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xp_logs2009-02-10 12:18 pm
x-sanfuaiyaa.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2009-02-10 12:18 pm
Omikami no Isan: Treasures
Shiro and Clarice are attacked on the way to meet the Silver Samurai and learn just what The Hand is planning.
The familiar skyline of Marunouchi first sent childlike shivers of excitement and pride down Shiro's spine, remembering how often he used to spend in Tokyo's business district, and the sheer power that it represented over the global economy. The imposing skyscraper of Silver Samurai, Inc., however, which lorded higher than Toyota, the Bank of Tokyo, and even Mistubishi, turned that into apprehension and fear. He stepped out of Clarice' portal and led her up the street to Harada's fortress. "One thousand yen that Harada will refuse to see us, or direct us to one of his assistants instead."
Clad in a conservative black business suit with a light blue blouse, her hair in a bun against her head, Clarice looked every bit the part of a conservative business woman. Except for being bright purple. Well, no one was perfect. Bumping fists with Shiro, she smiled wickedly, "No bet. I brought Limburger just in case we get the runaround," she indicated her purse slung over one shoulder. "We're in his territory and at his mercy...sort of. He's totally going to power trip."
Shiro adjusted his tie and jacket, recently purchased at Clarice's insistence that they show up looking respectable and not in their X-Men uniforms, and nodded in agreement. "The Hand is involved, that much we know. Whether or not Harada is involved, too, he will not like some group of foreigners 'intruding.'"
"Oh please," Clarice rolled her eyes, "He won't like YOU intruding. Or me," she added as an afterthought. They hadn't parted with Harada last time on good terms, thought they all lived which was a plus. "Think he'll have forgotten the wedding?"
"As far as he cares, I am as much a gai-jin as the rest of you. But he owes us from the wedding, ne? We helped him." Not an argument that Harada would buy, though, especially since he'd saved Shiro from being killed.
"Honor and all be damned, he won't pay," Clarice predicted as they walked in the building and were promptly stopped by a determined woman in a navy blue business suit and company scarf. "Namae wa Clarice Ferguson desu," she said in horribly accented Japanese. She'd let Shiro deal with the door girl.
That managed to bring a smile to Shiro's face despite the severity of their situation. He spoke briefly with the receptionist, and she kindly asked them to sit while she contacted someone from upstairs. "And now he will make us wait."
"Yoshida-san?" said a young, excited voice. A bespectacled boy in a pristine school uniform, barely older than Leyu, came running up to the pair and stopped in front of Shiro, and awkwardly bowed to him. "~You are in Tokyo! Are you here for Harada-sama? I thought you were in school in America. Do you not have classes?~"
"Clarice, this is Takachiho Hiro. His father works for Harada. The dragon." The sight of the colossal reptilian being that Baymax transformed into wasn't something she was likely to forget, especially when it was killing ninja assassins left and right. "~Takachiho-kun, this is my friend Clarice.~"
"Konnichiwa!" Clarice chirped, offering her hand. She didn't really speak Japanese, but she knew a few phrases, it was hard to date Shiro for as long as she had without picking something up even unintentionally. The kid was cute in a sort of innocent, pre-pubescent way. He'd grow up to be a lady killer.
Hiro's eyes widened when he took her hand, his mind obviously filled with the thoughts of a 13 year-old boy. "It is nice to meet you," he said, his English heavily accented. "Ne, why are you in Tokyo? Are you going to work for Harada-sama?"
Shiro couldn't help the shiver than ran down his spine at the innocent suggestion. If only Hiro knew. "No, but we have important business with him. We . . . oh. Takachiho-kun, is your father available? He may be able to assist us as well." If they could find the head of security then they could skip the bureaucratic obnoxiousness that the receptionist was planning for them. "I recall that his office is nearby, and he probably sees us right now. Could you . . ." Something off blew by his face and he stopped midsentence. No one else in the front lobby seemed to notice, but it had made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Ignoring the confused looks from Hiro and Clarice, he shifted his vision to infrared and examined the room. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, everyone was human with a proper body temperature.
But there on the front desk, a reddish human-shaped blob crouched. Shiro focused on it to define it, and the figure stiffened. Shiro's eyes widened in recognition but before he could even open his mouth to shout a warning, a disc of white flame shred through the air towards him. He dropped and pulled Hiro down with him, slamming the boy to the ground and the disc passed overhead, reducing the window behind them to dust.
"In the pirates vs ninja debate," Clarice automatically kicked her heels off and sank into a fighting stance. Whoever thought high heels were a good idea to fight in had obviously never tried, "I always go pirate!" she opened a blink disc porting herself behind the ninja, her hands wrapping around his neck.
Shiro took no time in responding. He flew to his feet and rocketed towards towards the ninja, his fists engulfed in flame. But with unnatural skill and grace, the ninja jumped and flipped over Clarice, releasing the headlock and throwing her in Shiro's way. Shiro pulled back the punch mere inches from her face, pivoted in midair and somersaulted, drawing an arc of flame with his foot. It slammed into his enemy and he crashed to the ground, releasing Clarice. "Are you OK?" he asked her. "We have maybe twenty seconds before security arrives. We just have to occupy him that long."
"Twenty seconds," Clarice agreed. That was a long time in a fight like this. Where was Chuck Norris when they needed him? Bouncing to her feet, Clarice dropped back into her favourite fighting stance, which was very similar to the way a fencer would stand, leaving little of the body exposed and on the balls of her feet to move quickly. Without warning she launched herself at him, not so much thinking she would succeed, but to kill time. Twenty seconds.
The ninja's eyes narrowed and he deflected her attack, sidestepping behind her and readying another spell to knock her down. He'd not counted on Shiro, though, who followed Clarice by rocketing forward to punch him, leaving him open for a counterattack by Clarice. Shiro didn't pay attention to the quickly emptying lobby amid frightened screams and the wail of the alarm. The absence of immediate security, though, was hard not to notice.
Shiro gave Clarice just the bit of time she needed, her foot connecting solidly with his face. "Boomshanka." she stated as the ninja went down. He wasn't out, but he was at least hurting. Good. Between the two of them, they were able to keep this schmuck busy enough he couldn't quite take them both. "We make a good team!" she said to Shiro as he made sure the ninja stayed down.
"A shame he did not take such a thing into account," Shiro said as he drew another arc of flame with a roundhouse and simultaneously high-fived Clarice. He landed and planted his foot over the ninja's throat. "~So. You have all of ten seconds before the Silver Samurai himself is here, and you should know how he feels about your kind. Who are you and why are you here?~" The ninja didn't respond, he just stared up at the two of them defiantly. Shiro responded by applying more pressure. "~Tell me!~"
"Sanshu no jingi," the ninja rasped. "~The boy has it.~"
"~Liar!~" Shiro shouted, his voice ringing through the empty lobby. He pressed his foot down even harder. "~You have been slaughtering mutants, and you expect me to believe that these myths are your excuse?~"
"Yoshida-san . . ." a small voice interjected. Hiro tentatively approached them, but stood behind Clarice like she were a shield between him and the ninja. "Clarice-san. He is not lying. I . . . he is looking for me."
“~He has the power to release Kemono.~” The ninja laughed and his body shook violently beneath Shiro’s foot.. “~We have found him, and we will take him, and he will bring the world to us.~” The shaking grew in intensity and the three stepped back as he seized up. Footsteps could be heard pounding down the hall, and a dozen armed guards appeared with their guns drawn. It seemed to make the ninja laugh more loudly and frantically. He convulsed and a gentle tinkling sound drew their attention to a small glass vial that fell out of his hand.
