No Game For Old Men, a Sekirei tale

BY : RykOakwine
Category: -Misc Anime > Threesomes/Moresomes
Dragon prints: 5987
Disclaimer: I do not own Sekirei, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

No Game For Old Men



Book 1.1 – Freedom

 

Foreward/Author's Note to the Reader:

(Extended notes are at the bottom of this chapter. The tl;dr version is here at the top.)

1. Story is Rated MA. For actual reasons.  That said, this is plot with some porn, not porn with some plot. If you're looking for primarily porn writing, this isn't the story you want. 

2. This story uses the anime as canon and ignores most of the manga.

3. This story calls the city of the story's setting "Shin Tokyo". It's just Tokyo, roll with it.

Thanks for giving my story a chance. Several readers have mentioned that by chapter 3 it really takes off, so I ask readers to consider giving it three chapters before making up your mind for certain.

{Farsense or other Metafaculties}

[Memories]

“Internal dialogue.



o.0.O.0.o



o.0.O.0.o

Friday, December 6th, 2019

Shin Tokyo, Japan

She watched the gentle fall of snowflakes through the side-window of the automated, sleek, black, MBI mini-bus; her blue eyes were fixed on the beautiful scene passing by.  Something about the combination of the most basic of natural events, weather, and the hyper-modern backdrop of Shin Tokyo, was captivating.

It did not snow often in Shin Tokyo in early December.  The uncommon event had drawn many of the city’s inhabitants out in the late evening chill, bundled up in colorful jackets, wrapped about with woolen scarves, mittens and gloves found at the bottom of dresser drawers and pulled onto chilled hands.  The cold air was clean and crisp, making the commercial district of Ginza’s many lights shine and sparkle.  Nighttime in the towering urban sprawl of Shin Tokyo was always bright and busy; the enormous city never really slept.

Madoka, Sekirei number 37, took it all in as MBI’s black mini-bus made its way through the traffic of the commercial district on its way to wherever Madoka was to start the rest of her life.

“Number 37, you are the fifth Sekirei to be released into the city to begin the search for their destined Ashikabi…”  The video briefing droned on via the monitor hanging from the roof of the automated vehicle. Madoka ignored it. Tedious boring lectures and briefings were old news by now to anyone who had been raised in MBI’s top-secret Sekirei Labs.  For the last several months the only company she’d had were these tedious, boring, lectures and briefings.  She wanted to get away from MBI and their mind-numbing obsession with “fight fight fight” and her finding her Ashikabi.

Before she left the top-secret MBI Sekirei Labs, where she and all of her fellow Sekirei had spent their entire lives, the MBI Administrators had arranged for whatever clothing she wanted; no request was too outlandish or difficult.  She knew some of her sisters would be putting custom clothiers in the city to some very creative work over the next few months.

For herself she selected normal western style clothing; the sort of clothes any visiting American girl might wear around the city in winter.  With her thick blonde hair, blue eyes, and curvaceous body, Madoka wasn’t going to pass as Japanese anyway.  Therefore, tight, stylishly faded, designer blue jeans, black-leather high-heeled boots, and a puffy pink coat with a broad hood to cover her head was the outfit she settled on after much internal debate.

At first, when told they would arrange for any clothing she wanted, she had thought of outlandish “awesome” outfits that would show off her eleven-on-a-scale-of-ten body, but she recalled her best friend’s advice from a year ago, when they all were first told of the details of MBI’s “Sekirei Plan”.  Number 44, Yosuga, who had been Madoka’s best friend all the years they were together in the labs, quietly pointed out to Madoka that the best thing would be to blend in and not stand out if they were all going to be released into the city population.  A lot of her sisters would be trying to draw attention so as to more easily find their Ashikabi, their destined mate and life-long-loves.

Yosuga insisted that finding the first male who would have his head turned by bouncing boobs and bare skin would result in a poor selection of a lifelong mate.

Yosu-chan was pretty smart about things like that.  And Madoka knew that she herself was not.

“Over the next five months, in the First Phase of the Sekirei Plan, three to six of your competitors will be released into Shin Tokyo each week to seek out the best Ashikabi available…”

So Madoka had resisted the impulse that so many of her fellow Sekirei were giving into.  Western style clothes it was, and looking out at the cold snowy night from the back of the mini-bus Madoka blessed her friend and the good advice she had given.  Tromping about on a snowy night wearing spandex and latex just did not sound like it would be much fun.  Sure, she would look one-hundred percent awesome, but brrrr!

Madoka searched around in the pink and white vinyl “Nyan Nyan” purse in which she had put her MBI Platinum Card and necessities like her hair brush, make up, a few of her favorite earrings from her dorm. They were not allowed to carry much out of the laboratory dorms, but she had been assured the unlimited MBI Platinum Card she was issued would be more than adequate to provide for all the necessities that life in Shin Tokyo demanded.

Madoka was not sure exactly what those “necessities” were, but it could not be too complicated.  Find a place to live, get food and, ah… well, whatever else there was she needed. The MBI Administrators of the Sekirei Plan were vague in the briefing.  There hadn’t been any real training on what they were supposed to do once released, other than find their Ashikabi and then seek out other Sekirei to defeat them in battle.

“Your MBI Platinum Card operates as any commercial bank’s debit card would operate. You can use it to purchase products and services at many businesses in the Shin Tokyo prefecture. As much of Japan still operates on a cash economy each day you can use your card to withdraw…”

Finding a black ink pen in her purse Madoka clicked it then began absently doodling designs on the pale blue denim of her jeans.

Defeat them in battle.  “Fight Fight Fight until only one remains!” as Professor Hiroto Minaka put it.  Over and over and over again.  The last year was full of nothing but “Fight Fight Fight until only one remains” and “Find your Ashikabi” it seemed.  She heard it in her sleep even.

Madoka had become sick and tired of it months ago and was not any more enthusiastic about it today.  There was no way she could ever defeat even the weakest of her fellow Sekirei in any kind of battle anyway.  Unless they dueled via wet t-shirt contest, perhaps.

Make no mistake, if Madoka could beat down her Sekirei sisters and stand atop a pile of their bodies to rule over all she saw, she would.

But that was simply never going to happen.

”The MBI Platinum Card has no limit in order to provide for your own and your Ashikabi’s needs.  This is so that you can focus on the tournament…”

If there was one lesson that living in the communal dormitories of the Sekirei Labs had taught her, it was that she was at the absolute bottom of the ranking list when it came to Sekirei Badassery.  Madoka could not beat the Sekirei who was the next weakest on the list, and that was a Sekirei who could only cry as her “super power”.  Most of her sister Sekirei could punch holes in concrete walls, leap fifty meters at a jump, and outrun bullet trains.  Madoka could not do any of that; all she could do was heal minor injuries, if she put her hands on the person and concentrated really hard.  That, and every day was a great hair day for Madoka. 

