To Vammy, Kikoken, and CMK TacTican, who continue to give me useful advise
and criticism, thank you. To those who thought Magneto went down too
easily in the last chapter, remember this lesson, one that I learned when I
was studying martial arts.
"All the power in the world won't help you if you can't hit your target."
Magneto is powerful, no doubt about that. But he can't be tossing metal around if his concentration is on getting Bison's vise-like hand off his neck.
Thanks for your comments, I hope you continue to enjoy the story.
**************************************************************
Charles Xavier watched as the children played outside. Piotr Rasputin, Peter, Charles reminded himself, was sitting out there as well, sharing a beer with Logan. He was glad that Logan had decided to stay here at the school and help teach the children. Although Charles didn't completely approve of Logan's methods, many of the children thought his survival classes were awesome. That wouldn't have been Xavier's word choice, but the children enjoyed the classes.
Weekend hikes with nothing but a survival knife and a thermos of water had appealed to their youthful sense of adventure, while they learned important skills. Logan had also asked for the children to learn how to fight, self- defense was how he'd phrased it, but Logan thought differently. The X-Men had been in two significant battles thus far, and in both cases, Logan had fought a skilled enemy. After each fight Logan had begun to realize he remembered more fighting skills. At this point he was a proficient martial artist.
But Charles had flatly denied him. The children should concentrate on learning to use their abilities to benefit other people. If mutants did what was right, then mankind should come to accept mutants and there is no need for fighting.
But will people really come around to mutants? Isn't it all really hopeless?
Charles had no idea where that thought came from. Of course it wasn't hopeless. Ever since his powers had awakened he'd dedicated his life to bringing peace between humans and mutants. Humans would accept mutants in time.
But what if they didn't? Humans fear what they don't understand. What if they fear mutants for all time?
They won't, Charles insisted to himself.
But there are many who don't even accept homosexuals, or people with a different color skin yet. Isn't it possible they'll never accept mutants?
That's impossible. Humans will accept things, eventually.
But isn't it possible they won't?
Charles sighed. His eyes became sad as he looked out at the children playing basketball, or those trying to pull Peter and Logan away from their beers for rides on the men's shoulders.
Yes, it's possible.
************************************************
As a jet with the Shadowlaw insignia sped across the United States, Bison, lord of Shadowlaw, smiled darkly.
************************************************
"Logan, you and Scott have to come to some kind of truce," insisted Jean Grey.
She and Logan stood inside one of the mansion's exercise rooms. Logan had found a martial arts uniform somewhere, but he only wore the pants and the black belt, preferring to go shirtless. The hatred between the two men had threatened to spill out into the open again over dinner. Jean knew that Scott had gone to the Professor to protest Logan's survival lessons, thinking they were far too harsh for the children. But Logan had a different teaching philosophy; toss them out into a situation and then see how they do. If they do well, great and work can be done to emphasize their strengths. If they don't do well, then he would work to fix their weaknesses. Scott's style of teaching was far more cautious, but neither was less valid than the other.
But Jean knew that the hatred between the two men wasn't over teaching the children. It was about her. But Jean had chosen Scott; Logan knew that. He just couldn't completely accept it. And Jean couldn't totally forget about him romantically. Which was making things difficult for all three of them.
"Please, Logan," she pleaded, "make some kind of truce with Scott. For me."
Logan sighed and took a hard swing at the punching bag, puncturing it. "Okay Jean. I'll do it."
"Thank you, Logan."
************************************************
After showing and getting dressed, it took Logan a while to find Summers, but he eventually found him in the garage, working on one of his sports cars.
"You know, Jean must love it when you come back to the room trailing grease behind you," commented Logan as he tossed Scott a towel.
"Well I usually do my best to clean myself up before I see her," came the retort.
