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[x-sanfuaiyaa.livejournal.com]

Yay! Character development (or at least the beginning of it). All four scenes took place on the afternoon Tuesday, August 24th in Japan, which is actually reallyearly Tuesday morning in the States.

First, around 4PM, Shiro and his cousin Keniuchio Harada, the Silver Samurai, catch up during a duel. Harada makes an ultimatum that Shiro cannot accept, and in turn is humiliated, stripped of his honor, and cast out.

Even though they were living in the same home, Shiro and Keniuchio really hadn’t seen much of each other the two weeks Shiro had been there. They exchanged basic pleasantries everyday, but aside from that, they’d barely shared a word. Which Shiro was happy about, because he was still sore about being used to blackmail Rasputin months ago.

Not that Harada cared one way or another about what Shiro felt. When it comes down to it, Shiro had failed him. He had assigned to the boy a mission, and he did not come through. Such behavior was unacceptable.

Now was his chance for redemption. A summons from Harada brought Shiro upstairs to the small personal dojo by Harada’s private quarters. He wore his plain, loose-fitting kimono and hakama and carried his katana, aware that any conversation was going to take place over a demonstration of Shiro’s capabilities. He knocked lightly on the wooden frame of the fusuma and slid it open when he heard Harada tell him to enter.

Harada stood at the far end of the dojo, facing an imposing suit of silver samurai armor. It shined in the sunlight, and as always Shiro stared at it in awe. He’d never seen Harada don it, but he knew what it was used for. Harada Keniuchio was more than just founder, president, and CEO of Japan’s largest and richest defense contracting company (Silver Samurai, Inc.). He was the Silver Samurai. He commanded immense power in the Japanese underground when he wore that armor. Sometimes Shiro was sure that if he really wanted to, Harada had enough power to overthrow both Junichiro Koizumi and Emperor Akihito in one fell swoop.

“Are you well, Yoshida-kun?” Harada asked, still focused on his armor. He was wearing a kimono and hakama as well, and was fingering the hilts of the long and short swords he carried in his belt. If he’d had his hair in a top knot, Shiro would easily confuse him for Toshiro Mifune.

“I am,” Shiro replied humbly, bowing, “thank you. And you, cousin?”

Harada turned around to face Shiro. The expression on his face was as unreadable as usual. The Silver Samurai was a man who could give anyone the wiggins. “You and I should talk,” he said. Shiro bristled at the language. While he was used to Harada using the superior and listener-deprecating first-person pronoun ore for himself (it was what Shiro often used for himself, too), he had never been referred to by the insulting and derogatory second-person pronoun omae by Harada. This was to be no regular talk.

As if on cue, they both unsheathed their swords and bowed to each other. Shiro gripped his hilt tightly, his form stiff, while Keniuchio held his more loosely, standing firm but flexible, ready to flow and adapt based on Shiro’s moves.

They walked sideways in a circle, eyeing each other carefully, measuring each other up. “You and your friend,” said Harada as he flew forward, fast as lightning, sword swinging upwards to slice open his cousin, “You are enjoying Tokyo?” There was that omae again.

Shiro was ready for the attack. In fact, he’d been expecting it, and aimed a horizontal swipe at Keniuchio’s midsection. “We are.” Shiro knew that he needed to breathe properly, and talking too much was a waste of breath. But he used the informal masculine first-person pronoun boku, instead of the polite watashi he normally used in Harada’s presence. Shiro’s message was clear: “disrespect me, and I’ll disrespect you.”

“Leyu-chan told me you went to Disneyland.” Harada brought his sword down so fast that Shiro barely saw him do it, and blocked Shiro’s attack. The dojo rang with the sound of steel meeting steel, and Harada raised his sword, forcing Shiro to do the same and lose his balance if he wasn’t careful. “How unlike you.”

Shiro just grunted, his concentration focused on keeping his sword in his hands and feet on the ground. But he knew where Harada was going and prepared himself.

“But admittedly,” Harada swiped his sword down in a diagonal arc, “Your behavior since you began attending Xavier’s Institute has been uncharacteristic. Bringing a gai-jin to Japan, for example.”