“Poison,” Shiro snarled. His fists exploded in golden flame. “This is getting worse then we thought, Clarice. Kemono is their god. If they are planning to call him forth . . . We need to speak with Harada now.”
~*~
The X-Men learn of the Japanese Imperial Regalia and decide to gather them for protection.
The National Society of Japanese Tradition, Culture, and History is one of the largest educational institutions of Japan, supporting hundreds of historians, museum curators, archivists, and professors through its prodigious endowments. Its rapid ascendancy through the ranks of philanthropic organizations made a celebrity out of its founder, one Yashida Mariko, and upon her death, the Foundation was rededicated in her memory. Her calm, pleasant visage smiled down on visitors to the central museum upon entrance, like a silent goddess welcoming congregants to her temple. The X-Men followed a guide to the executive officers' private library, a massive shrine to knowledge covered wall-to-wall with ancient scrolls and books. Harada, who wormed his way onto the board of directors after Mariko's murder, had granted them access. An idol of Benzaiten hung above the doorway.
Shiro sat down at a computer and pulled up the online catalog he'd been directed to. "I always knew that the sanshu no jingi were real. I never expected to actually ever behold them, or that someone would be perverse enough to use them to call forth a denizen of the underworld." Despite the urgency of the situation, his heart pounded in excitement at the simple thought of seeing the relics. "We just need to find where kusanagi-no-tsurugi and yata-no-kagami are hidden. If Takachiho holds yasakani-no-magatama within him, I suppose other individuals possess the other two."
"Sacred mystical relics thousands of years old. You know, I thought Zemo was weird. I think we just tipped the scales this time." Garrison muttered, looking at some of the ancient scrolls hung up around the office. He could read most kanji and hiragana, although quite slowly, but this was completely beyond him. The writing was archaic to the point that it might as well be a different language. "Assuming we find these these people, we're likely going to have a hard time convincing them to let a bunch of Western mutants protect them."
Jennie hopped up on a side table and swung her legs as she looked around. Her pose was relaxed and casual, because the lines of probability were quite stable. From the files and the stories Clarice had told, she'd been half-expecting ninjas to pop out from the ceiling at any given moment. However, things were calm, for now. "No, no, Garrison darling, remember the giant dragon made up of Chinese people? That shoved Clarice in his pants?" she said.
"This is not really the time for standing around ranking our weird shit," Scott said, glancing briefly Garrison and Jennie's way before he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He was standing behind Shiro's chair, where he could watch him scroll through the catalog; 'watch' being the operative word, given that he certainly couldn't read. "We're more than a few steps behind, here," he said to the younger man. "Are you seeing anything that could get us headed in the right direction?"
"I do not know. The kanji are very difficult to read, like thees and thous and letter S's looking like F's. Maybe we should start at the beginning, with the legends of the regalia." Shiro went back to the search engine and typed in the sword's name. Most of the results told the same story, of how the storm god Susanoo slayed the mighty eight-headed dragon Yamata-no-Orochi and found the sword within. They went on to recount how the god offered the sword to his sister, the sun goddess Amaterasu-omikami, as penance for offending her and driving her into hiding. And when Amaterasu sent her grandson to conquer Japan, she gave him the sword as a symbol of his divine heritage.
Frustrated with the repetition, Shiro refined the search to include all three regalia and on a whim the words "protect" and “hide.” The second result was a scan of a scroll depicting the emperor of Japan, easily identified by his crest and the imperial regalia, apparently standing in consultation with red and white-clad Shinto priests. Descriptions of the scenes in kanji surrounded the pictures, once black but now faded with time and almost impossible to discern. He slowly scrolled down, carefully looking at each scene. The priests held aloft a long, straight, silver sword. One priest knelt down, his chest bared. The priests lunged at him with the sword, but instead of impaling him, the blade disappeared inside him. Kami looked in on the scene in fascination and fear. The final panel showed the priest on his deathbed with a young boy kneeling next to him, holding the sword's hilt which poked out of his chest.
"Oh, wow," Shiro breathed, although he wasn't sure if any sound actually came out. He squinted and tried desperately to read the illegible writing. "Kusanagi, it . . . it became part of him. The priest. To protect it from his enemies, the emperor ordered the priests to hide it. Same with the mirror and jewel, see?" The next two scrolls showed almost identical scenes but with the other two pieces of the regalia.
Kyle had taken advantage of his greater height and was peering over Shiro's head at the images on the screen. "So... uh, I'm just gonna go on record right here as saying that if that's like how drug smugglers hide coke in condoms up their butts, that's gross." He received the expected exasperated looks and noises and grinned. "What? I'm not saying, I'm just -sayin'. Gross."
"So what you're saying is--" Jennie appeared at Shiro's other shoulder. She wasn't going to dignify what Kyle said with a response. "These artifacts are inside living people?"
"Despite Gibney's vulgar phrasing, he is essentially correct. The treasures are part of them. It is almost like Sailor Moon S, actually, where the Sailor Senshi held the Talismans and I'll shut up." Shiro tried to bury his reddening face in the glow of the computer monitor.
"I'm a little behind on my Sailor Moon, Shiro." Kane said wryly. "And my point still stands. If these people are physically are linked to these items, like where the monkey put his peanut, finding them isn't going to be enough. We can't simply stuff a Japanese citizen into a closet to protect them from mystic demon worshiping ninjas if they say no. Maybe we need some kind of official in on this, if only to prove we're not just a bunch of crazy Westerners in leather and there is a danger."
"Spoken like someone who has never seen anime," Clarice commented. She hadn't seen a lot of anime, but she had dated Shiro. It was hard not to have seen some. "If anime is even marginally like Japanese society, we can probably do just that and no one will mind. Might even get a medal for it."
"Whom could we ask to help us?" asked Shiro. "It is not as if this is common knowledge. 'Esoteric' is not even the correct word. This is on par with Dan Brown's Catholic Church conspiracies, ne? But with demon-summoning ninja instead of self-flagellating albinos, and fewer prostitutes. I would think that the threat of The Hand would be frightening enough to make them listen."
"It's not a bad thought," Scott said. "Focus on the Hand as a threat. Be forthright that they're being targeted for weird esoteric reasons, but stress that they're not in any less danger just because people who live in a sane world would think the reasoning behind this is fantastical nonsense." He shrugged. "If that doesn't work, then we can look at trying the same approach with someone more official, if you can think of someone who might be responsive, Shiro. Best to minimize the complications as long as possible, though."
Shiro nodded and pulled up the search engine again. "We need to know whom to find. If I am reading this correctly, then the sanshu no jingi are passed onto next of kin. Let me see if the genealogical records go back that far so we can identify the descendants. Heh, as part of her dissertation Mariko traced back our family to around 1300. We were honored for repeling Kublai Khan," he boasted.
"Wasn't that the 'Divine Wind' of Japanese lore that wrecked all his junks? You're related to a weather pattern?" Kane said, as he collected the print outs of the information that Shiro had sent to the printer. "Is this one of those anime things again?"
~*~
Shiro, Kyle, and Clarice locate the mirror in Iga and snipe at each other like the children they are.