If that is a super power.  Maybe it is.  At least that would give her two things!

What good is healing cuts and bruises if Toyotama-onee-sama came after her, all towering muscles and blazing speed, plus skill with deadly weapons?

Damn little good, that’s what.  She could offer to heal the bruises Toyotama’s knuckles might get from pounding Madoka’s face concave.

This was why Madoka made the effort a few years ago to get Toyotama as her protector.  No Sekirei in the Sekirei Labs, but no one, fucked with Toyotama.

A small, self-satisfied, smirk graced Madoka’s lips as she continued to doodle with blank ink on her stylishly faded blue denim jeans.  “Well, no one but me.” 

Madoka missed her onee-sama, had missed her terribly since they were separated, before Madoka’s last round of “adjustments”.  That was life in the Sekirei Labs, a life of constantly losing anyone you made attachments with.  She was fortunate that she’d had her best friend, 44 Yosuga, for so many years of her childhood as a constant companion and that she had her onee-sama, Toyotama, from just after Madoka had emerged from the round of adjustments that had aged Madoka past puberty.  Many Sekirei did not have even that much consistent companionship in the Sekirei Labs.

She and Yosuga had made plans though.  Plans to find each other and work together in the Sekirei Plan and to hell with the rules if need be.  Madoka knew Yosu-chan had not been released into the city yet, thanks to a friendly, if lecherous, lab tech who was vulnerable to Madoka’s smiles and light flirting.  Madoka knew she needed to find her own Ashikabi and then get word back into the Sekirei Labs to Yosuga how to contact her as soon as Yosuga was pushed out into the city.  The two had made some plans on how to communicate once one of them was sent into the city but had no chance to test their ideas.  Now Madoka would get the opportunity to do just that.

“Your identification is included with your MBI Platinum Card; it indicates your fake identity as Sanjunana Madoka, a Japanese citizen.  Remember, this illegal identity has been created for you by MBI and is not in any way a true legal human record.  Any thoughts of betraying the Sekirei Plan and leaving Shin Tokyo will result in your imprisonment and likely execution by the local human authorities as well as…”

Madoka had few illusions about her chances in the Sekirei Plan. She was fortunate enough to be among the first released, before all 100-plus of the other alien Sekirei were free and roaming around Shin Tokyo looking for easy targets. At least she would have some time to find her Ashikabi and enjoy the short months of the rest of her life.

Madoka drew a few “Happy Neko” logos on her jeans legs with her black pen, thinking.  Maybe her Ashikabi would be the sort of guy who would draw other Sekirei to him as well; a real tough, badass sort, the kind of guy that other Sekirei would want. Not that Madoka was wild about the idea of sharing her mate, except maybe with Yosuga… but she could see living with a situation in which she was the Queen of the House.

In addition, her Ashikabi’s’ other bonded Sekirei, all strong combat types of course, would keep her and her Ashikabi safe, like good minions should.

Okay, maybe like good concubines.

Concubines.  If they were nice to her, the One and Only Wife.  Well, maybe One and Only Wife Plus Also Wife Yosuga.

Madoka missed Yosu-chan more than anything.

“It is critical that you immediately seek out your Ashikabi, for until you have found your destined life mate you will be vulnerable to the most ruthless of the enemy Sekirei in the city.  You must find your Ashikabi and with a kiss the psychic wings of your race will bond you…”

That seemed like a good plan to her. Now she just had to find the strong, tall, ruthless, dark-haired, handsome, and clever, guy that fit the bill and make him hers. It never crossed Madoka’s mind that she might find who she wanted and fail to convince him. There wasn’t a male from 12 to 80, and few females, who could resist her when she put her mind to it. No, the real challenge would be in finding him; surviving until she could locate her destined Ashikabi, then get him to build their power base and influence until they were safe and secure to live happily ever after!

Madoka’s full, pink, lips smiled at that thought as her carefully manicured and painted fingers toyed with the faded denim of her jeans.  Her sky-blue eyes were no longer seeing the early snow outside or the high speed freeway the sleek black mini-bus was now traveling on. Instead, her vision was occupied with a picture of her handsome, strong, dark, and mysterious, Ashikabi faithfully waiting for her, somewhere in this city.



o.0.O.0.o

Somewhere in the north of Shin Tokyo, a scruffy, handsome, rakish, young Japanese man by the name of Kaoru Seo sneezed, repeatedly. This startled the twin-sister Sekirei he had “winged” just that very hour, binding them to him so that from now on they had to do whatever he said! He was their Ashikabi now, just like he planned when he left MBI’s employ as one of their lab monkeys the week before.

This was going to be so awesome!  And no way was he going to fall into the same fate as his close friend, the late Asama Takehito, who had lost his life due to caring more for MBI and their Sekirei than he cared for himself.  Takehito had given Seo some advantages against the Sekirei Plan and Seo was damned if he was not going to use those advantages to the best of his ability.

Seo sneezed again.

“Seo-sama, are you sick? Do you have a cold?” the concerned tone of number 11 Hikari’s voice brought a happy smile to Seo’s lips. As the three walked aimlessly down the sidewalk, her sister, number 12 Hibiki, looked up at him with worry writ on her delicate and classically pretty face.  Seo tried to make a point of appreciating Hibiki’s pretty face, because he could not see past Hikari’s awesome rack.  Man, did that girl have some great tits!

 “No, no, I’m fine, girls, I’m fine!  Hey, let’s go get some food, eh? Then a hotel room somewhere and let’s get to know each other better, eh?” Seo grinned raffishly at the pretty twins who were comfortably snuggling each side of his torso, his hands moving downwards then squeezing their firm rumps.  Twins!  This was so great!

Seo didn’t notice the glares his roaming hands had evoked on the beautiful faces of his two Sekirei. He did notice that the hair on his arms was standing up, as though an electrical charge was building…



o.0.O.0.o

Yesterday’s snow was still hanging around in the high school courtyard.  The late Friday afternoon sky was slate and chilly as seen from Tokyo Metro High School’s room 210, where Gregory O’Donnell had his last class of the day: Junior’s Honors English.  Unlike most of his peers in the teacher’s lounge, Gregory loved winter in Shin Tokyo.  Though the seasons were mild in the sprawling metropolis he preferred the chill clean air of a blustery December day to the thicker air of spring and summer.

Though there was something to be said for springtime in Japan.

Still, days like this, with snow on the ground, some ice hanging from the bare branches of the trees in the school’s large courtyard, and a low sky with gusts of cold wind chasing students from building to building, reminded him a bit of where he grew up. His childhood home had been in New Hampshire on the east coast of the United States; one of those places that none of his Japanese students had heard of and so far a 100% failing score on that bit of trivia.  Not that he could blame them. Nothing particularly significant had occurred in New Hampshire in over a hundred years, even considering the impressive array of universities the small state claimed, including Dartmouth College, Gregory’s own alma mater.