Logan shifted on his feet. "Listen, Cyke, I don't like you, and you sure as hell don't like me. We know that we're both in love with the same woman. Now you think I'm gruff, shiftless, and I don't care about anyone. Well, until recently you would have been right, but I'm gonna tell you something you can't ever repeat. Because the truth is, I've really come to care about these kids, and this school. You and I think these kids need to learn different things, but we agree they have to learn."
Summers nodded reluctantly.
"Good, because I think you need to relax. And so, I will take you, kicking and screaming if I have to, to a bar I know, and the two of us are gonna get good and drunk."
Logan walked up to Scott and slapped him on the shoulder hard enough to make Scott almost lose his balance. But Summers smiled tightly. He'd show Logan how to hold his liquor.
************************************************
The tavern that Logan led the two of them to was in the nearby town of Westchester. It was clean and bright, for a bar, at least. And the company seemed somewhat agreeable. No one questioned Scott's glasses or gave Logan a second look. Much of the furniture looked too new. Scott was certain Logan had been here before. The two men sat in an uneasy silence for a few minutes.
Their attention was quickly drawn to the door upon the entrance of two men. One was Asian, tall, powerfully built, and handsome, dressed in a black kung fu uniform. The other man was white with shoulder-length blond hair. He looked like a California surfer, but he looked far too comfortable in his Armani suit.
"You can't imagine how surprised I was when I saw your trailer out there!" said the blond man, laughing.
"Well how do you think I felt?" asked the Asian man, who looked like he was Chinese, "Last I heard you lived out in Seattle, so what are you doing in New York?"
"Hey, you forget I'm one of the richest men alive. You think I can avoid coming to this god-forsaken city? Heck, just being in this state makes me feel soiled!"
The two men shared a laugh as they each grabbed a beer from the bartender and took the table next to Scott and Logan. Both of the newcomers nodded their heads in greeting to Logan and Scott as they sat down.
Everything progressed quite peacefully for another ten minutes or so when one of the patrons cried "Hey Rog, turn the news up there!"
The news report filled the room. "The government has recently formed a new task force for the military and law enforcement agencies with representatives from around the globe to investigate the possible threat of mutants. The task force is headed by Air Force Colonel William Guile, a decorated officer."
Logan noticed that the two men next to him quickly looked at each other.
"The goal of this force is to determine whether or not mutants pose a threat to humanity. They will develop methods to detect, contain, and apprehend mutants. Later this year, Colonel Guile will be expected to report to Congress on his group's preliminary findings. Such a report could lead to the discussion of past mutant issues, such as the controversial Mutant Registration Act that was sponsored by Senator Robert Kelly, but narrowly defeated last year."
"That's it, get all those muties and get 'em away from here!" commented one of the men on the other side of the bar.
"Hey, if there's anything against mutants, Guile is the guy to find it," commented the blond man, "and if there's nothing against mutants."
"You got a problem with mutants, bub?" growled Logan. The man turned to him.
"I was only saying that Guile is the man for a job such as this," said the stranger, standing up.
"Ken," said his Chinese friend, "don't do it. This punk isn't worth it."
Logan stood up quickly. "Who you calling a punk, bub?"
The blond man, Ken, had a cocky grin on his face. "What do you think, Fei Long? You up for a brawl?"
"Are you kidding, Masters? I've been dying for a fight all week."
Fei Long stood up, cracking his neck and shoulders as he did so.
"Logan, gentlemen," said Scott warningly as he got to his feet, "this is not the time or place for a brawl. Logan, let's go somewhere else, where the company is better."
"Not until this wimp admits that a mutant can take him to the ground."
Ken laughed. "Man, don't you recognize me? I'm Ken Masters, the best fighter in the world!"
"Yeah? Well I'm Logan, and I'm the best at what I do!"
At that moment, Logan's claws popped out from between his knuckles, the admantium glinting under the bar's lighting. Ken's and Fei's eyes widened in surprise.
"Hey, that's a neat trick," commented Fei Long.
"You ain't seen nothin' yet," came Logan's response.