The shinkansen ride from Tokyo to Kyoto was bad enough, with too many people and barely enough space to move. The train from Kyoto to Iga wasn't any better. Both trips were made all the worse with the company Shiro had to keep. It would have been fine (nice, even) to just travel with Clarice. The unwelcome addition of Kyle, though, set him precariously on the edge. His irritation was as palpable as ever.
Contrary to Shiro, and very much on purpose, Kyle was the picture of cheerful. More so, he'd apparently decided that since there was literally no way he would not stand out, that he might as well not even try, so he'd made a point of tying his hair back, wearing ragged jeans and his sandals, and his uniform jacket over what looked like a third-hand Black Flag concert t-shirt. The ears, the claws, the fact that he was indisputably a very tall blond American were on display for anyone to see. If it made Shiro even crankier, Kyle considered that a bonus.
While Shiro's irritation was practically palpable, so was Kyle's pleasure at it all and not for the first time was Clarice really, really, really glad that she wasn't an empath. Like Kyle though, there was no way she could not stand out...anywhere, not just Japan, so she was clad in artfully distressed jeans, Chuck Taylor sneakers, a David Bowie t-shirt and a black trench coat that went to her knees. Her uniform jacket was designed like a fencing jacket and not really able to be worn as practical clothing. "Oooh, she's cute!" Clarice said, checking out a girl in another group. She felt the need to reiterate her newfound sexuality to both her ex-boyfriends. Because their contrasting attitudes were annoying her.
Kyle looked over his shoulder at the girl, and half-shrugged. "Tiny though. I mean, if you like tiny, sure, but I'd be afraid I'd break her in half." There was tiny and then there was mutant-tiny. He could deal with mutant-tiny, Jan wasn't likely to shrink down to half an inch tall in bed. "Dude, do you think her friend realizes I can see right down her shirt? Because I am totally seeing entire boob here." The downside to being taller than nearly everyone was that everything was designed for people half a foot shorter than the average American. The upside was low-cut shirts.
"You are a pig," Shiro said disgustedly, although his eyes roamed over to the two girls, too. He suddenly wished he were a foot taller. "We have a mission here, it is not time to act like a boor."
"It is always time to look at hotties." Kyle proclaimed. "Sides, hello, train. What else are we gonna do? It's not like we can 'accomplish mission objectives' or whatev on the train." He even made little highly sarcastic air quotes with his fingers, and rolled his eyes. "Chill, dude. We go to this place, we talk to whoever, we do our thing. If you wanted to get there faster, we could've gone Clarice Express."
Clarice kicked him with one sneakered foot and wished she'd worn her heavy boots instead. "We're not going Clarice Express because you eat too many burritos," she retorted. In reality, they were reaching her upper weight limit for porting people and she didn't want to wear herself out. "Besides, this way, we can play tourist and see the countryside. Looks like Montana. Oh, is that your mom?"
"I like burritos." It was sort of uncanny how accurately Kyle could do an impression of GIR from Invader Zim. "Montana is under like, a lot of feet of snow right now dude." At least, his parents had a few feet, not that it really shut much down. They were used to it. He didn't respond to the comment about his mom. She was still not talking to him after he'd asked if Elvis was his bio-dad.
"And your adoration of Mexican food certainly has not made the trip any easier," Shiro added childishly. They came upon the front entrance to the famed Iga-ryu Ninja Museum, supposed birthplace of the art of ninjutsu. After paying their entrance fees, Shiro led the other two down the stone path to the first building, marked the "Ninja House," where they were greeted by a young woman clad in a bright pink silk ninja outfit. Speaking of hotties.
The woman had either heard them coming or had been forewarned by other staff members. A smile that would have looked faked or forced on anyone else broke across her face before she bowed to them, the silk of her costume rustling just slightly with the movement. "Ohayo gozaimasu," she called out as she straightened. A quick glance took in all three of them - an eyebrow twitching was the only sign she gave away as she looked towards Clarice - before she switched over to English. "And welcome to the Iga-ryu Ninja Museum. My name is Megumi Okui and I will be your guide today."
The girl got points for the eye twitch and nothing more. As much as Clarice had learned to ignore the stares and comments and everything, she noticed them. She just didn't say or do anything. If she did, she'd never have time for anything else and there were more important things to do that get in the business of every person that commented on her appearance. Like shop.
"Douzo yoroshiku," Shiro greeted, bowing politely. "My name is Shiro. This is Clarice. And this is Kyle," he added almost as an afterthought. "We actually need to speak with you, Okui-san. Do you perhaps have a moment?"
Megumi stilled and the look she gave them was curious but more intense; gone was the pleasant but slightly vapid look she'd had on her face before. "Since the other tour guides are taking care of the rest of our honored guests," she responded, tilting her head to the side to indicate that they should follow her, "I suppose I have a few minutes. It is not often strangers appear and want to talk to me and not the shiny ninja."
She smiled as she pressed her hand against an out of the way paneling - it swung open at the slight pressure and she ducked through to a room that was obviously set aside for employees. Megumi waited for them to enter before tugging off the top part of her costume, showing hair that was almost as bubble gum pink as her costume.
Shiro boggled at her appearance. This was a guardian of the kami's gifts to Japan? The gods must be crazy. He shook his head and recovered. "Anou, as a tour guide here, you are surely familiar with the myths and legends of a cabal known as The Hand, ne?"
“If you come asking me about the Hand, then you know as well as I that they go beyond simple myths and legends.” Megumi settled herself at one of the small tables and tapped out a tune on the surface with her fingers. “A native son of Japan and two strangers from America and you come to ask me questions of the Hand? It is not exactly … an honorable, or the wisest, choice of topic.”
Kyle grinned, showing off the fangs, very much on purpose. "But, they're ninjas, right? So even if they're not honorable or good guys, you guys know about them? Or is this like, sanitized ninja-history, like if Disney made a movie out of it or something?" He wasn't quite going down his "Make Shiro twitch” checklist, because until now, he hadn't come up with the idea. But he was so making one as soon as he got a chance.
"What can I say?" she began sitting down at the table and getting comfortable, shooting Kyle a Look. She would have kicked him in the shin if they weren't trying to behave, "We're not so wise sometimes. I leave honorable for others to decide. We've met the Hand though," she indicated herself and Shiro, "They're not getting an invite to my next party. And they're not some Disney bullshit either. They're serious business."
Megumi's eyes widened as she leaned back, as if to get a better look at the three that sat before her. "Disney would crap itself," she said cheerfully enough, "at the very thought of doing anything based on the Hand. The museum has plenty of information on the organization but they decided not to publish it. Some of us decided to read it anyway. But what does the Hand have to do with me? I only play at being a ninja. I am simply Megumi Okui, tour guide and occasional DDR champion, nothing more."
"I think it would benefit us all if you were not so humble, Okui-san," Shiro said, biting down on an impulse to be snippy. She was, after all, a fellow countrywoman and he had no place deriding her. "If you know of The Hand, then you know what they do. You have something they want, and it is in everyone's best interest if they do not get it."
"What, exactly, is it that you think they want from me, Shiro-kun of the Clan of No Name?" Megumi asked, leaning back against the chair with her arms folded stubbornly across her chest.
And yet she made it so easy to lose his temper. Shiro paused before replying. "Yoshida. You know as well as I to what I am referring. Yata-no-kagami."
"We're here to try to keep them from you," Clarice continued, "'Cause I like your hair. And because the Hand is way uncool," and they were X-Men and all that stuff, but why get into the details? "I mean...unless you want to be a pawn in their nefarious scheme to take over the world and kill you?"