I will not rise to the bait, Shiro told himself, deflecting Harada’s sword before dropping to the floor to sweep Harada’s feet out from underneath him. “Alex is not gai-jin. Do not refer to him as such.”

Shiro’s counter was expected, so Harada knew to jump over his feet. Before Shiro could recover, Harada pointed the tip of his sword at Shiro’s Adam’s apple, poised to run him through.

Shiro brought up his sword to knock Harada’s out of the way, and it landed just inches next to his head on the mat. He rolled to the side so he could get back to his feet, and got into a defensive kata.

“What is it you want, cousin?” Shiro asked, tired on bantering. “I am not the Yoshida Shiro you used to know.”

“No, you’re not,” said Harada in what could easily be confused for a regretful tone of voice. He sheathed his sword and folded his arms across his chest. “And that is a problem, cousin. The change you have experienced was one for the worse. You have shamed me.”

Shiro inwardly winced. Him? Shameful? “I have spent my life since my father was murdered protecting you from shame.”

“You failed a rather simple duty I assigned to you.”

“Your men broke their word!” Shiro cried. “No one was to be involved but me and Piotr Rasputin. They blackmailed him with Illyana. As far as I’m concerned, the ‘mission’ was aborted the second they touched her.”

“That was not your decision to make, Yoshida-kun,” Harada spat, emphasizing the subordinating name-term.

“Like Hell it wasn’t!” Shiro shouted in English before regaining control and switching back to Japanese. “You had no right, cousin.”

That made Harada angry. Shiro’s continued insubordination was bad, compounded by his use of the title itoko for cousin as opposed to the much more polite oitoko-san. “I have whatever rights I choose. You are in no place to make demands.”

Shiro was gripping the hilt of his sheathed sword so tightly it looked like he might snap it in half. “I refuse to be anything but a man of honor, Harada-san,” he said, forcing his voice to sound calm. “I will not dishonor the Yashida name by being a criminal.”

“No, what you will do is withdraw from Xavier’s Institute, move back to Tokyo, and fulfill your familial duty by standing at my side with the Yakuza, Sunfire.”

Shiro couldn’t even pretend to hide his utter shock. Leave Xavier’s? Join the Yakuza? “I-I can’t. No way. There’s too much . . .”

“I don’t recall giving you a say in the matter.”

Shiro pulled out his sword again, making a decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret. “I will sooner die.”

“Then so be it.” Harada withdrew his sword, which glowed with an eerie silver light, and chopped the blade off of Shiro’s katana. “You are no samurai, boy. You’re not even good enough to be ronin.” He held his sword up to Shiro’s throat, and he could feel the tachyon field up against his skin. A half-centimeter closer and Shiro would be one head shorter. “But there is no point or honor in killing you. But hear me, Yoshida Shiro. You are hereby cast out. You are disowned. Any and all bonds between you and me are broken. And if we ever meet again, you will be greeting King Enma.”

Shiro refused to let his fear and anger be seen in his eyes. He forced an aura of stoicism, of withdrawal. No emotion, no reaction, don’t give the Silver Samurai satisfaction.

“Now leave. And take your gai-jin companion.

Shiro nodded and quickly left the room, abandoning his broken katana and his broken identity.




While Shiro and Keniuchio talk, Alex approaches Leyu about her feelings for him, and tries to let her down carefully. It's all ridiculously cute and sweet until Shiro cuts in and tells them they're leaving. Alex and Shiro talk, and Shiro sheds tears for the first time.


With his hand stuffed in his pockets, Alex stood in front of Leyu's door. He was biting his lip, chewing was more like it, as he decided whether or not to knock. Finally he sighed and lifted his hand. She's got to find out sooner rather then later if what Shiro says is true... Alex knocked gently, hoping she was in her room.

Leyu was lying on her bed, flipping through her new manga and listening to some insanely cheerful and high-pitched Japanese pop music. She looked up from her comic when she heard the knock. Quickly, she stuffed the manga under her pillow, turned off the music, and sat at her desk, opening her math textbook. If it was Keniuchio at the door, he'd be awful angry that she wasn't doing her work. "Come in," she responded.