Blustery.  That was the perfect English word for a day like this.  He had made sure to work it into his lessons today though he had little real optimism that any of his students would ever actually use the word at any point in their lives.  Nevertheless, one could hope, which gave fuel to Gregory’s somewhat quixotic mission of keeping slightly archaic English words alive, here in the Shibuya Ward of Shin Tokyo, six-thousand six-hundred fifty-six miles from Dartmouth College.

He would give a lot to overhear, just once, a graduate of Tokyo Metro High School use “blustery” in a sentence.

Gregory smiled to himself as he finished packing away his school issued tablet and other electronics into his old-fashioned attaché case.  The attaché went along with the tweed jacket which he made a point of wearing when the weather turned like this, which was rarely enough.  His wife thought he was being a bit silly with such an affectation, but damnit, a fellow deserved a few indulgences and play-acting the Ivy League don on a blustery day in Tokyo was his right!  So what if he was closer to being a computer-game loving otaku than an Ivy League don.  The tweed jacket was cool!

Okay, well, maybe not “cool”.  But he was going to keep it, damnit!

As he rubbed his hands through his thinning, short cropped, dirty blonde hair, he subconsciously sucked in the small bit of around-the-middle-gut he’d noticed he was carrying around since his 40th birthday a few months past. Then Gregory thrust his thin arms into the tweed jacket’s protection, and checked his appearance in the window reflection before exiting the classroom for the day.

Appearances mattered a lot in the teaching business, and even more so in Japan than in the US.  Gregory long had the habit of checking to make sure his tie was straight, his collars turned down properly, his shirt well and evenly tucked into his slacks, even after the last class was long gone and the school empty except for those student clubs that met after school.

He hoped to have time to stop and take a few photos on the way home; catch some of this snow in a few picturesque back streets of Shibuya Ward he knew would make for great shots.  This part of Tokyo Metropolitan was best known for Shibuya Crossing and for the Meiji Shrine, which was 175 acres of immaculate forest in the west of Shin Tokyo.  But it also had some amazing back alleys to explore!

He’d best hurry though, since the sun set early this time of year and traffic was miserable at the best of times.  Why he insisted on keeping a private vehicle in a city where the mass transit was an elegant and amazing work of engineering genius he was not sure.  Holding onto his American independence perhaps.  But he loved his big, soft-top, sunset-orange Jeep Wrangler 4x4. It was comfortable. His lean six-foot frame fit in it nicely, unlike many Japanese vehicles, and it was cool.

Well, he thought it was cool.  So did most of his male students, especially the ones in the Auto Repair Club which he helped sponsor each year. His wife, Karen, mostly thought it was an expensive indulgence.

The American Media and Culture Club tried to get him to take over sponsorship of that student club when he arrived four years ago since he was assumed to be an expert on American pop culture.  But he really didn’t have any interest in that sort of club. It was just a bit cliché, too.  He already spent all day in class talking about American and Canadian and British culture, since fluency in a language really did not matter much unless you had something to talk to the native speaker about.  By their last year in high school the students who elected to take his Senior English class were already essentially fluent; they were polishing their skills by this point and delving into grammatical esoterica, the sort of language mechanics linguists were concerned with.

Therefore, he helped the American Media Club occasionally, since the main teacher sponsor asked so nicely and was, he had to confess, a very attractive woman.  However, he primarily co-sponsored the Auto Repair Club, or as it was known when he was in high school, “Auto shop”.  The 17 and 18 year old males who filled that club, with their Mazda’s and Hyundai’s and Toyota’s, thought his big, canvass topped, 4x4, Jeep Wrangler was awesome.

So there.  If he had to spend every Saturday teaching a half day of English as a Second Language to adult students in order to afford the Jeep, the insurance on it, the parking fees, the gas prices, the parking space rental at the school, and the garage rental at the apartment, it was worth it!

As Gregory pulled the Jeep out of the Tokyo Metro High School parking lot and into the evening traffic he figured he had little chance of catching the pictures he wanted to take of those back streets in the snow.  But maybe he could catch one of them before it got dark, if he hurried.

He sped up, cutting in and out of traffic a bit more aggressively than was his usual style.  Might as well get some practical use from his bulky vehicle, he figured.  And he really did want to get some snow pictures of those backstreets before getting home to his wife and teen daughter. Plus he had plans for logging on to World of Guildwars III for a few hours of raiding before bed tonight. Papa needs a new set of Legendary Armor, baby!



o.0.O.0.o

Monday, December 9th, 2019

Madoka had spent her first weekend of freedom from MBI’s Sekirei Labs at the Shin Tokyo Grand Hyatt, a luxury hotel near downtown.  All shining chrome, steel, glass, and cold lighting, the towering structure of the hotel was matched on all sides by ever more amazing, colorful, and sleek buildings which together made up the most modern urban environment the world had ever seen.  Kilometer after kilometer of skyscrapers reached hundreds of meters into the sky with their bases forming an incredibly dense street-level commercial district. Multi-national corporations of every sort vied for the most prestigious office spaces, advertising exposure, and, inevitably, parking allotments.

The traffic was pretty bad if Madoka was any judge.  Not that she’d ever visited any other city to compare it to, but the thousands of shiny new cars that moved along the urban street grid didn’t ever seem to go anywhere very fast until they finally reached the ring of freeways that led ever further away from the dense downtown area.  Then auto-navigation and piloting took over for many of the newest vehicles, and the municipal traffic system coordinated with the underground rail and the street-level bus systems to ease the traffic.

Having checked out of the hotel she had sheltered in for the previous few days, Madoka shouldered the small, stylish, touristy knapsack she’d purchased which now contained some new clothes and living essentials. She intended to take the subway to the Akihabara District just north of downtown, where she wanted to explore and perhaps rent a room to live in for the immediate future.  From what she had seen on the hotel City Information Channel, the anime and manga otaku culture of Akihabara looked exciting and fun as well as much less intimidating than the immense chrome and glass canyons of the downtown district.

There would surely be more young people there as well; the hotel she had been staying at was very luxurious but the clientele were all old people.  Well, old men, at least.  With many young, very pretty, women. That fact led to a lot of assumptions about Madoka’s presence at the hotel which she was already quite tired of.

Madoka shuddered.  Wrinkly old man skin… over wrinkly old man… parts… GAH! Gross! Gross gross gross!

Walking the few blocks towards the nearest subway station, Madoka enjoyed the chilly evening air even though it was biting her fingers a bit.  Maybe she should get a pair of gloves if this cold weather was going to be staying around?  Madoka tried to remember how long winter was supposed to last, but a lifetime of experience inside MBI’s sprawling laboratories didn’t include a lot of intimate knowledge of weather patterns.  It was still a few weeks until New Year’s Day and it was still winter after New Year’s Day so she probably should get some gloves.

The things they didn’t think to tell a person about life in the real world!