"Also because they're running around already killing people." Kyle said. "Can we cut whatever dance-around-the-subject bullshit we've all been doing now? You have one of those mystical things Shiro was going on about, the Hand wants it, they're killing people to get it, no one wants the Hand taking over the world." He had a slightly better grip on his temper than Shiro, but only because he wasn't the one being mocked. But on the other hand, Kyle had possibly less patience than anyone else on the planet, and this was a big waste of time. "Do we really even need to argue about this, or what?"
One moment Megumi was seated, if not calmly, across from them and the next she was across the room. One hand hovered over a wooden plank in the wall - if it was anything like the other one that led into the room, it meant that she had an escape route - and the other had fished out a long scrap of parchment with writing on it. "Explain yourselves. How do you know about the Yata-no-kagami? Only a handful knows of their history and among that select group is his Imperial Majesty. How did an American girl, a kitsune and a member of the Yoshida family find out about the mirror?"
Megumi whistled a jaunty tune and the words on the paper blazed with light. "More importantly, how did the Hand?"
"We came to investigate some murders, which led us to The Hand when they tried to abduct Takachiho Hiro, who possesses the magatama." Shiro raised an eyebrow at the glowing kanji, apparently words of warding. To protect them from being overheard, maybe? Or more likely to protect Megumi from them. He sighed.
"Tried. You stopped them?" She didn't approach them and the kanji didn't dim any but she did drop her hand from the hidden door. "The magatama is safe?"
"For now," Clarice replied, that it wouldn't be unless she came with them unsaid. Really, kidnapping her would be so much easier, even if it wasn't the most ethical thing ever. "We can't promise for how long. I mean, we're not here indefinitely. I've got homework. So not to hurry you along, but really, hurry. Please?"
Megumi snapped her wrist and the paper faded into ash, leaving behind only a faint after image in the air. "I do not wish to interrupt my life but the Yata-no-kagami must be protected at all cost. The gods allowed my family to keep it safe for generations and I do not wish to anger them if I should fail. All right. Tell me what I should do."
~*~
Meanwhile in Nagoya, Scott, Jennie, and Garrison find the sword and have a considerably less bitchy time securing it.
Among Japan's many technological marvels, the shinkansen stands out as one of its simplest yet greatest. The bullet train makes travel across the country as simple as being chauffeured across town, and the trip from Tokyo to Nagoya took no time at all. All the better for the trio of X-Men who were on a race to find a sacred mystical treasure buried deep inside a living, breathing human being: Nanahara Katsuhiro, one of only three active yokozuna and the sole Japanese-born. He was the Michael Phelps of sumo, and even though the last nationwide tournament was in January and the next one wasn't until March, Nanahara could be found every day at the Aichi Prefectural Gymnasium, honing his craft.
"I hope this man is at least semi-receptive," Scott said to the other two. "At least we're not having to sell him on the existence of this relic - one would hope that it isn't too much of a step to thinking that someone might be after him for it."
"I talked to the oyakata of Nanahara's school this morning. I guess threats aren't uncommon for him. Local Yakuza, corrupt bookies, and even rival schools have a fun little tradition of trying to bribe fighters to throw a match, and if money doesn't work, threats come next. They've got full time security there, so at the very least, he understands what being a target is like. That usually makes for someone smart enough to know when to accept help." Kane said, as they stepped into the gymnasium. He remembered his first tour in Vancouver, and Lt. Tomotsuna trying to explain the finer points of the sport, meticulously noting the intricate technique and immense strength involved in sumo wrestlers, written off by most Westerners as simply 'really fat guys fighting'. He could almost feel his tactical chip tingling.
"Somehow I doubt what we have to say will be as easy to swallow," Jennie sighed, tossing her bangs out of her eyes with a flick of her head. "Would that be Nanahara-san I spy over there?" Jennie pointed to a man across the gym.
To the outsider, the training hall looked like a meeting of fat men in diapers. A small group stood in the center ring stomping their feet in rhythm, while others wandered purposefully around with brooms and other cleaning materials. While these wrestlers may have appeared weird enough to those unfamiliar with sumo, all attention was easily diverted off them to the titan who stood in the corner, arms crossed as he looked down upon the others in silent judgment. He spotted the X-Men immediately and stopped a junior wrestler passing by to whisper something to him. The wrestler nodded and approached the Westerners.
"~I am sorry,~" he said, bowing his head politely, "~But we are not open to visitors today. Please come back soon.~"
"~We are here to see Nanahara-san. His oyakata, Ishiro-san said that we could have five minutes, if Nanahara-san wasn't too busy. It's very important.~" Garrison said back in Japanese, adding a short bow of his own. He reached into his pocket, and extended a business card, handing it over. It had been an idea Shiro had, that the more official the visit seemed, the less likely that they'd be brushed off before reaching the holders of the artifacts. Ten minutes at a custom print shop outside of the Nagoya station had provided him with a couple dozen cards listing himself as a 'security specialist'. It had the advantage of being true, after all, although they weren't there to sell him anything.
The wrestler graciously accepted the card and carefully read it over. With another bow to Garrison, he headed back to Nanahara and offered the card to him. His lips quirked upwards upon reading it, and he nodded to dismiss the wrestler before walking up to the three. "Good afternoon," he boomed though it was just his natural cadence. "I am Katsuhiro Nanahara. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Kane. And your associates?"
"This is Mister Summers and Miss Stavros." Kane said. "Is there someplace private that we could talk, Nanahara-san? I'm afraid we have some information that is best not shared in public. It concerns your personal safety, and that of something very valuable to you."
The yokozuna's eyes narrowed slightly but he nodded and beckoned the three to follow him. He accepted a silk robe from an assistant on the way down to the hall to a room reserved for wrestlers' private business. He slid the shoji closed behind them and knelt down onto the tatami, inviting the others to follow suit. "Please proceed, but I humbly ask that we do not linger. I have an important meeting shortly."
"I'm afraid that you may have to disrupt your schedule," Scott said - politely enough, if firmly. "You're being targeted by the Hand. Continuing with your usual daily routine would be dangerous." He paused, momentarily, then shrugged inwardly and went for it. "They want the sword."
"You are awfully straight-forward, gai-jin-san." Nanahara had visibly tensed at Scott's words, and he eyed the three warily. "Though I suppose the Hand would not be any less. So who are you really, 'security specialists'?"
"People with a vested interest in making sure you can go about your duty of protecting the sword without interference from people who would use it for the wrong reasons," Jennie said, keeping her posture straight and her tone unfailingly polite. "We have no other ulterior motives other than keeping you and the sword safe."
"You must forgive me for not trusting you immediately. I can count on my hands and feet the number of people who should even know of Kusanagi-sama." Nanahara placed his left hand on his chest, as if making sure that his heart was still there. "You say The Hand wants it. What of the other two?"
"We're intending to put all three of you in a secure location, until we can figure out a way to disrupt whatever the Hand is planning." Kane reaffirmed, glad that the man was taking a fairly bizarre threat very seriously.
"So you have found them?" Nanahara had never met them, nor had he ever considered seeking them out. It was safer to keep separate, although maybe he had thought wrong. "Your tale is difficult to believe, my friends. Had the His Imperial Majesty himself come forth to tell me of this plot, I do not know if I would believe it. However." He gently tapped his heart again. "I sense great courage here, so I do believe you."
