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No Game For Old Men, a Sekirei tale	By : RykOakwine Category: -Misc Anime > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 6808 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Sekirei, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
No Game For Old Men
Book 2.2 – Ch 6 Endings and Beginnings
Author's Note: So much for a 10,000 word target. This chapter went a bit overboard and is at 18,000 words.
o.0.O.0.o
o.0.O.0.o
Wednesday, December 25th, 2019

Yoyogi District, Shibuya Ward, Shin Tokyo
It was just short of midnight on Christmas. Gregory O'Donnell would ordinarily be asleep by now, comfortably abed with his wife, content and happy with new memories of another happy Christmas spent with his family.
Ordinarily.
Instead, Gregory sat out on the patio of the family apartment, finishing off a second glass of scotch whiskey and smoking a cigarette. And being very cold, seeing as the temperature was damn near freezing out here.
Gregory tipped the glass up to get the last of the whiskey to drip past the ice cubes, then set the crystal tumbler down on the patio table in disgust. Not enough to bother with. He looked appraisingly at the bottle.
"I shouldn't. Two is my limit. Hn… "
A minute passed. He flicked more ash from the end of his cigarette.
"Eh, no one else gives a fuck, why should I?"
He poured himself another whiskey then picked up the glass, unhurriedly swirling the ice in the golden liquid while pulling in another lungful of delicious tobacco smoke.
The cold air made the exhalation of warm air and smoke dramatically visible, which amused him more than it probably should have. Then he stared off into the nighttime distance, a frown settling on his face, deepening the creases on either side of his mouth.
What a wretched Christmas. Karen had not said a word to him after they left for Midnight Mass. A silent treatment that had endured through the night and all through Christmas Day as well. Gregory knew she was not happy about "Mishi's friend" staying with them and almost every day that passed she seemed to become even more unhappy. But he was damned if he could figure out why, beyond the obvious of Madoka being an incredibly hot teenage girl and Karen being a forty-year-old middle aged woman. Madoka was actually an easy person to like; Karen gave the girl no chances though.
It wasn't like Karen had been in the Jeep last Thursday night when Gregory had kissed Madoka and became her Ashikabi; and Karen couldn't know about that. It wasn't like he had kissed the girl since then, either. His behavior had been above board! So what in the hell was Karen's problem?
There was that whole "accidentally seeing Madoka's amazingly perfect tits" thing the other night, but that was an accident, completely. Madoka would not have flashed him her tits if he had asked; it was just an accident! And Karen wasn't aware of that incident either.
Gregory was distracted for several minutes imagining a few scenarios in which Madoka agreed to show him her tits when asked. When he realized which recently-well-worn-rut his mind had settled into, again, he shook his head to clear it and tried to focus on the problems that needed solving.
Gregory wondered, not for the first time, if he should have told Karen everything when he and Madoka had returned late, last Thursday. He wondered how different everything would be if he'd done so. Very different, for sure; but in what particulars?
At the time, he had been very worried about what MBI and Hiroto Minaka had been communicating to him by way of that casual demonstration of their reach. That seemingly innocuous video conference in his Jeep.
Gregory knew the components of his Jeep very well, especially the dash electronics. He knew, beyond any doubt, that the Jeep did not have the hardware capability to host a video conference the likes of which he'd had with Hiroto Minaka. There was no camera in the Jeep's dashboard. The 20cm LED display was not connected to any video feeds or to any components which themselves had video capability. There was no Wi-Fi video streaming hardware built into the Jeep's electronics. There was no cellular telephone service built into the Jeep's components, to allow for video calls over cell networks. The Jeep lacked any method to connect to any sort of data network and it lacked the specific hardware needed to make video conference calls work, notably the lack of a camera in the dash. These truths weren't up for debate, they weren't matters of opinion. His Jeep could not do what Hiroto Minaka had it do!
In other words, MBI and Minaka were telling him that their agents had accessed his Jeep at some point after Madoka started staying with the O'Donnell's on Saturday, December 14th. They had added to the Jeep's electronics and modified other components. They had added or modified at least enough hardware to allow Minaka to "just happen" to appear upon the big display in the dashboard, for an "impromptu" video conference with his new Ashikabi. All of this done smoothly and professionally enough that those additions and modifications were not detected before they were called upon, the night of Thursday, December 19th.
Hell, even the GPS still worked perfectly on the display like it always had. As far as Gregory could tell with a casual perusal of the dash electronics, from the gauge cluster to the media player, everything was still 100% stock, just as designed by the Chrysler Group LLC and manufactured in Toledo, Ohio.
Gregory received the unspoken message from MBI loud and clear. If they had accessed his Jeep long enough to install new hardware and software, test it to insure it worked, and polished the installation so it was undetectable until needed, then Gregory was certain they'd have had no difficulty doing the same within his family's apartment.
And that pissed him off. He was protective of his Jeep, but his computer systems in his home were his baby and the idea of unapproved fingers pawing about inside the hardware and the software of his big main computer made him quite angry. Sure, yes, of course it burned him to think some MBI Security Intelligence mook might be watching security camera footage of his teenaged daughter in the bath. Yes, of course that was infuriating.
But the idea that they'd messed with his computers? A God damned outrage!
Gregory was a fair shade-tree mechanic, he felt moderately competent working on his Jeep for some things. In the same sense, he was a fair computer-jockey. He felt comfortable working with, upgrading, and even pushing beyond manufacturers' specs the various components of his electronic surroundings. He'd laid out the network for the big tower computer in the living room and all the peripheral components to work with each other. Many of the smaller, less robust, electronic devices in their household were set up to lean on the big server box, letting it handle as much of the actual number crunching as was possible. The tablets and phones and the one set of 'Google Glasses' Gregory had toyed with last year which were gathering dust in a drawer somewhere, the cellular watches and the wall mounted LED tvs, all of them were connected and played well with each other, the network as a whole was equal to more than the sum of its parts. Also, his photography cameras, all of which were set up to immediately dump their memory into the big server box as soon as they got within range of the network. The server knew exactly what to do with the new images as soon as they were handed over, filing and indexing and applying naming conventions established exactly as Gregory liked it.
Into all of this MBI had… inserted… its grubby fingers.
It made Gregory feel dirty.
Sullied.
Violated.
They likely even had access to his porn folder!
Gregory grasped the tumbler of scotch and drained it before filling it again.
Worst, he knew better than to fool himself into believing he could find so much as a trace of modification within the software on the systems, traces that would prove that someone had inserted reporting-ware and redirect-ware. Nor would he believe he could fix whatever it was that MBI's experts had done. The most he would accomplish would be to fool himself into believing he had fixed what they had done.
They could have installed actual hardware redirectors for all he knew. They could have a secondary router installed between his apartment and the nearest telecom node mirroring every request his router made. There was no limit to how compromised the entire system could be, now.
So… he made what changes he could and lived with the rest. He'd already reprogrammed his phones and cameras to dump their image data to brand new cloud storage accounts instead of to the big server. Otherwise, just going about his business as usual seemed the best plan.
He wondered how many of the other Ashikabi were too naïve or just too stupid to get the point of the little "welcome to the Sekirei Plan, suckers" video-conference demonstration from MBI. A fair number of them, he would guess. Especially if most of them were young 20-somethings. Gregory sipped his scotch and smiled grimly at that image. An idiot 20-year-old ronin, gaping like a fish as his 25-year-old cathode-ray-tube type television, complete with bunny-ear antennae and a channel selector operated by turning a knob, hosts a real-time video conference with full duplex audio. The idiot would be blithely talking back and forth with Hiroto Minaka and his insane white cape, being told about the Sekirei Plan while not being told anything that might help him, a vaguely surprised "Wow, how did they do that?" expression on the idiots face.
Yeah. Gregory could easily see that happening.
So yes, he'd had a lot on his mind when he had arrived at the apartment Thursday night, with Madoka carrying her "care package" box from MBI., The box, with printed "#37" on the exterior, contained new clothing and replacements for her false ID and her MBI Platinum Card.
Then Karen had lit into him right away about being late and not calling…
He had thought about telling her everything. But not until the next day.
And by then it seemed wiser to keep quiet. "Just for now", he had told himself.
He knew 'just for now' was really the chickenshit version of 'from now on'. Gregory did try to be honest with himself, even if honesty sometimes took until the next day and a clearer head. Or more scotch.
Of course it became more difficult to tell Karen about the crazy mostly-hypothetical-still alien Sekirei and the multi-national trillion-yen corporation which was making threats towards the O'Donnell's. Threats of dire consequences if they didn't keep quiet about the Sekirei Plan. And of course there was the actual danger that Madoka had brought into their lives .
As well, Gregory would have had to fess up to misleading Karen about Madoka in the first place, with Mishi's help.
"Misleading? Be honest, Greg. It was 'lying to Karen about Madoka in the first place'. Calling it 'misleading' is more chickenshit, and you know it."
Gregory knew a fair part of why he had not said anything was because he did not want to hear about how his "stray dog adoption" nature had endangered his family.
He was already aware of this; he really did not need Karen screaming it into his ear. And he knew that was exactly what would happen. Karen screaming things at him that he already knew.
There was also that kissing thing.
Yeah.
Didn't really want to talk to Karen about that, either.
So he kept quiet, even though he understood that the situation was untenable. Now he really needed to figure out what to do from here. To take care of Madoka, to patch things up with his wife, to distance the O'Donnell's from whatever risks the Sekirei Plan brought.
But other than finding somewhere else for Madoka to live, which he couldn't even start on until tomorrow at the earliest, he was drawing a blank.
If Madoka had her own apartment, what would that mean for her and her Ashikabi? They were expected to be a "team" in the Sekirei Plan. Gregory was certain that MBI had contingency plans for dealing with recalcitrant Ashikabi, they would have to. He doubted just sticking his Sekirei in her own apartment and contacting her every few days to see if she was okay was going to cut it with MBI.
He was very sure it would not cut it with Madoka.
He took another sip of the cold scotch whiskey and then swirled the ice around in the glass. No, Madoka would not find that arrangement acceptable. And that was… unexpected. Over the last week the beautiful Sekirei had grown downright affectionate with Gregory. He did not notice it at first; it had happened gradually, but he saw it now. She often reached out to touch him when she would look up at him and smile. She would take his arm with her hand if they were walking next to each other. She smiled at him, as though just seeing him near made her happy.
It was not anything more than what Mishi might do. Not really. But… Gregory knew that whatever the relationship was it was not familial. Nor was it the mentor-student type relationship that Gregory fostered between himself and his students. There were elements of both, true. But…
Gregory accepted that it wasn't innocent. At least, not the way he thought of her. He hadn't taken communion at Midnight Mass, because he knew he had sinned in his heart.
His wife seemed to take his abstention from communion as confirmation of whatever her suspicions were, to Gregory's annoyance.
Gregory could not fool himself that he did not love every minute of Madoka's nearby presence. He couldn't fool himself into thinking he didn't love the fact that he was important to her. It was beyond the flattery a man might feel at the attention of a beautiful young woman. To be clear, it was that, yes. But… more, too.
