The wind whips through the night air and Mamoru has to shield his lighter from it just to make it hold a flame long enough to light his cigarette. He peers down at the city that is still so alive and bustling with activity this late at night. He imagines people stumbling through the streets after too much sake trying to find their way home or, more likely, into someone else's home. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes two large drinks. He grimaces from the burn of the alcohol and shakes his head to clear it of the sting. He looks down at the amber fluid and reads the label: Yamazaki single malt whisky. He takes another deep pull from the bottle that is now about half-empty. He laughs under his breath for a brief moment accepting the fact that he is one of those "bottle is half empty" types of people. He can feel the effects of the whisky gripping him and sways ever so slightly on his perch in one of the many partially constructed buildings of the city. He looks off to the right and the towering image of MBI looms in the distance. His smile fades immediately and he considers throwing the bottle at the tower but the stuff costs too much to do that. Besides, it is delicious.

His cigarette burns down to the filter and he tosses it off the building before reaching for another one. He pulls the pack of Mild Seven Original from the inside pocket of the US Navy pea coat he had come across in some thrift shop a while back along with his lighter. He takes note that he's only got four left before sticking one of the rolls of tobacco between his teeth and lighting it. He caps the bottle, sets it on the ground next to him, and sticks his hands in the pockets of his pea coat. He loses himself in thought. How long ago was it? It was more than a year ago that he met her and six months when he had to leave. He sits down on the ledge of the building and decides to fight the memory that is creeping in from the edges of his mind away. He is in no mood and a little too drunk for that.

The thought makes him instinctively reach back and touch the spot at the very top of his back where the red mark indicative of what he is. He appears human, requires food and water, and has human weaknesses but he is not human. He's never actually understood what he is. The people at the compound called him a "Sekirei" as if that meant anything to him at all. They told him that he was meant to be with one person, this person they referred to as his "ashikabi", would bring him happiness and fulfillment. That was his purpose, they told him, to find his ashikabi and fight for that person. He's grown to feel that they were full of shit. What happened if you found that person but couldn't protect her. He shakes his head to clear the thought, takes the bottle, and finishes it. He coughs from the burn of the whisky and burns down the rest of his cigarette. He stands, takes a deep breath, and steps off the ledge. He allows himself to plummet to the ground till he is about halfway down the building where the building has an exterior layer of brick when he shoves his hand out and digs it into the wall of the building. He immediately begins to slow down and comes to a full stop just a half meter above the ground. He drunkenly gazes up at the trench he had just dug into the wall. Somebody's going to be majorly pissed off about this but he couldn't care less. He lets go off the wall and drops to the sidewalk. He begins to walk with no destination in particular in mind.

What a pain everything is. And what is the fucking point of it all? All he does is get drunk all night and sleep all day. When was the last time he did anything meaningful at all? He had no reason to fight, no reason to do anything at all. He is often haunted by the images of what happened over six months ago. When was the last time he actually slept? He moved from bar to bar and hotel to hotel always alone and always isolating himself as far away from people as possible. He'd actually come to hate people, especially ashikabis who were happy with their sekirei. However, he was never driven to the point of instigating battles with any of them to satiate his own pain. Even when he was challenged to a battle he left the sekirei alive. He never lost, not a single time. He proved he was better, that the match was his, but he didn't kill them. He saw no point in it. They posed no threat to him and though he was in constant emotional agony he didn't feel the need to inflict the same pain on anyone else. There is only one that he terminated but that was about two-and-a-half months ago.

He stumbles along the sidewalk trying to light a cigarette. Other drunk people a gathered about in small groups smoking or singing some song off key. A young man and his girlfriend kiss passionately outside the door to an apartment and he makes a move to let himself in with her. She resists only but for a second and then drags him through the door and closes it eagerly. Down the street a short ways there is a group of about high school aged kids calling out to a group of girls that appear to be in college. The girls laugh at the boys' pathetic pickup lines and keep walking. A couple pause for a second to listen in on what the boys say before drunkenly turning around to join the couple that are most appealing to them. An unabashed cry of victory comes from the two that have been selected while the other four sulk off feeling the agony of defeat. Mamoru continues to walk while smoking cigarette after cigarette until his pack runs out. He takes his final drag as he arrives at the door to the hotel he's been staying at for the past few nights. He climbs the stairs slowly to the third floor and then stumbles down the hallway to his door. He fumbles for his key, opens the door, and flicks on the lights. He allows an exhausted sigh escape him as he sits down heavily on his bed.

