– made him shudder.

She hissed. Slowly, she began to grind against him, though the humping became faster and faster until the water around them started to slosh with every gyration of her hips.

The woman leaned forward and whispered into his ear.

"I want you, Ashikabi. Don't you want me?"

Corded muscles rippled as he grabbed her by the rear and lifted her out of the water. He stood and laid her flat on the stone.

His chest heaved. He allowed his weight to drop forward onto his hands. His fingertips were but a hair's breadth from her ear.

Karasuba was on her back underneath him. That face stared back at him while her arms travelled south to position him at her entrance.

He leaned forward and kissed her.

She made a strange sound. It grew louder the moment he penetrated her.

For a moment, both were still as statues.

Pleasure aside, it was unlike anything he had ever felt before. There was this sense of "closeness" that he was sure was not biologically possible.

For humans alone, at least.

He knew that Karasuba felt the same way. The novelty of this moment. The ecstasy. The fulfillment. It was shared.

Tentatively, he moved his hips forward through all resistance he felt until they pressed against hers. Her legs rose and interlocked behind his, limiting his ability to pull away from her by more than a few centimeters.

Their eyes were locked. Behind the flush of her cheeks, sweaty sheen of her brow and open-mouthed pants, there was a sort of clinical element to the way that her gaze tracked and soaked in the details of his face.

He couldn't blink. He couldn't look away.

His pumps picked up to a significant pace as soon as they started. The uneven, sandpaper-like surface of the stone must have been scratching and tearing at her back, but he couldn't stop.

She didn't want him to stop.

Karasuba's inner walls began to convulse around him. It was like he was being told that he was supposed to reach climax with her.

He didn't understand the reproductive properties of Sekirei. He didn't know if they were the same as humans or something else entirely, but either way, the two of them were having unprotected sex.

This wasn't…

This… wasn't…

The legs locking him in place would not move. He would be unable to escape this woman's clutches.

This was fine, wasn't it?

His hand moved to find Karasuba's. Their fingers intertwined together tightly as he kissed the woman as forcefully as he could. Their tongues wrestled. Her thighs squeezed his sides so hard that he feared that she might have broken something.

He came, and she tried to pull herself up towards him as much as possible as he did so. He felt her orgasm, which made his own feel that much more intense.

It was only the last of his semi-conscious thoughts that prevented him from collapsing and dropping the entirety of his weight onto her. It was the emotionally taxing nature of their exchange that affected him more than anything: strong and resilient as he was. All he could do was prop himself up on trembling elbows with his chest flush against hers.

Suddenly, it felt as though his five senses had been returned to him. He could hear their ragged breaths just as clearly as he could hear the contrasting silence of everything else.

They stayed like that for minutes, doing nothing but stare at each other.

Shirou was unable to construct any worthwhile thoughts during that time.

It was Karasuba who moved first. Gently –more gently than she had ever touched him before– she pushed him off and got to her feet.

"It's getting late. Let's go to bed."

Ushered by her words, he moved as if he were in a trance. Moving from the bath, to the changerooms, to the room assigned to them by the innkeeper, to the shower, to the bed that they would be sharing barely registered in his mind before he realized that it had all already happened.

He was under the covers with Karasuba. She was hugging him tightly.

The woman looked up at him and smiled.

It was the same smile she gave him when they first met. When she thought him nothing more than an ant. When she thought his attempt to kill her amusing.

It was the smile she wore when she relished his pain. When she watched him squirm and claw about. When she tried to test him, just to see how far she could push and pull him before he'd finally break.

It was a kind smile.

"I love you, Shirou."

For a moment. She waited for his reaction. The smile widened as she watched his pupils constrict until they were barely pinpricks in his eyes.

Seemingly satisfied with whatever she found, Karasuba drifted off to sleep soundly. His arms were wrapped tightly around her as if it were simply how things were supposed to be.

Wide-eyed, it was all that he could do to stop himself from hyperventilating.

X

"If everything goes well, all other competitors should be eliminated before the end of next week. Once they're gone, it won't be difficult to take everything you want from MBI. Legal assets, alien tech, Jinki… anything."

Shirou didn't look up from his tablet computer, but he did hum to acknowledge Karasuba's statement.

They were seated at their gate at Heathrow airport a comfortable twenty or so minutes before the scheduled departure time. There weren't many other passengers waiting nearby, so it didn't seem like it would be too packed of a flight.

The past few days in London had been quite eventful for them. They had plenty of time to wait until the date of their return trip, so they talked.

About the Sekirei plan. About MBI.

It was fruitful. Informative, if nothing else. For once, Shirou didn't feel like he was missing half the puzzle. He had come across so many fragmented pieces of information until this point: all insights that were now useful to him.

From this point on, at least as far as having the right context went, he could confidently say that he and Karasuba would be working on the same level.

He forced his shoulders to relax, realizing that he had been reading the same newspaper article over and over again.

With all of this said, however, saying that they were on the same page wouldn't be correct.

They hadn't spoken about what they did during their night in the village, nor had they spoken about what she had said to him after that. He couldn't, and she seemed perfectly happy to let him stew.

Beyond that, however, the reality of the matter was that he didn't even know what page he was on anymore.

His was a resolve that could not waver. He could not allow it to. All that made him who he was depended on him being able to stay on the path that he laid out for himself so many years ago.

His path was not a difficult one to follow, nor was it complex. On a balance, there were always two weights, and one weight was bound to be heavier than the other. The value of those two weights was unmistakable. The validity of that scale was unmistakable.

The difference now, however, was that a third weight had been added to that two-sided scale. He just didn't know to which side it was added.

"We'll land sometime around mid-day," Shirou reminded her. "We'll get back to the apartment and organize ourselves properly. We'll get started the following morning."

"Sure, sure. Let's not take our time, though."

He appreciated her diligence on the matter.

"You know MBI much better than I do," he said. "We've forced ourselves out of Neo Tokyo a good while ago. Minaka's one thing, but.."

Karasuba understood what he was trying to ask.

"Don't worry about them," she cut him off reassuringly. "None of them will want to go against me, after all.

"They'll act as if nothing happened."