Gregory now appreciated that while there might be a man, somewhere, who could let such attention from such a beautiful young woman roll over him and be unaffected, Gregory O'Donnell was not that man.
And he knew, he knew, that no matter what he did next, this was going to end badly. The gods always punished those whose reach exceeded their grasp and Sanjunana Madoka very much exceeded his grasp.
He was swimming in deeper waters than he had any business in.
Gregory looked at the bottle of scotch as he absently swirled the ice cubes within his glass. He tossed his cold cigarette butt into the can next to the table and he sighed. What he really needed was to go to bed. It was cold out here, he was tired, and he was not solving any of his problems by drinking more scotch.
But he also did not want to go lay down in his bed and spend another night with his wife's back turned to him, anger and judgment radiating from her even in her sleep.
He lit another cigarette.
And since he was going to be out here long enough to smoke another, he poured himself another drink.
Why not? No one else cared; why should he?
Gregory took another drink and looked off into the night.
"Man, she really has amazing tits."
o.0.O.0.o
Thursday evening, "Boxing Day," Gregory thought to himself as he lay on the couch, watching the sequel to "Blade Runner" on the living room's big monitor. A surprisingly good movie, really. And the all-new original soundtrack from Vangelis was worth whatever it cost the producers.
The girls were in Mishi's bedroom where Mishi was giving Madoka the "Teenage Girl Cell Phone Tutorial" on how to use her new Samsung phone. Gregory was a fair tech head but no one in the entire world, including the engineers at Samsung, knew as much about how to use their phones as the teenage girls who used them did. Gregory knew Madoka was in good hands; she'd come out of the session an expert in the use of her new phone.
Gregory glanced at the front door as it opened and Karen walked in, right on time from work. He kept his face neutral and his eyes on the TV as she took of her coat and hung it with her purse on the back of one of the breakfast-bar stools. He could feel her looking at him, reproachfully. Gregory now wished that he had not spent his day off work lounging around in his flannel pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt, watching movies. Karen standing there in an ¥80,000 business suit and him lying on the couch unshaven and in pajamas was not equal footing.
"She goes, by tomorrow, Greg."
"Say again?" Gregory flicked the pause button for the movie and frowned. "Madoka, you mean? You want to throw her out on St. Stephen's Feast? Or tomorrow on the Feast of St. John? Seriously?"
Karen did not appear to find Gregory's wit amusing. "She goes, by tomorrow, Greg."
"Karen," Gregory replied, trying to moderate the tone of his voice, though it was difficult, "then perhaps you should tell Mishi that her friend has to get out by tomorrow. I don't know what your issue is with the girl but if you just can't stand her that much then why don't you tell Mishi. She's her friend."
Karen was audibly grinding her teeth; Gregory could hear it across the living room. Admittedly, it was a Japanese-apartment-scale living room, but still. He shuddered to think how much money in porcelain crowns she was grinding away, standing there.
She responded to his suggestion with one word: "No."
"What? No? What do you mean 'no'?"
But she didn't answer. She had already turned her back, picked up her purse and coat, and was heading to the bedroom.
"Just 'no'? What the fuck, Karen?" Gregory sat up and rubbed his hands across his unshaven face. This whole damn situation was getting more aggravating by the day.
It was his job to kick "Mishi's friend" out into the cold? Because Karen had a problem? That was bullshit. Well, it would be bullshit if Madoka were here because Mishi was her friend from school. But that was the story as far as Karen knew. So this was bullshit. Where did Karen get off telling him he had to kick the girl out, when Karen was the one with a problem?
A pillow hit him in the side of the head, followed by a folded blanket. Gregory looked over to the hallway that lead to the bedrooms, frowning in confusion.
"And you can sleep in here."
"What the fuck, Karen?"
But she was already slamming the bedroom door.
Gregory flopped back onto the couch. The fuck? Twenty damn years and he had never "slept on the couch" because his wife was mad at him.
Does that really even happen? That is just in movies and TV shows, right?
He looked at his pillow from his side of the bed and the blanket.
"Guess fucking not." He placed the still partially folded blanket at the far end of the couch and lay down again, looking at the paused movie on the TV screen, muttering to himself, "I'm still not telling her she has to go. Karen can do that shit if she feels that strongly about it."
"Fuckin' bullshit."
Gregory was so upset and involved with his own anger and frustration that he completely missed the white-hot flare of emotion in the back of his mind, where his bond to his Sekirei was kept.
o.0.O.0.o
Madoka had been about to exit the hallway bath when Karen had returned home. Instead, Madoka shut the bathroom door and tried to use her Farsight. Madoka concentrated on "seeing" around the wall and into the hallway, and "hearing" what Karen and Gregory were saying to each other. She managed to push her point-of-view into the hallway, and from there she watched and listened until she saw Karen return to the master bedroom and slam the door, after throwing the pillow and blanket at Gregory.
Certain that she would not run into Karen in the hallway now, Madoka opened the bathroom door and stepped out.
Madoka stood there in the hallway, her fists clenched and her face contorted into a snarl, trying to keep control of her emotions. She felt a rush of anger in her heart like she had never experienced in her life. Not just anger but rage. Rage, and a desire to hurt and tear and kill, boiling up from some previously hidden place in her Sekirei heart. She felt almost overwhelmed by cruel, hot, emotions, of a sort that she had never thought herself capable.
All directed at Gregory's wife, Karen.
Madoka glared at the closed bedroom door that stood between her and the woman who had infuriated her, and who had hurt her Ashikabi.
Into the burning darkness of her own mind, Madoka shouted, "Just leave, you mean spirited bitch! Just go! You do not want to be here anyway!"
Finding the silent shouting in her own head cathartic, Madoka waited the several long minutes that it took for her heart rate to calm. She slipped back into the room that she had been sharing with Mishi, then tried to pay attention to the other girl as she described the functions of Madoka's new phone.
It was some time, though, before she could truly concentrate on anything other than her desire for Karen to be gone from her and Gregory's lives.
o.0.O.0.o
The next morning, Karen slamming the apartment door behind her as she left for work roused Gregory from his sleep. She was either pissed she had to go to work on a Friday while Gregory was off all week or she was still pissed about Madoka.
Or pissed that Gregory hadn't spent the evening begging her for forgiveness through the door to their bedroom.
Or something else entirely. Who knew?
Probably pissed that Gregory hadn't begged for forgiveness for his many flaws and sins through the closed bedroom door. Their relationship had become… unbalanced over the last few years, in the sense that Karen had, against the normal course of these sorts of things, aged quite nicely compared to her husband and was now a rather more handsome woman than a casual observer would guess Gregory would have as his wife. She also now made quite a bit more money than Gregory did.
Gregory had accepted these new truths as they had developed; he refused to be the sort of insecure man who was unmade by his wife eclipsing him in her career (or any other aspect of life for that matter). Nevertheless, both of these new facts of life were at least a little bit of a turnaround from the early years of their marriage and Karen now had a tendency to expect Gregory to grovel whenever she was in a bad mood.
Gregory had noticed this tendency and he just put up with it. You put up with things in a marriage. That's what kept marriages together. So he occasionally groveled, if that was the price of keeping Karen content.
Last night he had not groveled. And that's probably why Karen left for work with a slammed door and not a word to him.
Slamming doors, yelling arguments. Gregory figured their neighbors must have been loving the gaijin mouth-breathers who don't know how to behave like civilized people. Though, to be fair, only one of their neighbors in the apartment block were that sort. Most were pretty liberal, for Japanese. Which isn't really very liberal at all, but it could have been worse.
Groggy, but incredibly happy that he'd insisted on the very expensive couch instead of the cheaper couch when they had selected their living room furniture five years ago, Gregory stumbled into the kitchen, started a pot of coffee, then considered making a bit of Friday morning breakfast for himself, Mishi, and Madoka.
Pancakes sounded good. Gregory checked to see if they had the necessary ingredients as well as maple syrup. He muttered to himself as he looked through the pantry, "Be damned if I'm having pancakes without maple syrup…"
"I would be glad to go to the store at the corner and get some, Gregory." Head and shoulders buried in the pantry, Gregory smiled. That voice. He really liked that voice.
He just had to take Madoka to karaoke some evening. She would kill if she could carry a tune at all.
"G'morning, Mado." Gregory leaned back out of the kitchen pantry and smiled over at the short blonde girl.
Smiled at his Sekirei, a part of his mind, way in the back of his head, insisted. That particular part of his mind, which had been appropriately and decently still for 40 years, had become persistent and vocal over the last few days.
"Here, I'll write it down, Mado. You okay for walking down to the corner grocery? I'll go with you if you like; I'd just need to get dressed."
Madoka held up her phone and replied, "I can make notes on this now, so just tell me what we need and I will go get it. And I think I am okay to go to the grocery for a few items without an escort, Ashikabi-san."
Gregory sniggered then nodded his agreement, "Alright, as you wish, my dear Miss Sanjunana! We do need maple syrup. Not 'pancake syrup' or 'butter flavored syrup' or some other crap, but 'maple syrup'. If they don't have any then come back and I'll drive to the big grocery. I'm serious, Mado! Genuine real actual maple syrup or nothing. If in doubt, snap a pic and text it to me to be sure."
"Yes sir!" Madoka grinned at her Ashikabi's serious insistence on this critical breakfast component.
He muttered to himself as he checked the refrigerator's contents, "No son of New Hampshire like me is going to tarnish his palate with that 'maple flavored' or 'butter flavored' corn syrup abomination that passes for…"
Madoka did her best to only quietly laugh at Gregory's weirdness about syrup.
Gregory gave her the rest of a short shopping list, enough for breakfast and lunch, no more than would be comfortable for her to carry home in two canvas bags, which he also handed her from the hook in the pantry where such canvas bags were kept.
As she left for the store, Gregory could not help but appreciate the new athletic pants Madoka was wearing. He did not know if they were sweat pants, yoga pants, spray-on-paint, or a temporary rub-on tattoo, but it sure was nice watching her walk away while wearing them. Madoka had the kind of rounded inverted-heart-shaped ass that songs should be written about. Poetry composed for. The most talented sculptors in the world should be commissioned to immortalize that tush in timeless marble so that blind people could run their hands across it so as to understand what perfection is. Really, if not for her flawless face and DD cup tits, Madoka would probably be famous for her incredible tush.
"Has to be an alien. Has to be."
Once his Sekirei was gone from the apartment and on her way to the store, Gregory decided on a quick shower and some much needed "relief". He had a while before Mado would be back with the groceries. And damn but that had been a hell of a nice view of her ass…
o.0.O.0.o
Ten minutes later, Sekirei number 37 Madoka was picking herself up off the floor of the local small grocery, blushing so intensely she was sure blood vessels were going to burst in her cheeks.
She tried to graciously accept the solicitously offered help that the wide-eyed young man who worked at the grocery offered. He scurried about and collected her purchases from where they had fallen and he replaced them in the canvas tote bags for her. The helpful young man even went so far as to fetch a fresh new dozen eggs, as the original dozen she'd purchased were now compromised in their structural integrity thanks to her recent bout of thrashing about on the floor while seemingly attempting to hump the Kikkoman Soy Sauce display rack!
Her acceptance of his aid was probably a few notches short of "gracious" and quite a bit closer to "snarling with her lips pulled back from her teeth". But she did try and should get credit for trying.
"No, I am fine, thank you! Thank you! I am fine!" She fled several other very concerned young men who had each offered to give her a lift back to her home in their cars since she obviously was not well.
By the time she was almost back to the O'Donnell apartment the crisp December morning air had cooled her embarrassment greatly. Nevertheless, she did make a point from now on to try to notice if Gregory had had his morning shower yet before she went out in public early in the day.
