Yo, been a minute.
Here's that chapter I promised earlier in the year before... well literally fucking everything threw itself at me.
Quality should be a step up from the previous chapter but as for pacing... well we'll see. Still working out the kinks.
Ah, and thank you all for helping this story reach 90 favorites with 95 follows. Let's see if we can get that to triple digits before the year's out, yeah?
Enough yapping.
Note at the end, let's begin.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sekirei; if I did, the situation with certain characters would've turned out very differently and we'd have more than two seasons of the anime. It belongs solely to Sakurako Gokurakuin - who is overdue for a continuation by this point.
"speech"
thought
"phone call"
"Norito"
SOUND EFFECT!
"flashback"
Tamotsu didn't quite know what to make of Uzume.
She was an enigma wrapped in silk—both warm and forgiving, yet frustratingly out of reach. The sheer relief that washed over him when she didn't hold him running off like that at the diner couldn't be expressed simply. And in hindsight, running off like that had been childish of him.
Of course someone like her—a radiant, graceful beauty with a laugh that could light up entire streets—would have someone already in her heart. He'd been naïve to think otherwise.
That didn't soften the ache in his chest when she smiled at him, though. And Kami help him, she smiled often these days, now that they were sharing the same roof. Every flash of those soft lips and sparkling eyes sent a pang through him, a bittersweet reminder of his place on the periphery of her world.
He knew it was childish of him to keep pining for her like this. Uzume deserved better than the awkward silences he threw at her whenever the topic of her "someone" came up in their convos. Besides, his life was complicated enough without adding unspoken tension into the mix.
Mitsuha was already a whirlwind of energy and moods—and not that he'd ever complain, not aloud at least—but possibly adding Uzume and, now, Kujou to the chaos?
If his self-proclaimed "wife" didn't throttle him before the month's end, then perhaps Kami hadn't forsaken him after all.
On that note, said Sekirei currently had him sandwiched in a way that would have sent his teenage self into cardiac arrest. Each laid claim to an arm, their soft curves pressed firmly against him as they strolled through the crowded streets of the capital. He tried to focus on keeping his stride even, but the sheer, mortifying awareness of their bodies made his movements stilted.
The baser part of his mind—fueled by years of ecchi magazines and too many late nights spent with dating sims—couldn't help but draw comparisons.
Mitsuha's figure brought a shapely, almost overwhelming presence that effortlessly turned heads while Kujou's was all yielding softness, her warmth enveloping him like a cozy blanket.
The envious looks from passing women were matched only by the venomous glares from men aimed squarely at Tamotsu.
One particularly bold guy even flipped him off.
A part of him thought of returning the favor, but before he could, Mitsuha leveled a weapon's grade glare at the offender so devastating that the poor guy stumbled back, practically tripping over his own feet as he beat a hasty retreat.
It should've bruised Tamotsu's pride to have a stick up for him like that. He was supposed to be the man in this relationship – and he used that term loosely – the one to protect his girl even if said girl was a super-powered alien beauty.
But he knew he didn't deserve this—them—not even a little. The thought wormed its way in as it always did, unwelcome but persistent. What right did he have to lean on them, let alone bask in their affections?
Yet here he was, playing the role of the lucky bastard, walking arm-in-arm with two stunning women. How couldn't help but he feel his spine straighten up a bit, puffing his chest out like he was on top of the world.
That didn't mean he didn't have to suppress the traitorous little voice within his mind, whispering that it was all a dream; one he'd wake from any moment to find himself alone again, clutching a tattered blanket in a cold, empty room… with a familiar set of voices screaming in the background.
He exhaled sharply, shaking off the thought before it could manifest. This had to stop. It wouldn't be long before Mitsuha noticed these little ticks of his and got curious. She was already keeping a close eye on him thanks to his little episode with Tanigawa.
And he simply wasn't mentally prepared to open that can of worms.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tamotsu caught Sanada watching him with a little smile so smug it could've been bottled and sold as arrogance. The knowing glint in the man's eyes sent Tamotsu's defenses up immediately.
"What?" he asked, his voice carrying a defensive edge he couldn't quite hide.
"Getting cozy, aren't we, kid?" he teased, tilting his head toward Mitsuha and Kujou clinging to Tamotsu's arms.
Heat flared in Tamotsu's cheeks, spreading down to his neck. "It's not like that," he muttered, though the excuse felt hollow even to his own ears.
Before Sanada could get another word in, Mitsuha intervened, her tone clipped with her trademark sass. "He's my ashikabi," she stated flatly, fixing Sanada with an unimpressed look that could peel paint off a wall. She punctuated her statement with a small, derisive snort. "And you're one to talk."
Tamotsu followed her gaze and couldn't help but snicker.
Sure enough, Sanada's "Lovelies" were draped across him like ornaments on a tree. Shijime, petite and wide-eyed, was literally hanging off his arm, her legs swinging playfully as she clung to him as though he were a jungle gym.
Kuzuri and Kujika, the twins, stuck their tongues out at Mitsuha in childish defiance, while Shijime merely tilted her head in that impossibly cute way of hers, like a curious sparrow.
"I think it's a beautiful thing, really."
Tamotsu nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned his head to find Uzume standing barely a breath away, her eyes twinkling with amusement. When had she gotten so close to him?
"A Sekirei's bond with her ashikabi is one of the purest forms of love in this world, don't you think so, Sanada-san?" Uzume directed at the man, her voice smooth as honey and just as sweet.
Sanada cleared his throat awkwardly at that, as if caught doing something he shouldn't. "Y-yeah, sure," he mumbled, suddenly looking anywhere but at her.
That was another thing. Whatever Uzume and Sanada had talked about earlier had left both the man and his Sekirei shaken. Even carefree Shijime seemed unusually guarded, her large eyes darting nervously toward Uzume whenever she thought no one was looking.
It wasn't like he hadn't tried to find out, of course. But Uzume had waved Tamotsu's questions away with her usual airy charm, insisting it was nothing for him to worry about. Sanada had suspiciously echoed the sentiment, but Tamotsu wasn't an idiot.
Whatever had been discussed likely had to do with him in some way.
He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath his skin. He knew better than to push by this point—both Uzume and Sanada were masters at deflecting when they wanted to be—but the uncertainty gnawed at him all the same.
For now, though, his focus had to remain no what came next, namely what to do with Mikogami Hayato. Sanada's plan to enlist Seo Kaoru's help still baffled him. Out of all the people they could've turned to, why that man? He was a wildcard at best, a loose cannon at worst, and even Miya and Matsu had nothing good to say about him.
But what other choice did he have? It wasn't like he had any real connection in the city as it was. Sanada was about the only person he could turn to since he didn't know the Sahashi siblings all that well.