"DIE MUTIE!"
Logan turned just enough to see one of the patrons swing a chair at his head. The chair shattered as it crashed into Logan's admantium-reinforced skull. But there was still enough force to send him to the ground.
"Wa-chaa!"
Fei Long's first kick destroyed what was left of the chair, then his roundhouse kick connected with the attacker's stomach, causing him to double over in pain. Fei's backfist connected with the bridge of the nose, sending the man to the ground.
"We were brawling here, do you mind?"
Scott saw several of the man's friends grab other improvised weapons and begin to attack. There was no time for subtle niceties. He lifted his glasses a fraction above his eyes. Crimson energy lanced out, shattering the chair one of them held. The next blast knocked him back several feet. People screamed and began running for the exits.
Two men charged Ken and another attacked Scott. Ken took out both with ease, surprising Scott to no end. But a punch and a roundhouse kick later and he'd dealt with his own attacker.
Logan and Fei Long had faced off with each other. Logan attacked with wide punches and kicks, while Fei kept his movements tighter and faster. Logan backed up a step to ready another attack, but Fei Long beat him to it. The Chinese fighter rushed in with a punch, catching Logan in the chin. The second blow landed in his stomach, and the third struck just below the neck with enough force to knock Logan down. But he was up again in an instant. His return punch landed in Fei Long's stomach, admantium knuckles delivering a heavy blow. Fei backed off a few steps, having gotten the wind knocked out of him.
"Whew, you have a hell of a punch," complimented Fei.
Logan grinned. "And you're not bad for an actor."
Fei Long's smile widened. "Aha! So you did recognize me. I knew even in this backwards neighborhood I'd be recognized. You ready for round two?"
"Who said round one was over, bub?"
At that moment, the four men heard sirens. Ken groaned. "Aw man. Cops. This is gonna mean some serious graft to make sure Eliza doesn't hear about this one."
"Logan, we have to go," said Scott.
Fei Long and Logan both stood straighter, getting out of their fighting stances. "Another time," said Logan.
"I look forward to our second round, my mutant friend," agreed Fei.
Logan grinned and nodded, then he and Scott raced for the car and sped off towards the mansion before the police arrived.
Ken and Fei Long stayed however, finishing off a few more beers. "You know, those were the first mutants I've ever met," commented Ken.
"Yeah, same here," agreed Fei, "but they weren't bad."
Ken shook his head. "Nope. They were pretty decent guys. Well, how about a toast to Guile not finding anything against mutants like those two gents."
"Here here."
***************************************************
Central India was hot, dry, and sparsely inhabited. But there was one village that sat off a tributary of the Ganges. It was mostly unremarkable; the same as countless other small, poor villages within the country. But there was one thing that made the village unique. In the center of the main home square, there stood a ziggurat. Twenty feet across at its base and nearly the same high, it was a nexus of powerful energy.
At its summit, a man sat in a meditative pose. He was thin, almost skeletally so. He was bald, but covered in vibrant red tattoos. His eyes were closed in serene contemplation. His protégé stood on the step below, watching the master. Dhalsim had long brought peace and healing to the village, as was his charge.
Suddenly, his milky-white eyes opened. "Great evil is gathering strength. Changed humans will join this evil. A great leader will be overthrown in his own mind."
"Master Dhalsim, can this evil be defeated?"
"Yes, but only if all those who have the hearts of heroes unite. This evil cannot be contained by force alone. Only unity, balance, and sacrifice will prevail."
The rose to his feet slowly, languidly. The hot noonday sun beat down on him, but he took no notice of it. Slowly, he began to descend from the ziggurat.
"Master Dhalsim, where are you going?"
"Where I am needed most," said the monk simply. With less than a puff of wind and a whisper, he was gone.