If she ever showed her face in public again, that is.
Madoka also made a note to buy more of these athletic pants. Her Ashikabi apparently really liked them.
o.0.O.0.o
After the breakfast dishes had been cleaned and put away by the girls, Gregory called them out onto the patio to talk. While Mishi put on more clothes and Madoka went to fetch her athletic hoodie, to suit the sunny but cold December 27th weather, Gregory poured himself another cup of coffee and took it out to the patio. He was just lighting a cigarette when Madoka and Mishi stepped out onto the patio.
Mishi had to complain, of course. In English, since the family had long ago defined the patio as 'in the apartment' for purposes of the House Rules on Languages. "Jeez Dad, if you'd quit smoking we could talk inside like civilized people, you know that?"
"Hn." Gregory gave his daughter a flat look.
She rolled her eyes, "Argh! Stop it with that 'Hn' thing!"
Gregory's facial control broke at that and he started laughing. "Alright, and yes, I know, I shouldn't smoke. That's not news, sweetie."
"Hn." Mishi returned, causing Gregory to laugh again.
"Okay, okay, stop it, I need to talk to you both about something serious and you're making that impossible." Gregory took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, his good humor evaporating. Madoka was sitting across from him at the patio table, her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, quietly waiting to hear what Gregory wanted to say. Mishi was less patient.
"Alright, Dad, what's up? Is this about Mom?"
Gregory nodded, "Yeah. Last night when she got home, not only did she throw me out of the bedroom to sleep on the couch as you saw this morning but she also told me Mado had to move out, today." Gregory ignored the expected and loud protests from Mishi and kept talking, "And she said she wouldn't tell you. I had to. Which is kind of bullshit, since she's the one with the problem."
Madoka sat quietly, waiting to hear what her Ashikabi wanted her to do. Gregory got the distinct feeling that she felt he would take care of the problem by whatever means necessary.
It was nice for people to have faith in you, but at the same time Gregory felt that people might have unrealistic expectations.
Mishi was, again and predictably, not nearly as reserved in her response. "That's just bull… that's just wrong, Dad! You guys can't just kick Mado out! Where would she go?" Mishi looked over at the blonde girl sitting next to her, continuing, "Mado, I don't want you to have to go! I've really liked it with you staying here with us."
A small smile and a quiet, "Thank you, Mishi" was Madoka's reply. She continued to watch Gregory, wanting to hear what he had to say.
Gregory sipped his coffee then grimaced. "Well, I think it's bullshit. Especially given that she wouldn't even tell you, Mishi, that your friend, who supposedly needs a place to stay, has to get out right away. She wants me to be the bad guy and for you to be mad at me because Madoka has to go."
"But Dad, that doesn't make any sense! Madoka is here because you met her and she needed a place to stay."
Gregory chuckled and grinned crookedly over at his daughter, "Ah, but that's not the story your Mom knows, remember? As far as she is concerned Madoka is your friend from school with the stalker boyfriend."
Mishi literally facepalmed at the reminder and groaned, "Oh my Lord! For some reason I had completely forgotten that, Dad! You're right, that makes it even more wrong! She could at least tell me herself."
"Yeah, well, I'm afraid both of you are getting pulled into the middle of something that really isn't about you. Karen is pissed at me or unhappy with me or Japan or her job or… something. Madoka being here was the straw but not the entire problem."
"What do you mean, Dad? I thought you and Mom got along well."
Gregory took a drag on his cigarette and glanced over at Madoka, who was still quietly sitting, watching him with her sky-blue eyes, inscrutable behind her perfect beauty. He exhaled slowly then answered, "I thought so too, more or less. But I guess not. Sweetie… there's no way for anyone outside a husband and wife to ever understand what is going on with a marriage. Even they might not understand, like now. Karen and I haven't been real close for a long while, Mishi. Not like what you would think of as close."
Mishi just shrugged with an unhappy look on her face, which Gregory figured meant Mishi thought he just wasn't telling her what the problems really were. He could tell her again and in different ways that he did not really know, but he knew it would not help.
"I just wanted you two to know what was up; when Karen gets home it's entirely possible she'll blow a gasket about me not doing what she ordered me to do, namely kicking Madoka out onto the streets with no warning at all." Gregory scowled at even the idea and at his wife's gall. "If she does then there is a motel not far from here which is nice enough for a few nights, Madoka. I'd rather you stay here with us, but at the same time I would hate for you to be stuck in the middle of a domestic fight that isn't your problem. If I give you the sign, I want you to slip out and just go on down to the motel. I don't want you here being a lightning rod for Karen's temper. By the same token, Mishi, if that all happens, please, just shut your bedroom door and let me try to deal with it. Don't get involved, please."
Gregory also worried, a great deal, about that look he had noticed on Madoka's face Monday evening at dinner, when Karen had pitched a fit and stomped away from the table. He did not want to find out that Sekirei happened to fly into killing rages if someone threw a teacup at their Ashikabi's head.
Just, you know, for instance.
Mishi narrowed her eyes, and then turned to look at her blonde friend, "Do you have money for a hotel room, Mado? I'm sure we could help…"
Madoka nodded her head in answer. "Money is not a problem, Mishi. I received replacements for my identification and my credit card."
"Oh. I didn't know." Mishi looked surprised that she had been left out of that bit of news, but rallied gamely anyway. "I wouldn't want you to have to go live in a hotel all alone! I like you staying here and what would you do if you were all alone at a hotel? If you have to leave for the night I could go with you!"
"And Mishi must involve herself in the drama," Gregory thought to himself. "Then again, she has been sleeping snuggled up to Madoka for over a week. I'd not want to just let that go either I suppose. It's probably really really easy to get used to snuggling with Mado." Gregory suppressed a grin and shook his head, "Mishi, that's a kind gesture, but you slipping out with Mado would go straight to your Mom screaming at me about hiding you from her. Or some other sort of overreaction. If it comes to a loud argument here, just let Mado slip out. She won't be disappearing forever, just overnight."
Gregory realized Mishi was about to get into questions neither he nor Madoka wanted to have to answer, like questions about Madoka's long-term plans. He moved to wrap up the conversation before Mishi could rally an argument against his veto. "We'll call the motel down the street, reserve a room, so if things get … difficult here tonight Mado will have a place to sleep for the night without worry. A contingency plan, okay? I'd rather her stay with us until after the New Year, and then worry about longer term plans. That sound good?"
Mishi looked at Madoka to see what she thought. Gregory could tell his sixteen-year-old daughter was unhappy about the now-obvious fractures in her parents' relationship, especially as all this was catching her by surprise, out of the blue. She was also excited about being treated like a real person instead of like a child. Gregory knew this kind of thing fed her drama-seeking side. Not a nice trait, but he tried to be honest about his children's natures, positive and negative, at least to himself. And Mishi, darling wonderful daughter that she was, was a complete drama queen.
Madoka looked at Gregory through her long lashes, her eyes narrowed. She answered, "If you think that is best, then I am sure it is, Gregory. I too would prefer to stay here but at the same time I dislike that I have caused such trouble for you."
Gregory shook his head, "You didn't really cause it, Mado. The straw that breaks the camel's back isn't really to blame." He took another drag on his cigarette then blew out the smoke, then rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes.
"It's all the other shit piled up on the camel's back that's really at fault."
o.0.O.0.o
An hour later, Madoka's soft voice caught Gregory's attention as he was sorting through recent photos on his computer. He had a surprisingly large number of really good photos of Madoka.
"Gregory, may I ask a question? A question that is probably rude, possibly an invasion of your privacy?"
He partially turned in his desk chair, his arm now draped across the back, to face his Sekirei where she was sitting on the couch, having been reading on one of the tablets. Gregory answered her, "Sure, Mado. Anything. Mishi's out with Tomo, so we can talk freely. And I promise you, no question you will ever ask me will offend me. I might not answer, but you can always ask me, anything."
Madoka pursed her lips and her brows drew downwards in a frown. "Very well, thank you, Gregory. I understand you would like me to leave the apartment and be out of the way in case Karen starts a big fight with you when she comes home. A fight caused because you will not tell me to leave and never return, which is what Karen wishes."
The beautiful young woman turned to meet Gregory's gaze, brow still furrowed and both hands stuffed into the pockets of her grey hoodie. "I will do as you wish, my Ashikabi, but only if you will tell me, honestly and truly, what a 'domestic fight', as you called it, involves."
She held up a hand to forestall his answer for a moment, "Gregory, please understand that almost everything I know about Japanese home life was learned from television programs, movies, anime, and manga. I also watched a lot of American television and read some American novels, as I selected American English as my secondary language. But I recognize now that my understanding of even Japanese life is very limited and my understanding of how an American family lives is almost zero. So I do not know exactly what you mean when you talk of a fight with your wife."
In a moment of clarity, Gregory realized Madoka was concerned for him. For his actual physical safety! Before he could laugh off the misunderstanding, he made himself stop and consider what the situation must look like from Madoka's point of view. Words like "fight" certainly had quite a broad range of definitions; he could not blame Madoka for perhaps overestimating the danger of Karen's imminent return from work.
"Thank you for being concerned for me, Madoka." Gregory gave the girl a smile and turned his desk chair around to face her completely, to give her his undivided attention. "The sort of 'fight' that is the most likely would only involve loud words, cursing, perhaps one or both parties saying angry, even hurtful things, to the other. Perhaps it would go as far as something fragile and breakable being picked up and thrown against a wall in anger, like a… coffee cup or a saucer. People tend to find breaking the china to be an effective stress reliever when they are emotionally wound up."
Madoka did not respond to the mild attempt at humor, but her frown did ease a little. She chewed on her lower lip absently and responded, "So there is no danger of anyone being physically hurt or danger of an escalation beyond angry words and perhaps someone maybe throwing a vase at a wall?"
"Just so. Um, though domestic disputes can escalate dramatically; the police hate having to go out on calls when the problem is a husband and wife in a fight. Any time high emotions are in play a situation can go dangerously bad very quickly and there are few situations you will live in where 'high emotions' are going to bubble up more than with the people you've lived with for many many years." Gregory realized he probably was not reassuring the girl's worries and he cursed his tendency to being pedantic, so added, "But that's just in general, Mado. I'm not the sort of guy who loses his temper easily, and Karen might be prickly, even short tempered at times but she's not too likely to escalate this into something physically confrontational. A thrown coffee cup, at most."
Gregory pursed his own lips and looked to look towards the sunlight in the bare trees, just beyond the closed patio door and the patio fence. "Frankly, I don't think Karen cares enough about me any more to really go crazy about this. I know that probably sounds counter-intuitive, that someone who cares less is less likely to get out of control angry. But keep in mind, the dangerous situations are the ones where people's most powerful emotions are agitated and involved, and I don't think Karen has had 'powerful emotions' about me or our marriage in quite a while. So, it's probably fine, you don't have any reason to worry."
Madoka nodded her understanding. Gregory could tell by the look on her face that she was now reassured that she was not running out on Gregory and leaving him to face mortal danger alone. But she still looked unhappy about the way he had described the situation.
Gregory could understand that. He too was unhappy about the way he had described the situation.
o.0.O.0.o