The side street she was walking along was notably light on foot traffic, which was something of a relief.  The incredibly dense crowds on the sidewalks was another aspect of life in the city that Madoka realized she wasn’t equipped to handle, after spending her entire life in the dormitories and labs at MBI’s main campus.

Madoka quickly made her way along the well-lit evening walkways, not focusing on anything other than her chilled fingers and being amused at the cold air making little puffs of vapor when she exhaled.

A feeling, a sense of something familiar, made her pause for a moment at a narrow space between two towering downtown buildings.

Madoka turned her head to look down the one-lane space, really just a well-lit alley. Her carefully sculpted eyebrows drew down and together in thought.  There was something, someone she knew, perhaps, down this way.  On impulse, the blonde Sekirei walked into the alleyway, looking up and around, trying to get a feel for what it was or who it was she had sensed in this area.

A loud crash from ahead, echoing in the narrow space between the buildings, startled Madoka so badly she yelped aloud.  She stopped and stared at the waste dumpsters some ten meters further along that were at a left turn in the alley.  A person had just plowed into the steel bins from past the left turn and scattered the heavy, wheeled containers with a huge racket.  The girl who had impacted the big trash bins lay on the concrete paving, trying to stand but having little success.

The girl was familiar to Madoka, even in the odd yellow and black skin tight body suit! She was number 86 Katsuragi, a Sekirei who had spent a short while in the Group 11 dormitory in which Madoka had spent most of her life.  Madoka did not know the other Sekirei very well; it had been several years ago and Katsuragi had been a quiet, reserved sort of girl who had only spent a short time in Madoka’s group before being moved out to some other Group.

Madoka could only stand there in the middle of the alleyway, shocked, watching, as Katsuragi struggled to get to her feet but could only fall back to the ground, obviously injured from whatever had caused her to hit those waste bins so hard.

The clacking sound of boot heels on concrete now echoed through the urban canyon. Someone was unhurriedly walking towards the fallen 86 Katsuragi from further down the alleyway, past the left turn.  Madoka swiftly hid herself in the shadowed lee of a wide garage-doorway. She pressed against the cold metal frame, peeking just one eye around the corner to see what was happening. Who it was that had thrown the other Sekirei with such force?

The echoing footsteps slowed, and Madoka saw the tall woman whose steps had been so ominously approaching the fallen number 86.  Madoka’s heart clenched for a long moment, both hopeful and fearful. She recognized the muscular limbs, the long, exotic, dark-green hair spilling to the small of the back, the striking ice blue eyes, and not least, the two meter fighting staff/javelin casually held in the woman’s right hand.

Madoka had vaguely hoped to find her onee-sama but this was not the scenario the little blonde Sekirei had envisioned.

Number 16 Toyotama stopped next to the still struggling form of 86 Katsuragi, then bent over at the hips and grabbed the fallen girl by the back of her head.  Toyotama’s gloved fingers twisted cruelly in the hair of the other Sekirei, getting a solid grip, before pulling the fallen girl upright, easily, in an intimidating display of strength.  Toyotama held Katsuragi up by her hair, causing the other girl to flail about trying to find footing which was just out of reach.

Madoka remembered the night she had suggested this exact maneuver for her onee-sama, to use on someone physically defeated but who still needed convincing that they were truly at Toyotama’s mercy.  It was devastatingly effective.  Madoka remembered 14 Chiyo finally being convinced by Toyotama to leave Madoka alone after weeks of Chiyo picking on Madoka.

14 Chiyo never wore long hair again that Madoka ever saw.  The back of her hair, especially, was in a buzz cut even to the last day Madoka saw her, on the last day Madoka saw Group 11 just a few months ago.

Toyotama reached over her shoulder with her left hand and snapped her javelin into a pair of clips between her shoulders to store it out of the way, then casually backhanded number 86 across the face, blood from the smaller girl’s busted lip splattering the dark blue gloves which covered Toyotama’s arms to above the elbows.

“Onee-sama…”  Madoka winced at how casually Toyotama was beating the smaller 86 Katsuragi.  Then, Toyotama was always strong, especially after her puberty “adjustment” period back in the MBI Sekirei Labs.  She’d come out of that adjustment with not only dense, thick, muscle but a different attitude and mindset.  Not cruel or mean, just… strong minded.  In addition, that was when she’d started looking at Madoka with the same eyes the male lab techs had.

[MemoryMadoka’s whole body felt a tremor go from her head to her toes, trembling with excitement as she looked up into Toyotama’s blue-green eyes.  Eyes that looked at Madoka’s face with hunger and barely suppressed desire.  The Amazonian Sekirei’s fingers were in Madoka’s long, thick, blonde hair and their naked bodies were pressed tightly against each other from breasts to knees, with Madoka’s hands gripping the larger girl’s muscular flanks.  Madoka wordlessly encouraged her onee-chan by wrapping her own legs around Toyotama’s hips and locking her ankles together.  Finally, Toyotama gave in and slowly closed the distance between their lips and took what Madoka was so obviously offering]

Shaking her head to clear that memory, Madoka watched her onee-sama and 86 Katsuragi with dread.  Madoka knew there was more going on here than just two Sekirei battling in the Sekirei Plan.  She could feel that Katsuragi was unwinged still and that Toyotama was not.  So what was this?  Something was wrong, very wrong.

Toyotama, satisfied that her opponent was now completely beaten, turned to look down the alley the way she had come, her face blank, unfeeling, and calm.

The headlights of an approaching vehicle cast a growing illumination on the pair of Sekirei.  One, standing tall, her large full breasts displayed enticingly in a blue and white open-belly top that showed off her defined abdominal muscles very well.  Thigh-high blue leather boots covered her long, powerful, legs.

The other girl was defeated, injured, humiliated, and dangling with her yellow-and-black boot toes barely scraping the pavement of the alleyway.  Number 16 held her captive out and away from her body easily, with one arm, almost straight out to the side.  It was an intimidating display of raw strength, by design.  The other girl was barely able to reach one hand up behind her own head to grip Toyotama’s hand where it twisted cruelly in 86’s hair.

Madoka’s heart thudded so loudly in her chest that she was sure Toyotama would hear it, ten meters away.  She watched as the automobile headlights ceased growing larger and brighter; they now clearly illuminated 16 and 86.  Madoka heard a pair of car doors open then close.  Two people were exiting the car.

Madoka strained to picture what her eyes could not see, around the corner of the alley ahead.  She was always one of the best among the Group 11 girls at seeing around corners.  Surely, here, when she really needed it… yes!  There!