Jennie bit back her initial comment which had something along the lines of what kind of a lame power is heart anyway?, and kept her face completely composed. "Yes, our companions are seeking out the other two as we speak. So we probably shouldn't waste much more time."
The familiar skyline of Marunouchi first sent childlike shivers of excitement and pride down Shiro's spine, remembering how often he used to spend in Tokyo's business district, and the sheer power that it represented over the global economy. The imposing skyscraper of Silver Samurai, Inc., however, which lorded higher than Toyota, the Bank of Tokyo, and even Mistubishi, turned that into apprehension and fear. He stepped out of Clarice' portal and led her up the street to Harada's fortress. "One thousand yen that Harada will refuse to see us, or direct us to one of his assistants instead."
Clad in a conservative black business suit with a light blue blouse, her hair in a bun against her head, Clarice looked every bit the part of a conservative business woman. Except for being bright purple. Well, no one was perfect. Bumping fists with Shiro, she smiled wickedly, "No bet. I brought Limburger just in case we get the runaround," she indicated her purse slung over one shoulder. "We're in his territory and at his mercy...sort of. He's totally going to power trip."
Shiro adjusted his tie and jacket, recently purchased at Clarice's insistence that they show up looking respectable and not in their X-Men uniforms, and nodded in agreement. "The Hand is involved, that much we know. Whether or not Harada is involved, too, he will not like some group of foreigners 'intruding.'"
"Oh please," Clarice rolled her eyes, "He won't like YOU intruding. Or me," she added as an afterthought. They hadn't parted with Harada last time on good terms, thought they all lived which was a plus. "Think he'll have forgotten the wedding?"
"As far as he cares, I am as much a gai-jin as the rest of you. But he owes us from the wedding, ne? We helped him." Not an argument that Harada would buy, though, especially since he'd saved Shiro from being killed.
"Honor and all be damned, he won't pay," Clarice predicted as they walked in the building and were promptly stopped by a determined woman in a navy blue business suit and company scarf. "Namae wa Clarice Ferguson desu," she said in horribly accented Japanese. She'd let Shiro deal with the door girl.
That managed to bring a smile to Shiro's face despite the severity of their situation. He spoke briefly with the receptionist, and she kindly asked them to sit while she contacted someone from upstairs. "And now he will make us wait."
"Yoshida-san?" said a young, excited voice. A bespectacled boy in a pristine school uniform, barely older than Leyu, came running up to the pair and stopped in front of Shiro, and awkwardly bowed to him. "~You are in Tokyo! Are you here for Harada-sama? I thought you were in school in America. Do you not have classes?~"
"Clarice, this is Takachiho Hiro. His father works for Harada. The dragon." The sight of the colossal reptilian being that Baymax transformed into wasn't something she was likely to forget, especially when it was killing ninja assassins left and right. "~Takachiho-kun, this is my friend Clarice.~"
"Konnichiwa!" Clarice chirped, offering her hand. She didn't really speak Japanese, but she knew a few phrases, it was hard to date Shiro for as long as she had without picking something up even unintentionally. The kid was cute in a sort of innocent, pre-pubescent way. He'd grow up to be a lady killer.
Hiro's eyes widened when he took her hand, his mind obviously filled with the thoughts of a 13 year-old boy. "It is nice to meet you," he said, his English heavily accented. "Ne, why are you in Tokyo? Are you going to work for Harada-sama?"
Shiro couldn't help the shiver than ran down his spine at the innocent suggestion. If only Hiro knew. "No, but we have important business with him. We . . . oh. Takachiho-kun, is your father available? He may be able to assist us as well." If they could find the head of security then they could skip the bureaucratic obnoxiousness that the receptionist was planning for them. "I recall that his office is nearby, and he probably sees us right now. Could you . . ." Something off blew by his face and he stopped midsentence. No one else in the front lobby seemed to notice, but it had made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Ignoring the confused looks from Hiro and Clarice, he shifted his vision to infrared and examined the room. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, everyone was human with a proper body temperature.
But there on the front desk, a reddish human-shaped blob crouched. Shiro focused on it to define it, and the figure stiffened. Shiro's eyes widened in recognition but before he could even open his mouth to shout a warning, a disc of white flame shred through the air towards him. He dropped and pulled Hiro down with him, slamming the boy to the ground and the disc passed overhead, reducing the window behind them to dust.
"In the pirates vs ninja debate," Clarice automatically kicked her heels off and sank into a fighting stance. Whoever thought high heels were a good idea to fight in had obviously never tried, "I always go pirate!" she opened a blink disc porting herself behind the ninja, her hands wrapping around his neck.
Shiro took no time in responding. He flew to his feet and rocketed towards towards the ninja, his fists engulfed in flame. But with unnatural skill and grace, the ninja jumped and flipped over Clarice, releasing the headlock and throwing her in Shiro's way. Shiro pulled back the punch mere inches from her face, pivoted in midair and somersaulted, drawing an arc of flame with his foot. It slammed into his enemy and he crashed to the ground, releasing Clarice. "Are you OK?" he asked her. "We have maybe twenty seconds before security arrives. We just have to occupy him that long."
"Twenty seconds," Clarice agreed. That was a long time in a fight like this. Where was Chuck Norris when they needed him? Bouncing to her feet, Clarice dropped back into her favourite fighting stance, which was very similar to the way a fencer would stand, leaving little of the body exposed and on the balls of her feet to move quickly. Without warning she launched herself at him, not so much thinking she would succeed, but to kill time. Twenty seconds.
The ninja's eyes narrowed and he deflected her attack, sidestepping behind her and readying another spell to knock her down. He'd not counted on Shiro, though, who followed Clarice by rocketing forward to punch him, leaving him open for a counterattack by Clarice. Shiro didn't pay attention to the quickly emptying lobby amid frightened screams and the wail of the alarm. The absence of immediate security, though, was hard not to notice.
Shiro gave Clarice just the bit of time she needed, her foot connecting solidly with his face. "Boomshanka." she stated as the ninja went down. He wasn't out, but he was at least hurting. Good. Between the two of them, they were able to keep this schmuck busy enough he couldn't quite take them both. "We make a good team!" she said to Shiro as he made sure the ninja stayed down.
"A shame he did not take such a thing into account," Shiro said as he drew another arc of flame with a roundhouse and simultaneously high-fived Clarice. He landed and planted his foot over the ninja's throat. "~So. You have all of ten seconds before the Silver Samurai himself is here, and you should know how he feels about your kind. Who are you and why are you here?~" The ninja didn't respond, he just stared up at the two of them defiantly. Shiro responded by applying more pressure. "~Tell me!~"
"Sanshu no jingi," the ninja rasped. "~The boy has it.~"
"~Liar!~" Shiro shouted, his voice ringing through the empty lobby. He pressed his foot down even harder. "~You have been slaughtering mutants, and you expect me to believe that these myths are your excuse?~"
"Yoshida-san . . ." a small voice interjected. Hiro tentatively approached them, but stood behind Clarice like she were a shield between him and the ninja. "Clarice-san. He is not lying. I . . . he is looking for me."
“~He has the power to release Kemono.~” The ninja laughed and his body shook violently beneath Shiro’s foot.. “~We have found him, and we will take him, and he will bring the world to us.~” The shaking grew in intensity and the three stepped back as he seized up. Footsteps could be heard pounding down the hall, and a dozen armed guards appeared with their guns drawn. It seemed to make the ninja laugh more loudly and frantically. He convulsed and a gentle tinkling sound drew their attention to a small glass vial that fell out of his hand.