***************************************************
Guy Hintao sat meditating on the slopes of Mount Fuji. His orange and black uniform stood out against the grey and white of the stone and snow. The cold wind bit into his skin like knife wounds. He focused on nothing but the cold pain, and then transcended it. He let his mind wander. An indefinite time later, his thoughts drifted to street fighting and those whom he'd met in his journeys. He knew of the evil of M. Bison, and his responsibility as heir of the Bushin style to defeat this terror.
In the moments when Guy examined himself, he realized that he felt the honor of the fights against the evil of Bison and his Shadowlaw organization had been taken by Ryu Hoshi. Though he knew such thoughts were of no matter on the grand scale of destroying evil, Guy still wished he could have faced Bison himself. But Guy knew Ryu, as an ally, and as a friend. Guy knew he was an honorable man who sought, in his own way, to protect the weak and defeat evil. He was perhaps not as zealous as Guy, but that might be why he had often succeeded in place of the ninja.
Suddenly, the air turned chill. The cold wind took on a sinister pall that affected the Bushin warrior down to his bones. The chill of true evil.
Guy shuddered. Bison's evil felt like this, but not so intense. Something was different about it. Something had happened that had made this evil worse. Guy knew instantly that there would be no way he could fight this evil himself; he would need help. The one person who could stir jealousy in the ninja's heart was the one person he knew he would need help from: Ryu. He was also possibly one of the few who would believe his fears. Guy rose to his feet and began the trek down the mountain. He knew Ryu had returned to Japan. It was only a matter of finding him.
"All the power in the world won't help you if you can't hit your target."
Magneto is powerful, no doubt about that. But he can't be tossing metal around if his concentration is on getting Bison's vise-like hand off his neck.
Thanks for your comments, I hope you continue to enjoy the story.
**************************************************************
Charles Xavier watched as the children played outside. Piotr Rasputin, Peter, Charles reminded himself, was sitting out there as well, sharing a beer with Logan. He was glad that Logan had decided to stay here at the school and help teach the children. Although Charles didn't completely approve of Logan's methods, many of the children thought his survival classes were awesome. That wouldn't have been Xavier's word choice, but the children enjoyed the classes.
Weekend hikes with nothing but a survival knife and a thermos of water had appealed to their youthful sense of adventure, while they learned important skills. Logan had also asked for the children to learn how to fight, self- defense was how he'd phrased it, but Logan thought differently. The X-Men had been in two significant battles thus far, and in both cases, Logan had fought a skilled enemy. After each fight Logan had begun to realize he remembered more fighting skills. At this point he was a proficient martial artist.
But Charles had flatly denied him. The children should concentrate on learning to use their abilities to benefit other people. If mutants did what was right, then mankind should come to accept mutants and there is no need for fighting.
But will people really come around to mutants? Isn't it all really hopeless?
Charles had no idea where that thought came from. Of course it wasn't hopeless. Ever since his powers had awakened he'd dedicated his life to bringing peace between humans and mutants. Humans would accept mutants in time.
But what if they didn't? Humans fear what they don't understand. What if they fear mutants for all time?
They won't, Charles insisted to himself.
But there are many who don't even accept homosexuals, or people with a different color skin yet. Isn't it possible they'll never accept mutants?
That's impossible. Humans will accept things, eventually.
But isn't it possible they won't?
Charles sighed. His eyes became sad as he looked out at the children playing basketball, or those trying to pull Peter and Logan away from their beers for rides on the men's shoulders.
Yes, it's possible.
************************************************
As a jet with the Shadowlaw insignia sped across the United States, Bison, lord of Shadowlaw, smiled darkly.
************************************************
"Logan, you and Scott have to come to some kind of truce," insisted Jean Grey.
She and Logan stood inside one of the mansion's exercise rooms. Logan had found a martial arts uniform somewhere, but he only wore the pants and the black belt, preferring to go shirtless. The hatred between the two men had threatened to spill out into the open again over dinner. Jean knew that Scott had gone to the Professor to protest Logan's survival lessons, thinking they were far too harsh for the children. But Logan had a different teaching philosophy; toss them out into a situation and then see how they do. If they do well, great and work can be done to emphasize their strengths. If they don't do well, then he would work to fix their weaknesses. Scott's style of teaching was far more cautious, but neither was less valid than the other.