{FarsightA limousine; a dark-suited black-haired man with eye glasses holding open the back passenger-side door; a white-suited, very handsome, light haired young man exiting the limousine then walking towards 16 and the captive 86.  Madoka noticed the irrelevant coincidence that his hair was the exact same shade of dark-blonde as Katsuragi’s.}

The white-suited man had an aura about him that, in spite of his bishōnen good looks, made Madoka fearful.  Whoever he was, he was a dangerous man, someone Madoka wanted to avoid.  She could tell that from the way he held himself, the cruel cast of his face as he came to a stop before Toyotama.  As he was now visible to Madoka’s physical eyes, she focused all of her senses on the scene; Madoka could see every detail as it unfolded and hear every word perfectly even though she huddled in the garage doorway ten meters away.

The white suited man called over his shoulder to the dark haired limousine driver, “Good job, Kakizaki.  Your information on where this one would be released looks to have been accurate.”

{Farsight}  Madoka ‘saw’ the dark suited man, Kakizaki, preen at the praise of his boss, using a finger to press his glasses higher up onto the bridge of his nose.}

Madoka rolled her eyes in spite of herself.  Seriously?

{Farsight}  “Thank you, Higa-sama.  One only hopes to serve.”}

It was all Madoka could do to hold in her laughter.  This guy could not be for real, could he?

“Let’s see if a second of you alien things can be bound to one Ashikabi, eh?”  The white suited man, whose name appeared to be Higa, gestured to Toyotama who held the whimpering Katsuragi out towards the man who was obviously Toyotama’s Ashikabi.

Madoka’s heart sank.  She knew Toyotama as well, or better, than she knew any other Sekirei other than her childhood friend Yosuga.  Serving such a man could not be her onee-sama’s destiny, it just couldn’t!  Yet Madoka could see the blank-faced number 16 gripping Katsuragi by the hair, turning the other girl’s head so that her face was angled upwards and facing Higa.  Katsuragi’s legs were weakly trying to find purchase on the concrete but failing.  Both of Katsuragi’s hands now held onto Toyotama’s where number 16’s fingers were tangled in the smaller girls light brown hair.

Higa stepped up closely to the vainly struggling Katsuragi and reached out with his right hand. He gripped the girl’s chin and pulled it downward with a jerk.  The aristocratic Ashikabi then put his thumb on the girl’s lower front teeth, his fingers beneath her chin, and held her mouth open.

Katsuragi’s eyes rolled in her head, terror making her struggle harder against Toyotama’s iron grip, to no avail.  Sad, scared, sounds came from the terrified number 86’s open mouth as Higa turned her face back and forth, looking at her as though he were studying a particularly distasteful insect.  With a grimace on his face, Higa leaned towards Katsuragi, causing the captive Sekirei to try to cry out awkwardly, “Agahh!”

Madoka could barely stand to watch; she had never considered in her worst nightmares that an Ashikabi would try to kiss a Sekirei who did not want to bond with him!  This was horrible, and there was Toyotama, calmly helping this monster as he leaned in to force his kiss on poor Katsuragi!

Madoka’s stomach heaved when she saw Higa spit into Katsuragi’s pried-open mouth, instead of kissing her.

She clamped both her hands over her own mouth to keep the outrage she felt from coming forth.  He had spit in Katsuragi’s mouth!  Why would someone do that?  What sort of world had MBI released her and the rest of the Sekirei into?  He spit in her mouth.  He spit in her mouth!

“Well, that didn’t work.  Damn.”  Higa’s aristocratic voice carried his obvious disappointment.  “Well, let’s try it this way then.”

He licked the middle finger of his left hand while still gripping Katsuragi’s chin and teeth in his right.  Disgust clearly written on his fine features, Higa stuck the finger into her mouth and moved the digit about to mix his saliva with hers.

Light flared and filled the alleyway as an explosion of psychic energy, high up near her shoulder blades, burst from Katsuragi’s back.  Pale, yellow, diaphanous, wings unfurled, illuminating the appalling tableau in stark light.  Madoka, beyond horrified, witnessed the glowing Sekirei symbol appear behind Katsuragi between the glowing wings. It settled onto the thrashing girl’s shoulders and embedded itself there for life.

One of Madoka’s sisters was now forever bonded to a monster, against her will.

[Memory]“Hi, I’m Yosuga and this is my best friend, Madoka.  What’s your name?

The new transfer to Group 11, skinny, pale, with light blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, answered in a soft voice, “Hi, I’m Katsuragi, number 86.”]

“Okay, Kakizaki, make a note.  You don’t have to kiss the damn things, but you do have to touch them,” Higa called out to his assistant, ignoring the gasping, twitching, number 86 still being held firmly in place by 16 Toyotama.

Turning his head to look at Toyotama, Higa ordered, “Number 16, take that back to the office and clean it up.  You are responsible for making sure it knows the rules and what is expected of it.  I will have Kakizaki check on it tomorrow and begin its discipline.  Do not disappoint me or I will have Kakizaki discipline you, no matter how unsightly your body is.  Am I clear?”

“Yes, Higa-sama.”  Toyotama’s agreement was immediate, clear, and calm.

Higa nodded and walked back to his limousine while poor Katsuragi writhed in humiliated ecstasy, the psychic fires from the winging still blazing through her nervous system.

{Farsight}  Madoka’s ‘sight’ clearly showed her the back door of the limousine closing behind Higa.  He took his seat, waiting for his assistant to drive them out of the alley, already picking up his phone to deal with other business.}

Madoka watched, with tears streaking her cheeks, one hand covering her own mouth to stifle the sobs she could not completely stop, as the headlights of the limousine backed away.  This left a still unmoving and expressionless Toyotama holding a whimpering and weeping Katsuragi.  Number 16 shook her head then dropped 86 in a wretched pile at her feet.

“Forever and ever, now, right?”  Toyotama’s sternly beautiful face grimaced down at Katsuragi.

“Well, you can thank our sister, number 22, for finding out where you were going to be released and when.  Aren’t you lucky?  Come on, 86, get up.  You heard our Ashikabi.  Follow me. Don’t speak unless spoken to, or I will break your fingers one by one until you get the picture.  This isn’t the fantasy world you thought you were going to, and the faster you figure that out the less pain you’ll be in.  Got it?”

Katsuragi nodded her head, still crying.  This wasn’t good enough for Toyotama, who kicked the girl in the side of the head. Her booted foot sent the girl tumbling into the garage dumpsters, again.

“I asked you a question.  When our Ashikabi, or his assistant, or I, ask you a question, you answer immediately, aloud, and respectfully.  You do not nod your fucking head.”

This time Katsuragi spoke up, crying out, “Yes, yes, I have it. Moushiwake arimasen, Toyotama-sama!”

Toyotama reached down and picked up the wretched girl, throwing her over a shoulder.

“Don’t apologize, 86; just do as you’re told.  And I’m just number 16, just like you are just 86.  Our Ashikabi doesn’t feel actual names are appropriate to… things… like us.  Come on, we’ve got a long way to go to the east side office, so keep quiet and think on the wonderfulness of your new Ashikabi, eh.  I can pretty much guarantee he won’t ever touch you again, so your memories of tonight will just have to last.”

