The Wikipedia definition of wolverines are a rather accurate summation.
Wolverines are not very impressive-looking creatures. Being compact little blobs of dark shaggy fur rarely weighing more than eighteen kilograms, they are the largest extant members of family Mustelidae, and can therefore be thought of as giant weasels, to which they are evolutionary cousins. Combined with the weasel's distinctive trait of manic berserk blood-lust combined with impressively powerful, bone-crushing jaws. Overall, a rather apt name for this man, Watanuki Kimihiro reflected. Short, shorter than even him. Barely matching Maru and Moro on height, though at least there was no human shorter than Mokona yet.
A few mutants had come here and there over the years he had taken the wish shop, still awaiting Yuuko's return, but none as infamous, enigmatic, or confused as the Wolverine.
"It was no accident that you came to my shop today," he began as the smoke, cloying and sweet, began to clear around him. "It was inevitable that we would meet here and now. Please, make yourself comfortable."
"I... I've no idea what I'm here for," the man sputtered.
"You do know," Watanuki airily replied. "But, your heart is confused. I know a lot of things, including that you don't know what this shop is for. This is a shop that sells wishes, that only those with wishes might enter."
It happened by accident, really.
Japan had always been a blend of the very old and very new, old traditions mixed with the modern outlook on life. There was something about the place that should be an anachronism in and of itself, and yet mired as it were between times. Logan had lived in the Capital of the East before, and therefore was the number one mutant sent by Charles. He would not have minded if it weren't for one conveniently left out fact that the kid was not very keen on going with the X-Men, and that the kid was just about this side of suicidal anyway.
So, it was during chasing the kid through the Shinjuku ward that Logan had found himself milling around the shop.
This particular parcel of land is – or was supposed to be – an empty lot, abandoned by its developer after money for new luxury condos dried up. Some instinct told him that the tall wooden fence encircling its perimeter and the opening flanked by two posts with wooden carvings of crescent moons is not supposed to be here. Nor was the two-story Edwardian-style house supposed to be here; the lot shouldn't even be large enough to hold a house that size.
When he stepped over the threshold onto the cobblestone walkway (set into a well-groomed lawn of grass and trees; not the usual upturned dirt in an abandoned lot), the sky bursts open with light. It is day on the other side of the fence.
A pair of girls, one with short pink hair and the other with long blue curly pigtails, stood in the entranceway.
"Welcome to the shop!" they said in eerie unison, seizing hold of his hands. "Master is waiting. He's been expecting you. Come this way."
With the air of the permanently confused, Logan followed – or was dragged by – the odd twins through the shop, through the crescent emblazoned red doors before they were flung open and the girls ushered him into a smoky room. The doors clicked shut behind them.
The girls sat him down, before migrating to the side.
"Good job, Maru, Moro." A young man with old eyes came into view. Draped over a chaise lounge, the elaborate kimono fell elegantly over his legs and off the edge of his couch. Short black hair framed a pair of mismatched blue and brown eyes and a pale, almost delicate face. Within arm's reach sat a plain red box large enough to double as a table, and perched on the box were two very odd creatures; what looked like a rabbit with a blue jewel upon its forehead, and a snake-like furry thing that had the features of a Japanese fox; large ears, thin eyes, bristling.
"Welcome to my shop, honoured guest." While the voice was not mocking, the tone also lacked any note of actual deference.
"Erm..." Logan scratched his head. Although he would have more often than not marched out of the place in an instant, there was some unseen, unknown force holding him back. Clearly... either it was a mutant power, which was thrown out of the window since Charles didn't pick up on mutant presence, or... it was magical in nature. Damned mystical muckety-muck.
"It was no accident that you came to my shop today," he began as the smoke, cloying and sweet, began to clear around him. "It was inevitable that we would meet here and now. Please, make yourself comfortable."
"I... I've no idea what I'm here for," he decides, rather than the prosaic response of invectives.
The man – boy really, but just because something was physically young didn't mean chronologically so – looked at him, eyes twinkling with mirth. "You do know. But, your heart is confused. I know a lot of things, including that you don't know what this shop is for. This is a shop that sells wishes, that only those with wishes might enter."
Any other day, and Logan would probably have left. But today is not like any other day. "Who are you?"
"Watanuki Kimihiro," the man – Watanuki, his knowledge of Japanese formality supplied – replied. Truthful, at least as far as the guy knew. "And you are?"
"Logan." How had he missed it, the fact that the Wolverine could not defend himself, was at the mercy of this boy who could most likely do worse things to him than Magneto could probably fathom. Magneto was no sadist, everyone knew, just a pragmatic son of a bitch. From Mariko telling folklore stories, there might be some perverse bent waiting if he flipped out.
Logan was about to leave when a plate was slid across the low table to him, Watanuki blowing a thin stream of smoke that hovered as the younger-looking one looked to Logan with old eyes.
"I am sorry for your loss," a motion, the gesture innocent and laden with innuendo at the same time. "You have lived for many ages, many tumultuous times in the New World. You have been gifted by fate, and your gifts augments by the miracles of humankind, and it does not matter to you. A man who lived in old, old times, where the law is sometimes only a passing thought, a true loupe-garou. And you yearn yet more. The past is closed to you, the future unknown to you, and you cling on all the more to the present, the only certainty. And that is why you seek your past; for that certainty, the immutable facts."
"You can't help me remember." Logan tries not to let his shock appear.