At 5pm, Madoka was sitting at Gregory's computer desk in the living room, watching a video. Gregory had shown her how to navigate the desktop system well enough to get to the web and search for what subjects might interest her. From his seat on the couch, it appeared that she was watching a video about how to wear make-up. He couldn't tell for sure. She was engrossed in the subject, whatever it was, which is why he had shown her how to watch videos on the much larger screen of his big desktop system, as opposed to the small screen on her new phone. He had asked her to watch those videos at the desk instead of having them cast up onto the big wall monitor-television. He did not care to watch videos about the proper method of applying mascara.
He was taking notes in his black A4 notebook with an ink pen, ambient music playing in his earbuds at a low volume. Considering all of the electronic gadgetry at hand, Madoka had found it odd for him to continue keeping notes in a paper notebook by hand and she had asked Gregory about that very issue earlier. "I already think of that spiral notebook as a part of you, Gregory; you have been using it for your note keeping since the night I told you the truth about me, in your classroom after school. But why do you not keep your notes using one of the high tech devices you have around here?"
He had answered, "No matter how careful you are, there's no way to be sure what you are inputting on a computer or tablet or phone is secure. I know that everything I write in this notebook is completely safe from remote computer hackery by MBI or anyone else. Someone could steal it or I could lose it, but all things considered I find those risks less likely than the more high-tech risks I'd be facing if I kept my notes electronically. It is also more secure in the sense that it's unlikely someone could steal my notebook without me realizing it, whereas they could copy a digital file on my computer and make off with it and I'd never be aware." He chuckled ruefully, "Rarely does anyone have reason to be paranoid about their information, but in the case of MBI and our information on the Sekirei… better safe than sorry, I figure."
So he was writing with his pen in the Notebook. Tonight it had been notes on all of the Sekirei who Madoka had been able to remember from her years in the MBI Sekirei Labs. Their names, numbers, appearance, demeanor, powers, who they were friendly with, who they didn't like, any unusual situations they'd been involved in. Madoka had far more in her head about the Sekirei and the MBI Administration and Research personnel than she had thought she had, all of it coming out in bits and pieces as Gregory methodically questioned her about the other Sekirei.
He had basic summaries about 36 different Sekirei now. That left 71 others, and number 01, about whom they had no information. Madoka knew of no one who had ever admitted to having seen or met 01 and she had only the rumors and outright mythology spread among the young Sekirei about the savior figure 01. They also had the reasonable inference that there was a 01 due to how unlikely it was that any numbering system would start at 02. Gregory considered this lack of information about Sekirei 01 a serious problem that they should address if it was at all possible. "Madoka, she is the power that the Kouten installed upon your colony ship to keep what is happening to you Sekirei from happening. Sekirei 01 would be uniquely qualified, in both power and knowledge, to stop this madness and correct the harm that has already been done. All of our own strategies for surviving the Sekirei Plan and our plans for how to counter various elements of MBI and the opposition Ashikabi would be needless, if we could simply find a living Sekirei 01. If we could free her from whatever is preventing her from doing what she was meant to do, namely protecting and shepherding the 107 Sekirei to success in their mission. That she is a ghost to us is distressing and it's something I would very much like to correct."
Gregory paused in reviewing his notes, glancing at his cell watch, seeing that it was time for Karen to be leaving her office; she would be home in about an hour. His stomach got butterflies at the thought, which in turn irritated him. Thinking of his wife coming home gave him butterflies of anxiety in his gut? This was completely unacceptable; one way or another this was going to be resolved. Gregory was not going to live like this any longer if he could do anything about it.
"Dad?" Mishi's hesitant voice called to him from the hallway. She walked into the living room, holding her phone up, "Mom just texted me and asked if you had talked to me about anything important today. Why is she beating around the bush? What should I tell her?"
Gregory set down his pen along the spiral of the Notebook and then rubbed his forehead. Of course Karen was going to question Mishi instead of simply calling or texting him. He saw that Madoka had paused her video and had turned around in the desk chair to face him and Mishi.
Closing his eyes and attempting to keep his temper in check, Gregory answered, "Well, Mishi dear, if I had to guess at what your mom is up to, she probably wants to know if I told you that your friend Madoka has to get out today, like Karen ordered me to do, last night. But she can't come out and ask you 'did Gregory throw that girl out today or not', as that would give away to you that this is something Karen is pushing for, and she doesn't want that, she wants you to be mad at me, for kicking your friend out onto the street. As I have not and am following her orders, I am not telling you that your friend Madoka has to get out today, you should probably just tell her no; I've not spoken to you about anything important."
Again, the butterflies made themselves known in Gregory's stomach, as Mishi tapped out her reply to Karen. Gregory made a mental note that communication through Mishi was petty bullshit and it was not going to happen again, at least on his part. If Karen wanted to know what he was doing or not doing she should ask him. It was not fair to Mishi for either of them to be using her as some kind of proxy.
"Mom says she's staying at Miss Hashimoto's tonight."
Gregory stared at Mishi, who returned the look with a pensive expression of her own. He blurted out, "Really?" Recovering from his surprise quickly, Gregory shook his head and continued, "No, never mind, Mishi. Thank you for letting me know. I'll talk to your Mom myself if I have questions for her. And, Mishi, dear, please, if she asks you again about me or tries to get you to say something to me, any of this," Gregory waved his hands vaguely towards Mishi's phone, "please feel free to tell her she can email me, text me, call me, herself. I don't want you feeling like you have to be in the middle sending messages back and forth, okay?"
"You know it's not that easy, Dad."
Gregory nodded his understanding and added, "Sweetie, you've got the right to not be made into a tool for either your mom or me to use against the other. I promise you, with complete sincerity, that I will not intentionally channel my communications with Karen through you or your brother. If I forget and try to talk to Karen through you, you point out to me that I'm doing it and tell me no. I mean it, Mishi." Gregory held up a hand and pointed at Mishi, "Now if you chose to pass messages from your mom to me because, I don't know, maybe it's easier for you than arguing about it with her or it causes you less trouble, that's fine. But whatever you do in this… situation… make sure you are doing it because it's your call, not because you feel pressured or obliged."
Gregory stood up from the couch and stepped over to give his daughter a bear hug, squeezing her against his chest. Demonstrations of affection did not come naturally to Gregory; it simply wasn't how he was raised. But after the birth of his first child, Mark, and then reinforced with the arrival of Mishi several years later, Gregory had made the deliberate resolution to never short change his children when it came to hugs, kisses, and clear declarations of his love for them.
Mishi hugged him back, holding on a bit longer than was her usual tendency. She was upset. But she had inherited his emotional reserve instead of her mother's short fuse and fiery demeanor. When it came to matters of real significance, Mishi was downright aloof. Gregory figured it was quite likely that was how people saw him, too.
Gregory savored the unique feel of a sincere hug from his daughter. Her arms squeezed around his middle and her head nodded understanding, her cheek pressed against his chest.
"Thank you. I love you, daddy."
"Sure, sweetie. I love you too."
After Mishi retreated to her room and shut the door behind her, Gregory turned and noticed Madoka was watching him. He frowned, then met his Sekirei's serious blue-eyed gaze. "I'm sorry, Madoka. I really am."
She tilted her head slightly, as she tended to do when puzzled. "For what, Gregory?"
He shrugged and gestured vaguely with his hands, "I'm sorry those you didn't have a dad. Or a mom. Even if it might look like marriage and family is a lot of trouble, it really is the best thing ever. I'd not trade a single 'I love you, daddy' from my daughter for all of the tea in China, or for all the gold in Fort Knox. It's not fair that those bastards at MBI did not provide you with loving parents. Dads and Moms are the people who you can always count on to love you, unconditionally."
Madoka continued to silently study him, wearing that quizzical expression on her lovely face. She didn't reply.
Gregory slumped back onto the couch and returned to the Notebook. He needed to focus on something else or he was going to start drinking scotch and he'd promised himself tonight was scotch free. "Okay Mado, let's develop nomenclature. Just calling this stuff 'powers' is going to drive me crazy. Really, it will, it will drive me absolutely batshit. Are you sure no one at MBI ever used repeated terms for the Sekirei abilities? Or did you ever hear them describe a conceptual framework? That's really where we need to start…"
o.0.O.0.o
It was late, past midnight, and Madoka was beginning to tire. Not physically, since she had spent the entire Friday just sitting about the apartment reading and talking with Gregory and Mishi, other than this morning's short yet orgasmic trip to the grocery. But the tension in the O'Donnell home was taking a toll on all of them, especially Madoka. This was not an environment or circumstance she was used to; it had stresses, anxieties, and worries that were greatly different from those she had grown up with in the MBI Sekirei Labs.
She understood, now, that what coping skills she had developed for dealing with the very specific world of the MBI Sekirei Labs would likely be almost worthless in most situations she'd find herself in, for the rest of her life.
She had, however, tried to at least distract herself this evening, and Mishi and Gregory as well, from the persistent tension they were all experiencing. With quite a bit of success, she admitted.
Madoka was daringly wearing her sleeping clothes while sitting in the living room with Gregory. The thin short shorts and the teal cotton tank top she had borrowed from Mishi back on her first night with the O'Donnell's were comfortable but wearing such clothes in front of her Ashikabi was bolder than she had ever been before.
Not wearing anything under the shorts added a whole new level of daring as well.
Her bare legs were tucked up beside her as she sat on the comfortable couch. The tablet she had been reading was lying, ignored, in her lap, and she realized she had been watching her Ashikabi for several minutes.
Early in the evening Madoka had found a fun way to cheat in the ongoing game between her and Gregory, a game he wasn't even consciously aware they were playing. The game in which he kept trying to avoid getting caught looking at her body (or outright leering at her on occasion) when he thought she couldn't see what he was focusing his attention on.
She found she could cheat by closing her eyes and focusing on her Farsight so she could see Gregory checking her out when he thought she was looking the other way. When she would break out in a grin and Gregory asked her what was so funny she would answer "Nothing!"
Madoka was learning all sorts of things about what drew her Ashikabi's eyes and was developing a theory that he was a bit of a pervert.
Not a pervert in the sense most people used the word these days. Gregory had gone on for 15 straight minutes earlier in the evening when Madoka had, all innocent and unknowing, used the word "pervert" as a synonym for "guy who likes looking at pretty girls".
Mishi had started waving her hands warningly but it was too late, Gregory had already overheard and then launched into what was obviously a well-practiced rant about how the word "pervert" does not mean "guy who likes sex" or "guy who likes looking at girls", or any of the other ways the word was perverted in its meaning these days.
He waxed almost poetic about the corruption of the language and about how it had only taken one idiot Japanese-to-English translator, forty years ago, to misapply "pervert" to a manga he was being paid to translate for the American market. The usage guide the translator had been working from had that word as one of the usable terms for "dirty old man who likes looking at underage girls", or, just "dirty old man" (which was a marginally acceptable translation, Gregory had to admit, as it was not and is not socially acceptable for a much older man to outright ogle legally underage young women).
But! That idiot translator then went and applied the word to "any man who ogles young women", not just dirty old men! Then it began to be applied to "any man who demonstrates a desire for sex" and "anyone male or female who demonstrates a desire for sex". Now, forty years later, every time someone in Japan shows a healthy interest in the opposite gender (or the same gender, for that matter) they are labeled a pervert, i.e., someone who is demonstrating a sexual perversion.
