I have never been to Japan, though I've wished to. I hope that, in my ignorance, I have not too badly misrepresented the landscape and culture of the country.

Italics indicate flashbacks in this and all subsequent chapters.

Logan, the Wolverine, took a glance at the temple building and back to the girl in front of him. There was a rock garden off to the right, with grey amorphous rocks breaking the tranquillity of the raked sand around them. It was quite large, and even now two monks were tending it, quietly, stoically.

"At least you found a nice spot to come and sulk."

"I'm not sulking!" she protested, but Logan seemed unconvinced.

"Uh huh. Care to explain why you ran off like that?"

"You've been crowding me ever since we got here!"

"That's kinda the point of this vacation, isn't it?"

"I didn't ask you to come here, you know!"

"Yeah, and I didn't ask you here either, but here we are. Let's just enjoy the moment while it lasts, okay, kid?"

"And don't call me kid! I have a name!"

"Right, Laura, sorry. Look, it's nothin' personal. I call everyone kid… or bub… or lady. You ain't lady yet, and you certainly ain't bub, so just learn to live with it, okay?"

There was a moment of silence, neither of them entirely certain what to say. They were embarking on what was, essentially, their first family vacation. Vacationing together was something that parents did with their children, but neither one had any experience of how it was supposed to go. Where the idea had come from neither really knew. It seemed to have just evolved out of nothing, from telephone calls and fly-by meetings they'd had in the last month or so. The idea of going to Japan, though, that was Logan.

During the quiet, Laura started to take in her surroundings. Cherry blossom trees dotted the courtyard, and there were wooden ceremonial arches that led out from the temple's main entrance and down a flight of stone steps carved into the side of the hill.

"So…" she tried after a time. "You've been here before?"

"Yeah, once, back when I still worked for SHIELD."

"What happened?"

"Well, SHIELD received an anonymous tip-off that the mutant Sabretooth had been spotted in Japan. They didn't think it was worth risking an international incident with Japan over him, but I was never one to listen to good advice. He'd been after me ever since Canada and my escape from Weapon X, and I wanted answers about what had happened to me, and maybe I wanted to get even. I ran myself near to exhaustion chasing him across the countryside…"

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Wolverine was dead on his feet. He knew it, even as he forced himself onwards, throwing himself bodily through the trees, trying to pick up Sabretooth's trail. He hadn't slept for days, and despite his mutant abilities the deprivation was getting to him, slowing his reflexes and dulling his senses. He was getting closer, he knew it. He had to be, although Sabretooth knew how to cover his tracks. But every time Wolverine considered giving up, resting, closing his eyes for just a minute, he found another footprint, a broken twig, some indication that Sabretooth had passed this way recently, and he pressed on again. Since he'd arrived in this country, Sabretooth had been standing on the horizon, taunting him, waiting for him to make just a little ground to taunt him again. It was a game of Cat and Mouse, and up until now Wolverine had been convinced that he was the cat. Now he was the mouse, and Sabretooth was just playing with his food.

In fact, it had been going on since before Japan, ever since… what? He wasn't sure. Vast stretches of memory were gone, but he did know that Sabretooth had been dogging him ever since he awoke, mindless and naked, in the Canadian wilderness, with these metal claws that tore his hands apart whenever he became angry. Back then he'd been the pursued, kept confused and scared by the baying of the hound on his tail. Now he was the hound, and Sabretooth his prey, so why did Sabretooth seem to have all the advantages? Why wasn't it Sabretooth that found himself tripping over every tangled root, fighting as hard to stay conscious as he was to find his enemy?

When Wolverine had been recruited into SHIELD, the confrontations with Sabretooth had only lulled slightly, but not stopped. Now, here in Japan, Wolverine had no SHIELD support at all and Sabretooth was more persistent than ever. Wolverine wondered if that had been Sabretooth's plan all along, to draw Wolverine out from whatever protection SHIELD offered, and if it was then he had fallen for it hook, line and sinker.

He caught the scent again, stronger than before, and pushed on again with new vigour. A part of him was aware that he should stop, that even if he found Sabretooth right now he was in no fit state to fight him, but in his weariness higher thought was overruled by instinct, and instinct told him that Sabretooth was nearby and deserved to die. Shadows flitted by at the edges of his vision but he found he couldn't focus on them. That wasn't surprising. He hadn't been able to focus properly on anything for several hours, and sounds seemed to reach him through layers of padding. Only his nose still functioned properly, but he was having trouble following a trail by scent alone, and Sabretooth's rank odour was getting more pungent by the second.