Toyotama glanced down the alleyway towards where Madoka crouched in the lee of the garage-door frame, her dark green eyebrows pulling down and together for a moment.  Madoka held her breath, desperate to avoid giving away her position.

After just a moment Toyotama leapt away, carrying the wretched Katsuragi with her.

Madoka waited until she was sure Toyotama and Katsuragi were long gone before stepping out from her hiding place.  She staggered towards the turn in the alley where she had witnessed something she had never even thought could happen.  A nightmare for any Sekirei.

One that would no doubt happen to her if this Higa, or another Ashikabi like him, ever caught up to her.

[Memory] The skinny little girl with the dirty blonde hair tried one more time to cheer up Madoka. 

“Hey, Mado-chan, tell me about what your Ashikabi will be like and I’ll tell you about mine, okay?” 

Katsuragi hoped this worked; the Ashikabi game always pulled Madoka out of her moods.

Madoka answered, with a soft smile of appreciation, “Okay.”]

Staring down at the splattered blood of 86 Katsuragi on the concrete pavement, Madoka thought of the short time the plain-faced, quiet, girl spent with Madoka’s group in the Sekirei Labs, years ago.  Madoka wept for Katsuragi as well as for her onee-sama, Toyotama.

Then she ran off towards the subway station, fear and desperation powering her flight away from this place.



 o.0.O.0.o

Four days after the terrible events she had witnessed in that downtown alley Madoka had found her way to the west side of the sprawling metropolis, after spending the night at a different hotel each evening as she explored the city.  She was very glad that the first hotel she had walked into after MBI released her downtown had been the five –star luxury of the Tokyo Grand Hyatt.  The level of service extended to even an ignorant Anglo girl in blue jeans, who held an unlimited Platinum MBI card in her hand, was flawless and Madoka had learned at least the process for renting a room at a hotel without awkwardness, thanks to the unrivaled courtesy of the Hyatt’s desk clerk.

Shin Tokyo was still cold, the weather remaining windy and cloudy, though there had been no more snow.  The sun had set some hours ago, leaving the black cloud covered sky low above the skyscrapers of Shin Tokyo, colored lights from buildings, advertisements, LED projections and holographs, reflecting back down from the low clouds eerily.

At least, Madoka thought it was eerie.  Being outdoors so much was one adjustment she had never considered would be difficult, but it was!  All of the Sekirei, as far as she knew, spent most of their time indoors at the MBI Labs and Dormitories here in Shin Tokyo.  She certainly had never been out into the city.

Some short exercise periods allowed in the rooftop gym facilities wasn’t nearly enough to become used to the idea of weather and sky and crowds and sidewalks and traffic signs or any of the thousand other small yet significant items people likely took for granted as they went about their lives here in this metropolis of 19 million people.

Madoka walked aimlessly along one of the many waterways that crisscrossed the west side of the city.  It might be a canal, a small river, or a creek; Madoka really could not say for sure what the precise word for the narrow ribbon of water was, but it had a level, concrete, sidewalk that meandered alongside it.  Joggers and walkers used this during the day, but now in the early night it was mostly vacant.  The walkway passed under footbridges and street overpasses, all well-lit and clean, which lulled the tiny blonde Sekirei into a careless, introspective, state.

She walked with her small knapsack over her shoulder, her purse and other possessions in the knapsack for easy carrying.  She didn’t have a destination in mind, though part of her mind realized it was getting colder as the night grew later and a hotel would be needed soon.

What occupied the Sekirei’s thoughts were questions about her Ashikabi and speculation about how dangerous it was for her to walk about the city even during the day, due to monsters like that Higa person.  What if there were other Ashikabi sending their Sekirei out to find and capture newly released Sekirei and forcing them into a bond which could not be broken this side of the grave?  Didn’t Higa also indicate that his lackey, Kakizaki, somehow knew that 86 Katsuragi was going to be released on that date and in that location?  Something to do with number 22?  That statement from Higa had terrifying implications.

Madoka realized that if there was one like Higa, there were surely others.  Did others have “inside information” about the release schedule for the Sekirei?

Biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes burned thanks to sudden, unshed tears.  Madoka thought about the naïve dreams she and other Sekirei had in the MBI Labs of their “destined” Ashikabi; the man who would be drawn to them by fate.  With a kiss, there would be a lifetime, unbreakable, bond of love and romance between them.  The visible mark of that bond taking the form of the Sekirei Crest that would then be visible between the shoulders of any ‘winged’ Sekirei.

Madoka sighed bitterly as she walked along the jogging path.  There might be some Sekirei who ended up with a loving Ashikabi and some form of romance and love but she could see now that many of her sisters, and likely herself as well, were destined for a short, brutal, life bound to hateful and cruel men. 

Could Toyotama still love her Ashikabi, in spite of the horrid nature of the man?  She certainly seemed to respect him and obey him without question.

Madoka knew Toyotama from the years they spent together in the MBI Sekirei Labs.  They had spent quite a bit of their time as lovers, with Toyotama-onee-sama taking the role of protector of the smaller, weaker, very pretty, Madoka.  This arrangement continued until Madoka was removed from Group 11 for her final individual “adjustments” and processing.  She had not been allowed to even say goodbye to her onee-sama or her few other friends, like 44 Yosuga or 18 Ichiya.

She knew Toyotama-onee-sama; the green-haired Sekirei was strong, bold, brave, and she was protective and caring.  If Madoka had ended up sharing an Ashikabi with number 16 and that Ashikabi was a good man, Madoka would have been content enough.  She had loved her big sister and protector Toyotama even though they both knew that once the Sekirei Plan began and they were released into the city it was probably going to be every Sekirei for herself.

And Madoka knew that Toyotama had loved her as well.  The towering, green-haired, Sekirei only admitted it with difficulty, but Madoka had the words from Toyotama’s lips more than once.  Toyotama had certainly desired Madoka.  But seeing how 16 behaved now, with 86 Katsuragi, how brutal she had been, how hateful her words and tone, how harsh… it had to be because of her Ashikabi, that evil man, Higa.

And if being bonded to such a foul and heartless man could change a strong willed and brave Sekirei like 16 Toyotama, what hope did weak and scared 37 Madoka have?

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be!  Not once, ever, in all the time she was in the MBI Labs, had such evil possibilities been talked about; not among the scientists, the administrators, or the other Sekirei.  No one had even imagined that this sort of thing could happen!

Madoka continued walking though the cold wind was starting to chill her legs through the blue denim.  Was it safe walking around at night?  During the day?  If she did not move around the town, how would she meet her Ashikabi?  But if she walked about, wasn’t she in danger of being forcibly winged?

Distracted by her dark thoughts, Madoka didn’t notice the gang of street toughs who’d surrounded her as she walked under one of the many street-overpasses along the waterway.  She was oblivious until one grabbed her knapsack and yanked it off her shoulder, making her stumble into another of the young thugs. He grabbed her arms and held her in a strong grip, leering at her as she began to struggle and cry out.