“Poison,” Shiro snarled. His fists exploded in golden flame. “This is getting worse then we thought, Clarice. Kemono is their god. If they are planning to call him forth . . . We need to speak with Harada now.”
~*~
The X-Men learn of the Japanese Imperial Regalia and decide to gather them for protection.
The National Society of Japanese Tradition, Culture, and History is one of the largest educational institutions of Japan, supporting hundreds of historians, museum curators, archivists, and professors through its prodigious endowments. Its rapid ascendancy through the ranks of philanthropic organizations made a celebrity out of its founder, one Yashida Mariko, and upon her death, the Foundation was rededicated in her memory. Her calm, pleasant visage smiled down on visitors to the central museum upon entrance, like a silent goddess welcoming congregants to her temple. The X-Men followed a guide to the executive officers' private library, a massive shrine to knowledge covered wall-to-wall with ancient scrolls and books. Harada, who wormed his way onto the board of directors after Mariko's murder, had granted them access. An idol of Benzaiten hung above the doorway.
Shiro sat down at a computer and pulled up the online catalog he'd been directed to. "I always knew that the sanshu no jingi were real. I never expected to actually ever behold them, or that someone would be perverse enough to use them to call forth a denizen of the underworld." Despite the urgency of the situation, his heart pounded in excitement at the simple thought of seeing the relics. "We just need to find where kusanagi-no-tsurugi and yata-no-kagami are hidden. If Takachiho holds yasakani-no-magatama within him, I suppose other individuals possess the other two."
"Sacred mystical relics thousands of years old. You know, I thought Zemo was weird. I think we just tipped the scales this time." Garrison muttered, looking at some of the ancient scrolls hung up around the office. He could read most kanji and hiragana, although quite slowly, but this was completely beyond him. The writing was archaic to the point that it might as well be a different language. "Assuming we find these these people, we're likely going to have a hard time convincing them to let a bunch of Western mutants protect them."
Jennie hopped up on a side table and swung her legs as she looked around. Her pose was relaxed and casual, because the lines of probability were quite stable. From the files and the stories Clarice had told, she'd been half-expecting ninjas to pop out from the ceiling at any given moment. However, things were calm, for now. "No, no, Garrison darling, remember the giant dragon made up of Chinese people? That shoved Clarice in his pants?" she said.
"This is not really the time for standing around ranking our weird shit," Scott said, glancing briefly Garrison and Jennie's way before he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He was standing behind Shiro's chair, where he could watch him scroll through the catalog; 'watch' being the operative word, given that he certainly couldn't read. "We're more than a few steps behind, here," he said to the younger man. "Are you seeing anything that could get us headed in the right direction?"
"I do not know. The kanji are very difficult to read, like thees and thous and letter S's looking like F's. Maybe we should start at the beginning, with the legends of the regalia." Shiro went back to the search engine and typed in the sword's name. Most of the results told the same story, of how the storm god Susanoo slayed the mighty eight-headed dragon Yamata-no-Orochi and found the sword within. They went on to recount how the god offered the sword to his sister, the sun goddess Amaterasu-omikami, as penance for offending her and driving her into hiding. And when Amaterasu sent her grandson to conquer Japan, she gave him the sword as a symbol of his divine heritage.
Frustrated with the repetition, Shiro refined the search to include all three regalia and on a whim the words "protect" and “hide.” The second result was a scan of a scroll depicting the emperor of Japan, easily identified by his crest and the imperial regalia, apparently standing in consultation with red and white-clad Shinto priests. Descriptions of the scenes in kanji surrounded the pictures, once black but now faded with time and almost impossible to discern. He slowly scrolled down, carefully looking at each scene. The priests held aloft a long, straight, silver sword. One priest knelt down, his chest bared. The priests lunged at him with the sword, but instead of impaling him, the blade disappeared inside him. Kami looked in on the scene in fascination and fear. The final panel showed the priest on his deathbed with a young boy kneeling next to him, holding the sword's hilt which poked out of his chest.
"Oh, wow," Shiro breathed, although he wasn't sure if any sound actually came out. He squinted and tried desperately to read the illegible writing. "Kusanagi, it . . . it became part of him. The priest. To protect it from his enemies, the emperor ordered the priests to hide it. Same with the mirror and jewel, see?" The next two scrolls showed almost identical scenes but with the other two pieces of the regalia.
Kyle had taken advantage of his greater height and was peering over Shiro's head at the images on the screen. "So... uh, I'm just gonna go on record right here as saying that if that's like how drug smugglers hide coke in condoms up their butts, that's gross." He received the expected exasperated looks and noises and grinned. "What? I'm not saying, I'm just -sayin'. Gross."
"So what you're saying is--" Jennie appeared at Shiro's other shoulder. She wasn't going to dignify what Kyle said with a response. "These artifacts are inside living people?"
"Despite Gibney's vulgar phrasing, he is essentially correct. The treasures are part of them. It is almost like Sailor Moon S, actually, where the Sailor Senshi held the Talismans and I'll shut up." Shiro tried to bury his reddening face in the glow of the computer monitor.
"I'm a little behind on my Sailor Moon, Shiro." Kane said wryly. "And my point still stands. If these people are physically are linked to these items, like where the monkey put his peanut, finding them isn't going to be enough. We can't simply stuff a Japanese citizen into a closet to protect them from mystic demon worshiping ninjas if they say no. Maybe we need some kind of official in on this, if only to prove we're not just a bunch of crazy Westerners in leather and there is a danger."
"Spoken like someone who has never seen anime," Clarice commented. She hadn't seen a lot of anime, but she had dated Shiro. It was hard not to have seen some. "If anime is even marginally like Japanese society, we can probably do just that and no one will mind. Might even get a medal for it."
"Whom could we ask to help us?" asked Shiro. "It is not as if this is common knowledge. 'Esoteric' is not even the correct word. This is on par with Dan Brown's Catholic Church conspiracies, ne? But with demon-summoning ninja instead of self-flagellating albinos, and fewer prostitutes. I would think that the threat of The Hand would be frightening enough to make them listen."
"It's not a bad thought," Scott said. "Focus on the Hand as a threat. Be forthright that they're being targeted for weird esoteric reasons, but stress that they're not in any less danger just because people who live in a sane world would think the reasoning behind this is fantastical nonsense." He shrugged. "If that doesn't work, then we can look at trying the same approach with someone more official, if you can think of someone who might be responsive, Shiro. Best to minimize the complications as long as possible, though."
Shiro nodded and pulled up the search engine again. "We need to know whom to find. If I am reading this correctly, then the sanshu no jingi are passed onto next of kin. Let me see if the genealogical records go back that far so we can identify the descendants. Heh, as part of her dissertation Mariko traced back our family to around 1300. We were honored for repeling Kublai Khan," he boasted.
"Wasn't that the 'Divine Wind' of Japanese lore that wrecked all his junks? You're related to a weather pattern?" Kane said, as he collected the print outs of the information that Shiro had sent to the printer. "Is this one of those anime things again?"
~*~
Shiro, Kyle, and Clarice locate the mirror in Iga and snipe at each other like the children they are.
The shinkansen ride from Tokyo to Kyoto was bad enough, with too many people and barely enough space to move. The train from Kyoto to Iga wasn't any better. Both trips were made all the worse with the company Shiro had to keep. It would have been fine (nice, even) to just travel with Clarice. The unwelcome addition of Kyle, though, set him precariously on the edge. His irritation was as palpable as ever.
