A/N: Again, imagine the Japanese dialogue to be in actual Japanese. Also, any reference to buildings, clothing, weapons, etc. is gathered from research I did online, so forgive me if anything is incorrect. I am not an expert in ancient Japanese culture.

HIRO NAKAMURA

KYOTO, JAPAN

"To your feet."

Hiro's head snapped up as the booming voice sounded from above him. The door to his cell had been opened, revealing that he was indeed in some form of dungeon holding cell, made completely out of rough cement, with only a small grate high up in the way showing the exterior light. His eyes had gotten so used to the darkness that the light coming in from the door that had just been opened almost hurt his eyes. There was a guard standing in the doorway dressed head to toe in red armor with a sword hanging at his waist and a short spear in hand.

"I said, to your feet."

Hiro tried to obey the command that was being barked at him by the guard who had entered the cell. When he tried to stand though, his head rushed and he collapsed again, overwhelmed with dizziness.

The guard crossed the small cell and pulled Hiro roughly to his feet. "You'll do as your told!"

"Sorry…" Hiro mumbled helplessly.

"You'll speak only when a question is directed at you!" The guard drove the blunt end of his short spear into Hiro's stomach, causing him to buckle over in pain. "Who are you?"

"My name is Hiro Nakamura." Hiro saw no reason to lie to his captors. If anything, he felt that he should tell the whole truth.

"Where do you come from?"

Hiro paused. He instinctively felt that the truth wouldn't work for this question. "I come from here."

"Here?" The guard looked at Hiro skeptically. He prodded him again with the end of his spear, eyeing the clothes suspiciously. "You do not dress like a man from here. What are you? You are an evil wizard!"

"No!" Hiro argued insistently. "I am not evil! I am innocent!"

"That decision will be left up to my master." The guard let an evil little grin slip across his thin lips. "I do not think he will be very easily convinced of your innocence."

The guard exited the cell and two others stepped in. They pulled Hiro to his feet again, releasing him from the chains that bound him to the wall. Then they rebound his hands together with a shorter set of chains in front of his body so he could still be restrained as they marched him out of the cell and down the dark hallway. Hiro was forced up a winding stone staircase and down another corridor. Hiro was close to asking them where he was being taken when they emerged into a room naturally light with the sun shining in through the windows that stretched from floor to ceiling.

"Move."

Hiro realized he had stopped to stare at the room when the guard behind him shoved him forward again. He moved forward obediently, eyeing the people grouped around on either side of the room leading up to the front of the room where one man was sitting alone on a raised platform. He wore a pure black silk kataginu kamishimo typical for established samurai's. Hiro's eyes were drawn to the long tachi sword sheathed in red and gold, hanging at the man's side.

"Who are you?" When he spoke his voice was low and deep. It sent a shiver through Hiro's spine.

"My name is Hiro Nakamura."

"Your name is no interest to me. Who are you and what were you doing out on the field this morning?" The warrior's voice boomed.

"I…I got lost." Hiro realized that he should have spent his time in the cell working on some sort of cover story, but it was too late now. He had to say whatever came to mind and hope it was enough to keep him from getting in trouble.

"You got lost? Is that the best you can do?" The warrior's voice was growing louder and harsher every moment. Hiro felt as though his knees were going to give out. "Your interference cost me a capture that I have been planning for months!"

"I'm sorry…" Hiro offered meekly.

"I don't want your apology! I want your head!" The warrior stood and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Do you know who I am?"

Hiro felt afraid to answer, so he simply shook his head in response.

The warrior's eyes widened. "I am Yukio and I am emperor of this land! But there is one man who stands in my way and today was going to be his last, until you came along and ruined everything!" Yukio motioned to two of his guards standing by. "And now you must pay for what you have done."

Hiro let out an audible gulp of terror as the guards moved in towards him, gripping both of his arms and practically dragging him backwards from the meeting room. Yukio sat down again and watched Hiro being led away. He held up his hand and the guards stopped suddenly.