"Wanting sex isn't a sexual perversion! Looking at pretty girls is not a sexual perversion! Looking at pretty guys isn't either, if that's your thing." By this point in the diatribe, Gregory had been pacing back and forth across the living room, gesticulating wildly with both arms, with Mishi and Madoka as his silent, horrified, audience. Well, Madoka was much less horrified than Mishi, who hated to hear her father talk about anything that had even a remote connection to sex.
Mishi obviously knew this speech by heart already, which was why she had tried desperately to wave Madoka off when Madoka had referred to a guy as a pervert for leering at her and Mishi. Madoka realized she would be willing to pay good money to have been a witness to the times Gregory went off on this rant to one of Mishi's boyfriends, or in the presence of one of Mishi's girlfriends from school, something Madoka was now convinced must have happened, at least once, in the past.
Gregory was far too much the dedicated linguistic academic to let mere social propriety hold him back from lecturing an audience on correct word usage, especially if that social propriety was only there to keep him from embarrassing his daughter. Then it was almost a bonus!
"A pervert is someone who can't enjoy regular healthy sex; they have to have unusual, deviant, circumstances and kinks in order to get off!" Mishi groaned and buried her hands in her face at that. Gregory continued, unaware (or perhaps uncaring) of how he was amusing his Sekirei and mortifying his teenage daughter, "Unless someone's sexual behavior is truly deviant, truly degenerate, truly depraved, they are not a pervert! Pedophiles are perverts because pre-pubescent children are not healthy targets for sexual desire! Fetishists are often perverts, because if you can only get off by fapping with women's shoes on each hand, you are a pervert! Sadists are perverts! Someone who can only get off while peeping on unaware women is a pervert!"
"It's not, however, perverted to like looking at pretty girls! Clothed, naked, or in any other state! It's normal!"
Mishi had fled to bed not long after Gregory wrapped up his Pervert Rant, to Madoka's great amusement. Madoka considered this only fair, it was payback for the many times Mishi had utterly embarrassed Madoka in the early days of their friendship, when Mishi's bold, deliberate, talk of sex and body parts would inevitably cause Madoka to blush and stammer.
Happily, Mishi's new desire to be in a totally separate room from her Dad for the next ten years did give Gregory and Madoka the privacy needed for talking about the Sekirei and MBI.
This also gave an excuse for Madoka to change into the aforementioned very skimpy sleepwear and put an innocent face on wanting to "comfortably" lounge around the living room with her Ashikabi. And while helping herself to most of a bottle of white wine over the course of the evening.
And yes, she'd noticed he was a bit of a pervert, mostly by trial and error and by using her Farsight to cheat and observe Gregory's eyes and his attention when she was not facing him, when he thought he was safe to look as much as he wanted at whatever he wanted.
She labeled him a bit of a pervert because she now suspected that her Ashikabi was more stimulated by accidental or incidental views of forbidden skin than by a full view of nakedness deliberately granted. Not that he hadn't appreciated the deliberate show of her breasts the other night, but he initially had thought he was peeping on her, unaware, and that was more stimulating than if she had simply removed her shirt for him with him being fully aware of her intent.
So, she'd spent the last couple of hours lounging in her very skimpy clothes, sharing the couch with Gregory and "innocently" letting the fabric of her shorts expose glimpses of what they covered, and "innocently" ignoring her erect nipples poking out from the cotton tank top like diamond bits. When she had "innocently and absent-mindedly" used her tablet's stylus to rub a spot between her legs under the shorts, which had developed a slight itch, Gregory almost fell completely off the couch.
It took every bit of self-control Madoka had to keep from grinning ear to ear. She ended up resorting to using her Healing ability to try to lock her facial muscles into a blank expression just to keep from giving herself away.
This was fun!
o.0.O.0.o
On the serious business of MBI and the Sekirei Plan, the last few discussions they'd had were focused on the more-than-human abilities Madoka had, those that she had witnessed, and those she had heard rumor of. Gregory was insistent on coming up with proper names for everything and even though he made an effort to explain why he felt this was important, Madoka still considered it a bit of a waste of energy.
MBI did not bother with this sort of thing and they were scientists and researchers who had been studying the Sekirei for twenty years. If they didn't think it was important to come up with an actual name for what Madoka could do other than "healing" then she tended to agree with them.
But it was important to her Ashikabi, so even if she didn't get it, she tried her best to cooperate. Even though wracking her memory for every little detail from her years in the MBI Sekirei Labs was difficult and frustrating, particularly with Gregory directing the questions. He had the most amazing ability to remain focused on a line of questioning. This ability was also incredibly irritating! If she wandered off topic or answered a question he had not actually asked, he immediately realized it and returned the discussion back to the point he wanted. Prevaricating when Gregory was questioning you on a subject was damn near impossible, as Madoka had found out.
He was nice about it. Kind even. But he didn't let you weasel out of at least telling yourself the truth.
After Mishi had retreated to her room, she and Gregory spent the evening, back and forth between the living room and the patio, coming up with names for the different Sekirei abilities, which did not take nearly as long as she'd thought it would. Farsense, Creativity, Psychokinesis, Redaction, Coercion, dozens of sub-categories and time spent explaining how various Sekirei abilities Madoka had witnessed could fit into the new Metapsychic categories. It was kind of fun, really. There was a sense that they were doing something that a hundred years from now people would still be influenced by. A feeling that there would be this idealized future society with colleges of metapsychics exploring the inner and outer worlds to a greater degree than anyone before, and they would be using the terms and ideas that she and Gregory were putting down on paper this night.
But that only took about an hour, as Gregory already had a great deal of the preliminary work done on building a nomenclature for the Sekirei and Ashikabi. He said he had simply gone through a dozen science fiction authors, as well as computer games and comic books, and stole everything that seemed to fit their situation. Madoka thought that the idea of high-minded super metapsychics in the future using their nomenclature, which they stole from comic books, was the funniest thing she had heard in forever.
What they spent the rest of their night on was reviewing Madoka's past in the MBI Sekirei Labs, quickly deciding to focus on her adolescence and the facts of her Post-Pubescent Group 11 life. She ended up sharing far more about her relationship with 16 Toyotama and the motivations behind it than she had intended. There was so much information Gregory managed to get from her that he resorted to recording their discussion and dialogue as audio files on his phone and her phone (always best to have two master copies of raw data, Gregory insisted) to make sure his ink pen on spiral notebook note taking did not contain any grievous errors.
Madoka learned new things about herself by the time Gregory was finished questioning her about her and her onee-sama. New things about herself that she did not particularly like.
Madoka sensed disapproval from Gregory, coming across the connection they shared as Sekirei and Ashikabi. This disapproval grew as he extracted more and more information about her life after her Puberty Adjustments. He questioned her about and took notes on why she had initiated her relationship with number 16, what methods she used to endear herself to Toyotama, why Madoka felt she needed a literal bodyguard to protect her from the other Sekirei in Group 11.
Gregory was not happy as he continued to gather more information about the nature of her relationship with Toyotama, details about how often or how rarely Madoka actually desired to do what they did together. How often did she engage in sex play with Toyotama or Ichi-chan because they wanted to, and since they wanted it Madoka made sure she was there to provide what was desired, and so that Madoka would be wanted and appreciated and valued.
Madoka started to see that she had allowed Toyotama to do whatever Toyotama wanted to do to Madoka's body and then Madoka perceived "reciprocation" as Madoka then doing to Toyotama's body what Toyotama wanted done.
When true reciprocation would have been them doing what Madoka wanted. But Madoka's wants were never a part of any equation, and somehow Madoka had never notice this.
Madoka had made everything about what Toyotama wanted; whether it was what Toyotama was doing to Madoka, or what Madoka was doing to Toyotama. How could she not have seen this?
She couldn't even blame her onee-sama. If Madoka herself did not recognize the one-sided nature of the relationship, a relationship that Madoka had courted and that Madoka had defined in almost all of its particulars, then it was pretty unlikely that Toyotama was ever aware of how grossly unbalanced their relationship had been. On the other hand, Toyotama had perhaps assumed, reasonably assumed, that Madoka had set things up exactly as Madoka wanted them.
Madoka was the one who declared that Toyotama was her "onee-sama". Toyotama might have been happy with a less deferential, less submissive, girlfriend. Madoka would probably never know, but the thought had never occurred to her, in the Labs. The nature of her relationship with Toyotama was very specific and it had sprung into existence in all of its particulars almost spontaneously, and Madoka had implemented the relationship exactly as it had manifested in her mind.
There was a lot more to her relationship with Toyotama that Madoka needed to spend time thinking about. More than she had ever suspected. Before she could lay her past to rest and move on with her life, she would have to spend time reviewing this important part of her past. If she was still alive by the end of summer, she promised herself she would dedicate whatever time and effort it took to settle this upsetting history she'd not even realized she'd been carrying.
Gregory had been the one who extracted these truths from her, bit by bit, over the course of several hours. And while she could tell he was unhappy and that he disapproved, she could not tell what exactly it was he was unhappy about or what he disapproved of.
Perhaps he thought girl+girl relationships were wrong? Or maybe he did not like the idea that his Sekirei was intimate with someone before meeting him? There was a lot of talk in the dorms about remaining "pure" for your Ashikabi. But the general acceptance was that only meant avoiding girl+boy sex! But maybe that was wrong? Oh no, what it that was it?
Maybe he did not like that Madoka was so inferior in the relationship with Toyotama? Or that there were Sekirei who would take advantage of his Sekirei before he could be there to protect her?
It was confusing and frustrating for Madoka, knowing her Ashikabi was feeling clear emotions of disapproval, even anger, but not knowing what it was she'd done to cause those emotions and thus not being able to tell what to do to make them stop. She could not pick up the cause of his very obvious emotions, at all, and that was going to drive her mad!
His face never changed expression from his usual study-research look, the intense brows drawn down over sharp green eyes, his somewhat thick lips pursed, all of it made for Gregory's look of concentration, what he usually wore while writing in the Notebook and asking her questions.
This untenable state of affairs caused her to return to prevaricating, which was pointless and accomplished nothing except frustrating her that much more. Gregory was going to get his answers, unless she flat out told him no.
He had told her at the start that if she did not want to answer something, she had the right to tell him flat out, "no, I do not want to answer that question". She had stupidly declared immediately that she had no reason to hide anything at all from her Ashikabi and she would never deny him an answer to any question he might have. If he liked, she would describe in detail every sexual encounter she and Toyotama ever had!
And while that declaration had caused her Ashikabi to sputter and even blush, she soon regretted having painted herself into a corner. Now she had to answer; now she couldn't use his freely offered escape hatch. Because she had so adamantly insisted she never would, before she realized just how uncomfortable some of the truths were that Gregory was uncovering.
