NO MASKS REQUIRED

By David Wheatley

The scream haunts me. I was otherwise engaged, or I could have stopped it from happening. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

I hit the floor, calling out her name.

“Logan, my beloved! Take me into the chapel.”

I knew if she went in she wouldn’t come out alive. Her next words confirmed it, even though the Reiko’s scent was in the air.

“I am poisoned, my beloved…” The words sliced into me sharper than Creed’s claws ever could, adamantium or no. I tried to fight the inevitable seeking medical help and an antidote.

“There is none! Just take me into the chapel, it is a horrible enough death! It should not be a public spectacle!” I took her into the chapel, I could never refuse her anything and she knew that.

I said nothing, I couldn’t find the words. So she did.

“Oh, Logan, I must ask of you one final boon. I have fulfilled my vow, I have divested the Clan, even if the Hand delved in treachery, I have upheld my end. I would have been free to marry you.”

I could see the pain in her eyes, the agony that her body was going through. I couldn’t bear to see her put herself through that pain, and tried to stop her, but she was ready for it.

“But aren’t we married in our hearts? Have we not paid a dowry in blood, pain and loneliness? Isn’t the most sacred vow the one we carry in the core of our souls?”

My eyes were closed, the sight before me unbearable. It wasn’t her in my arms, but someone else. It had to be, but the tears that stung my eyes told me the horrid truth. I suspected what she would asked of me.

“Spare me the final agonies! Release my soul while it still sings with my love for you! Use your claws, my beloved…”

I tried to object, my eyes open wide in horror, but the sight in front of me was only the start, and I never could refuse her anything.

The claws were unsheathed from their housings and, holding her fragile form in my arms, I pierced her heart. Death was instantaneous.

My one true love, Mariko Yashida was dead, and part o’ me had died with her.

Several days later, I caught up with the mastermind of the plot. I cut out Matsuo’s eye plus the bionic hand he’d replaced from the one I’d sliced off months before. I told him I’d be back, to cut off another piece and I’d keep coming back until it was finally over.

Soon after, I got busy. Not too busy not to come back to the Yashida mansion every year to pay my respects, but just enough to not honour the vow I made then, or the night of Mariko’s death, both of which bring us to now. Another year from her death. Another year without her.

Tonight I honour her by fulfilling some promises I made on her behalf. I catch his scent as he arrives at the estate. Keniuchio Harada – the Silver Samurai. Mariko’s half-brother, dressed in his full armour, no less. He’s been both an ally and an enemy, there’s no love lost between us. We ain’t exactly friends, but we respect each other. We respect her.

Honour.

“Logan,” he says, “it is tonight.”

“Then we do it. No X-Men, no Big Hero 6. Just you and me.”

“Of course.” Harada nods, not sure how to address me. A while ago, before he went respectable, he used to run with Viper. It’s not doing our relationship any favours. I see the monolith before me, with Mari’s picture etched in to it.

I place a single red rose at the foot of it, then stood to face the Samurai.

“You have no weapons?” he asks.

“Yes, but not the claws. Not tonight.” I pick the sword from the grass where it has lain since I arrived here. The honour sword of the Clan Yashida, given to me by Mariko. Keniuchio’s gotten over it.

“Ah,” he says, a smile crossing his lips, as he brandishes the Black Blade. “Then let us end this once and for all.” I nod, knowing that sword is in the hands of it’s rightful owner, as is the honour sword.

I stand, ready. I don’t need my uniform tonight. No masks required.

Tonight, I’m not Wolverine, I’m not Patch nor Weapon X.

Tonight I’m Logan of the Clan Yashida.

Matsu’o Tsurayaba sat alone in his penthouse. His plans and designs had all fallen by the wayside in recent years.

The fabled master of the Hand had lost much. His recent dealings with Hydra had cost him in terms of resources.. His loss of Omega Red as an agent had lost him status with his superiors.

The death of Kwannon to the Legacy Virus cursed his very soul.

Compared to such as these, the loss of his hand and eye were trifle, easily replaced. Status, honour, love… those things could never be replaced.

He also had a feeling he’d played his hand – excusing himself the pun – too soon. Working with Silver Fox in order to kill Mariko had not been the smartest move he’d ever made. He’d taken Wolverine’s heart. There was very little else left to take.

There was his pledge. So far, in all his dealings with Wolverine and the X-Men, Logan had never made good on it. Matsu’o hoped he’d forgotten.

