Shiro, some time JST

[x-sanfuaiyaa.livejournal.com]

Shiro awakens in captivity, and Matsu'o gloats in triumph. Much gratitude to Dex for socking.


The dungeon was dark, as was to be expected in a dungeon. But it was a darkness of biblical proportions, it was literally palpable. It was the darkness that wrapped around Shiro, bound him, extinguished the solar fire he held within him. It was thick and tight and greasy, like a cocoon of oily tentacles. Shiro tried to move but it was no use. Whatever magics The Hand had cast to subdue him had completely sapped him of his energy, and even something so simple as lifting his head up to get a better sight at the sudden pinpoint of light that was moving in his direction exhausted him. At first he thought that it was just a trick of the mind until he heard the sound of geta clopping down the stone steps. "What do you want now?" Shiro asked, the raspiness of his own voice surprising him. How long had he been down there? "You ought to let me go before I destroy you, you bastard."

"You are so easily moved to anger. Obviously a product of your time in the United States." Slim but impossibly strong fingers grasped his face at the cheekbones, and turned his head one way, and then back the other. "Yes, you are very much the American now, Yoshida Shiro. Or, at most, Korean."

A white crescent appeared in the darkness, and revealed itself as a slight smile as Matsu'o came closer into the light. He relinquished his grip, eyes assessing the bounds that held Shiro tightly. "Very neatly contained. This will do."

"I will rip you to pieces and feed you to rabid tanuki," Shiro threatened, though his words were slurred and barely comprehensible. He pulled against the bonds with a renewed strength, albeit futilely. "Fucking dog!"

"Threats. Open anger." Matsu'o's backhanded slap interrupted Shiro's tirade. "No discipline, no control... no honour. You should thank me, Yoshida Shiro. I will help you into the beyond before you can fully realize how little that is Japanese remains in you."

"It is still more than you, Tsurayaba. Kemono cares not for the future or safety of this land, only to destroy the kami. And you want to allow him! What honor is that? You would kill just for power." Shiro laughed weakly, trying to ignore the terribly painful throb in his head. "Now that is American."

"How little you understand." Matsu'o said, his cold amusement mingled with obvious contempt. "The kami are merely part of a defeated past. Japan itself matters more than needless artifacts, held by living relics. Did they stop our being humbled by your adopted country? Or turn back the filthy Chinese? No. And our glorious leaders have farted dust in their alacrity to bow before each new power that rises past our ashes."

He drew a slim tanto from the sheath at his obi, the formal wear granting him a vulpine expression. "There is no such thing as killing just for power, since power only comes to those with purpose and will to direct it. Kemono is merely part of my plan. After all, did not Tokugawa Ieyasu write that 'to come to know your enemy, first you must become his friend, and once you become his friend, all his defences come down. Then you can choose the most fitting method for his demise'." Darkness seemed to gather around his features for a moment. "And Kemono has become a very good 'friend' indeed."

Shiro shivered so hard that his teeth rattled. "You think that you can destroy your own god? What are you, Lady Eboshi? Are you going to shoot him and make him go on a crazy rampage?"

"My god? Don't be ridiculous. Kemono is the Hand's god. I don't believe in the same things as my tools."

This man was even crazier than Shiro originally thought. "You truly have no honor," he spat. "You manipulate others, twist them, destroy them. You fight from the shadows, not face-to-face like a man. Disgusting. Rotten. Vile. Tools? Was Kwannon just a tool for you, too?"

"Honor? For ninja? What nonsense. And Kwannon was also a satisfying plaything, as well as a worthy assassin. But honoring a half-Korean whore? I think not." Matsu'o paused, the tanto before Shiro's eyes. "If we are going to speak of honor, Yoshida Shiro, I will offer you a chance to save yours. This knife could be your release. A unique version of seppuku, I grant you, but surely better than the shame of defeat?"

Shiro's struggles grew even more intense as Matsu'o brought the weapon before him. "You are not samurai. You do not have the authority to permit me seppuku. There is no honor in killing myself because of you, asshole. Bring that knife any closer and you will find it in your own throat."