Eventually the subject shifted away from her relationships and began delving into what she remembered of MBI's actual tests of the Sekirei and their studies of their abilities, Gregory spent a lot of his time shaking his head at how little MBI seemed to actually study the Sekirei's powers. Madoka told him she did not think MBI even knew about Farsense. Or maybe they knew that some of the Sekirei could see around corners and some could whisper to another Sekirei without using their voices, but they never listed any of the Farsense abilities on evaluations, it was never asked about in interviews or during Adjustments, it was simply a non-issue in the MBI Sekirei Labs. The Farsense metafaculty seemed to not interest MBI at all, which baffled Gregory intensely, considering the possible application in corporate espionage for MBI's benefit, at the very least. And what about science for the sake of science? How does any scientist worth the title just ignore demonstrable clairvoyance? It was mind-boggling. What did all of those Researchers and Lab Techs spend all these years doing?
If it did not have to do with fighting, specifically one on one formalized duels between Sekirei, it seemed MBI did not care about it. And that distressed Gregory greatly.
By the time midnight had rolled around, Madoka was of the opinion he should have gone into interrogation instead of teaching.
Now he was writing in the Notebook, sitting at the other end of the couch, illuminated by a table lamp. Madoka studied his face in profile, noting the fatigue that showed itself in lines around his eyes and his mouth. Fatigue or stress; it was hard for her to say which.
He had a very prominent nose. It was straight, not hooked, and kind of shaped like a triangle in profile. Was it a big nose or a strong nose? She wondered which of those two she would have used to describe it two weeks ago and which she would use today.
Gregory had asked her earlier that evening to start keeping a journal of sorts, on her phone if she liked, on paper if she preferred. She liked tapping stuff out on her phone; it gave her practice with the little keypad and she envied Mishi her amazing speed and accuracy in texting. Gregory had asked her to write down the things she felt. Especially how she felt last week, before her winging, to the best of her memory. She was a little reluctant to do so, and he could tell, so he assured her that whatever she wrote in the journal he would not be reading, but instead his "research assistant" would be going over those notes. The only way he would see those notes would be if she and his research assistant agreed he should see them at a later date.
He did not have a research assistant, Madoka promptly pointed out.
He laughed and kept making notes in his Notebook. "I will. You can bet your sweet ass on that, Mado. I will."
She enjoyed the warmth in her belly that came from her Ashikabi calling her ass "sweet". She also realized he meant that he may not have an assistant today, but the work he was doing would need one someday so that person would be who was reviewing what she might write. He explained that this was so she would feel free to be more honest in what she recorded and he stressed how important that was.
He took her by the hand, looked into her eyes, and earnestly asked her to write down everything she could remember, even things that she didn't like to admit now, things she might think would upset him or Mishi or anyone else, whatever it was she thought and felt before winging, write it down.
So she had just finished methodically tapping out everything she remembered of her thoughts about Gregory O'Donnell. She'd had to erase what she had typed several times, realizing she had been whitewashing the truth without realizing it, something Gregory warned her would likely happen. She made a real effort to write the blunt, hard, truth, exactly as she remembered it.
She looked, now, at the face of her Ashikabi, back lit by the lamp near the couch. He was focused and intent on what he was writing in the Notebook, unaware of her studying his features. The feelings and opinions she had two weeks ago when she first met Gregory O'Donnell were now newly refreshed in her memory, so she studied the face that she had looked at two weeks ago and had then immediately categorized as "old American guy", as "another old pervert", because he had been staring at her face. She remembered being relieved when he had finally turned his eyes away from her.
She had made a note that now, two weeks later, she felt cold and a bit lonely any time those same green eyes were not looking her way.
She also had some kinda first-hand/second-hand understanding of why he might stare at her face, having now seen what her face looked like through his eyes. At least, a fantasy-memory of her face. Now she was more inclined to wonder at how he could ever stop looking rather than wonder why he was looking in the first place.
Now when she looked at him she still saw the lines on his face, but now those lines and fine creases meant worry for his family and for her. She still saw the slightly saggy skin along his jawline but now she did not care about it. She saw the thin hair atop his head and the hairline that was well back from his high forehead but it no longer seemed to matter. Now it was just Gregory's slightly greying, receding, blond hair. Before, it had been a big red sign blinking "old guy, old guy, disqualified, avoid".
Her eyes lingered on his lips, again observing that they were a bit large for a man's lips, almost pouty. She did not think he would appreciate that description, which thought made her grin. She thought about how his lips felt on hers.
She gave a start when he slapped the Notebook shut then turned to look at her. He gave her that crooked grin he had, and said, "Really, it's late, we'd all best get off to bed, Mado. Tomorrow is Saturday so in the morning I have my English as a Second Language Course. If you want to get a ride with me, get up early. If you want to stay here with Mishi instead, that's alright too. Though, between you and me, I expect she intends on smuggling Tomo over tomorrow morning while I'm off at Saturday school and since Karen is wherever Karen is. So it might be uncomfortable here for you as the two of them likely intend on private time in the bedroom. Me, I just pretend that she is cleverly fooling me. Oh, and for the love of God remind me we need to put some time aside to do some detailed tests on your Farsense metafaculty, okay?"
"Tomorrow is the two week anniversary of when I met you," the thought drifted through Madoka's tired mind. "Okay, Gregory. And I will catch a ride with you, yes. It will give me a chance to get out of the apartment and I need to try to get word back to the MBI Sekirei Labs, to Yosuga, so I will be working on that tomorrow."
"Okay, but be careful, Mado."
"Of course! And you promise we will stop for donuts, yes? Before your class?" She stood from the couch, being careful to be subtle about posing in her very-barely-there sleep clothing. She collected her phone and put the tablet away, up on the shelf over the computer desk, where it belonged. Well, maybe stretching up on her tip toes as high as she could reach in order to put the tablet away was a little obvious.
Turning towards the bedroom, she looked out of the side of her eye to see the effect she'd had on her Ashikabi.
Totally worth it.
o.0.O.0.o
Saturday 28 December, 2019
By noon the next day, when Gregory finished his Saturday ESL class, a steady rain had settled in over Shin Tokyo. The weather app on his cell-watch told him it would likely continue through Sunday morning and a glance outside at the dull grey skies confirmed that as a good bet.
As he left the classroom that was set aside for Saturday adult education classes Gregory noticed that his pretty little Sekirei was waiting for him in the hallway. "Hello, Mado-chan. Riding back to the apartment with me then?"
"Yes, please, Gregory-kun. It is a little bit rainy outside." Madoka gave him her slight, reserved, smile (so very different from her "10,000 watt Resistance Is Futile ®"smile, but still lovely) then fell into step beside him as they walked towards the double doors of the main entrance for the school. It was dim in the school's hallway, with only every fourth overhead light turned on and the glass doors at the end letting in only a little light, thanks to the rainstorm. Gregory carried his briefcase in his left hand; his right was resting in his pants pocket, which provided a convenient elbow for Madoka to grasp as she walked closely alongside him on his right.
Without conscious thought, and as soon as Madoka took his arm, Gregory shortened his normally long strides and Madoka lengthened her steps. Neither noticed their immediate synchronicity.
They walked in silence down the long corridor. Once at the doors, Gregory nodded to the security guard who was at his desk nearby and held the door for Madoka. The rain was really coming down. The covered walkway that led towards the parking lot was, thankfully, wide enough to keep them dry as Madoka took Gregory's arm again and the two of them slowly walked.
"Any luck coming up with a way to get word to your friend in the MBI Sekirei Labs?" Gregory asked.
Madoka nodded her head, even the damp air was unable to keep her thick blonde hair from swinging about. "I hope so. I had the full names of two of the lab techs who worked in the Group 11 dorms over this last year and I have been working on finding them. Today I finally found both of their phone numbers and contacted them. Hopefully at least one of the two will be kind enough to slip my cell number to Yosu-chan."
Gregory nodded, "That really is probably your best bet. Staking out MBI's downtown headquarters won't do any good, as the Sekirei are released all around the city and at random times. You know, Yosuga might already be released for all we know."
"Oh, I hope not, Gregory-kun. And with only three to six of us being released each week, and already two of us that I know of for sure having been released out of Group 11, three if we count 86 Katsuragi, we can hope Yosu-chan will be one of the later released Sekirei. All I can do is hope, I do not have any, what was the term you used... leverage? Yes, leverage, to apply to either of these young men, so I and Yosu-chan are completely dependent upon their good will. And good will was not a particularly valued trait in the MBI hiring processes, as far as we could ever tell."
Gregory could tell Madoka was putting a lot of hope into this, so he agreed easily. "It doesn't hurt to hope, Mado-chan. A positive attitude almost always helps and rarely hurts."
His gorgeous blonde Sekirei looked up at him, having to tilt her head back quite a bit to meet his eyes, and she smiled her radiant smile up at him, weakening his knees and setting his heart to racing, as it always did. "Exactly, Gregory-kun. A positive attitude. That is my motto now. I will have faith that we will find Yosu-chan and we will help her find her Ashikabi and she will avoid the terrible things that have happened to some of the Sekirei, out in the city."
Gregory smiled down at Madoka where she held onto his arm and replied, "Good! See, no reason to sulk about and assume the worst. And perhaps we could put our heads together and come up with more leverage for you to use than you think you have. You know, this project with trying to reach number 44 clearly illustrates how nice it would be if we had some way to find just-released Sekirei. If we could contact them immediately upon their release from the MBI Sekirei Labs and warn them about all the things MBI is failing to educate them about, and help put them on the right path to finding their Ashikabi, it would save a lot of misery. God only knows how many have already been forcibly winged by bad men or who've had to accept an Ashikabi that was not the best match for them, like you had to, from simple, avoidable mistakes. Unforced errors, as they're called."
The two stopped walking, as they had reached the end of the covered walkway, at the back section of the school parking lot where Gregory parked the Jeep. Both were looking out into the heavy rain at the small, mostly empty, parking lot, Madoka's hand was still holding Gregory's right arm.
They stood quietly for a short time, both enjoying the sound of the steady downpour and the feeling that they were protected and sheltered, even if their shelter was only this 2 meter wide covered walkway, they both felt protected and sheltered in the others presence. Though it was unlikely either would describe it in those words, especially Gregory.
Madoka was looking at Gregory's orange Jeep and the two parking spots that he had to pay for, by the order of the school's facilities manager, in order to park it in the school's lot. The American sized vehicle was simply too large to fit easily in Japanese sized car slots. Madoka watched the heavy rain as it pooled atop the flat canvas roof of the unusual vehicle, then she spoke, softly, but easily heard by her Ashikabi. "Gregory-kun, I do not think it is the worst thing at all, being your Sekirei. Please do not think that I regret this fate or that I spend my time wishing that things could be different."
Gregory continued watching the rainstorm and considered Madoka's words carefully, both what she had said and what she had not. He doubted if she had felt so accepting of her fate, of her new Ashikabi, the night their bond had established, the night of her winging. He wondered if she had been told the day they met that he would end up being her Ashikabi, would Madoka be so accepting of her fate as she seemed now? He suspected she would not have been.
The vague outlines of a hypothesis had been coming together in his mind over the last couple of days; a hypothesis concerning the nature of the bond and what effects it had on the Sekirei. He still did not have it clear enough in his head to write it down but he felt that soon he might have enough data to start making some educated guesses.