So if Seo could actually get him in touch with the right people to deal with Mikogami, maybe—just maybe—he could defuse the situation before it spiraled further out of control.
But if what Sanada had told him about the guy held any sort of water, it was unlikely.
Tamotsu exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Not like we have a choice either way. Have to help Kujou-chan somehow…" he muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" Mitsuha asked, shooting him a sharp look.
"Nothing," he said quickly, shaking his head.
Mitsuha gave him a stare that practically told him she'd make it something later on, which made him sigh again.
"Um, Tamotsu-san?"
The soft, uncertain voice cut through the buzz of his thoughts. He blinked, turning to see Kujou watching him with wide, anxious eyes. Her pink hair shimmered under the fading sunlight, catching a few stray rays, and her nervous fidgeting only added to her fragile charm.
How anyone could even think of hurting her was beyond him. She was too sweet, too vulnerable, despite being a Sekirei. It made his blood simmer just thinking about it.
"What is it, Kujou-chan?" he asked gently, softening his voice to ease the worry etched into her delicate features.
"T-thank you for doing this for me," she stammered, her face turning a shade deeper than her hair. "You don't know how much it really means."
He tilted his head, puzzled by her words. "Did you think I wouldn't?"
"N-no, it's not that!" she burst out, her voice louder than usual, catching both him and Mitsuha off guard. Even Sanada glanced back to see what was up. She pressed her lips together, swallowing her nerves before continuing. "It's just… you're probably the first ashikabi who hasn't tried force me to be your Sekirei."
The quiet admission hit him like a punch to the gut.
Suddenly, so much about this girl made sense—the way she hesitated before taking even a single step toward him at the book store, the tension in her shoulders whenever someone new approached, and the unabashed concealed terror in her eyes when that jerk at the diner had tried to grab her.
"...and Mikogami tried to?" he asked softly, though the anger in his tone betrayed his attempt to keep calm.
Kujou froze but gave a shaky nod, her slender frame trembling ever so slightly.
Tamotsu's fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he fought the snarl rising in his throat. "Sick bastards," he muttered through gritted teeth, his vision momentarily tinged with red.
"It's a sad fact of this mess, kid," Sanada interjected, his tone grim. He stopped and leaned against a lamppost, his arms crossed as his dark eyes flicked toward Kujou with rare sympathy. "To a lot of people, getting a Sekirei is like winning the lottery. Between their powers, looks and the MBI cards they come with, it's a one-way ticket to easy street. And us humans?" He let out a rueful chuckle. "We're greedy by nature."
Much as Tamotsu hated to admit it, the man wasn't wrong. The truth settled uncomfortably in his chest like a lead weight.
His mind wandered, unbidden, to someone from his past—a man who would've jumped at the chance to exploit this twisted system, just like he had with-
Block it out! he told himself sharply, forcing the phantom back into the shadows where it belonged.
"Though from what I hear," Sanada continued, his voice cutting through Tamotsu's inner turmoil, "that brat Mikogami at least cares about his Sekirei. Not that it's saying much, but it makes him practically a saint compared to that bastard Higa."
"Higa?"
"Izumi Higa," Uzume cut in, stepping forward with a scowl that spoke volumes about her feelings on the subject. Her usually warm demeanor was replaced by something cold and sharp, one that unconsciously put Tamotsu on edge. "He's well-to-do and heir to the only corporation with the power to rival MBI. They call him the "Ashikabi of the East" because he holds more Sekirei than anyone else."
She paused, her expression darkening further. "Not that it's by their choice. Every single one of his Sekirei was forced. His cronies hunt them down, break their spirits, and drag them back to him like trophies. What's worse is that some of his cronies are ashikabi themselves, and their Sekirei are forced into doing his dirty work."
Tamotsu's jaw tightened. It was bad enough what Mikogami was doing, but Higa was a monster by comparison.
Wait a minute…
He shot a look at the blonde clinging to his side. "Weren't those goons who were chasing you when we first met working for him? They mentioned his name, I think."
Mitsuha blinked, caught off guard for a moment. Soon enough though, recognition dawned, and her expression darkened. A dangerous snarl curled her lips, her eyes narrowing to sharp chips of amethyst. "They did, didn't they?" she uttered, her voice low and venomous. "Well, then. I'll have to personally thank him at some point."
Tamotsu recoiled, stunned. "You want to thank him!? Why?"
"Because," she purred, her golden eyes alight with mischief, she slid closer, wrapping both arms tightly around his. "he led me right to my ashikabi, of course." Her body pressed firmly against his side as she tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her smile playful yet wicked.
Tamotsu's heart skipped a beat, the warmth of her embrace warring with the absurdity of her words. He wanted to argue, to call her out on her logic—or lack thereof—but the conviction in her voice left him speechless.
"Doesn't mean I won't make him squeal like a pig first, though."
Despite his fluster, that brought out a chuckle from Tamotsu.
Kujou actually growled from his other side, locking eyes with Mitsuha who merely smirked superiorly.
"And that caped loon allowed this?" Tamotsu asked, his brow furrowed in disbelief as he turned toward Uzume.
Uzume shrugged, her expression caught between exasperation and resignation. "No one really knows what the Chairman's thinking—not even Takami-sensei, and she's practically the co-founder of MBI."
"Wait a sec," Tamotsu said, narrowing his eyes. "You said Higa's 'East.' What about the others? Are there more like him?"
"Mikogami's down South," Uzume replied with a grimace, crossing her arms. "His territory keeps growing by the day. As for the West and North… well…" She trailed off, her gaze sliding toward Sanada.
Sanada chuckled to himself, running a hand through his scruffy hair. "Guilty as charged," he admitted, his tone somewhere between proud and self-deprecating.
Tamotsu's jaw dropped. "YOU…?!"
This scruffy, leather-jacket-wearing biker was one of the most powerful ashikabi in the city!?
"HEY! What's that supposed to mean?" Kuzuri snapped, her twin Kujika nodding fiercely beside her in solidarity.
"Is someone with just three Sekirei really considered a major player?" Tamotsu countered, incredulous.
"It's not just three," the biker corrected, gesturing to the twins and Shijime. "These three are just the ones I trust not to level a city block the moment I take my eyes off them. The other three…" He hesitated, letting the weight of his words hang in the air. "Let's just say they're… harder to reign in."
"And you're going to have to deal with them soon," Kujika pointed out with a huff, directing a stern look up at her master. "Otherwise, they're liable to tear the neighborhood apart."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Sanada muttered, rubbing his temples as though the thought alone was enough to give him a headache.
"So," Tamotsu said, trying to refocus the conversation, "Higa's got the East, Mikogami's in the South, and you're running the West. What about the North?"