"It is very stupid to make idle threats, Yoshida Shiro. It makes you look even weaker." Matsu'o stepped in closer, unafraid, and the blade cut a long, slow but shallow line across his face, missing his eyes by a tenth of an inch. "I am going to use you to usher in a new age for Japan, and the only thing that could possibly stop me is the death I'm willing to grant you. And yet, for all your pride and delusions of being samurai, you value your own life ahead of your duty. So who, truly, are you, Yoshida Shiro? Lie to me all you want."

His lips were close enough to his ear that Shiro could feel Matsu'o breath tickle the fine hairs. "You can't lie to yourself."

Abruptly, Matsu'o stepped back, sheathing the tanto and turning his back to the X-Man. "Tomorrow, your flaming form, donned in undeniably Japanese attire, will be documented by numerous citizens of Shanghai. It will clearly demonstrate a mutant in the vicinity of the People's Square, right before a nuclear detonation levels it and kills hundreds of thousands of people at the same time. I am afraid that using techniques developed by the UN following the explosion in India, it will be irrefutable fact that the source of the blast was a mutant, a Japanese mutant, who perished in the wake of his own powers."

Shiro opened his mouth to retort but found that he'd lost his voice. He was to be turned into a nuclear strike on China? After a lifetime of trying to escape first his uncle's plots, and then Harada's, while struggling throughout with his limited mastery of himself, all turned out to be for naught. He’d fallen for The Hand’s bait, hook, line and sinker. "And what will that accomplish?" he asked once he could speak again, although his voice trembled, the fear finally showing through. "Why Shanghai?"

"The Chinese will immediately mobilize, and whatever secret mutant programs they have will be on display. Considering the new friendliness between India, Russia, and Indonesia, the Middle Kingdom is understandably nervous, and with the spectre of a potential Japanese attack, their military will be sitting on a hairtrigger." He considered his plan again, finding no fault in it. "Even those dogs who pretend to be leaders in this country will be forced to take steps in order to protect our position in the Pacific, which means re-arming and expanding our self-defense force into a true military again."

He turned back to Shiro, his gaze serene even as he spoke of the escalation. "Japan will once more assume a military role in the Pacific. The people of Japan, faced with the threat of China, will overwhelmingly support such a decision, and even your beloved Americans will not oppose it. Of course, China is hardly a target. Their border tensions with India and Russia are enough that the revelation of a mutant weapon program will eventually trigger a conflict with those two powers. If not, one can be manufactured if needed. Once China is engaged, we will have a free hand to broker power, under a new leadership." He did not need to say who he saw that new leader being.

"You are mad." The bonds wrapped tighter around Shiro, as if sensing his horror and preemptively restraining him from any attempt at lashing out. "War with half of Asia? Japan will be destroyed in the process. There will be nothing left for you to rule." He shook his head violently, hitting it against the stone wall behind him, as if trying to physically remove the mental images of a Hand-ruled Japan from his mind. "You condemn the world to holocaust, Tsurayaba."

"Shiro, your ignorance is matched only by your native stupidity. At least try to pay attention." The blow was almost an afterthought, but it crashed into Shiro's cheekbone like a hammer. "China will eat its own heart out against their little rebel children in Taiwan, and trying to stave off the Indians and Russians on their shared border. It will weaken the control of their Politburo over their population, and their only way to reinforce their control will be through military means. That means an attack at either of the two threatening them."

He gestured with one hand. "With China engaged, the balance of power shifts. As simple as that."

"You will not get away with this," was all Shiro could say, and he cringed at the cliche. He had been led directly into this trap, but someone would find him and free him. Professor X must be looking for him right now. He'd locate Shiro and send the X-Men to Japan and they'd free him and together destroy The Hand and save the world. That's what they did, and that's what they'd do again. But in spite of these thoughts of redemption, Shiro went limp against the bonds, unable to struggle any further.

"You had your chance to stop me, Yoshida Shiro. Just a quick moment of pain, and the release." Matsu'o cocked his head, scrutinizing him, as if for the last time. "A nuclear holocaust, in the bowels of one of China's greatest cities; the product a Japanese child turned into a weapon by his upbringing as an American. Oh, I think that your death will provide a great deal of interest for the rest of the world for a long time to come. Just think, when the name Yoshida Shiro enters history along side 'Fat Man' and 'Little Boy'. You will be made immortal. I can think of no more fitting punishment for you."