There was a rustling and a roar, but by the time Wolverine realised how close his enemy was, Sabretooth was already on him. Wolverine tried swiping with his claws, but Sabretooth was too fast, dodged them easily, slashing across his arms and chest and face, and laughed at Wolverine's feeble attempts to defend himself. Somewhere in the past hundred miles the last ounce of anger had been beaten out of him, and without his berserker rage to keep him going he lacked the energy to even stand, let alone match Sabretooth in a fight.

"What's the matter, runt?" Sabretooth taunted, slamming Wolverine down onto the underbrush. "I thought you came here to fight!" He laughed again as he kicked Wolverine in the ribs.

Wolverine tried to lunge, all six claws aiming at his assailant, but no good. Sabretooth batted them aside, grabbed him by his tattered uniform and hurled him through the tree line. He landed on a dirt road that cut through the wood, and the sudden sunlight through the canopy opening hurt his eyes so he clenched them shut. The pain kept him awake for now, though he wished it wouldn't, and he heard Sabretooth step onto the road after him.

"Time to finish it, runt."

And then… he heard another voice. An older man, though he couldn't understand the words, and barely registered that this was because they were spoken in Japanese and not in English. A new shadow passed across his face and he opened his eyes in time to see a large silver blur pass between him and Sabretooth, but they refused to stay open long enough to witness what followed. He heard the sounds of a scuffle, and Sabretooth grunted in indignation.

And then everything was silent, Sabretooth's scent started to fade, and something soft was tucked under his head. He forced his eyelids open again, and was rewarded with a wondrous vision. A radiant goddess knelt over him, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and haloed by the midday sun. Her scent was heavenly after so long in isolation, and obliterated Sabretooth completely. She stroked his forehead and whispered soothing, unintelligible words. When one finally came through that he understood, he was only too glad to obey.

"Sleep."

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Logan paused in his tale as one of the monks broke away from his brothers around the temple and walked towards them. He was completely bald, but distinguished from other bald men like Xavier by the fact that his head was covered with wrinkled skin. When he smiled at them, his whole face creased up.

"It is good to see you again, Logan-san," he said, in what Laura judged to be remarkably good English. Logan bowed to him, bending stiffly at the waist, and Laura nervously followed suit, watching him out of the corner of her eye to check her imitation.

"Sensei, it's has been many years." The old monk waved a hand in dismissal.

"Pah. I am an old man. Years pass quickly. And who are you, child?"

"X… uh… Laura."

"Welcome, Laura-san. It is always nice to see new faces at the temple. She is your daughter, Logan-san?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she is."

"I am happy for you. I can already tell you have changed much since your last visit here. Will you be staying long?"

"A week, maybe. I've got responsibilities at home."

"Ah, then we must find you a sleeping space for your stay. Please."

The old man guided them towards the temple, and Logan and Laura fell in step behind.

"Who were they?" she asked him while they were still crossing the courtyard. "The people that rescued you, I mean."

"It was a powerful local businessman named Shingen Harada and his family, on a sort of pilgrimage. Shingen considered himself to be the last of the true samurai in Japan, very old fashioned but a skilled swordsman. He'd thought Sabretooth was a demon, so he just drew his sword and stepped in to save me. Sabretooth did run off, but I suspect he was just surprised. And once he was gone, they put me on the wagon train and brought me here."

"So the woman was…?"

"His daughter, Mariko. She was… beautiful, and kind, and smart… very special. I was pretty tired, but every time I woke up she was there, looking after me." The look in his eye as he remembered the woman was strange, Laura had to admit. Nostalgic, even wistful, and she'd never seen Logan look that way before. Few people had. "You know, this was the first place I'd ever really felt any sort of peace after Weapon X. The first time before I went to live at the Xavier Institute that I felt like I belonged."

"Do you think you'll meet any of them again, while you're here?" And all of a sudden the look had gone.

"Huh. I doubt it. It was a long time ago, and none of them are gonna be thrilled to see me. No, this vacation is just going to be nice and relaxing and dull. Just what you need."