Uzume went pale at the mention of the North, a shadow falling over her face. "There's nobody in the North," she said quietly, carefully even. "And there doesn't need to be. The North is guarded by a demon. Even MBI knows better than to go anywhere near her."
Tamotsu frowned, the cryptic term gnawing at his curiosity. "Her… So it's another Sekirei?"
Uzume nodded briskly, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Right. And if I tell you anything more, she'll probably separate my head from my shoulders. So, let's drop it, yeah?"
The genuine fear in her voice made Tamotsu's stomach twist. Whatever was in the North, it was clear Uzume wanted nothing to do with it, so he let it lie—for now.
"Are you sure Seo-san's going to be able to help with this?"
Sanada shifted his weight, somehow managing not to topple over despite the three Sekirei clinging to him like decorative scarves. "The guy might seem like a sleezeball, but he gets stuff done," he said with a shrug.
Tamotsu's eyes narrowed. "This wouldn't have anything to do with those twins of his going after unwinged Sekirei, would it?"
Sanada froze for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the question. Then, a slow smirk spread across his face. "You're sharper than I thought, kid. But yeah, you got it in one. Considering the trouble those two stir up, there's no way they haven't crossed paths with some of the Sekirei the brat's either winged or plans to. In fact, I wouldn't put it past him to have his eye on more than just the rabbit you've got there."
At his words, Kujou pressed herself tightly against Tamotsu's side, her trembling form almost disappearing into his arm.
Tamotsu placed a reassuring hand over hers, his voice firm. "Don't worry, Kujou-chan. He's not getting you."
The conviction in his tone seemed to catch her off guard. She gasped softly, her wide eyes looking up at him as though seeing him in a new light. "R-really?"
"Of course. Mitsuha and I will make sure of it," he added, glancing at the fiery woman beside him.
"TAMO—!" Mitsuha's protest was instant, scowling at him.
"Please, Mitsuha?" he asked, his tone softer now, almost pleading. "It'd mean a lot to me."
For a moment, Mitsuha looked like she wanted to argue, but her resolve crumbled under the weight of his earnest expression. She turned away, her face practically glowing. "T-that's unfair, Tamo…" she muttered, pouting like a child denied dessert.
Just as Tamotsu began to relax, he felt the weight of a piercing gaze on his back. He turned to find Uzume staring at him with an expression he couldn't quite place—something hard, almost pained, though a faint blush dusted her cheeks.
"Uzume-san?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "You okay?"
The sound of his voice seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she'd been in. She blinked rapidly, shaking her head as though to clear it. "Sure, I'm fine," she said quickly, her usual easygoing smile sliding back into place.
But Tamotsu couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted in her.
Even with someone like Mitsuha, I don't think I'll ever fully understand girls, he thought with a resigned sigh, letting the strange moment pass as they continued on their way.
#10—Uzume.
Her file was frustratingly thin, little more than a few pictures and a brief dossier on her abilities. But it still painted a fascinating picture.
A Sekirei just shy of the legendary Single Digits, poised on the edge of greatness. Her strength, her beauty, her presence—it all exuded potential.
And if all went to plan today, she would be his.
"Taki, are you ready?"
"Hai, Mikogami-sama," came the dutiful reply from the Mist Sekirei, her soft voice betraying none of the unease that lingered in the air.
Mikogami sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Taki, Yomi isn't here. You don't have to be so formal when it's just the two of us."
There was a beat of hesitation before she tried again, her voice softening. "Yes, Mi—Yes, Hayato-sama!"
The shift in her tone brought a small smile to his lips, though it was tinged with guilt. The exuberance in her voice, so eager to please, made him feel like a heel.
He'd need to have a word with Yomi about her possessive tendencies when they got back. They were supposed to be family, not a pack of wolves fighting for scraps.
He brushed the thought aside for the now. "Everyone else should already be in position." The polished leather of his shoes clicked against the rooftop as he walked toward her. "Once we secure some privacy, I'll be counting on you to ensure we aren't disturbed."
Taki straightened, the steel in her eyes reflecting the moonlight raining down on them. "They won't find you," she said, her voice firm, resolute. But then her expression faltered, uncertainty flickering across her features. "But…"
"But what?" he prompted, turning to face her fully. "Taki, if you have a thought, let's hear it. No need to bottle things up when it's just us."
She shifted under his gaze, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "Hayato-sama, I would feel better if you had one of the others here. To ensure your safety."
He studied her for a moment, noting the tension in her shoulders, the flicker of doubt in her normally calm demeanor.
She wasn't wrong. This was a risk, a significant one.
The woman they were hunting wasn't just another Sekirei. #10's reputation preceded her, whispered in hushed tones even among the strongest of his own.
Even the Raiden Twins gave her a wide berth, and they had been major thorns in his side as of late, ranking right up there with the Sekirei Guardian even.
His lips curved into a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.
"Who dares, wins."
"Hayato-sama…?"
Mikogami grimaced.
Too much Call of Duty.
"It's nothing," he said smoothly, waving it off. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, Hayato-sama," she said again, this time without hesitation.
"Good." He adjusted the collar of his tailored coat, gazing down at the city below, a thrumming excitement coursing through him.
Everything would work out. #10 would soon be his. Not only would she ensure his superiority in the Chairman's game, but she would serve to protect his family.
Yomi was his guardian angel, but even she couldn't be everywhere at once. #10 would fill that niche and truthfully, he wanted her more than just as a stand-in for his flaxen-haired beauty.
There was a fire in her that he was desperate to see up close, to hold, to control.
I cannot wait to meet you, Ten – no, Uzume-san…
It was getting harder to ignore.
The way her heart skipped a beat when Tamotsu was near; the way her chest ached whenever she saw Mitsuha clinging to him, so smugly sure of her place by his side.
Uzume pressed a hand against her chest, her breathing shallow as the familiar, maddening pull stirred within her.
MBI's scientists had labeled it clinically as the Call. Every Sekirei felt it, and it was what led them to their destined one.
But to her, it wasn't anything so cold or detached. It was a fire in her veins, an ache down in the etches of her very soul that demanded she act, a silent scream that urged her to claim what was hers.
What should have been hers.
Uzume had felt the Call for what felt like forever now. No Sekirei could ignore it indefinitely; it was as intrinsic to their being as breath. From that very moment their eyes locked in that alley, she had been drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
And yet, she'd let him walk away that day in the diner, out of her reach, and nearly out of her life.
It chilled her to think how she'd come so close to losing him forever. Those pathetic cretins had nearly taken him from her—had nearly snuffed out the light he didn't even realize he carried. It made her sick to her stomach, the idea of a world where Tamotsu didn't exist.
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.
He should've been hers from the beginning. That night when she had him in her lap, tending to him so sweetly – that should've been her moment.