Contrary to Shiro, and very much on purpose, Kyle was the picture of cheerful. More so, he'd apparently decided that since there was literally no way he would not stand out, that he might as well not even try, so he'd made a point of tying his hair back, wearing ragged jeans and his sandals, and his uniform jacket over what looked like a third-hand Black Flag concert t-shirt. The ears, the claws, the fact that he was indisputably a very tall blond American were on display for anyone to see. If it made Shiro even crankier, Kyle considered that a bonus.
While Shiro's irritation was practically palpable, so was Kyle's pleasure at it all and not for the first time was Clarice really, really, really glad that she wasn't an empath. Like Kyle though, there was no way she could not stand out...anywhere, not just Japan, so she was clad in artfully distressed jeans, Chuck Taylor sneakers, a David Bowie t-shirt and a black trench coat that went to her knees. Her uniform jacket was designed like a fencing jacket and not really able to be worn as practical clothing. "Oooh, she's cute!" Clarice said, checking out a girl in another group. She felt the need to reiterate her newfound sexuality to both her ex-boyfriends. Because their contrasting attitudes were annoying her.
Kyle looked over his shoulder at the girl, and half-shrugged. "Tiny though. I mean, if you like tiny, sure, but I'd be afraid I'd break her in half." There was tiny and then there was mutant-tiny. He could deal with mutant-tiny, Jan wasn't likely to shrink down to half an inch tall in bed. "Dude, do you think her friend realizes I can see right down her shirt? Because I am totally seeing entire boob here." The downside to being taller than nearly everyone was that everything was designed for people half a foot shorter than the average American. The upside was low-cut shirts.
"You are a pig," Shiro said disgustedly, although his eyes roamed over to the two girls, too. He suddenly wished he were a foot taller. "We have a mission here, it is not time to act like a boor."
"It is always time to look at hotties." Kyle proclaimed. "Sides, hello, train. What else are we gonna do? It's not like we can 'accomplish mission objectives' or whatev on the train." He even made little highly sarcastic air quotes with his fingers, and rolled his eyes. "Chill, dude. We go to this place, we talk to whoever, we do our thing. If you wanted to get there faster, we could've gone Clarice Express."
Clarice kicked him with one sneakered foot and wished she'd worn her heavy boots instead. "We're not going Clarice Express because you eat too many burritos," she retorted. In reality, they were reaching her upper weight limit for porting people and she didn't want to wear herself out. "Besides, this way, we can play tourist and see the countryside. Looks like Montana. Oh, is that your mom?"
"I like burritos." It was sort of uncanny how accurately Kyle could do an impression of GIR from Invader Zim. "Montana is under like, a lot of feet of snow right now dude." At least, his parents had a few feet, not that it really shut much down. They were used to it. He didn't respond to the comment about his mom. She was still not talking to him after he'd asked if Elvis was his bio-dad.
"And your adoration of Mexican food certainly has not made the trip any easier," Shiro added childishly. They came upon the front entrance to the famed Iga-ryu Ninja Museum, supposed birthplace of the art of ninjutsu. After paying their entrance fees, Shiro led the other two down the stone path to the first building, marked the "Ninja House," where they were greeted by a young woman clad in a bright pink silk ninja outfit. Speaking of hotties.
The woman had either heard them coming or had been forewarned by other staff members. A smile that would have looked faked or forced on anyone else broke across her face before she bowed to them, the silk of her costume rustling just slightly with the movement. "Ohayo gozaimasu," she called out as she straightened. A quick glance took in all three of them - an eyebrow twitching was the only sign she gave away as she looked towards Clarice - before she switched over to English. "And welcome to the Iga-ryu Ninja Museum. My name is Megumi Okui and I will be your guide today."
The girl got points for the eye twitch and nothing more. As much as Clarice had learned to ignore the stares and comments and everything, she noticed them. She just didn't say or do anything. If she did, she'd never have time for anything else and there were more important things to do that get in the business of every person that commented on her appearance. Like shop.
"Douzo yoroshiku," Shiro greeted, bowing politely. "My name is Shiro. This is Clarice. And this is Kyle," he added almost as an afterthought. "We actually need to speak with you, Okui-san. Do you perhaps have a moment?"
Megumi stilled and the look she gave them was curious but more intense; gone was the pleasant but slightly vapid look she'd had on her face before. "Since the other tour guides are taking care of the rest of our honored guests," she responded, tilting her head to the side to indicate that they should follow her, "I suppose I have a few minutes. It is not often strangers appear and want to talk to me and not the shiny ninja."
She smiled as she pressed her hand against an out of the way paneling - it swung open at the slight pressure and she ducked through to a room that was obviously set aside for employees. Megumi waited for them to enter before tugging off the top part of her costume, showing hair that was almost as bubble gum pink as her costume.
Shiro boggled at her appearance. This was a guardian of the kami's gifts to Japan? The gods must be crazy. He shook his head and recovered. "Anou, as a tour guide here, you are surely familiar with the myths and legends of a cabal known as The Hand, ne?"
“If you come asking me about the Hand, then you know as well as I that they go beyond simple myths and legends.” Megumi settled herself at one of the small tables and tapped out a tune on the surface with her fingers. “A native son of Japan and two strangers from America and you come to ask me questions of the Hand? It is not exactly … an honorable, or the wisest, choice of topic.”
Kyle grinned, showing off the fangs, very much on purpose. "But, they're ninjas, right? So even if they're not honorable or good guys, you guys know about them? Or is this like, sanitized ninja-history, like if Disney made a movie out of it or something?" He wasn't quite going down his "Make Shiro twitch” checklist, because until now, he hadn't come up with the idea. But he was so making one as soon as he got a chance.
"What can I say?" she began sitting down at the table and getting comfortable, shooting Kyle a Look. She would have kicked him in the shin if they weren't trying to behave, "We're not so wise sometimes. I leave honorable for others to decide. We've met the Hand though," she indicated herself and Shiro, "They're not getting an invite to my next party. And they're not some Disney bullshit either. They're serious business."
Megumi's eyes widened as she leaned back, as if to get a better look at the three that sat before her. "Disney would crap itself," she said cheerfully enough, "at the very thought of doing anything based on the Hand. The museum has plenty of information on the organization but they decided not to publish it. Some of us decided to read it anyway. But what does the Hand have to do with me? I only play at being a ninja. I am simply Megumi Okui, tour guide and occasional DDR champion, nothing more."
"I think it would benefit us all if you were not so humble, Okui-san," Shiro said, biting down on an impulse to be snippy. She was, after all, a fellow countrywoman and he had no place deriding her. "If you know of The Hand, then you know what they do. You have something they want, and it is in everyone's best interest if they do not get it."
"What, exactly, is it that you think they want from me, Shiro-kun of the Clan of No Name?" Megumi asked, leaning back against the chair with her arms folded stubbornly across her chest.
And yet she made it so easy to lose his temper. Shiro paused before replying. "Yoshida. You know as well as I to what I am referring. Yata-no-kagami."
"We're here to try to keep them from you," Clarice continued, "'Cause I like your hair. And because the Hand is way uncool," and they were X-Men and all that stuff, but why get into the details? "I mean...unless you want to be a pawn in their nefarious scheme to take over the world and kill you?"