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Kenichi Harada knelt at the low desk, arm straight in front of him, painting calligraphy with the tip of a brush. He was quite skilled at it. He couldn't compare to the true masters of the art, many of whose works he had hanging up in niches around the room, but he enjoyed it and was proud of his ability. It was nice to have a place such as this office, even in the middle of Tokyo, where he could come to concentrate on simple pursuits and develop his mind. This office, in fact this entire penthouse level of the high-rise building, had been converted for his private use. It served as his home-away-from-home while he was in Tokyo on business, and even though it was not quite the aesthetic perfection of his country estate, it had its own charm. Like his father before him, Kenichi considered himself to be a true samurai, in a time when the samurai class was all but extinct, and true samurai cultivated an appreciation of this kind of simple beauty.

Kenichi knew that a great many businessmen thought he was an eccentric fool, as did many of his own employees. He did not care. None of them dared to voice that opinion. Even if they were on their own, they knew that somehow he would find out, and then his… corrective retribution would be swift and brutal. After all, that was precisely how he had silenced concerns that he was too young to take his father's place as CEO of the Harada business empire. Nobody questioned him about his age any more. Harada Shingen had believed that, because he had his underlings call him Shingen-sama, that meant they respected him. Kenichi was rather more progressive. He knew that the only sure way to earn somebody's respect was to earn it through might of arms and a show of force.

A shadow moved across his panelled doorway, and he called for the supplicant to enter, never taking his eyes or his brush off the paper in front of him. It was the man named Noichi who entered, himself well feared after long service under Kenichi. It was Noichi's people that kept Harada's business private, by ensuring that authorities and rivals maintained the proper level of respect. When an insult was made to Kenichi or the company, it was Noichi's department that rectified it and retrieved the apology. He also served as a line of communication between Kenichi and his less legal associates.

That was another lesson he had learned from his father. Shingen had understood the necessity of breaking the law in order to regain the power and prestige that his family had lost over the years. Shingen had made backdoor arrangements, played the game of give-and-take for underworld bosses, but he'd never gone far enough. Kenichi, on the other hand, had immersed himself completely in the city's seedy underbelly, and he had emerged transformed, as a crime lord. He made front door deals without fear, mere underworld bosses now played his games of give-and-take, and his business empire had flourished because of it.

Noichi stood before the low table in a smartly-pressed pinstripe suit and bowed. Kenichi still concentrated on his writing, but indicated that Noichi could speak.

"Harada-san, a name on the blacklist has been found entering the country."

"Very good, Noichi-san. How much does he owe us?"

"He does not owe us money, Harada-san."

"Is he a traitor?"

"No, Harada-san."

"Then why is he on the blacklist?"

"We do not know. He is an American called Logan."

Kenichi's brush slipped a fraction of a millimetre. It was hardly noticeable, but already he knew that he would destroy the paper and start over. He set down the brush on the table. Logan… It had been years since he'd heard that name. In fact, he'd thought to never hear it again, and yet here the man was, back in Kenichi's country.

"What should be done?"

"Do nothing, Noichi-san. You have done well in telling me, but I wish to deal with this matter myself." Noichi bowed again, took one step backwards, then turned and left the room. Once he was gone, Kenichi rose from his kneeling position and stood. Hanging in an alcove in one of the walls was a suit of samurai armour, all interlocking plates, steel and silk. The metal shone like silver, with a red sunburst on the chest, and on the kabuto helmet was the crest of the Harada family. Kenichi allowed himself a small smile.

"I have you now, Logan-san. At last, the Silver Samurai will have his revenge."

Fans of the mainstream comics might be interested to note that, along with other changes to the backstory, I have altered Silver Samurai's given name to better represent his subtly different relationship with his father. (Also, it's easier to spell.)

And while it doesn't have much bearing on this story, you might be interested to know that X23 receives the name Laura in my other story, 'Kid 23'.

UPDATE 7/01/07 (in response to Kaori's review for the previous chapter, which I could not respond to directly): For this story, and my other stories from the 'X-Men: Evolution' universe, I have only used information provided in the fifty-two episodes of the series (adapting elements from the comics or other continuities only when I felt it appropriate). X23's possession of a full adamantium skeleton is not contradicted in the series as it has been in the comics (it is even implied by Dr Risman in 'X23'), and that is that interpretation of her background that I have used for this story. As for the speed of her healing factor, that entire paragraph is from X23's point of view, and since up to this date she and Logan have never sat down and compared healing speeds, she may just be wrong. Or she may not. I hope this satisfies any questions raised in that review.