She should be the one holding him close right now, feeling the warmth of his embrace, hearing the soft lilt of his voice as he whispered her name.
Not #38. Not Bee. Not Mitsuha.
It was a bitter thought, one she didn't dare voice aloud, but it festered all the same.
"Why am I still hesitating…?" she muttered to herself for what felt like the millionth time. The words echoed back in her mind, a mocking chorus that filled the silence.
Her chest tightened as she tried to parse the tangled mess of her emotions.
The Call was undeniable now, insistent and unrelenting, but her hesitation gnawed at her, whispering doubts and uncertainties.
What was holding her back? Fear? Pride?
Her hand trembled as she gripped her veil tightly, the thought striking deeper than she expected.
But she shook her head, banishing it.
She wasn't weak, and she wasn't going to let some self-doubt stop her.
Tamotsu had proven himself already—brave, kind-hearted, selfless, and so impossibly, maddeningly cute. She smiled faintly, the memory of his flustered face flashing in her mind. It only made the ache in her chest worse.
He was her ideal ashikabi. He always had been.
She wanted nothing more than to swaddled him in her veils, shield him from the chaos of the world, and keep him safe for all eternity.
Her eyes once more landed on his back and for a brief moment, she imagined what it would feel like to kneel before him, to offer herself fully and completely. To let him wing her and solidify the bond that her soul already screamed for.
Her jaw clenched as her thoughts drifted back to his Sekirei. The fiery blonde acted as though Tamotsu was already hers, but Uzume knew better. She had taken the lead, sure, but the truth was Uzume had first dibs. And when the time came, she would claim her rightful place at his side.
She would make Mitsuha understand that but more importantly, she would make Tamotsu see that he belonged with her just as much as he did with Mitsuha.
An ashikabi's heart was big enough for more than one love.
Uzume's eyes narrowed, determination hardening her resolve. "I shouldn't have let him walk away that day," she murmured, her voice laced with regret and quiet fury. "But missed opportunities are just that—missed. No use crying over spilt milk."
Her lips curled into a faint, almost predatory smile. She still had a chance. The Call still thrummed in her veins, and Tamotsu… even now that boy still called to her soul with every gentle smile and every clumsy act of bravery.
So what if Mitsuha was the "first"?
Uzume didn't intend to let her be the last.
And why should she wait...?
"Tamo-!"
It was no sooner did the name leave her lips than all hell broke loose.
A surge of icy air exploded outward, sending shivers down Uzume's spine as a dense, unnatural mist rolled in, swallowing the world whole. It crept over the ground like a living thing, tendrils of fog coiling and weaving through the group, devouring shapes and muffling sounds.
"TAMO-CHAN!" Uzume's voice cracked with urgency, the name tearing from her throat as she reached blindly into the swirling haze.
"Uzume-san!? Where are you!?" His voice was distant, distorted, as though the mist had wrapped itself around the sound and strangled it.
"I'm here!" she shouted back, her heart pounding in her chest. She stumbled forward, her fingers brushing empty air where she thought he'd been only moments ago.
"Dammit, can't see a thing!" Mitsuha's frustrated curse echoed faintly from somewhere to the left, her fiery temper dulled by the oppressive cold.
"I-IT'S HER!" Kujou's frightened voice wavered, barely audible over the rising wind. "The Mist Sekirei!"
"Master, stick close to us!" Kuzuri barked, her voice sharp with determination, though there was an unmistakable edge of fear beneath it.
Uzume's breath came in ragged gasps as her panic clawed its way up her throat. She shoved forward, her hands slicing through the fog, desperate to find him.
Not now. Not now!
The thought repeated like a drumbeat in her head, a frantic mantra she couldn't shake.
She could feel the cold biting at her skin, hear the muffled cries of the others as they called out to one another. But none of it mattered. None of it.
"Tamo-chan!" she screamed again, her voice breaking as she pushed harder against the impenetrable mist. It was like fighting a dream, her movements slow and useless, her vision a blur of pale gray nothingness.
Her foot caught on something, and she stumbled, her knees scraping against the rough ground. The pain barely registered as she clawed her way back up, her eyes darting wildly through the fog.
Where was he?
The thought of losing him—of being too late—sent a jolt of terror through her chest. She'd promised herself she wouldn't let anything happen to him, ever. Not after what had nearly happened before. Not after she'd already come so close to losing him once.
"Don't bother, Ten." The voice was ice cold, a detached drawl that sliced through the fog like a blade.
Uzume froze mid-step, her pulse quickening as her eyes darted toward the source.
Emerging from the swirling mist was a slender, flaxen-haired Sekirei clad in a short black dress that swayed with her every step. Two others flanked her: one stood tall, her features sharp and focused, and another trudged along, her expression seemingly bored with what was happening.
Uzume turned slowly to face them, her heart pounding as she forced her panic to simmer into defiance.
"Now," the one in black purred, her tone carrying a mockery that set Uzume's teeth on edge, "are you going to behave yourself, or am I going to have to cut you down to size?" She tilted her head slightly, her pale hair catching the faint light that managed to pierce the fog. "I wouldn't mind, of course, but my dear master would. So let's not make this messy, ne?"
Uzume's glare sharpened into daggers, locking onto the black-dressed Sekirei. "And you are?"
The woman let out an airy laugh, one that made the hairs on Uzume's neck stand on end. "Ara, ara, where are my manners?" She made a mock curtsey, her wicked smile more unnerving than polite. "Number Forty-three—Yomi. These two behind me are Juusa and Himeko, Numbers One-oh-three and Fifteen, respectively." Her gaze flicked back to Uzume, eyes gleaming with a twisted delight. "But don't worry, Ten. You'll become well acquainted with us soon enough."
As unreasonable as it was, a wave of relief washed over her before she could stop it.
They weren't here for Tamotsu… They were here for her.
If they were here for her and not her ashikabi-to-be, then she could work with that.
Schooling her features, Uzume crossed her arms, her smirk sharp and biting. "And what makes you that?"
Yomi's smile widened, just a fraction too far to be natural. Her unhinged expression sent a chill crawling up Uzume's spine. "Because I won't settle for anything less." Her voice dipped into something darker, her eyes glinting like a predator's. "You'll kneel before my master… or in pieces. No in between, Veiled Sekirei."
Uzume's eyes narrowed.
The way Juusa and Himeko shuffled uneasily behind their leader was telling—this wasn't just posturing. Yomi was not only dangerous; she was unstable to boot.
And worse, she knew exactly who Uzume was.
"Yomi-chan, then," she drawled, her voice laced with derision. "Hate to disappoint, but I've already got an ashikabi in mind. If you think I'm going to let you or your master get between me and him, you're even crazier than you look."