As far as what Madoka had said, he understood that "do not think it is the worst thing" would probably be considered damning with faint praise to a lot of people, but he thought he knew Madoka well enough now to hear her words for the kindness she very likely intended. It was true; he regretted the necessity that tied Madoka to such a man as himself even as he confessed that he selfishly enjoyed the attention.
At least Madoka was trying to reassure him that she was not completely unhappy about how things had turned out.
"Wait here, Mado-chan. I'll go fetch the Jeep and pull it up next to the walkway here so you won't get soaked in the cold rain." Gregory handed her his briefcase. "Do please guard briefcase-san with great care. It would be tragic if he were to get soaked in this downpour."
His silliness was rewarded with Madoka's soft, reserved, laugh. "I will do so, Gregory-kun. Briefcase-san is safe with me."
o.0.O.0.o
Gregory stood at the small breakfast bar that separated the kitchen and the living room of the O'Donnell's apartment. The stack of photographs he had been flipping through was now just scattered about the bar top. The letter, typed and printed instead of handwritten, was in his hands. He was staring at it, though he had already read it through, twice.
The photos were all date stamped and the location of each clearly marked on the back. All of them featuring himself and Madoka at various places over the last two weeks; eating lunch, drinking coffee on the patio at Starbucks, even, shockingly, the two of them standing with her hand on the crook of his arm, under the covered walkway at the school, not one hour past. Gregory would bet that the private investigator Karen had obviously hired had been extremely disappointed to never catch him and Madoka at a Love Hotel or any other incriminating location, preferably some place he would get photos of a less than clothed Madoka in the midst of incriminating activities.
What were the odds that a 40-year-old husband of twenty years would not be sleeping with the gorgeous idol-like girl with the DD tits, especially given that the two spend all their spare time together?
He wondered if Karen was disappointed that her private investigator had failed to get such photos? She probably was. She had very likely built up this entire picture in her mind of what had been going on behind her back and it was probably a bitter disappointment to her that her private investigator's best efforts were a photo of Madoka with her hand on the crook of Gregory's jacket covered elbow as he semi-escorted her along a wet, slippery, concrete walkway.
Gregory had no doubt that Karen was livid that that was the worst, the most "incriminating", photo they could acquire. Gregory's diaphragm muscle spasmed and air managed to croak past his throat. No one recognized the grotesque sound as a chuckle, not even Gregory's own subconscious, which had given the order.
"… knew you were lying about her being Michelle's friend from school…"
"… and there are no record of any Sanjunana Madoka at Michelle's school…"
"… for two weeks I gave you every chance to tell me the truth or to get her out of our home."
Yes, he could tell that Karen had unquestionably built up this story in her head of what was "really going on". Gregory felt bad about that. Very bad. He couldn't even carry on an affair properly. No wonder Karen was finally sick to death of him.
It was his damn fault that Karen had nothing significant to show for the efforts she'd made. She did everything right, hired the private investigator, told the fellow how to follow Gregory, where Gregory tended to be. Gregory should do something to fix at least that part of this.
"You made it clear where your priorities are…"
"… returning to New Hampshire. I will stay with my parents there until…"
A hot flash distracted Gregory badly, as it made cold sweat prickle his skin from head to toe.
His entire previous train of thought vanished from his mind entirely, just before he could put into action his plan of turning to Madoka and asking her to suck his dick for a photo he needed so he could fix his marriage.
His mind spun onward. Gregory realized he was starting to lose it. A bit of a lump was in his throat and his eyes were watery with the threat of tears.
If Karen had been suspicious enough to hire a private investigator to tail him or tail Madoka, as well as check the school's attendance records for Madoka's name, then it was quite a bit clearer why Karen was so angry all week. And clearer yet why she had insisted he be the one who kicked Madoka out.
If she had known that he had lied to her about who Madoka was from the start and lied about why she was staying with them, then every day for the last two weeks had been just another nail in the coffin of his marriage as far as Karen was concerned. Every day had been a chance for him to come clean and tell her the truth and let her know what was going on and she waited and watched as every day he chose to keep lying to her.
He'd only meant to help the girl, she'd looked like she was freezing.
"… not sure what sort of fool you have let yourself become…"
Well, one small bright spot in all this; the investigator had no idea about 86 Katsuragi and the events of December 19th. God only knew what MBI's response would be if Karen knew the truth about the Sekirei and was threatening to take off for the States. As it was, Karen figured Gregory was the foolish victim of some sort of con job, with Madoka intending to manipulate her way into accessing whatever assets the O'Donnell's might have.
At least Karen was honest about having cleaned out their savings accounts and that she had insured that all of their investments and accounts now required both of their signatures in order to be liquidated or transferred. He had access to the household checking account, where his paycheck was automatically deposited, and that was it.
"… be damned if some whore is going to get away with my life's savings because you are having a mid-life crisis…"
Really, it was a completely fair assumption, and Gregory was very upset that his wife of 20 years had left him, to return to the States, leaving him here to… what, carry on as a separated-from-his-wife, middle-aged, Western, ex-patriate?
But that didn't make sense! Gregory frowned, trying very hard to crack this mystery. But no matter how he turned it, it made no sense at all. If Gregory really were separated-but-can't-divorce-because-we're-Catholic and living as an ex-patriate in Asia, he would be having his dick sucked ten times a day by gorgeous Thai girls on the beaches of Phuket, Thailand.
He wouldn't still be in Japan. That's just silly.
"… will be staying at a rental until my transfer is approved, a few weeks at the most. I will be taking our daughter with me; she does not deserve to be caught up in your stupidity…"
That was not going to go well. Mishi loved it here, loved her school, her friends, her boyfriend. He wondered how quickly Karen would begin regretting that decision. He'd already checked the apartment; most of Mishi's clothes were gone and some of her other personal possessions were gone from her room, though much remained, such as her fish tank and her two goldfish. The room showed every sign of having been packed by someone who was very angry. Gregory figured that Karen must have arrived at the apartment from her overnight stay with her co-worker, Miss Hashimoto, right after he left for school that morning. Karen had likely told Mishi to pack and that Mishi had to go with her to whatever temporary rental arrangements Karen had.
Gregory wondered how difficult it had been to convince Mishi to cooperate at all. Gregory would bet money that Karen had not mentioned anything about taking Mishi back to New Hampshire. Otherwise, she would have had to tie the girl up to get her to go along.
He glanced at his cell watch, noticed there were no calls and no texts and no emails. Which meant Karen had probably taken Mishi's phone, wherever they were. Karen did not want Mishi warning him of what was going on, likely, so she had cut off Mishi's communications.
He thought about Mishi's spring semester that was starting next week, how difficult it would be for her to transfer to an American school at this point. How angry she would be with both of her parents for putting her through a relocation, against her wishes. He could not blame Mishi; she had every right to be as angry as she no doubt was.
Tears were now slicking Gregory's cheeks, making it difficult to read the sentence Karen had written where she notified him she was taking his wonderful Mishi-chan back to New Hampshire. Mishi would be very mad at him for allowing this to happen. And that was fair; it was his fault this had happened to her. Gregory had little hope that he would ever be able to convince her to forgive him if she ended up back in New Hampshire because of this.
He tried to wipe the tears out of his eyes but more kept flowing out.
"…I will be taking our daughter with me; she does not deserve to be caught up in your stupidity…"
Gregory had little hope that he would ever be able to convince her to forgive him if she ended up back in New Hampshire because of this. Moreover, thinking about Mishi-chan, Gregory knew he had little hope that he would ever be able to convince her to forgive him if she ended up back in New Hampshire because of this. And, even worse, when it came to the situation with Mishi, Gregory had little hope that he would ever be able to convince her to forgive him if...
A blue tinged zorch of pain shot through the middle of his forehead, through his brain, and then out the back of his head. He would normally be curious as to what might have caused such a singular sensation but he was really too busy. He did try to whimper in recognition of the pain but even that was denied him. There was that thing. You know, the thing with the thing, that was blocking any air or blood or semen from moving around in his body.
But the pain, or the memory of it, forced him to move his head and that seemed to give him a different perspective.
Irrevocable. That was the perfect English word for weather like today. He should make sure to work that into his lessons. It was an irrevocable sort of day. He would never have back the daughter that he'd had just yesterday. He would give a lot to overhear, just once, a graduate of the School of Hard Knocking You On Your Ass use "irrevocable" in a pointless mispronounced utterance that had no significant effect on returning Gregory's daughter to him.
The Sekirei Plan had cost him his daughter.
MBI had cost him his daughter.
Hiroto Minaka had just now, this very day, Saturday, December 28th 2019 A.D., cost Gregory Daire O'Donnell the devoted love of Gregory's only daughter, Michelle Lee O'Donnell.
The Sekirei cost him his daughter.
"Hrk…" An alarming, choking, sound penetrated the silence of the apartment.
Hiroto Minaka cost him his daughter.
MBI was responsible for the loss of his daughter.
Gregory believed he might kill everyone who worked for MBI. It would take a long time, it was a large company after all. But if he worked hard and took his vitamins he could probably manage it.
"Hrk…hrk…" Someone nearby was suffering profound respiratory distress. Gregory wished they would kindly shut the fuck up. That wasn't too much to ask, was it?
"Gregory-kun?" His mind didn't register the other, shaky, scared, female voice coming from behind him.
That all of this had been inevitable, from the moment he'd kissed Madoka and had been pulled into the Sekirei Plan, was no comfort.
Kissing Madoka had cost him his daughter.
He would never have the love of his daughter back, because of Sekirei 01's failure to perform her duty.
"Hrk…"
Perhaps he should kill the person standing nearby who was making that irritating noise. He could squeeze them until they stopped making noises.
He could squeeze Minaka's neck until the man died. That would be for the best. And if he did that, that maddening hrking sound might stop too.
"… cannot believe you would do this…"
"… why would you throw away twenty years…"
"Hrk…"
A tremulous voice repeating his name came to him from behind him. "Gregory-kun? I am very sorry…"
Gregory vaguely heard someone answer the Sekirei. "Leave me alone, Madoka-san."
"…I knew you were lying…"
Gregory recognized that somehow he was now kneeling on the floor, beside the breakfast bar, the letter in his hands. He fell over, catching himself with his hands, remaining there on his hands and knees, mouth open and trying to breathe. Tears were dripping from the tip of his nose and snot was leaking from his nostrils to mix with the spit covering his chin.
"… gave you every chance…"
Every handful of seconds Gregory's lungs would try to pull air in through his mouth but his throat was closed and would not let anything through.
"… lying about her…"
"Hrk… hrk…"
"…knew you were lying…"
There was this huge… knot in his chest, so great and solid that he couldn't breathe around it. As though every muscle in his body was tensed as hard as they could be but all of them were right in the middle of his chest.
A sob tore itself out of that knot of pain and forced its way up and out his mouth, leaving what felt like shredded and bleeding flesh in his throat. He held himself up with one hand on the carpet, his other hand held the letter, crumpled, pressed against the pain in his chest, his eyes screwed shut in a vain effort to shut out reality.
A second sob got through the painful tightness in his throat.
"Gregory-kun? Please…"
"Just leave me the fuck alone, goddamnit! Go away!"
Gregory did not hear the door shut, or Madoka's retreating footsteps, or the rain which still fell from the leaden skies over Shin Tokyo.
He fell over onto his side, still clutching the letter to his chest, as more sobs came, slowly tearing away at the tension and pain in his chest.
o.0.O.0.o
o.0.O.0.o