“Well, look at this, we were wondering about dinner and the gods just delivered that and desert too, eh?”

Madoka could smell alcohol on the young man’s breath as he talked.  She shook her arms to try to get free but he had a good grip on her.  Peering around she saw there were six others who were now looking her over.  One grabbed the zipper of her bulky jacket and pulled it down, then held it open, whistling in admiration.

“Holy shit, will you look at that!  Woooah, this is our lucky day, fellas, and yours too, blondie! If you don’t fight too much or scream, we’ll even let you live, promise!”

The tall, dark-eyed street tough could not take his gaze off Madoka’s breasts, which were snuggly covered by a silk, Chinese cheongsam blouse that hugged every curve of her upper body.  The freezing air striking her torso, as the jacket was pulled open, made her nipples harden, visibly, through the fabric of the shirt, keeping the man’s attention completely riveted. 

The slightly drunk punk who was holding her arms behind her back let go to reach around and paw at her breasts through the thin material of the shirt, squeezing her brutally.

“Oh god, what if, what if one of these brutes is an Ashikabi?  I could end up bound to one of them!

Suddenly the possibility of gang rape was not the biggest fear in her heart.

As the other street toughs crowded around to get a look at their prize, Madoka panicked.  She screamed, “No!” then stomped her boot heel down as hard as she could onto the foot of the one grabbing and squeezing her so cruelly.

With a cry of pain, his grip on her relaxed just enough for her to twist free and run, as fast as she could; away from the hidden space under the bridge where the street gang had lurked, where they took shelter from the wind and from the cameras of the local police.

Madoka ran; it was difficult in her boots, but she did not stop for fear of those horrible men catching up to her and dragging her back to whatever horrid fate they had planned for her.

What felt like hours later, Madoka collapsed onto a mass transit bus stop bench, gasping for breath and hoping she was safe.  Surely they weren’t following her still!  She felt as though she had run for kilometers.  She was cold, shivering from the wind and the increasing dampness in the air. She was also shaking from reaction to the danger she had been in, the fear of what might have happened to her if she’d not been lucky enough to escape.

Madoka resolved to get a hotel room and lay low for a few days, recuperate from this latest ordeal.  Then she realized that her purse, with her identification and her unlimited MBI credit card…

… had been in her knapsack, with everything else she owned.  Which was now in the hands of some street thug, somewhere she would never find even if she had the courage to try.



o.0.O.0.o

Gregory took his cup of tea and looked out from the patio window of his family’s apartment in the Shibuya Ward in the west of Tokyo, overlooking the night-lit street that passed in front of the apartments.  A concrete retaining wall across the way formed the far border of the sidewalk along the street, leading to a mass transit rail crossing not far away.  It was a view he often stopped to appreciate, a distinctly Japanese vista which many walked past daily without seeing.

He had spent the evening helping his wife Karen and their teenaged daughter Michelle hang the last of their Christmas decorations.  The reflections of the bright twinkling colored lights shone in the glass of the patio door, overlaying the blue-light of the street scene outside his window.  It had been a pleasant evening, a nice Friday night with the family, without any bickering or trouble among them.  Always a blessing when that could happen.

Michelle, or Mishi as she was more commonly called now, was 16 years old and a popular high school student with excellent verbal and written Japanese skills.  She had already bid goodnight to her boyfriend, Yashiro Tomo, and turned in for the night.  Gregory was proud of how well the girl had adjusted to life in Tokyo. Moving the girl here when she was 11 years old and barely had any Japanese language had been a gamble, but it had paid off.  Michelle, or Mishi-chan as she was known to her friends, had blossomed in Tokyo.  Gregory wondered if the girl would move back to the States after high school or not.  At this point he figured it was probably up to Tomo-san as much as anything else.

Boyfriends and the pretty teenage daughter were the main reason Gregory’s hair was now thinning and receding.  It had been a lot easier navigating the teen years of his and Karen’s now-adult son, Mark.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” Gregory said aloud, in English, to no one specifically.  The rule of the house was English inside, Japanese whenever they were away from home.  It helped Karen, particularly, feel less isolated and homesick, especially when they had first moved here to Japan.

Karen called from the kitchen where she was putting away the dinner dishes, “What’s that?  Rain?  Great, just great.  Hopefully it’s stopped by tomorrow when you have to go to Saturday classes.  I hate it when you have to drive in this city in the rain, people here can’t drive at all, I swear.”

Gregory just smiled slightly in response.  Karen was not wild about living in Japan, but he had learned if he just let her rant about it now and then, she was able to deal with living here well enough.  Her job at the central office for the Red Cross here in Shin Tokyo kept her busy enough that most of her complaints about the city simply involved traffic these days.

It was thanks to Karen’s Red Cross job that they both first visited Japan in the aftermath of the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami. They had been relief workers helping clean up the wreckage of that horrible disaster.  When they returned to the States, Gregory threw himself into his Japanese language studies. A few years later and they were back in Japan, this time in Tokyo; he as an English teacher in the public schools, Karen as an administrator with the Red Cross office.  Nine years after the Tōhoku earthquake, they were both doing very well in their chosen professions.

It had been a good move, Gregory thought.  He and Karen may have grown apart, but after twenty years of marriage that was bound to happen.  They got along mostly, and that counted for a lot.

A rumble of thunder in the distance made itself heard.  Yes, it was definitely going to rain, and it was cold as hell too.  Hopefully it didn’t freeze out there tonight, or driving to Saturday school was really going to suck, no doubt about it.  People here really didn’t know how to drive on slick roads, especially in the opinion of a New Hampshire native like Gregory O’Donnell.



o.0.O.0.o

Madoka pulled the cardboard box over her as best she could and huddled down into the lee of an alley wall to get out of the cold wind.  Exhausted, without any way to get food or shelter, she could only look blankly up at the sky when the first cold rain drop splattered onto the cardboard she’d hope would cover her until dawn.

When the first peal of thunder reached her ears, she ducked her head as deeply into the hood of her jacket as she could and began to cry, her tears soon mixing with rain as it pelted her in her cardboard shelter in this nameless alleyway.  Madoka used her healing ability occasionally on herself, to warm her core temperature up and stop the shivering, enough to nod off to sleep for a few minutes at a time.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It just wasn’t!  Not for Sekirei who were to find love, who lived to love and be loved by their Ashikabi. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.



o.0.O.0.o



o.0.O.0.o





Extended Author's Notes:

First, this story is Rated MA (the equivalent of an American Rated NC-17 movie, i.e., no one under 17 admitted, a movie made to be not for teenagers) for actual reasons, not just "to be safe" (whatever that common disclaimer means). There are many adult situations portrayed in this tale, as any serious story of psychic bonded alien sex slaves should at least try to address and acknowledge.