Whilst the loss of body parts was a mere trifle, it still hurt physically and damaged his pride.

He looked out thinking back through the years, to the act that had happened this very day. There were reports that Logan was in Japan. There always were at this time of year.

Matsu’o’s new bionic hand gripped the glass champagne bottle and poured another drink.

He hated this day and would be glad when it was over.

We’re in the official car of the Clan Yashida, being driven towards the compound.

The Silver Samurai has changed into street clothes so that he’s not mobbed. Being the main man in Japan’s answer to the Avengers ain’t exactly good for privacy.

Me, I’m dressed as always. Regular attire, plain and simple. The sword hangs at my belt, as we cross the city to where we want to go.

Mariko wanted the Clan to have legitimacy, to be free of the obligations incurred by Shingen, her father. If only they’d died when he did, this would have been a whole lot simpler.

Keniuchio says nothing, neither do I. This is a time to collect our thoughts, and remind ourselves of why we’re doing this.

Harada’s been working hard these last few years, to restore his own status, so that the Clan is finally recognised. Big Hero Six has done that for him. Now we’ve only got one thing left to do.

I don’t remember much of what happened that night, I was fighting against the red haze, against my animal nature, but I do remember my promise…

“Logan,” said LeBeau. “Mon ami, we can’t find him. Tsurayaba is in hiding.”

“I’ll find him,” said Logan, kneeling by Mariko’s bedside, as she lay there, ready for her burial.

“What about the girl?” asked Shiro, the mutant known as Sunfire.

“Jubilee?” asked Wolverine, not turning.

“Reiko,” he replied.

“Don’t know,” said Logan, his voice a whisper.

“We throw her body to the dogs,” said Keniuchio’s voice, “let them tear the flesh from her bones and feed, if they will touch her.” The scorn and anger in his voice was evident. Logan turned, for the first time since Mariko had been lain to rest.

“Out!” he said, his voice a growl.

“You heard ‘im,” said Gambit to the Samurai.

“You, Le Beau, Shiro.”

“But… Logan-san,” said Shiro, fearing that he would lose either a friend or another relative.

~SNIKT~

They got the hint and left the room, though staying close.

Logan stood and walked up to Harada, lifted his head and looked him in the eyes, the anger evident, the animal within him straining against his humanity to break loose. “Reiko’s been a friend to me. She saved my life.” He was having difficult speaking, his emotions were so profound. “She was duped by Matsu’o.” He paused to find the words to carry on, letting the animal be pushed down by the man, evident by the staccato sentances he was speaking in. “Killing Mariko was not her fault. She’s been a pawn who was treated without honour.”

“And she will end her existence without it.”

“Bub,” said Logan, sheathing his claws, letting the animal within him know it would not be let loose. Yet it was still there in the way he spoke, though the sentances were beginning to get marginally longer. “I’m not gonna argue this. Bury her in an unmarked grave in the Yashida cemetery. No one will mourn her, but it’s the least she deserves.”

“What you ask is impossible,” said the Samurai, noting the calm returning to Logan once more.

“Do it anyway,” said Logan, “and you have my word, I won’t interfere in Clan business ever again.”

“You’ll let me run the Clan Yashida my way? No standing in the way of my decisions?”

“Yeah, or at least I won’t stand against her.” Logan looked at his beloved. “I’ll be back every year to pay my respects, unless something serious goes down, I won’t be back anymore. Just don’t let Mari’s death be in vain.”

“What do you mean?”

“She died clearing the Clan’s honour. Ruining that rep wouldn’t be honourable, would it?”

“But…”

“Your call, bub. Just do what’s right an’ I’ll support you all the way.”

“On your honour?” asked Harada, speaking as if caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. To honour his sister, he would have to redeem himself first. He would have to think it over.

“Yup,” said Logan. “I swear on my love for Mariko, that if you do right by her, I will do everything I can to support you, as leader of the Clan.”

“When the time comes, I will let you know.”

“When the time comes, I’ll already know,” said Logan and went back to Mariko’s bedside, leaving the Samurai to ponder his words.

“The girl will be buried in an unmarked grave,” he said, and then left. Logan’s head was bowed. With luck, Mariko’s death would not have been in vain.

I ain’t forgotten those words, and I’m a man o’ my word. The vow made those years ago is about to be honoured.

Keniuchio is ready, I can smell the nervousness on him. I’ve known the Silver Samurai to be many things, but never nervous – kind of fun.