"Also because they're running around already killing people." Kyle said. "Can we cut whatever dance-around-the-subject bullshit we've all been doing now? You have one of those mystical things Shiro was going on about, the Hand wants it, they're killing people to get it, no one wants the Hand taking over the world." He had a slightly better grip on his temper than Shiro, but only because he wasn't the one being mocked. But on the other hand, Kyle had possibly less patience than anyone else on the planet, and this was a big waste of time. "Do we really even need to argue about this, or what?"
One moment Megumi was seated, if not calmly, across from them and the next she was across the room. One hand hovered over a wooden plank in the wall - if it was anything like the other one that led into the room, it meant that she had an escape route - and the other had fished out a long scrap of parchment with writing on it. "Explain yourselves. How do you know about the Yata-no-kagami? Only a handful knows of their history and among that select group is his Imperial Majesty. How did an American girl, a kitsune and a member of the Yoshida family find out about the mirror?"
Megumi whistled a jaunty tune and the words on the paper blazed with light. "More importantly, how did the Hand?"
"We came to investigate some murders, which led us to The Hand when they tried to abduct Takachiho Hiro, who possesses the magatama." Shiro raised an eyebrow at the glowing kanji, apparently words of warding. To protect them from being overheard, maybe? Or more likely to protect Megumi from them. He sighed.
"Tried. You stopped them?" She didn't approach them and the kanji didn't dim any but she did drop her hand from the hidden door. "The magatama is safe?"
"For now," Clarice replied, that it wouldn't be unless she came with them unsaid. Really, kidnapping her would be so much easier, even if it wasn't the most ethical thing ever. "We can't promise for how long. I mean, we're not here indefinitely. I've got homework. So not to hurry you along, but really, hurry. Please?"
Megumi snapped her wrist and the paper faded into ash, leaving behind only a faint after image in the air. "I do not wish to interrupt my life but the Yata-no-kagami must be protected at all cost. The gods allowed my family to keep it safe for generations and I do not wish to anger them if I should fail. All right. Tell me what I should do."
~*~
Meanwhile in Nagoya, Scott, Jennie, and Garrison find the sword and have a considerably less bitchy time securing it.
Among Japan's many technological marvels, the shinkansen stands out as one of its simplest yet greatest. The bullet train makes travel across the country as simple as being chauffeured across town, and the trip from Tokyo to Nagoya took no time at all. All the better for the trio of X-Men who were on a race to find a sacred mystical treasure buried deep inside a living, breathing human being: Nanahara Katsuhiro, one of only three active yokozuna and the sole Japanese-born. He was the Michael Phelps of sumo, and even though the last nationwide tournament was in January and the next one wasn't until March, Nanahara could be found every day at the Aichi Prefectural Gymnasium, honing his craft.
"I hope this man is at least semi-receptive," Scott said to the other two. "At least we're not having to sell him on the existence of this relic - one would hope that it isn't too much of a step to thinking that someone might be after him for it."
"I talked to the oyakata of Nanahara's school this morning. I guess threats aren't uncommon for him. Local Yakuza, corrupt bookies, and even rival schools have a fun little tradition of trying to bribe fighters to throw a match, and if money doesn't work, threats come next. They've got full time security there, so at the very least, he understands what being a target is like. That usually makes for someone smart enough to know when to accept help." Kane said, as they stepped into the gymnasium. He remembered his first tour in Vancouver, and Lt. Tomotsuna trying to explain the finer points of the sport, meticulously noting the intricate technique and immense strength involved in sumo wrestlers, written off by most Westerners as simply 'really fat guys fighting'. He could almost feel his tactical chip tingling.
"Somehow I doubt what we have to say will be as easy to swallow," Jennie sighed, tossing her bangs out of her eyes with a flick of her head. "Would that be Nanahara-san I spy over there?" Jennie pointed to a man across the gym.
To the outsider, the training hall looked like a meeting of fat men in diapers. A small group stood in the center ring stomping their feet in rhythm, while others wandered purposefully around with brooms and other cleaning materials. While these wrestlers may have appeared weird enough to those unfamiliar with sumo, all attention was easily diverted off them to the titan who stood in the corner, arms crossed as he looked down upon the others in silent judgment. He spotted the X-Men immediately and stopped a junior wrestler passing by to whisper something to him. The wrestler nodded and approached the Westerners.
"~I am sorry,~" he said, bowing his head politely, "~But we are not open to visitors today. Please come back soon.~"
"~We are here to see Nanahara-san. His oyakata, Ishiro-san said that we could have five minutes, if Nanahara-san wasn't too busy. It's very important.~" Garrison said back in Japanese, adding a short bow of his own. He reached into his pocket, and extended a business card, handing it over. It had been an idea Shiro had, that the more official the visit seemed, the less likely that they'd be brushed off before reaching the holders of the artifacts. Ten minutes at a custom print shop outside of the Nagoya station had provided him with a couple dozen cards listing himself as a 'security specialist'. It had the advantage of being true, after all, although they weren't there to sell him anything.
The wrestler graciously accepted the card and carefully read it over. With another bow to Garrison, he headed back to Nanahara and offered the card to him. His lips quirked upwards upon reading it, and he nodded to dismiss the wrestler before walking up to the three. "Good afternoon," he boomed though it was just his natural cadence. "I am Katsuhiro Nanahara. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Kane. And your associates?"
"This is Mister Summers and Miss Stavros." Kane said. "Is there someplace private that we could talk, Nanahara-san? I'm afraid we have some information that is best not shared in public. It concerns your personal safety, and that of something very valuable to you."
The yokozuna's eyes narrowed slightly but he nodded and beckoned the three to follow him. He accepted a silk robe from an assistant on the way down to the hall to a room reserved for wrestlers' private business. He slid the shoji closed behind them and knelt down onto the tatami, inviting the others to follow suit. "Please proceed, but I humbly ask that we do not linger. I have an important meeting shortly."
"I'm afraid that you may have to disrupt your schedule," Scott said - politely enough, if firmly. "You're being targeted by the Hand. Continuing with your usual daily routine would be dangerous." He paused, momentarily, then shrugged inwardly and went for it. "They want the sword."
"You are awfully straight-forward, gai-jin-san." Nanahara had visibly tensed at Scott's words, and he eyed the three warily. "Though I suppose the Hand would not be any less. So who are you really, 'security specialists'?"
"People with a vested interest in making sure you can go about your duty of protecting the sword without interference from people who would use it for the wrong reasons," Jennie said, keeping her posture straight and her tone unfailingly polite. "We have no other ulterior motives other than keeping you and the sword safe."
"You must forgive me for not trusting you immediately. I can count on my hands and feet the number of people who should even know of Kusanagi-sama." Nanahara placed his left hand on his chest, as if making sure that his heart was still there. "You say The Hand wants it. What of the other two?"
"We're intending to put all three of you in a secure location, until we can figure out a way to disrupt whatever the Hand is planning." Kane reaffirmed, glad that the man was taking a fairly bizarre threat very seriously.
"So you have found them?" Nanahara had never met them, nor had he ever considered seeking them out. It was safer to keep separate, although maybe he had thought wrong. "Your tale is difficult to believe, my friends. Had the His Imperial Majesty himself come forth to tell me of this plot, I do not know if I would believe it. However." He gently tapped his heart again. "I sense great courage here, so I do believe you."
Jennie bit back her initial comment which had something along the lines of what kind of a lame power is heart anyway?, and kept her face completely composed. "Yes, our companions are seeking out the other two as we speak. So we probably shouldn't waste much more time."