Sexless eunuchs, such as the canon protagonist Sahashi Minato, are not representative of normal, typical, Japanese teenagers, or, for that matter, representative of normal human males of any age past puberty. Expecting all or even most Ashikabi to behave as sexless eunuchs towards their bonded, willing (very very willing), beautiful alien sex slaves is... let's just say, somewhat unrealistic.

Obviously the Sekirei are only "sex slaves" to the extent their Ashikabi treat them as such, and there certainly would be those who would treat their permanently bonded unearthly beautiful subservient very poorly as well as those who would treat them very well and lovingly, while not ignoring the Sekirei's desire to carry out their primary mission: interbreeding with Terran humans.

To be clear, consenting healthy physical relationships are portrayed in this story and unhealthy, unethical, non-consensual, abusive, behavior is also portrayed.

The author hopes these scenes have been presented in a way that illustrates the importance of sexual behavior and relationships to the people experiencing them, but without crossing the line. Probably a vain hope, but there it is.

Secondly, the author asks the reader to keep in mind that not all ideas and speculations by the characters in the story will be correct or factual. The characters are just as able as anyone to guess wrong and make mistakes. The characters will come up with theories and they will label things incorrectly just as often as anyone else might. Do please try to keep in mind the difference between a characters observations and what is presented as fact by the Voice of the Author.

Thirdly, this story is already mostly outlined in detail (expect about 40 to 45 10,000 word chapters ultimately) and the first several arcs are already written completely at the time that the first chapter will be posted. Each story arc will be posted as a "Book", so "Book One" consisting of the intro arc (the first four chapters) will be posted, then later "Book Two" consisting of chapters five through seven will be posted, and so on, as long as arcs are completed. If the story ever becomes truly abandoned the author will post his outline for all of the remaining chapters for any curious readers.

Posting only complete arcs should help avoid any abandoned cliffhanger plots, even if the tale is eventually abandoned as incomplete.

If the story is never completely finished, the reader is welcome to assume that after the last-posted "Book" the characters go on to meet the same fate as they did in canon, or in the fanfic story "The Game Changer" (see below under "Lastly" for notes on "The Game Changer"), whichever the reader prefers.

Obviously the author hopes that never happens, but given that it has taken a year and a half to write even this much there is always that possibility. Posting only completed story arcs ("Books") should help. The author loathes incomplete and abandoned stories, especially those in the genre/type of this one (romance/relationship/angst sorts of stories) and wants to assure prospective readers that he will at least only post completed plot arcs.

Fourthly, this story treats the two seasons of the Sekirei anime as the canon source, not the manga (167 chapters published at the time of this story's posting). There will be many differences between this story and the manga, please do not bother pointing them out. If the reader believes they have noticed contradictory information to canon the author asks that the reader consider whether or not the canon material in question is the anime or the manga before commenting.

In the extremely unlikely event that a third season of the Sekirei anime is produced, then one expects there will be great differences between this story and whatever story that hypothetical third season tells. To this the author says, "So?"

On the subject of "canon": every effort has been made to not actually contradict matters presented as actual facts in the canon material, while also not hesitating to add new things to the story if that addition makes the tale better in the opinion of the author. Much of the new information provided in this story (especially the sections that delve into the lives of the Sekirei in the MBI Labs before the start of the Sekirei Plan) is entirely made up by the author of this story and does not claim to be canonical. The author does, howeverclaim just as much right to "make up new stuff" as anyone else, up to and including the original canon author, Ashika Sakura (aka Sakurako Gokurakuin).

Fifth, anyone curious about the dates and the calendar of this story, the author assures you they have been carefully considered and compared to canon to fit. You can review the Sekirei Anime Season One and Two calendar of events at my Tumblr page (oakwinefanfic.tumblr.com). We meticulously went over every episode of both seasons and assembled as close a timeline of the canon story as possible. Be aware that exploring other sections of the author's Tumblr page will expose the curious to NSFW pics (most of it inspired by the characters in this story), so do please only visit rest of the site if you are a legal adult and have a desire to view naked beautiful blonde girls with large breasts.

Sixth, given that a great deal of time passed between writing the first chapter and the most current chapters the author acknowledges there are shifts and changes in style over the course of this story. I can only ask that anyone reading this story understands that over time a writer's skills change and real-life events can have an effect on what they write and how they write it as well and do please forgive any inconsistencies in style noticed. Any actual continuity errors (and the author freely admits there could be some in spite of all efforts) are appreciated when pointed out so that they can be corrected.

Seventh (gah!), the name of the city the story is set in. We're calling it Shin Tokyo in this tale instead of the various translations of the name used in Sekirei, most commonly "Shinto Teito". It's Tokyo, Japan. If the reader will just roll with that they will be happier.

Lastly (at last!), in the later arcs of this story (sometime after this story's chapter 25 or so) the overall global Sekirei plot will mirror the global events of the story "The Game Changer" by Fenschway, on this site.

The author is well aware that "The Game Changer" is a somewhat polarizing story which has its own fans and its own detractors and he wishes to make sure potential readers of "No Game For Old Men" understand that the two stories are very different in style and are about completely separate characters with only some limited crossover. Fans of TGC should not assume they will like NGFOM nor should detractors of TGC assume they will not like NGFOM.

They really are very different stories.

The author would like to thank Fenschway for generously giving the OK to use his global plot and the events of "The Game Changer" in this story and thank him for many hours of discussion concerning Sekirei, TGC and NGFOM, which have inevitably made this story much better than it otherwise would have been. Fenschway has been the primary Beta Reader for this tale since before the first chapter was even outlined and he has this writer's profound gratitude for his help over the years!

Not until late in this story will the global events of "The Game Changer" be impacting the world of "No Game For Old Men" and that primarily because the actual canonical "end game" story in the Sekirei manga is not complete at this time and is also, pardon to any actual fans of the manga, not very well written in this writers opinion. The author of this story prefers Fenschway's story of the Sekirei and their purpose on Earth so will use that tale as the basis for where this story eventually goes.

That said, this is a small-scale story about a handful of people and how their lives were irrevocably changed by Hiroto Minaka's insane Sekirei Plan. It is not focused on the global plot so much as on the effects of events on the individuals "on the ground".





"No Game For Old Men" has been editor-read by Fenschway. Errors in grammar and spelling are entirely the fault of the author and should not reflect on the heroic efforts the editor-reader has made in helping with the technical writing.

Sekirei beta readers who have bravely given parts of the story preview reads and feedback to the author include Godric Khargh, angelofpeaceandwar045, FintonStack, Yuna the Ninja, ReaperxStalker, Littlest1, and I'm sure I am forgetting a few others who've at least read the Intro Arc and provided valuable feedback. Thank you each for your help.





Started Aug 22 2013

Completed Sep 12 2013

Final Edits Sep 29 2014

First Posted May 7 2015

Crossposted to adult-fanfiction.org Sep 21 2015






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