Without waiting for a response, Uzume flicked her hand, her veils springing to life in a blur of white fabric. They shredded her outer clothes, wrapping around her body in intricate patterns that preserved her modesty while emphasizing her athletic form. She felt bare without her gloves and boots, but she wasn't about to let that stop her.
Bee's not gonna like that I shredded that blouse though, she thought wryly, the notion a small comfort to her.
Juusa and Himeko shuffled back, their wariness clear as they tightened their grips on their weapons.
As for Yomi…
"Ufufufu~!"
The goth-dressed Sekirei giggled, the sound low and manic, like she'd heard the funniest joke in the world and Uzume was the punchline.
"Really not worried about facing someone like me unarmed?" Uzume taunted, trying to get a read on her opponent.
Yomi's giggle turned into a full-blown laugh, her shoulders shaking with the force of it. "Oh, Ten," she said, wiping a mock tear from the corner of her eye. "You really don't get it, do you?"
She reached behind her with a fluid motion, pulling forth a massive scythe that glinted malevolently in the dim light. The blade was curved and wicked, the edge so sharp it seemed to hum with anticipation.
The other also whipped out their respective weapons: Juusa skillfully brandished an ornate-looking staff, while Himeko unveiled a blade about as large as she was with surprising ease.
"You're the one who's unarmed here," Yomi stated, her voice carrying a chilling finality. "Please allow me to introduce ourselves properly. I'm Yomi—the Death Scythe Sekirei."
"Juusa—the Staff Sekirei," added the taller of the two followers, her voice steady but fierce.
"Himeko here!" chirped the last one, her enthusiastic tone belying the tension in her movements. "The Dual-Bladed Sekirei."
Uzume cursed under her breath, her mind racing.
Juusa aside, this was the worst possible match up for her. Yomi and Himeko would render her abilities practically useless in the general sense—especially Yomi, whose presence radiated a dangerous, chaotic energy.
That didn't mean she didn't have options of course. It would just mean this fight was going to suck.
The scythe-wielder took a step closer, dragging the tip of her blade along the ground with a grating screech. "So, shall we begin? Or would you like to submit before you end up humiliating yourself?" she purred, her smile widening into a twisted grin.
"I don't suppose that twin-tailed brat's here with you," Uzume ventured, her voice casual despite the tension twisting in her chest.
Yomi chuckled, her lips curling into a smirk as she ran a gloved hand along the edge of her wicked scythe. The motion was slow, almost loving, as if she were caressing a cherished lover. "Oh, she's here. Poor girl's desperate to make up for her little blunder with Forty-nine the other day, so I thought—why not? But let's not kid ourselves, Ten." Yomi's smirk widened, the glint in her eyes sharp enough to cut even Uzume's veils. "She's the least of your worries right now."
Uzume's retort died on her lips as Juusa suddenly stepped forward, her face tight with an earnest plea. "Uzume-san, we don't have to fight!" she blurted, her voice trembling with desperation.
That caught Uzume off guard. Her veils tensed slightly, mirroring her hesitation.
Yomi didn't seem too surprised though – hell if anything, she looked bemused.
"I was like you," Juusa continued, her words pouring out in a rush. "I couldn't bear the thought of being with anyone but my chosen ashikabi. But… Mikogami-sama is so wonderful! You only have to—"
"Zip it," Uzume snapped, her voice cutting through Juusa's impassioned ramble like a hot knife through butter. Her eyes burned with fury as she fixed the younger Sekirei with a glare. "Delude yourself all you want, little girl, but I want what my heart does—and it sure as hell doesn't want to be forced into marriage with some selfish, deluded brat like yours."
Juusa's face flushed a deep red, her indignation bubbling over. "You… you… h-how dare you?!" she screeched, clutching her staff like she might swing it just to silence Uzume.
"Indeed," Yomi interjected, her voice cold and venomous as her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "How dare you." She stepped forward, her scythe gleaming in the misty light, its blade tilting slightly as if hungry for blood. "No one insults my darling Hayato-kun and gets away with it. Least of all someone who looks like she moonlights as an Arabian stripper."
"Oh, what's wrong there Yomi-chan? Suddenly nervous I'll steal your precious master's attention?" Uzume shot back, her tone dripping with mockery. "You don't need to worry; spoiled brats like that aren't my type."
Yomi's eyes darkened with fury, her gloved grip tightening on the scythe. "I'll teach you to fear the reaper, Ten."
Uzume's veils twitched, shifting in readiness as she met Yomi's gaze with a cold smirk of her own. "Oh, I already do – I lived with her after all."
It was like looking into a warped mirror.
No sooner did that the cursed mist coiled around them that an all too familiar figure figure dropped lightly in front of Mitsuha, her movements fluid and deliberate. The girl could've passed for her twin—same lean frame, same sharp features—but the slate-gray eyes that glared back at her and the glinting wires trailing from her hands set them apart.
"Hold still, Nee-sama!"
The cry was sharp and biting, accompanied by a snap of wires that lashed toward Mitsuha like a serpent striking its prey.
Mitsuha twisted out of the way, her whip flicking in retaliation. The pavement cracked under the blow, the blonde kicking a jagged chunk of concrete toward her opponent.
The wires moved with a hiss of precision, slicing the debris into harmless rubble before it could even come close.
"Tch."
Back in their training days at MBI, Mitsuki had been clumsy with her weapon, fumbling and struggling to keep up.
Mitsuha had always been the one to shine, turning training dummies into splinters while her lookalike could barely keep herself from getting tangled up in her wires.
But now?
That girl's wires moved with a deadly grace, responding to her will like extensions of her body.
Even if Mitsuki had been forced into a bond, she had grown in leaps and bounds since then which elevated her from "nuisance" to "threat."
And when it came to threats, Mitsuha didn't pull her punches.
SHING!
Mitsuki's wires came at her again, crisscrossing in the air like a spider spinning its web. Mitsuha darted to the side, her whip snapping to clear a path. The wires recoiled, only to lash out again, seeking to constrict her.
"You'll have to try harder than that Nee-!"
Mitsuha surged forward, closing the distance in a burst of speed that made Mitsuki's eyes widen. In the next instant, Mitsuha's white gloved fist slammed into her doppelgänger's face with a satisfying crack. Mitsuki flew back with a pained cry, her body twisting mid-air before she struck the ground. Her hand slammed down to halt her momentum, leaving a jagged scar in the earth.
"You're tougher than I thought," Mitsuha remarked, flexing her fingers and shaking out her hand. The sting from the punch lingered, but it was worth it to get back at the brat who had hurt her ashikabi before. "A hit like that would've floored you back then."
Mitsuki's head snapped up, her eyes wide in surprise. "You… you remember, then?"
"I never forgot," Mitsuha said coolly, leveling a glare at the girl.