But Jean knew that the hatred between the two men wasn't over teaching the children. It was about her. But Jean had chosen Scott; Logan knew that. He just couldn't completely accept it. And Jean couldn't totally forget about him romantically. Which was making things difficult for all three of them.
"Please, Logan," she pleaded, "make some kind of truce with Scott. For me."
Logan sighed and took a hard swing at the punching bag, puncturing it. "Okay Jean. I'll do it."
"Thank you, Logan."
************************************************
After showing and getting dressed, it took Logan a while to find Summers, but he eventually found him in the garage, working on one of his sports cars.
"You know, Jean must love it when you come back to the room trailing grease behind you," commented Logan as he tossed Scott a towel.
"Well I usually do my best to clean myself up before I see her," came the retort.
Logan shifted on his feet. "Listen, Cyke, I don't like you, and you sure as hell don't like me. We know that we're both in love with the same woman. Now you think I'm gruff, shiftless, and I don't care about anyone. Well, until recently you would have been right, but I'm gonna tell you something you can't ever repeat. Because the truth is, I've really come to care about these kids, and this school. You and I think these kids need to learn different things, but we agree they have to learn."
Summers nodded reluctantly.
"Good, because I think you need to relax. And so, I will take you, kicking and screaming if I have to, to a bar I know, and the two of us are gonna get good and drunk."
Logan walked up to Scott and slapped him on the shoulder hard enough to make Scott almost lose his balance. But Summers smiled tightly. He'd show Logan how to hold his liquor.
************************************************
The tavern that Logan led the two of them to was in the nearby town of Westchester. It was clean and bright, for a bar, at least. And the company seemed somewhat agreeable. No one questioned Scott's glasses or gave Logan a second look. Much of the furniture looked too new. Scott was certain Logan had been here before. The two men sat in an uneasy silence for a few minutes.
Their attention was quickly drawn to the door upon the entrance of two men. One was Asian, tall, powerfully built, and handsome, dressed in a black kung fu uniform. The other man was white with shoulder-length blond hair. He looked like a California surfer, but he looked far too comfortable in his Armani suit.
"You can't imagine how surprised I was when I saw your trailer out there!" said the blond man, laughing.
"Well how do you think I felt?" asked the Asian man, who looked like he was Chinese, "Last I heard you lived out in Seattle, so what are you doing in New York?"
"Hey, you forget I'm one of the richest men alive. You think I can avoid coming to this god-forsaken city? Heck, just being in this state makes me feel soiled!"
The two men shared a laugh as they each grabbed a beer from the bartender and took the table next to Scott and Logan. Both of the newcomers nodded their heads in greeting to Logan and Scott as they sat down.
Everything progressed quite peacefully for another ten minutes or so when one of the patrons cried "Hey Rog, turn the news up there!"
The news report filled the room. "The government has recently formed a new task force for the military and law enforcement agencies with representatives from around the globe to investigate the possible threat of mutants. The task force is headed by Air Force Colonel William Guile, a decorated officer."
Logan noticed that the two men next to him quickly looked at each other.
"The goal of this force is to determine whether or not mutants pose a threat to humanity. They will develop methods to detect, contain, and apprehend mutants. Later this year, Colonel Guile will be expected to report to Congress on his group's preliminary findings. Such a report could lead to the discussion of past mutant issues, such as the controversial Mutant Registration Act that was sponsored by Senator Robert Kelly, but narrowly defeated last year."
"That's it, get all those muties and get 'em away from here!" commented one of the men on the other side of the bar.
"Hey, if there's anything against mutants, Guile is the guy to find it," commented the blond man, "and if there's nothing against mutants."