Alex opened the door, smiling as he saw her being so studious. "Hey Leyu, can I talk to you for a sec?"

Leyu couldn't help the sudden smile on her lips. Alex wanted to talk to her? What could he want? Obviously something good, dummy. "Sure. What do you need, Alex-san?" she asked sweetly.

Alex walked into the room and sat down on her bed, patting the seat next to him. "Come over here and talk to me. It's kind of important." He was still smiling, despite how uneasy he felt about this whole thing...

The butterflies threatened to explode from her stomach as she took a seat next to Alex. Not too close, but not too far. She may be young, but she'd already learned a lot about being a lady from Mariko. "What is it? Are you well?"

He looked down at his lap then over at her. "Leyu...I understand from Shiro that you...well...have a bit of a crush on me..." Alex winced realizing how stupid that sounded. He had no idea how to handle this.

Leyu blushed and darkened at the same time. She was embarrassed by Alex's bluntness, but angrier at Shiro for telling him. "I am going to kill him," she muttered in Japanese. How dare he ruin this for her?

Alex blinked. He had no idea what she just said but it didn't sound good. "I totally have no idea what you just said...but I'm guessing it's true, isn't it?"

"Nothing." She shook her head. Folding her hands in her lap, she looked down and tried to sound innocent and demure. "Yes it is. I-I really like you, Alex-san. You're nice and you're sweet, and . . . a-and you're cute too." She giggled softly.

Now it was Alex's turn to blush. "I umm... thanks, I guess. But I think there is something you have to know..."

"You like me too?" she asked before she could stop herself. Mr. Foot, please meet Mrs. Mouth.

"Uhhh..." Alex almost had to hold in smile. Come on, a nine year old was trying to flirt with him, it was cute. "Not exactly. I mean, I like you as a friend, Leyu...but I'm already taken."

"O-oh." She looked down again and bit her lip. She shouldn't have been surprised, really. Alex was twice her age, after all, he must have attracted some beautiful mature woman at school.

"I'm sorry, Leyu, I should have told you earlier that I have a girlfriend back home. But I think you would like her, she's wonderful..." He scratched the back of his head, feeling really awkward. Somehow he didn't think she wanted to hear about Lorna after confessing that she liked him. Sighing, he put a hand on her leg. "Look Leyu, I'm sorry, I really am. Will you still at least be my friend? I've had a great time here with you..."

Leyu could feel her lip trembling. Don't be an idiot, girl. You're too young. It was just a silly thing. Get over it. So she nodded, and leaned against Alex just a little bit. "Okay. We can do that."

He put an arm around her shoulders, smiling. "Thank you...I was really afraid there for a moment."

Without warning, the door opened. Leyu jumped up, startled, but relaxed when she saw her brother standing in the doorway. "What?" she asked curtly. But the expression on his face turned her anger with him into curiosity. "Are you okay?"

Shiro was beyond pissed off. He had gotten angry to the point that he was numb, and his voice was eerily calm. "Alex, get your stuff. We are leaving. Leyu, you too."

Alex stood up quickly, his hands on Leyu's shoulders, his tone worried. "Shiro, what's going on?"

"We are no longer welcome here," Shiro said simply. He was starting to breathe heavily, and it looked like he was putting in as much effort as he could to not fall apart. "We have to leave. Now."

Alex blinked, he had never seen Shiro this angry before. But he also wasn't going to argue with him. "Most of my stuff is still in my suitcase..." He turned to Leyu. "You need any help?"

Leyu had never seen her brother like this either. Sure, she had seen him furious about something or other before, but this . . . this was different. And she knew that not listening to Shiro would be a Very Bad Thing. "Y-yes please," she stammered. She took a wheeled suitcase out from her closet and then went to her drawers to pick out clothing.

"Do it quickly, Leyu," Shiro ordered, fighting to keep a level head. He could feel his power bubbling within in, and if he didn't keep a tight rein on himself, there'd be a big hole in Tokyo. "Take only what you need. If you travel too heavily, we will never get out of here." Without another word, he excused himself to his room to finish packing up his belongings.

Alex helped Leyu pack a few things before excusing himself to go see to Shiro. He leaned in the door way and watched him pack. "So what happened?"