Mitsuki's expression softened, but only briefly. "Except our promise," she said, her voice trembling, as if the words carried more weight than the wires in her hands.
Memories stirred unbidden—of a bright-eyed girl who had latched onto her the moment they'd met, of her childish devotion and relentless energy. Back then, Mitsuki had been endearing, even adorable in her own way. She'd grown on Mitsuha over time.
But that was the past, and the past had no place here.
"I never made a promise with you," Mitsuha replied evenly. "That was all in your head. The only promise I've ever made was to that you nearly mutilated before."
In the Chairman's game, it was winner-take-all. Mitsuki had chosen her side, and that made her an enemy.
Mitsuha would honor her by treating her as such.
"Is that pipsqueak really so important to you now?" Mitsuki spat, her bangs shadowed her face, hiding her expression.
"Isn't your false master the same?"
That had apparently been the wrong thing to say.
Mitsuki's head snapped up, her eyes blazing with renewed fury. Her wires danced around her like an angry swarm, vibrating with lethal intent.
"You…" Mitsuki's voice trembled, her hands clenching into fists. "YOU DARE?!"
The force of her scream shook the air, and Mitsuha barely had time to register the wires surging toward her like a tidal wave.
"Hayato-sama… Hayato-sama is my ONLY master!" Mitsuki roared, her wires splitting the air with a high-pitched whine. "And I WON'T let anyone—not even you, Nee-sama—talk that way about him!"
Mitsuha's whip snapped up, meeting the wires mid-flight. The clash of their weapons sent sparks flying as bound leather met steel, the sound grating like nails on a chalkboard. Mitsuha gritted her teeth, her arms straining as she batted the wires back.
"Not bad Mitsuki," Mitsuha muttered under her breath, her lips curving into a grim smile. "Looks like this won't be boring after all."
The two Sekirei launched at each other again, their weapons carving paths of destruction through the mist. Wires lashed and snapped, tearing chunks of pavement free, while Mitsuha's whip cracked like thunder, forcing Mitsuki to dodge and weave lest her bones get turned to dust.
They were evenly matched for now, but Mitsuha could feel the intensity in Mitsuki's attacks growing. The fury driving her was relentless, and her wires moved faster with every strike.
But Mitsuha wouldn't falter. She couldn't afford to.
Mitsuha cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Behind her, Tamotsu stood frozen, his hands instinctively holding #49 steady as the frightened girl clung to him, trembling like a leaf in a storm.
"Oh, don't worry about me going after the little runt anymore," Mitsuki sneered, her voice dripping with mockery. The sound snapped Mitsuha's attention back to her mirror image, whose wires hissed ominously as they coiled in the air like snakes. "Master's priorities have shifted. She's just a nuisance at this point."
"Shifted?" Mitsuha demanded, narrowing her eyes.
A cruel smile crept across Mitsuki's face, her slate-gray eyes glinting with wicked amusement as she chewed on some of her wires. "He wants a bigger prize. Someone worth as much as a Single Digit."
Mitsuha's stomach twisted as she heard Tamotsu's voice behind her, quiet but filled with dread. "Uzume-san… You're after Uzume-san!"
Mitsuki clapped her hands together, feigning delight. "Color me impressed! Looks like the little pipsqueak does have some brains rattling around in that thick skull of his."
Mitsuha cursed under her breath, gripping her whip tighter as the realization struck like a lightning bolt.
The pieces were falling into place. All this effort, all this chaos wasn't for #49 anymore. The Southern Ashikabi wasn't interested in what he considered small fry.
No, they were here for #10.
And if that side-tail was winged by that brat—it would change everything.
And yet, that treacherous little voice whispered in her mind, soft and insidious.
Would that be so bad? Why should we share Tamo with anyone? He's ours, after all. We should be his only Sekirei.
Mitsuha smacked the thought away, her grip tightening until her knuckles turned white. The temptation was a poison she couldn't afford to entertain.
Sure, there wasn't any love lost between her and #10. She was a bother, an unwanted presence in what was supposed to be her happy little love life with the dork she called her ashikabi.
But even so, they shared a common goal and that was protecting the boy they both loved.
If only for that, she wouldn't let these bastards take her.
The sharp chime of Mitsuki's wires snapped her focus back to the fight. Her twin giggled, her grin stretching unnervingly wide. "I like that look in your eyes, Nee-sama! It's giving me the shivers! I won't lie—fighting you like this has always been a dream of mine."
Mitsuha's eyes narrowed to slits, with her whip coiling around her feet. "Be careful what you wish for. And if you think you're getting Ten that easy, you're in for a nasty surprise. Even those bitch twins are nervous about taking her on."
Mitsuki's smirk deepened, her wires shimmering like spider silk in the dim light. "But they aren't Yomi, though."
The name sent a ripple of fear through #49. The girl let out a terrified shriek, her voice cracking as she buried her face in Tamotsu's chest. "NO! No, no, no, not her… anyone but her!"
Mitsuha pursed her lips. She'd heard this all before, from #49 herself. The girl had spilled everything after she and #10 had coaxed the truth from her—how she'd slipped through South's fingers and ended up on the run. Mitsuki had been part of the pursuit, but the real threat, the mastermind behind it all, had been someone else entirely.
That was #43. Yomi—the Death Scythe Sekirei.
Mitsuha felt her chest tighten uncomfortably.
Rumors about that particular bitch had circulated for years. Some called her the most unhinged Sekirei since the Black Sekirei herself, whose infamy lingered even while she remained abroad. What had twisted Yomi into the psychotic mess she'd become was a mystery, but her reputation spoke volumes. She was a predator, relentless and merciless, and the very mention of her name sent chills down most spines.
So #49's terror was justified in a way.
But more importantly, it gave Mitsuha all the more reason to end this bout quickly.
Her whip snapped taut, her glare boring into her mirror image. "Mitsuki, I'm going to give you one chance. Leave. Now. Or I'll terminate you where you stand."
Mitsuki tilted her head, feigning innocence as her wires rippled in the air like waves. "You really wanna do this the hard way, Nee-sama?"
"That's up to you."
Mitsuki sighed. "Fine," she said, her voice dropping an octave. "I really hoped it wouldn't come to this, Nee-sama. But it seems I need to be a bit more… assertive."
SHING!
Her wires lashed out, slicing through the air like Mitsuha's whip, their edges gleaming dangerously.
"As if you haven't been already," Mitsuha grumbled, planting her feet as the first strike came crashing toward her.
KA-THWACK!
Her whip cracked in response, splitting the air with a thunderous snap.
The collision sent sparks flying as whip met wire once more, the force shaking the ground beneath them. Mitsuha's jaw tightened as she pushed back against the assault, her mind racing.