He pulls the pea coat off and tosses it on the chair that occupies one of the corners of the room. He begins to peel off the black elastic cloth bandage that wraps around his fist and up his arm like that of a boxer. After that, he unhooks the buckle that rests on his chest and allows the small, black, leather sheath that holds his custom bo staff that extends 2.2 meters but can collapse down into a much more compact half meter. The sheath with the staff gets tossed onto the chair on top of the coat and with the wrist wrap. He bends over to pull off his black, steel-toed combat boots and tosses them against the wall followed by his black, sleeveless shirt. He stands, unbuttons his jeans, and walk to the bathroom, he splashes cold water on his face and looks into the mirror with glazed over, drunken eyes. The water drips from his short black hair and his dark blue eyes are rimmed with red from the alcohol and lack of sleep. He stands up and looks at his body. Coiled around his right bicep is an ornate ouroboros tattoo with the head of the dragon eating its own tail visible. On the left of his chest is a tattoo of a crouched tiger with the symbol for yayoi on its body to commemorate the month and year he was allowed to leave the compound. He looks down at his left wrist at two dates he has tattooed: 01/26/2011 and 05/14/2011. He dries his face off with the towel behind him and stumbles back to the bed after turning the light off in the room. He flops down on the bed and passes out almost instantly.

Mamoru wakes slowly the next day still groggy from the bottle of whisky from the night prior and his breath tastes of cigarettes. He looks at the clock next to the bed. It reads 12:49. He grunts, rolls over, and closes his eyes. They snap back open to the sudden aching pain of hunger. He grits his teeth, caught between the desire to sleep through the remainder of the hangover and to get up and look for food. He lies in bed for a moment longer before his stomach audibly rumbles for the second time and he forces himself up, cursing under his breath. He fumbles around the room and finds the door to the bathroom. He strips the rest of his clothes off before getting under the shower. He allows the steaming hot water pour over him and wash away the minor aches in his muscles and the haze of alcohol that fogs his mind. He steps out of the bathroom after a solid thirty minutes and dries himself off followed by rinsing his mouth out with mouthwash. He slowly pulls his jeans on followed by his shirt, then the boots, the wrist wrap, and his bo staff. He instinctively touches the small plastic box clipped to the belt loop on the back of his jeans, allows his fingers to run from the tip of the plastic to the metal ring at the other end, and pulls the single kunai out. He allows it to shine in the overhead light and notices where there is an almost imperceptible dent. He runs his finger over it and recalls the pain that it represents to him. A voice plays in his mind, one from far in his past, of a girl he once called "sister" saying to him: "Always keep something hidden from view. Just in case. You may need it one day." She was the one who gave him one of her kunai that were originally issued to her by MBI before they were released…before the last time they ever spoke or saw each other. On one side there is "No. 67" etched in the blade. He spins the 20 cm throwing knife around his finger and quickly slides it back into its sheath. He grabs his pea coat and throws it on. He steps out of the room, locks the door behind him, and heads out of the apartment.

There is one upside to being attached to MBI that Mamoru could find: the MBI no-limit credit card issued to all sekirei when they are released into the city. He buys himself another pack of cigarettes and orders lunch at a local sushi restaurant. He orders enough food to eat his fill and starts his normal daily routine. He smokes down another cigarette as he makes his way to the spot where he begins his daily exercise.

He arrives at his location, snubs his cigarette, puts on his dark sunglasses, and launches himself straight up. At the peak of his leap he plants his feet against the wall and pushes off. He arches his back so that he can see the wall of the adjacent building. He grabs the protruding ledge of a window sill, forces his body vertical, and holds the handstand for a moment. He does 50 pushups in the same position in rapid succession and launches himself up on the last one. He sails vertically through the air for a few moments before tucking his knees to his chest and rotating through the air. The moment his heels touch the wall behind he pushes off to the wall in front of him. He continues to jump from wall to wall until he reaches the roof of one of the buildings. He lands gracefully on the ledge of the building behind him the same fashion as he has every day for the past six months. He gazes out at the city in every direction and decides what path he will run today. He finds one he hasn't done in a couple weeks, removes his coat, stretches for a second, and takes off running to the opposite side of the roof. He plants hard at the ledge and propels himself to the next roof that is over 10 meters away. He easily clears the distance and continues his run without missing a step. He continues from building to building until he reaches the construction site. He begins to pounce from beam to beam gracefully using his momentum to send his body gliding to his next destination without fail. He launches himself from the very top of the network of steel girders, tucks into a tight ball, and releases to slide perfectly trough a concrete pipe just wide enough for him to pass through and lands on a beam being lifted by a crane to it's place in the building's frame. He easily compensates for the shift due to his weight and continues to the next building. Workers watch the spectacle and are amazed by how he seems to plan every step of his run out despite the unpredictable variables in his path.