Shiro gulped. He wanted to ignore the sudden rush of unwelcome emotions, to just leave and never look back, but Alex needed to know. "My cousin . . . You see, Harada Keniuchio is of the Yakuza. You have heard of that, yes?"

Alex frowned, thinking hard. "I'm trying to remember, but could you refresh my memory?"

"Japanese crime syndicate," Shiro explained. "Our mafia. And Harada felt that it was high time I join him. So he gave me an ultimatum: Quit the Institute, return home, and take a place beside him, or leave. I chose the latter." He said that last part with difficulty, because it was obviously not an easy choice. Both choices meant abandoning aspects of his life; it was a matter of choosing which was more important

"You choose Xavier's over the mafia..." Alex couldn't help but smile. "That's great...I mean I know it must not have been easy...But I'm glad at least." He left I don't wanna lose you again unspoken, as it was a bit to sentimental for the boys' sakes.

Shiro wanted to smile, to feel good that Alex was happy, but he couldn't. "You don't understand," he said, busying himself by throwing clothes into his duffle bag. "I gave up my entire life here in Japan. Everything I am, everything I thought I was . . . it's all gone. And if we don't get out of here quickly, Harada will have me killed."

Alex nodded, getting serious again. "Here let me help..." He came over and stuffed the clothes properly into the bag as Shiro threw them to him. "And dude, I so know how you feel...How do you think I felt when I called Xavier's to take me in? The last thing I wanted to do was leave Hawaii behind, it was my life...but I had too." He shrugged, trying at least to make Shiro feel a bit better as more clothes were tossed to him.

Shiro stopped and stared at the t-shirt he was holding. "But who am I now?" he asked softly. "I am ronin. I am masterless. I have no path in life, no guide, no anything. The Yashida Clan has always been proud and powerful. I am the first one to be cast out. What does this make me?" He turned, facing Alex now, his eyes shining as she tried to hold back tears. He hadn't cried since he was a child, and he didn't want to appear weak now, but he couldn't help it. "I am nothing."

Alex dropped the clothes he was holding and turned to Shiro, putting his hands on the smaller boy's shoulders. "You are not nothing. In my opinion you’re the strongest of them all. They gave you choice, you could have gone the easy route, be just like all the rest even if you didn't agree with it. But you didn't. You stood up for yourself. So what if you’re the first to be cast out...you’re mostly likely the first to stand up for themselves as well." His tone became softer as he saw the tears in Shiro's eyes. "You’re also my best friend, if that means anything. You saved me from myself...many times. I can't thank you enough for it and it only makes you look stronger in my eyes."

"Alex . . ." A small smile appeared unbidden, and Shiro bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you. I would not have chosen the school if not for you." Feeling silly, he wiped the tears from his eyes and threw the shirt he was holding into his bag. "That's it. Get your bags so we can get out of here. I am not leaving my sister here for Harada to mold and manipulate. She comes, too."

Alex couldn't help but grin at Shiro's first statement, but he nodded at the last. "Definitely, though it certainly is going to be interesting when we get back." When he was just about to go through the door he shot over his shoulder. "I told her about Lorna."

"And you haven't been castrated? How unlike her."




Half an hour later, the three try to board a plane for Hiroshima so they can get advice from Mariko. Akira Takachiho, one of Harada's Yakuza men, tries to stop them. Big fight between Baymax and Sunfire ensues.


Shiro found it amazing, and just a little bit pathetic, how far a name and some cash could get you. The Royal Airpark near Tokyo International Airport was frequented by Japan’s elite, so one mention of Mariko Yashida’s name and a few thousand yen got Shiro, Leyu, and Alex booked on a private flight down to Hiroshima, where Mariko was staying on a business trip. As the pilot of the small jet got his flight plan approved, Shiro led Leyu and Alex to it.

Smooth sailing, however, was not to be had.

“Yoshida Leyu is to remain in Tokyo,” boomed a voice from nearby. Startled, the three turned around and saw a man, obscenely large for a Japanese person. Wearing a plain kimono and hakama, he looked out of place at the airpark.