From the Notebooks of Gregory O'Donnell
Terminology and Conceptual Framework
From talking at length to Madoka about the 'research' staff at MBI and what she had spoken with them about, or overhead them saying, over the years she was there, it seems there was no commonly used terminology, no lexicon, not even a conceptual framework for designating the Sekirei more-than-human abilities. Madoka says they just called her ability 'healing'. They described 16 Toyotama's abilities as 'strong'.

Madoka says the trick to Farsight was a "secret" among the girls in Group 11 that they would share with some of the other Sekirei who were assigned to Group 11 and there was every indication that MBI did not even care about this sort of ability, if they knew about it at all.

I find it utterly bewildering that any actual scientist would not have, at the very least, defined and categorized these aliens and their abilities. Attempting to discuss these more-than-human traits while calling them "powers" is simply not serious.

I suspect that early on in the study of the Sekirei, Hiroto Minaka experienced some disaster which drove him mad, and from that point onward his behavior became erratic and irrational, directing the bulk of MBI's resources and efforts away from scientific study and classification and towards conditioning the maturing Sekirei to participate in his "Sekirei Plan".

As any terminology is better than none, I will use what conceptual framework I can cobble together from various sources: fiction, academic, and speculative, and I will work on producing a lexicon for the terminology we use.

As we go forward with observation and documentation, any observed facts that do not fit our terminology or framework will require us to adjust the terminology and the framework.
We will dedicate extra effort to avoid forcing the observed facts to fit the terminology; instead, we will adapt the terminology to fit the newest observed facts.
(Some definitions updated and modified later than the date marked on this entry, as defining and classifying metapsychic abilities correctly is an ongoing project.)
...
Term - Metapsychic Abilities: As these more-than-human abilities need some overall designation other than "powers" I've chosen to refer to them as "metapsychic abilities", "metafunctions", and "metafaculties". Like many of the terms that I have selected these are from the speculative academic papers of Professor Dennis Remillard of Dartmouth, with whom I have corresponded at length since December 19th 2019. Other terms and labels are from fiction that featured such things, notably the science fiction works of Julian May. So far, I have maintained enough distance and vagueness in my discussions with Professor Remillard that MBI should not object, but this cannot likely continue for much longer.
...
Terms for Degrees of Metapsychic Abilities
Operant – Metapsychic abilities are present and available for conscious, controlled, use.
Latent – Metapsychic ability is present but cannot be used deliberately or consistently. May manifest as exceptional mundane characteristics and skills (i.e., a powerful latent Creator might be a naturally gifted engineer or mechanic).

We have an early hypothesis that all Earth-born operant and latent metapsychics are descended, to some degree, from early Sekirei insertions into Earth societies.
Inoperant – Without any metapsychic abilities or the potential for them.
...
Terms for Category of Metapsychic Abilities
Psychokinesis – The ability to move mass by metapsychic effort rather than physical effort.
Creation – Ability to manipulate energy and/or matter. This may take the form of seeming control over fire or electricity, the ability to create illusions. It may also be, in a subconscious form, the power that makes the Sekirei physical form more durable and resistant to damage than human bodies. Madoka reports the Sekirei are no more resistant to injury while sleeping or unconscious than a human and that a Sekirei can have hypodermic needles penetrate their skin with no more difficulty than a human's skin if the Sekirei is cooperative, implying there is a certain conscious metapsychic ability behind those who are resistant to combat damage.
Farsense – The ability to sense at ranges and in conditions beyond normal human limits, both micro and macro. The ability to speak at a distance, or 'telepathy' would fall under this category as well. Farspeak, Farsight, Farsense. The ability to shield their minds from accidentally broadcasting emotions and thoughts is also a characteristic of the Farsense metafunction. From limited observation, it seems all operant metapsychics have some operant Farsense capability, enough to use 'mindspeech' at least, if they are aware of the metafunction. The range varies by the strength of the Farsensor.

Mindspeech from undisciplined and/or untrained operants can be difficult to understand and seems disagreeable to more experienced, disciplined, and trained operants, much like listening to 'baby talk' would be to an adult.

In addition, whether an operant has their 'shields' up or not appears obvious to any operant that 'looks'. Most latents are known to have shields as well, some at very strong levels. This is common enough that simply checking for any degree of mental shielding has been a mostly reliable method of determining if a subject has latent metapsychic abilities or is inoperant.

Note: Not all operant metapsychics appear aware they can use Farspeech with other operants.
Coercion (Note - multiple updates to the definitions of this metafunction have been made since the initial entry on 12/26/19) – The ability to mentally command another to perform actions. This may take the form of convincing the target they wish to perform the action or literally force them against their will to act. This ability is included due to the great number of Sekirei who would appear to have some form of it at a latent level, manifesting itself as charisma and sex appeal, allowing the Sekirei to have far higher success rates in manipulating the people around them, consciously or not.

If there are any Sekirei who have manifested the operant form of this ability they need to be identified as soon as possible as they would be a profound danger to everyone else if they did not have a great deal of ethical education and moral strength.
Redaction (Note - multiple updates to the definitions of this metafunction have been made since the initial entry on 12/26/19) – The ability to heal, which seems to include the ability to heal damage and trauma of the mind as well as the body. While Farsense allows an operant metapsychic to communicate with other operant metapsychics with 'mindspeech', Redactors have the ability to delve into the minds of operant, latent, and inoperant persons. They can read the memories and thoughts if they can delve deeply enough, and they may be able to modify what they find, as well, in order to heal (or cause) mental and emotional trauma. It would seem this ability has a very limited range (requiring touch in most cases) and is slow to engage, making it less than useful in a combat situation.

This ability seems as rare as Coercion, thankfully.

Madoka confirms that an Operant's mental shields, which are a function of the Farsense metafaculty, and which can be enhanced if the target has Redact or even Coercion, will block a Redactor's efforts to access their mind. But the Redaction metafunction seems particularly powerful in assaulting or evading shielding, compared to Farsense or even Coercion. We can only speculate at this stage, but we assume this is so the Redactor Healer who needs to access a damaged or disturbed Operant mind will have the tools to get past their mental shielding. Otherwise little healing could truly be done.

We were also able to confirm, through Madoka's encounter with another Sekirei on 25 Jan 2020, that the "healing" metafunction is what is used to modify or affect the thoughts and memories of a target. One assumes the original purpose of this ability was to heal injuries of the mind and emotional trauma, which is why the "healer" metapsychic has this ability.
Sekirei Exceptional Physical Feats – The ability to lift great weights, leap extreme distances, move at great speeds, these may be a category of metapsychic ability as well. I suspect that these feats have little or nothing to do with the actual muscles and nerves of the Sekirei and are in fact a manifestation of a zero-range/internal only form of PK (psychokinesis), but without additional Sekirei to evaluate it is impossible to do more than speculate.
...
Terms for Metapsychic Strength Ratings
At some point detailed and specific tests and evaluations will no doubt be established for rating the "strength" of each metapsychic's operant metafaculties. That there are ranges of capability and potential seems unquestionable, though more observation needs to be done on this subject. Tentatively we are utilizing the following rankings:
Novice
Adept
Master
Grand Master
Paramount Grand Master
What qualifies an operant to which rankings in the metafaculties they can manifest is extremely subjective at this early stage of study. One expects practitioners of the various metafunctions will, some day, establish benchmarks for defining when someone is worthy of a particular ranking.
In discussions with 37 Madoka, who seems to have a higher than typical ability with the Farsense metafunction and is an operant Redactor, she claims to be able to evaluate the strength of any Sekirei she observes, if given even a few seconds to concentrate on the subject. I've directed her to begin keeping notes on every Sekirei and Ashikabi we encounter as far as their metapsychic strength levels are concerned and any other information she can perceive about them.
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Started Oct 9 2014

Finished Oct 13 2014

Final Edits May 12 2015

Posted May 16 2015

Crossposted to adult-fanfiction.org Oct 1 2015
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No Game For Old Men, a Sekirei tale