" He will be executed in three days."

This time Hiro's knees really did give out on him. His body went limp and he had to rely on the guards to mostly carry him from the room and back down to his cell where he was told he would wait out his execution day.

PETER PETRELLI

CANADA

"Thanks again for picking me up Mr. Scott." Peter shook his rescuer's hand gratefully as he prepared to depart the small fishing boat that he had been pulled onto.

"Not a problem, Mr. Petrelli, I'd hate to think what would've happened if I hadn't seen you. You probably would've died!" Mr. Scott shook his head.

"Not likely." Peter muttered under his breath.

"Are you sure you're going to be able to get home okay on your own?" Mr. Scott asked, genuinely expressing concern as he followed Peter off the boat and onto the dock that they had stopped at.

"Yea, I'll be fine. Thanks for your concern." Peter gave a slight grin. "And thanks for the clothes…"

Mr. Scott nodded. "Yea, sure. It would have been kind of bad of me to let you walk around naked…though I'm still dying to know how you ended up in the lake butt naked like that!"

Peter's eye twitched slightly and he quickly faked a broader smile. "Yea, crazy huh?" He avoided the question quickly and started away. "Have a good life!"

"You too Mr. Petrelli, and good luck getting home."

"Thanks!" Peter waved and strode away from the dock in a hurry. I wonder what he would've thought if I told him I lost my clothes when I exploded? He coughed. His throat was still feeling a little dry and scratchy, despite the three bottles of water he had guzzled downed on the boat. I need a plan. I need something to drink and I need a plan. He coughed again as his mind started plotting his next step. Nathan? No…Peter wasn't quite ready to try and get in touch with Nathan because it meant facing the possibility that he hadn't survived.

Peter dropped onto a bench near the edge of the water, trying to remind himself of the previous night. Everything was sort of a blur. He remembered little things, but they felt disconnected and incomplete. Sylar…he was there…that part was clear. Peter could remember the final confrontation with his greatest enemy and he remembered what Sylar had said: Turns out you're the villain, Peter.

Peter dropped his forehead into his hands and felt a dry sob forming in his throat. He didn't feel like crying in remorse or pain or anything, but simply felt like crying. He needed a release. How could I have let myself get so out of control! I could have killed so many people…even though Nathan had stopped him from killing everyone Peter still felt that he had failed. He had let everyone down. Maybe Sylar was right…I did turn out to be the villain. I was the one they all had to stop, not him. They came to prevent me from mass murder…she came. Claire. She was the only one he could think of at that moment. He could see her so clearly, the pain shining in her eyes as she sobbed hopelessly with the gun aimed at his head. He remembered her crying out, begging for another way. How could I have put her through that?

And then suddenly he saw Nathan. Peter remembered the confused emotions he had felt when his brother had flown down, stepping in between Claire and Peter and offering another solution. Nathan was willing to die to save me from myself. A tear leaked from Peter's eye as he relived the moment that his brother had whisked him away into the sky, flying higher and higher until they had cleared earth's atmosphere and were confident that New York was no longer in danger. Then things became hazy again. Did he get away? Peter realized that he couldn't distinctly remember what had happened to Nathan.

He was there with me…but then he wasn't…he left, right? Peter shook his head, hating that he couldn't remember. Did he get away in time? He had an indistinct memory of telling Nathan to leave him, but then his memory failed and he had no certainty about whether or not Nathan actually did leave. I'm not ready to find out. He decided firmly, standing again and heading to a payphone across the street. I have to get back to New York and I need to find out what happened.

He stopped suddenly halfway across the street. Who am I going to call? He shook his head. I have to tell someone that I'm alive…they all probably think…a slight smile lighted his face slowly. She won't think I've died. She'll be waiting for me. I should call her. His smile stretched. I'm so glad she didn't have to kill me. She never would have gotten over it. Dear, sweet Claire…