It is true that he has been gifted with a very acute sense of things. He seems to see things before they happen almost as if when he focuses completely that the rest of the world moves slower than his ability to react. He can almost predict where the next blow in a fight will come and has a certain omnipotence of his surroundings at any given moment. It allows for his graceful movements that never miss their target. He recalls often during these sprints across the rooftop the words of his adjuster. He can never recall the woman's name but she had these oddest eyes he has ever witnessed. They were shard but caring, cold and calculating but somehow affectionate. He was afraid of the looks that were often in those eyes but somehow maintained the ability to trust them despite the fear. She had told him once that he was going to be very special, he and his younger sister. There were often tested together and spent most of their time together before being released. She told him that he was being adjusted to be the perfect combat machine. He was to be athletically perfect in every way and had been given an augmentation that allowed him to instantly allowed him to plan out his next ten movements in a matter of seconds. He had no idea what the science behind it all meant even after it was explained to him; it was all instinctive to him. The side effect of such augmentation, which was never disclosed to him prior to leaving, was the constant, throbbing aches in his joints that were just bearable and the headaches that came and when more tenuously than the wind changing direction. They subsided almost completely when he found his ashikabi but came back like a tsunami wave when he forced himself to leave her. the only times the aches and pains were manageable were on his exercise runs or when he went out to get drunk. He had learned to live with them and almost ignore them but they were always there prepared to flare up and rack his body with pain.

He approaches the final building on his run that completes the large circle that loops back to his starting point. He clears the gap, unsheathes the bo staff from his back, snaps it to its full length and tenses his body to clear the 25 meter gap between buildings. Should he fail on this, there is a short, two-story building almost perfectly between the two, six-story ones but it would hurt like hell and he hates not meeting a goal he sets for himself. He approaches the ledge of the roof at a dead sprint, jams the bottom of the staff into the corner made by where the raised concrete meets the flat of the roof, allows the staff to bend under his weight, and launches himself like a pole vaulter over the wide gap. He is able to sail through the air to midway across the roof of the target building. He bends his knees slightly to absorb the impact, hits the roof with force, rolls to dissipate the pressure across his entire body and comes up perfectly on his feet after one graceful roll.

Instantly, he snaps the staff out with the majority of its length extended in front of him. He makes precise, firm movements as he fights off invisible enemies. He thrusts with deadly efficiently and swings the staff with killer intent. Had he actually had an opponent then they wouldn't stand a chance to hum. The seat begins to collect on his forehead and neck as he continues to practice his movements for the next hour under the blistering sun. He finally pauses with the tip of his staff jabbed up to where a mid-sized enemy's neck would be. He pants lightly from the forcefulness of his work out before returning back to his senses. He looks around the city taking in deep breaths. He sits down gently, cross-legged, hands on his knees. He proceeds to meditate deeply focusing solely on keeping his breathing steady and empties his entire mind. A peaceful darkness engulfs allowing his physical ache to dissipate and his mental and emotional anguish to subside. At times like these things came to him. It could be in the form of a memory or some kind of self-realization. He sits and waits for whatever it is today to come when he hears a voice pull him from his meditation.

"There's one, sis!" It's a harsh voice from behind him. He can feel the two sekirei approaching quickly about 10 meters behind him. He can hear them glide through the area as they race towards him. He feels the air change as electricity gathers and his targeted on him. At the last moment he springs forward dodging the blast from the lightning. He lands on his hands and springs himself forward again twisting through the air to land facing his assailants.

"Dammit, Hikari, why are you so loud? You gave us away!"

"Well, if you'd have attacked with me then maybe he wouldn't have been able to dodge, Hibiki!" He takes in his two attackers. They look almost the exact same, clearly twins. They wear the same leather, BDSM-style outfit with only the color different colors to distinguish between them. The one called Hikari wears a deep purple color whereas Hibiki's outfit is a pink that is closer to magenta. They stand next to each other both with a hand up with electricity gathering around them. Mamoru stares up at the two with disinterested eyes. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and slowly steps back to the ledge and sits down. He notices his pea coat where he left it, pulls a cigarette, and lights it.

"Hey! Don't ignore us! We're here to fight!" It's the one called Hikari that yells out. She seems to be the loud one of the two. Mamoru takes another long drag from his cigarette and blows the think plume of smoke through his nose and watches it waft away in the gentle breeze. "Aren't you gonna say anything!" Hikari is so angry that that he can see the veins start to pop out on her forehead. He chuckles to himself at the sight of her getting frustrated.

"Okay, who are you and why do you want to fight me?"

"I am No. 11: Hikari and this is my sister, No. 12: Hibiki. We fight for our own reasons and if you refuse then we'll just blast you into oblivion anyways." Mamoru stares up at them with an amused grin tugging at his lips. He takes a final pull on his cigarette and tosses it off the roof. He stands, stretches, and draws his bo staff from its sheath. He allows his fingers to run over the small engraving on the end: No. 66. He lets his eyes linger on the engraving and snaps his staff out to its full length. It's an incredible weapon. It has the strength and durability of solid wood but the ductility of firm rubber and the ability to collapse like a metal staff. It's one of the many things that MBI created for him that he didn't understand the mechanics of. Things like these he chose to just accept and not question it. He gracefully spins the staff through his fingers, around his right hand, around his neck, and finally to his left.