Another billow of cloying smells and smoke, and Watanuki is seeing him, seeing him in the way that could be no human sight. "I remember saying something to a woman before, looking to gain a person's heart. There's a word: yearning. It's said that 'yearning' was coined during the Heian period. It seemed originally the soul disappearing was called akugare, that meant the situation in which the soul went somewhere, and one lost oneself."
"What does that mean?"
"That is not clear enough?" Watanuki murmured. "Well, I don't think much could be expected of a confused Wolverine. Let me reiterate; this is a shop that grants wishes. However, for everything you desire, you have to pay an equal price in return. You can't get more, nor give more. There can't be more or less; things must be in balance. But, why we have crossed paths is uncertain to me."
"Meaning you don't know, and can't guess," Logan snorted. "I'm outta here."
"If you leave now, we will still cross paths in New York," was the serene reply. Logan twitched as Watanuki actually began setting out sakazuki cups – or saucers – and the black rabbit thing leapt up to scream for alcohol.
One white saucer was proffered. "Are you sure you won't remain?"
Getting wasted. Yep, seemed like a good idea, even on prissy alcohol barely comparable to beer.
"I'm the best there is at what I do," Logan was sighing halfway through. "And what I do isn't very nice."
"I know." Whatever it was that enabled the Japanese as a whole to somehow seem so mysterious, Watanuki was obviously at the top of it.
"You're not real," Logan slurred. "I mean, if it's so easy for me to remember, then why didn't I visit Doc Strange earlier?"
"If you believe in it, it is real, if you do not, it is fiction," was the reply. "Either way, you are not seeking the past. You have no real need for it. There are two memories; memories of the heart and memories of the body. The heart is important but the body is important as well. Sometimes, even if the heart forgets the body remembers."
"Fat hope," Logan snorted. "No scars."
"In a different fashion, my dear customer." Watanuki admonished. "Besides, your Doctor Strange, and the magicians of the world will pass through here sooner or later. They always do. They will. Even your Sorcerer Supreme cannot hold a candle to the shop of the Witch of Dimensions."
"What?" Logan echoed.
"The Time-Space Witch, the Dimensional Witch, the Far East Witch, and the Girl Witch..." Watanuki gave a careless shrug. "Many names had the previous owner, including the name I knew her as Ichihara Yuuko. A snack? The dried pork is good."
Slowly, Logan chewed on the snack. A bit hard, but it was meat, in a sense. And good. "Mmm. So... wishes, huh?"
"At a price," Watanuki replied. "And sometimes... the price might not be something you wish to pay."
Logan set down the saucer-thing. "Well, thanks, but I gotta go."
"We will meet again, then," was the reply, laced with certainty. "The company does some good."
"Can't you go out if you want company?"
"I am the shopkeeper. I cannot leave the shop." Watanuki's face looked grim. "It is the price I pay."
Logan frowned, before picking up the saucer again. "'Snot beer, but... another cup?"
"Of course," was the faint reply. Both of them drank at once, before looking from the porcelain carafe to their saucers.
"Maru, Moro," Watanuki sighed. "Please get two more bottles. It appears that Mr Logan will require some more."
"M' fine," the feral grumbled.
Watanuki leaned until they were eye to eye. "Are you sure?"
Mokona then bounced into the room. "Watanuki, he's here!"
Footsteps sounded behind him until the red doors slammed open. "Logan!"
Logan's relatively large hand reflexively slapped his forehead. "'lo, Gumbo."
"Welcome," was the soft reply as Watanuki smirked at the auburn-haired mutant. "By some inevitable fate, Mr Logan has become a customer of my shop. I am trying to divine the purposes of his coming here."
"A shop?" Gambit cast a look around. "Okay, some dings might fetch a price, but... what do you sell?"
"I sell wishes," was the reply. "And since you have actually found your way here, you must have a wish. For only people with wishes can actually see this shop, much less enter it."
"Magic."
Logan snorted. "Right, bub."
"Believe what you wish," Watanuki offered. "However... Stephen Strange is long overdue for a chat."
Both mutants twitched at the very thought, one sprawled on a cushion before the shopkeeper and the other still standing.
"Mr Logan... Our relationship has been formed," Watanuki purred. "No matter how trivial the meeting and the incidents that follow may seem, a relationship is made. Even if it is for a short amount of time, a knot that has been tied does not unravel. It means that during your lifetime, every incident that passes has meaning."
Now sitting back, Watanuki's mismatched eyes still carefully met Logan's own. "The meeting between you and I also has meaning, so remember it."
"Creepy," was the first thing Remy LeBeau commented once they got out of the place.
"Hmph," was Logan's succinct reply.
"What were you doing there?"
"None of your biz, Rems."
"You sure?"
Logan turned to look at the red pupils. "What's your problem?"
Remy backed away, raising both hands in surrender. "Non, non. But... these magic-types, making bargains ain't ne'er good, right? And that one... he was very close t' you, cher."
Logan grinned. "Wouldn't mind tapping that."
Remy cocked his head to one side, red eyes never leaving the feral. "Oui? Remy thought... Remy thought da Wolverine was the most aggressive for the gals."
Said mutant just looked at him, before walking off.
Within the compound of the shop, Maru and Moro giggled between nibbles on cookies as Mokona downed another cup of sake, to Watanuki's amusement. "They're going to end up together, are they?"
A billow of smoke lingered past. "There are indefinite things in this world that remain unexplained. No matter how weird it is, mankind will always observe it. It will always be so with mankind. But it is the imagination. But it is the past. People are the world's strangest creatures."
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