“Takachiho Akira,” Shiro hissed, moving to stand between him and Leyu. Takachiho was head of security at Silver Samurai, Inc., but Shiro knew he was also one of Harada’s Yakuza men. “You are not involved in this domestic squabble. Leave now.”

“I am afraid that I cannot,” he said, slowly approaching the three menacingly. Shiro dropped his bag and prepared for a fight. Although Alex couldn’t understand the conversation, he didn’t need to know Japanese to get the gist of the situation.

“Alex,” Shiro said softly in English, eyes focused on Takachiho. “Take Leyu-chan to the jet and keep her there. Do whatever you must to protect her. Don’t let anyone touch her.”

“Right,” he responded, picking up Shiro’s bag with one hand and taking Leyu’s hand in the other. “Just . . . be careful, okay?”

“Not a problem. Now go.” With Alex and Leyu out of harm’s way, Shiro’s stance became more hostile. “We will go where we please,” he told Takachiho in Japanese. “You cannot stop us.”

“On the contary.” And that was all Takachiho said before attacking. Two fists slamming into Shiro’s chest sent him flying. Before he could get his bearings and recuperate from having the wind knocked out of him, Takachiho had picked him up by the collar and kneed him in the gut before throwing him down.

Shiro could barely hear Leyu’s frantic screaming over the rush of blood in his ears. He somehow managed to pick himself up, despite his aching body and bleeding nose, but was unable to stop Takachiho from grabbing him by the collar again.

“My orders were to bring Yoshida Leyu back alive. But I was never told how to treat you. Sayonara.”

Shiro should have felt fear. He should have seen his short life flash before his eyes. He should have felt regret for the way he’s treated (or rather mistreated) people. He should have written his death haiku, as traditional samurai did.

Instead he placed his hands over Takachiho’s chest, smiled calmly, and let forth a stream of solar flare. Takachiho was thrown back and slammed into a pile of wooden crates, which collapsed on top of him.

“Kuso,” muttered Shiro, wiping blood from his nose. That hurt. Well, now Shiro knew why Takachiho held his position at Silver Samurai. He turned to face the jet, and gave Leyu and Alex, who were looking terrified through a window, thumbs up.

“Baka.” Where Takachiho and the crates had fallen, now a huge monster stood. It sounded like Akira Takachiho, but his voice was punctuated by a low, guttural roar. It stood at least seven feet tall, bulging with muscle, covered in green dragon-like scales. Its face was long, wide, and bestial; two large white fangs protruded from its underbite. The thing roared and slammed its large, heavy tail against the concrete ground, smashing it. “You have released the beast within, so to speak,” it growled.

“You’re a mutant,” Shiro said. “I should have known.”

“Harada-san has informed me that you are quite powerful. Let’s see how right he was.” His titanic size belied his speed; two seconds later, he’d cleared the distance between them.

Shiro took to the air just as Takachiho landed. There was no way he could win without using his own powers, but he had to keep destruction to a minimum, otherwise he, Alex, and Leyu would never get to Hiroshima. Hell, if he wasn’t careful, there wouldn’t be much left of the airpark. Nevertheless, he tapped into his full power, now many times greater than a month ago thanks to Asgard. With the right balance between power and control, he could finish this up quickly. He hoped.

Up until his brief stint as divine champion, the aura that accompanied Sunfire when he used his powers was rather unimpressive: a golden nimbus, sometimes accompanied by small flames licking his body. But now it looked like he’d been dowsed with kerosene and set on fire. Sunfire’s body was barely visible beneath the bright and hungry flames. He cracked his knuckles in anticipation and landed ten feet from Takachiho. “If you insist.”

Wo-Ping couldn’t have choreographed a more amazing fight. Takachiho, or Baymax as he referred to himself in his morphed form, moved unnaturally for a beast of his size, and each hit he landed was enough to leave Sunfire breathless.

After ten minutes of trying to beat the shit out of each other, they were at a stalemate. Sunfire’s reflexes and agility were enough that he avoided the worst of Baymax’s attacks, but Baymax’s scaly armor protected him from Sunfire’s plasma blasts. All this exertion had Sunfire breathing heavily, and his aura had dimmed considerably. He felt fatigued, like he was using more energy than he could take in from the Sun. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before he was powerless.

