AN: Well, the reviews I got made me change my original plans. Don't worry; I think it'll work out for the best.
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Riding the winds of a plane could never compare to riding the winds while free. Sure, both transport you to your destination, but something about the manipulation made all the difference. People wonder how such a large hunk of metal could manage to stay airborne, but it was simple physics. The air rushing over and under the wings allowed the plane to fly. However, feeling the winds rush over you; that was a completely different story.
Ororo had made the decision before she left to take a plane for the majority of the trip. Sure, she could fly it, but that would tax her energy reserves more than she cared to admit. However, as she stared out the window into the clouds, she felt the longing to throw wide the door and jump into the winds. Play with the St. Elmo's fire dancing around, wave hello to the young child in back, and release the minor claustrophobia. Choices to make at a later venture, because for now, she was stuck with just imagining it.
Once the plane touched down, and Ororo made her way to baggage claim, she took in a deep breath to steady her nerves. Her instincts screamed for her to turn back around and return to the mansion, where she was leader. Leadership was easy, dealing with others' problems cake. Dealing with your own? That mirror was harsh and unforgiving. Grabbing her light bag from the rack, Storm walked out of the small island airport, and walked around to the back. Glancing around, she saw no one watching, so she took to the skies, heading due south.
After approximately two hours, she spotted the small sandbar of an island, isolated from the rest of the archipelago. She touched down, secured her bag to the lone tree, and sat down to meditate. Once her head was clear, she rose again, letting her body drift over the water. A good distance away, she raised her hands to command the winds towards her. Taking hold of the currents, she sculpted them to create a stationary, circular pattern. Satisfied, she allowed the circle to continue as she returned to the sand, and went to sleep.
While she slumbered, the winds continued on their track. Spiraling inward, they merged with the naturally warm water to create a basic storm pattern. As the perpetual spiral continued, it drew up more warmth, and expanded the storm at a rapid pace. Where normally a hurricane would take weeks to form, Storm's crafting sped the process to a matter of hours.
A loud crackle of thunder woke Ororo from her nap, and she stood, surveying her hurricane. If it were to be rated, she guessed that it would be on par with Category Three hurricanes; massive enough to do heavy damage to even secured buildings. Inhaling, Storm floated up, and created a path into the eye of the hurricane, where she sat for minutes, closing her eyes.
Once she opened her eyes, she let out a primal scream, and tore off her clothing. Suspended exposed in the eye of the storm, Ororo threw her head back, and called down a bolt of lightning to sear through her body, and out into the edges of the hurricane. Another yell tore from her throat as she snapped her arms parallel to her shoulders, and attempted to stop the hurricane.
She was fighting against her own creation, the spiral nature of the winds in conflict with her attempts to straighten them out. Luckily, a hurricane has no will of its own, so in one final surge of power, the storm stopped, and died out. Panting, Storm managed to position herself over the island, and dropped heavily onto the sand beneath. There, she slipped into unconsciousness.
Two days later, she awoke, ready to leave the island. Opening her pack, she removed the food she had brought with her, and carried it with her as she flew to Japan. While in the air, she redressed herself in casual clothing. No need to show up in Japan naked. Once over the Nippons, she landed, and made her way to the nearest phone booth.
"H'lo?"
"Yukio? This is Ororo."
"Windrider? What're you up to?"
"Actually, I am in Japan at the moment, and…"
"Say no more! Get yourself over here, we've got some catching up to do!"
"Thank you. I shall be there in around an hour."
"See ya!"
Ororo placed the receiver back on the cradle, and took back to the air in search of Yukio's home. Upon arrival, Ororo couldn't even knock on the door before Yukio threw open the door and embraced Storm.
"Windrider! It's so good to see you!"
Returning the hug, Ororo smiled down. "I feel the same way, Wild One. May I come in?"
"Sure, sure. Excuse the mess. I'd say that I normally keep it neater, but hey, I'd be lying."
Ororo laughed. It was good to see her dear friend again, even though that meant being apart from her old friends.
"So, 'Ro, tell me why you're here."
Taking a seat on the battered couch, Ororo recanted the tale of the girl, and how she came to the decision to come to Japan. The whole while, Yukio listened patiently, sincerity written on her face.
"…and there would be the end. I am here now."
Clasping her hands together, Yukio smiled a devil's grin. "Well, then. I know what you need first."
"And what would that be?"
"A man."
"What?" Mouth hanging open, Ororo sat forward in disbelief.
Laughter dancing in her dark eyes, Yukio tried to keep a straight face. "What, a woman, then?"
"No! Why is my solution a relationship?"
Yukio snorted, and draped an arm around her friend. "Who said anything about a relationship? Girl, you need to get laid."
"Where did you manage to ascertain that from my story?" Sputtering, Ororo stood to gain some distance.
"Didn't have to. You walked in here looking like you needed that."
"And what makes you say that?"
Yukio stood, and placed two fingers deep into the juncture where shoulder muscle meets neck. When Ororo winced, and drew away, Yukio nodded. "Your shoulders are up near your ears. Classic sign that you need to relax."
Incredulous, Ororo flopped back down on the couch, unable to speak. Yukio laughed, and sat down again next to Ororo. "Alright, no need to panic. We won't pick up men tonight. Let's work on dumping off all the things you're clinging to. First, this concept that you carry the world. Nope. Leave it back at the mansion, girl."
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For a month, Yukio and Ororo worked on divorcing Ororo's feelings that she was required to be everything to everyone at all times. They never did go out man-hunting, at Ororo's insistence.
However, Yukio had given Ororo a month time limit. And that month was up as of today. Once both parties were dressed, Yukio led the way to a remote mountaintop in rural Japan. While they were standing up there, Ororo kept pressing her friend as to why they had come up so far. Yukio had remained silent, until now.
"Are you ready, Windrider?"
"Yes, but for what, may I ask?"
"Good. Because you make me sick. Coming all this way out here to escape your troubles, but you still think you're better than the rest of us. Guess what, Goddess, it ain't working. I've seen you at your worst, and you're not fooling anyone. You're little more than a sniveling, cowardly bitch that can't even stay up after one shot."
The crack of thunder was Ororo's response.
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A month. What in the ever-loving name of Pete could 'Ro need a month for? She'd been gone too long without contacting him, Remy, or Jean. Logan paced his room, growing more resolved by the moment. And everyone else was nonchalant over the whole thing. Not him. Not the Wolverine. He took action.
Throwing some basics into a duffel bag, Logan scrawled a cryptic note to Jean, and left it on his dresser. Logan was off to Japan.
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AN2: So, we gonna have a fried self-proclaimed ronin? And what's Logan doing? Like I know yet, I haven't got there. So don't ask me. :P I wasn't originally going to have Logan follow, but after at least three of you nudged me that way, I decided to. It'll work, and it gave me an awesome idea.
Stormfreak: See? I posted the darn thing. Off my case! :P
Jubes2861: I would do the trip, but my comic knowledge is very limited, and Madripoor isn't in that database. Sorry.
Icequeen, Rhapsody, and Nikita: Look! There goes wolf-boy, off to find our goddess. Thanks for the support.
Trilogy: Fine, no throttling. A menacing shaking of a spork work? ;) And thanks!