The fog swirled around them as the battle raged, the clash of their weapons echoing like the roar of a storm. Mitsuki's wires danced with deadly precision, but Mitsuha's whip was unyielding, each strike forcing her twin further back.
"So what if it's Forty-three over there?" Mitsuha snapped, her voice laced with disdain. Her whip coiled in her hand like a serpent ready to strike. "Crazy bitch she may be, even a simple weapon type isn't going to take someone like Ten down."
Mitsuki's lips curled into a smug smile, her wires dancing in the mist like ghostly threads. "You might be right," she admitted, her voice carrying an unsettling calm. "Except Master is here too… along with everyone else."
The words hit Mitsuha like a bucket of ice water. Her eyes narrowed as her grip tightened. "Risky, isn't it? Dragging your ashikabi out into the open like this? What if he gets hurt?"
Mitsuki's smirk deepened, her slate-gray eyes darting toward Tamotsu. The devious glint in them made Mitsuha's blood boil. "I could say the same, except I know my Master is well-protected," she said with a saccharine edge. "Yours, however, isn't."
Mitsuha's glare darkened, her whip snapping taut. "Just try and touch him."
Before Mitsuki could reply, the air shifted violently.
Two figures slammed down between her and Mitsuha, the impact cracking the pavement and leaving a small crater in their wake. Dust and mist swirled around them as they straightened, revealing familiar silhouettes.
"You two!" Mitsuha exclaimed, her voice betraying her surprise. For a fleeting moment, she'd wondered if they'd taken the chance to bolt with their master when the mist descended.
"Don't get any ideas," Kuzuri said sharply, her eyes flashing as she crossed her arms. "We're not here to help you."
"We just can't let some sis-con Sekirei put our Master in harm's way like this," Kujika added, her tone dripping with scorn.
"S-sis-con?!" Mitsuki screeched, her face going crimson with a mix of outrage and humiliation. Her wires writhed around her, snapping like agitated snakes.
"Truth stings, doesn't it?" Kujika sneered, her smirk wicked. "Don't worry—we've got something that'll sting a whole lot more in store for you."
"Shijime will protect Nishi!" the youngest of the group piped up, stepping forward with her long sleeves flapping. Her determined expression, however, came off more like a pout, earning her a faint smile from Kuzuri.
"We're counting on you, Shijime-chan," Kuzuri said, her tone unusually soft before she turned her sharp gaze to the pink-haired Sekirei cowering behind Tamotsu. "And you, Forty-nine? You want in on this?"
"Uhm… b-but I—"
"That's a no, then," Kuzuri cut her off with a resigned sigh. She shrugged as though it didn't matter. "Oh well, we'll handle it just fine."
"Watch out for each other, you two," Sanada called out, his voice stern despite the bundle of white nestled snugly in his arms.
Kuzuri and Kujika rolled their eyes in unison. "Hai, Master," they droned, though their respect was evident beneath the sass.
Mitsuha gritted her teeth, begrudgingly admitting to herself that having these two on her side might just even the odds. But as things stood, it still might not be enough.
No way around it; gotta get serious.
"Oi, you two," Mitsuha barked, drawing the girls' attention. "Think you can keep her busy long enough for me to get to Tamo?"
Kuzuri's lips curled into a devious grin, mirrored by Kujika. "Oh, we'll do more than that," Kuzuri said, her voice low and dangerous.
"You think I'll let you?!" Mitsuki snarled, her wires lashing out in a torrent of gleaming death.
SHING! SHING! SHING!
Kuzuri moved first, her arms snapping up with practiced ease. The leather bands dangling from her wrists shimmered faintly as they deflected the wires, stopping them cold. The force of the collision sent a ripple of shockwaves through the air.
BOOM!
"What—?!" Mitsuki snarled, her eyes widening as realization struck.
She sensed danger an instant too late. Kujika darted in with blinding speed, using Kuzuri's defense as cover. Her foot shot out in a precise, devastating kick that clipped Mitsuki's side. The impact sent the blonde Sekirei skidding across the pavement, her boots screeching as she barely managed to keep her balance.
"Eyes on us, blondie!'" Kujika taunted, flipping back into a defensive stance, her movements fluid and mocking.
"You'll pay for that!" Mitsuki snarled, her wires lashing out again with renewed fury.
"Let us know when you want to try," Kuzuri shot back breezily, her arms already moving to intercept.
As the three Sekirei clashed, Mitsuha took the opportunity.
Her whip snapped at her side as she bolted through the swirling mist, making a beeline for Tamotsu.
"Tamo—Norito," she barked, her voice sharp with urgency.
Before he could answer, she grabbed his collar, yanking him forward until their faces were inches apart, her intent clear. But when she moved to close the gap, his hand shot up against her shoulder, stopping her surprising strength.
"Mitsuha, wait," Tamotsu said firmly, his voice steady in a way that startled her. "Are you sure about this?"
Her frustration flared. She shot him a look, ready to snap at him for being an idiot, but the words died in her throat when she met his eyes.
This wasn't the awkward, nervous boy she was used to. There was no hesitation there, no timid uncertainty. Just a quiet, unyielding resolve that made her pause.
"Tamo—"
"Do you really want to do this?" he interrupted, his voice low but insistent. "It's Mitsuki, remember?"
"She's the enemy!" Mitsuha snapped, her hand tightening on his collar as if to shake some sense into him. "Anyone who threatens you is my enemy! Don't you understand that?"
"So you'll terminate her, is that it?"
Her grip faltered.
"I don't want you to do that for me, Mitsuha," Tamotsu continued, his tone softening but losing none of its strength. "I don't want you to fight family, even if it's for my sake."
There he goes again, she thought bitterly. Bleeding heart on full display.
He had no idea what he was talking about, no clue about the stakes they were up against, and yet…
She exhaled sharply, her frustration simmering as she fought to hold onto her anger.
"Tamo, if I don't deal with her now, then Ten might get snatched up," she hissed, her voice low but seething. "Is that what you want? To see her dragged off by some crazed brat and turned into his lovesick puppet?"
"I won't let that happen," he said, his voice quiet but unwavering.
"And what can you do about it?" she shot back, her voice rising. "You don't even know where she is in this damned fog!"
Tamotsu hesitated, his jaw tightening before he spoke. "No," he said, "I… I think I do."
Mitsuha's thoughts careened to a screeching halt.
"What...? How?"
"I can't explain it," he admitted, his hand lowering from her shoulder. "It's like… like a tug. I can feel her, almost. Like she's calling out, and I can't ignore it."
Her lips parted, the revelation hitting her like a slap.
If he was telling the truth, it meant #10 was reacting to him – as his Sekirei to be. As much as that notion irritated her, it didn't solve their immediate problem.
"So what?" she bit out instead. "You're just going to run off blindly because of some feeling you have? That's stupid, Tamo."