And Baymax seemed to notice this. He growled again, this time in an apparently pleased manner, and strode forward. “A shame,” he said, wrapping his huge hand around Sunfire’s neck, heedless of the flames. “You would have made a fine addition. You might even have inherited Harada-san’s position. But you chose wrong.”

“I chose,” Sunfire struggled to say. “That’s more than Harada would ever have given me.”

Baymax just grinned, if that expression that exposed his sharp teeth could be called a grin, and squeezed harder.

Now seemed like the right time to compose that death haiku. But he still wasn’t scared. Faced with death, Sunfire felt suddenly . . . invigorated. Power rushed through him again, recharging him like a battery. If he wasn’t an advocate of solar power already, he certainly was now.

He grinned back, laid his hands on Baymax’s wrist, and turned the juice on.

There wasn’t any mushroom cloud, to Sunfire’s slight disappointment, but the pillar of solar flare surrounding him and Baymax was certainly a sight to behold. He could feel Baymax’s grip on him weakening, but he still held on, gritting his teeth as he prayed that his armor would keep up and save him.

And it might have if Sunfire weren’t a walking thermonuclear bomb. The pavement beneath them melted and Baymax began sinking. The full power of the Sun was being thrown against him, and not even he could withstand that.

The fire died, and Shiro fell to his knees, coughing and wheezing. He was bruised all over, and wouldn’t have been surprised if he had a broken bone or five. But he’d won.

Akira Takachiho lay a few feet away, back in human form, his skin covered in second and third degree burns.

“Fuck you, Takachiho,” Shiro spat in English before heading back to the jet.




And finally, an hour later, the three land in Hiroshima and receive some unexpected help from Hikari Akuno, another of Harada's Yakuza girls.


The pilot was enthralled when he landed in Hiroshima and got his passengers off of his jet. While most private pilots would do anything to maintain Mariko Yashida’s business (as this one thought he was by transporting her cousin), no one enjoyed nearly getting killed, not to mention losing their jet and therefore their livelihood, because of two super-powered mutants who’d decided to duke it out in the middle of an airpark.

As far as Shiro was concerned, he was just as relieved to get off the jet. Mariko was in Hiroshima, and she’d know what to do now. But as the group of three disembarked, Shiro froze and swore loudly. Leyu smacked him for his language.

Apparently waiting for them outside the hangar was an angry looking Japanese woman. She wore a business suit and had her arms crossed over her chest. She looked as if she’d been waiting there for a while and was offended that it’d taken Shiro so long to get there.

“Akuno,” Shiro gasped, instinctively dropping his bag and adapting the same defensive stance he’d taken when he fought Takachiho.

Akuno Hikari was yet another of Harada’s top employees at Silver Samurai, Inc., and she was also one of his Yakuza underlings. Shiro supposed she was also a mutant, but he hoped that if she was, then she wouldn’t be as strong as Baymax. He was still hurting.

“Yoshida,” she responded just as coolly without moving. “You will not be going to see Yashida-san.”

“Please don’t make me maim you too,” Shiro said, although he didn’t sound like he’d be disappointed if he had to.

She shook her head in exasperation and slowly approached them. Shiro heard Leyu whimper and get close to Alex behind him. He opened himself to the Sun, drawing as much power into him as he could.

“Stop that,” Akuno snapped irritably, stopping a few feet away and pulling out an envelope from inside her jacket. “Take this and go.”

Shiro hesitated before cautiously taking the envelope. Inside were three tickets from Hiroshima to JFK International Airport in New York scheduled to leave in two hours, a passport for Leyu (Shiro didn’t remember her having one), and a credit card in Shiro’s name. “What’s this?”

“I would think it’s pretty self-explanatory,” Akuno replied, turning around and starting to walk away. “Family always looks after each other, Yoshida-san, for better or for worse.” He could have sworn he heard her mutter “Cousins especially,” but he wasn’t sure.

He nodded absently, just staring at his gifts. He’d been afforded a way out back to safety. He recited a quick silent thanksgiving prayer he’d been taught as a child to Amaterasu, the sun goddess, and then led Alex and Leyu to the terminal.

Time to go home.