The compound is on the other side of the hill. We’ll finish this tonight, once and for all.

Matsu’o could see the car approaching and his heart sank. After all these years Logan had returned.

He reflected on the way things were, on how things had been. He was master of the Hand, a title not easily won. He drew a sword from the rack in his suite, adjusted his eye patch and went down.

He knew he would lose, but it would not be for lack of trying.

He’d face his destiny with honour.

The car stops and we get out. The man we’re here to see stands before us.

“Mister Harada, Mister Logan,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose.

We’re here to make this final. To make the Clan Yashida legit, to make it a private limited company. To do this, we need to do the paperwork, fill the forms, make it legal.

The Japanese government have been making it difficult for years, but the recent troubles with the Asian economy and the Samurai’s recent rise in favour have smoothed the troubled waters.

After the incidents with Sunfire and Red Ronin they sealed the Business District of Tokyo into a compound so that in the event of another crisis, Japan would be economically sound.

I still ain’t sure whether that’s a crock or not.

The gates of the compound behind us, we enter the main plaza and head for one of the big glass buildings in front of us, but my mind’s not on the architecture.

My signing the papers with him means that I’m involved with the Clan, and also that the old days of criminal status are behind the Clan.

Signing this paper in front of me makes me one of the most powerful men in Japan, in a fiscal sense, at any rate. I’ll let Zoe and the others at Landau, Luckman & Lake deal with that.

They make sure I got money and my expenses are paid, I get by even though I ain’t in the same stakes Worthington is. At least I don’t think so. That’d wipe a smile from his face! I really oughta check.

After an hour or so of form filling and another half hour of processing and legal stuff – being a high ranking government operative gets you better service than most – the deal is done.

The Clan Yashida is now officially legit. Outside the compound which makes up the Tokyo Business District, I look at Harada and nod.

The deal is done, the oath fulfilled. Both of us know what it’ll mean to Mariko, wherever she is.

Keniuchio and I may not have always been allies, but from now on we’re partners.

Matsu’o Tsurayaba sat alone in his penthouse and watched the sun go down. The car that had arrived earlier was lost.

Greeting the surprised tourists with a sword held before him had convinced them not to stay.

He was ashamed of his thoughts.

Wolverine was getting to him… had gotten to him. This psychological attack was nothing more than Logan’s rep and promise using Matsu’o’s mind to play tricks on him. He had nearly beaten him in their last encounter.

He shook his head, and laughed at what he had been reduced to this day. His ninja warriors heard his laughter and wondered why he was acting so. It was not their place to ask, for Matsu’o could take any one of them with ease.

The sun went down and the day ended. There had been no sign of Wolverine. Matsu’o drained his glass and decided to retire, and make it an early night.

Later, he heard a noise and awoke suddenly, alert as always.

Outside, he could hear the chimes of a clock. The bell sounded twelve times and the day had officially ended. But why had the bell awoken him?

~SCHLUKT~

Matsu’o knew now why he had awoken. In the open space of his window stood Wolverine, dressed in his uniform, no less. The cloaks of his guards lay outside, their bodies now nothing more than dust.

“You know why I’m here,” said Logan. Matsu’o couldn’t find his voice to answer so merely nodded. “I expect you’re wondering why now and not earlier?”

“To taunt me?” said Matsu’o finding his voice.

“Nope,” said the X-Man, advancing. “I’ll never touch you on that day. But it’s a different day, now.”

The claws moved swiftly, before Matsu’o had a chance to realize what had been aimed for. He made no sound as Wolverine withdrew.

“Be seeing ya,” said Wolverine, and then he was gone. Matsu’o looked down at the bed. His first reaction was to wonder what was missing. Then he realized Logan had sounded kind of strange when he’d spoken.

He lifted his hands to his head, and when he withdrew them he could see the blood. He looked at his pillow.

Logan had cut off his ears.

I’m on a plane, bound for Westchester, as the lights of Japan distance behind me. I need to touch base with the X-Men. I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’ about the current situation, an’ I know what I’m gonna do. I’ve posted a letter to Chicago, and I hope she meets with me.

Right now, I gotta get back to the X-Men. Something in the back of my mind says they need me.

My instinct ain’t let me down before…

NEXT ISSUE: Logan reunites with Jean Grey! After several months apart, what will they say to each other? What will Cyclops say? What does this say about Wolverine’s future with the X-Men? Plus: Logan invests a little of his cash in to a new establishment!