"I know it is!" he snapped, his voice rising to match hers. "But I'm not going to sit here while some delusional kid forces himself on Uzume-san! Not if I can help it! And I'd so the same thing for you or Kujou-chan!"
The raw determination in his voice caught her off guard, but Mitsuha refused to let it show. She leaned in closer, her glare scorching as she tried to make him back down with sheer force of will.
"Do you even understand what you're saying? What you're risking?" she growled, her voice dangerously low.
"I know what you're trying to do, Mitsuha, and I get that it's a risk. But… I'm not going to let someone I care about suffer because I was too afraid to act again."
Again…? She thought idly, wondering what he meant by that.
"Please trust me, Mitsuha," he went on, imploringly.
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The intensity in his gaze made her chest ache in ways she didn't want to acknowledge.
Of all times it was only now that he decided to grow a backbone with her. Were the situation any less dire, she might have been proud of him for standing up to her.
Hell, she was proud of him—but that wasn't the point right now.
"Baka Tamo," she muttered under her breath, her grip finally loosening.
She stepped back, her frustration mingling with reluctant admiration. "Fine," she said grudgingly. "But if you're wrong—if you don't find her—then you're getting somewhere safe, capiche?"
"I get it," Tamotsu said firmly, meeting Mitsuha's glare head-on, his determination unwavering despite the tension crackling between them. "But… if I make a run for it, I'll be leaving Kujou-chan alone here..."
Mitsuha rolled her eyes. "Then take her with—!"
"I-I can help!"
The sudden outburst shifted Mitsuha's glare to the pink-haired Sekirei, who immediately shrank under its weight. Her hands trembled, but her wide eyes held a flicker of resolve.
"Really…?" Mitsuha drawled, her voice dripping with skepticism. She crossed her arms, her whip dangling loosely in one hand. "And how exactly do you plan to help? Because so far, all you've done is cuddle up to my master like a scared little bunny."
"I'm…" #49 hesitated, her voice faltering under the weight of Mitsuha's scrutiny. Then she squared her shoulders, her hands balling into fists. "I'm the Flare Sekirei."
That gave Mitsuha pause.
"Flare Sekirei?" she repeated, her brow furrowing.
A Sekirei's title typically hinted at their niche, namely their weapon or ability. Mitsuha herself was the Whip Sekirei—her skill with her chosen tool unmatched.
But flare? That could mean anything. Was it related to fire? Light? Was she an elemental-type, perhaps, like one of the Single Digits?
"Care to demonstrate?"
The pinkette shook her head quickly, her pink hair swaying with the motion. "T-that would be bad for everyone," she stammered. Rising to her feet, she added, "Just… be ready to cover your ears and eyes when I tell you to. O-otherwise, it'll affect you too."
Well, that wasn't ominous at all.
"Kujou-chan, are you sure?" Tamotsu asked gently, his voice tinged with concern.
For a moment, #49 faltered, her hands gripping the hem of her skirt. Then, with a shaky but determined breath, she nodded. "Tamotsu-san, you've been protecting me all this time, so if I can help you, then I will—e-even if it seems scary. And…" She swallowed hard, her gaze darting to Mitsuha before returning to Tamotsu. "And I don't want Uzume-san to lose her chance at finding her ashikabi either."
The sentiment might have landed harder if the speaker hadn't been trembling like a leaf, but Mitsuha grudgingly acknowledged the effort on her part.
Maybe she's not entirely useless, but the we'll see about that.
"So, what's your plan, Pinkie?" Mitsuha asked, her tone less biting but still far from warm.
The girl hesitated, glancing nervously toward Mitsuki in the distance. "If… if you can keep Mitsuki busy a bit longer, I can handle the rest."
Mitsuha snorted, her lips curling into a sour frown. "It'd be easier to just terminate her," she said bluntly, throwing a meaningful glance at Tamotsu.
"Nobody has to be if I can help it," Tamotsu shot back, his voice firm and final.
Mitsuha clucked her tongue, her whip snapping reflexively against the ground. "That bleeding heart of yours is going to get you killed one day, Tamo—not that I'll ever let that happen, but still."
Tamotsu gave her a small, earnest smile, one that softened the edge of her frustration. "I know I'm asking a lot of you but I'll make it up to you, Mitsuha. I promise."
For all his faults, Mitsuha could always trust one thing about her ashikabi—he never broke his word. No matter how insane his promises, no matter how impossible the odds, he always followed through.
"Oh, I know you will," Mitsuha said with a smirk, though her eyes held a grudging respect. "That's the only reason I'm letting Pinkie here take the lead on this."
Said pinkette straightened at the nickname, her cheeks puffing slightly in indignation. "My name is Kujou!" she snapped, her soft voice gaining an unexpected edge as she glared at Mitsuha.
Mitsuha chuckled at her bout of defiance, quietly impressed by the girl's gumption. "Prove you deserve the name then, Flare Sekirei."
#49 flinched slightly but didn't back down, her trembling subsiding as her resolve hardened.
Mitsuha sighed, her gaze flicking toward the thick mist and the silhouettes of their enemies beyond it. The tension in the air was suffocating, the weight of what they were about to attempt pressing heavily on her chest.
We're only going to get one shot at this. Mitsuki's not an idiot after all.
She exhaled, her whip snapping back into her hand with a practiced motion.
"The things I do for love…"
This might seem unnecessary but I need to get this off my chest just in case someone eventually decides they need to point this out.
You know, as far as AI goes, I don't have the greatest opinion of it. You need only look at some of the abominations AI-generated art churns out to see why. It's clearly a tool that can get abused quite easily.
And yet, Chat GPT I have to admit isn't part of that same niche. Sure, it makes writing easier but only in terms of enhancing a scene - dolling it up so to speak. But 90% of this I wrote and the other 10% is the AI's suggestions. Some might call me a hack for using AI to write this and they might be right - if I were using it commercially that is, of which I'm sure there are various laws being drummed up to prevent.
But I write for fun and since I can't get anyone to beta my stuff, I have to rely on the AI. If someone like Phen0m can do it, so can I. Nobody has the right to call me out since I'm not making money from this.
Right, slightly-unhinged rant over. Back to the chapter.
So here we have Mikogami's big play for Uzume. She's at a bit of a disadvantage since she's going up against not just Yomi, but Himeko as well. Juusa? Well... I'll leave that for the next chapter.
Sorry this one took so long. I've lost count of all the drafts that had to get scuttled as a result of this. I decided to split this in two since writing 20K chapters is pointless if it bounces around all the time. So the next one will have Yomi's showdown with Mikogami's sekirei and everything after.
It's already written up; I just need to make a few revisions that I should have done by Thursday (but don't quote me on that).
Till then,
Stay healthy and safe.