"Very well. I am No. 66: Mamoru. If you're desperate for a fight, then I'll give you one. Feel free to make the first move." The twins are slightly taken aback and Hikari seems to have lost her ability to yell. He supposes that not many accepted a headfirst battle with them in this manner. They probably only fought sekirei that hadn't been winged yet judging by their manner. Well, this should be entertaining. He stands his ground, setting his feet for the first attack. Judging by what he's seen so far, they'll probably just go for a direct blast again. The two finally snap back to their senses and the charge the lightning in their hands. Just as he suspected: they are planning to try and overwhelm him with a direct shot. They unleash the blast with a load battle cry. Mamoru takes the bo staff in both hands and spins it in front of him at the speed rivaling that of a helicopter's blades. The concentrated lightning smashes into his barrier, spreads through the length of his staff, and is released in every direction at once. The shock burns his hands slightly but the pain is hardly noticeable. Still, he doesn't feel like taking another blast. The twins look on in shocked disbelief as their attack is made completely useless. They growl in their frustration and prepare a second blast.

Mamoru presses off his back foot and dashes towards the two lightning women. The concentrated electricity blasts the ground next to his feet as he sidesteps each attack. His eyes are locked on his two targets. A fear spreads across their faces and they leap back while continuing to fire blast after blast. They get less and less accurate as they begin to panic more and more. He plants the staff like he did earlier on his run and launches himself just like before. This time, however, he twists his body to dodge the two new blasts while simultaneously positioning himself for an attack. The adrenaline pumps through his veins and everything slows down. He sees the electricity gathering, predicts where the blast is aimed, and twists through the air to avoid it. The lightning blast tears through the air barely missing his back. The second is headed for his face. He watches it inch towards him and he moves his staff and cuts through the ball of electricity. Now he is just inches away from the two girls. His attack has to happen now; there's no way to dodge the next set of blasts. They bring their hands up and the blue streaks begin to collect. He twists one more time, extending his leg out connecting viciously with Hibiki's stomach. He spins the staff and brings it down on Hikari's shoulder. The two girls grunt from the blow and smash into the roof of the building behind them. They slam into the ground and slide a few feet before coming to a halt. Mamoru lands on the roof and immediately dashes at the two as they try to recover. Before they can bring their hands up for the next blast he is upon them. He steps between, crouches, hooks his staff between the knees of both girls and spins. The force easily knocks them off their feet and they hang in the air for a moment. Mamoru recovers, steps to the left around Hibiki's suspended body, and brings the staff down across both their stomachs in a crushing blow. They slam into the roof hard enough to bounce up a couple inches before coming to rest on the rooftop. Again, the sisters attempt to stand up but as they get to their knees they each feel two fingers pressed into the very top of their back where their crests are. The feeling cripples them with fear and they remain on one knee shaking from the fear. Hikari begins to shake with a silent sob knowing that this was then end for them.

"It's okay, Hikari." Hibiki attempts to console her sister but she can't hide the obvious shake in her voice from her own crippling despair. Mamoru doesn't even bother to look down at the twins as he stands there with his fingers pressed to their crests. Finally, he sighs and removes his fingers. The two sekirei stop their shaking and Hikari's sobs stop. Mamoru steps back and looks into the beaten faces of the two girls that look at him with an amusing expression of bewilderment. He allows a small chuckle to escape as he looks at them.

"Well, I win. Go home and get some rest, you two." He turns to walk away when Hibiki calls out to him.

"Wait, I don't get it. Why don't you finish us?" Mamoru doesn't even turn to look at them when he responds.

"Because what would be the fuckin' point?" He gives them a little wave before he leaps across to the building where his coat is hidden. The girls watch him with utter disbelief as he collapses his bo staff down and places it back in its sheath. He pulls his coat on, lights a cigarette, and disappears over the edge of the building. The two girls are paralyzed for a moment before falling into each others' arms and crying hysterically to each other. They would go on to take the rest of the day and the next day off work to recuperate and smother their ashikabi, Seo, with their undying love and affection to him. He never understood why they were so attached to him those two days but he enjoyed it all the same. Whether directly or indirectly, No. 66 had helped them remember how much they needed each other and that, despite all the hard times, they did need each other. That was partly the reason that he spared them and any other sekirei he encountered. He knows the hole in one's heart not being near the one the need the most and he, mostly for her sake, didn't want anyone else to feel that pain.