"You got a problem with mutants, bub?" growled Logan. The man turned to him.
"I was only saying that Guile is the man for a job such as this," said the stranger, standing up.
"Ken," said his Chinese friend, "don't do it. This punk isn't worth it."
Logan stood up quickly. "Who you calling a punk, bub?"
The blond man, Ken, had a cocky grin on his face. "What do you think, Fei Long? You up for a brawl?"
"Are you kidding, Masters? I've been dying for a fight all week."
Fei Long stood up, cracking his neck and shoulders as he did so.
"Logan, gentlemen," said Scott warningly as he got to his feet, "this is not the time or place for a brawl. Logan, let's go somewhere else, where the company is better."
"Not until this wimp admits that a mutant can take him to the ground."
Ken laughed. "Man, don't you recognize me? I'm Ken Masters, the best fighter in the world!"
"Yeah? Well I'm Logan, and I'm the best at what I do!"
At that moment, Logan's claws popped out from between his knuckles, the admantium glinting under the bar's lighting. Ken's and Fei's eyes widened in surprise.
"Hey, that's a neat trick," commented Fei Long.
"You ain't seen nothin' yet," came Logan's response.
"DIE MUTIE!"
Logan turned just enough to see one of the patrons swing a chair at his head. The chair shattered as it crashed into Logan's admantium-reinforced skull. But there was still enough force to send him to the ground.
"Wa-chaa!"
Fei Long's first kick destroyed what was left of the chair, then his roundhouse kick connected with the attacker's stomach, causing him to double over in pain. Fei's backfist connected with the bridge of the nose, sending the man to the ground.
"We were brawling here, do you mind?"
Scott saw several of the man's friends grab other improvised weapons and begin to attack. There was no time for subtle niceties. He lifted his glasses a fraction above his eyes. Crimson energy lanced out, shattering the chair one of them held. The next blast knocked him back several feet. People screamed and began running for the exits.
Two men charged Ken and another attacked Scott. Ken took out both with ease, surprising Scott to no end. But a punch and a roundhouse kick later and he'd dealt with his own attacker.
Logan and Fei Long had faced off with each other. Logan attacked with wide punches and kicks, while Fei kept his movements tighter and faster. Logan backed up a step to ready another attack, but Fei Long beat him to it. The Chinese fighter rushed in with a punch, catching Logan in the chin. The second blow landed in his stomach, and the third struck just below the neck with enough force to knock Logan down. But he was up again in an instant. His return punch landed in Fei Long's stomach, admantium knuckles delivering a heavy blow. Fei backed off a few steps, having gotten the wind knocked out of him.
"Whew, you have a hell of a punch," complimented Fei.
Logan grinned. "And you're not bad for an actor."
Fei Long's smile widened. "Aha! So you did recognize me. I knew even in this backwards neighborhood I'd be recognized. You ready for round two?"
"Who said round one was over, bub?"
At that moment, the four men heard sirens. Ken groaned. "Aw man. Cops. This is gonna mean some serious graft to make sure Eliza doesn't hear about this one."
"Logan, we have to go," said Scott.
Fei Long and Logan both stood straighter, getting out of their fighting stances. "Another time," said Logan.
"I look forward to our second round, my mutant friend," agreed Fei.
Logan grinned and nodded, then he and Scott raced for the car and sped off towards the mansion before the police arrived.
Ken and Fei Long stayed however, finishing off a few more beers. "You know, those were the first mutants I've ever met," commented Ken.
"Yeah, same here," agreed Fei, "but they weren't bad."
Ken shook his head. "Nope. They were pretty decent guys. Well, how about a toast to Guile not finding anything against mutants like those two gents."
"Here here."
***************************************************
Central India was hot, dry, and sparsely inhabited. But there was one village that sat off a tributary of the Ganges. It was mostly unremarkable; the same as countless other small, poor villages within the country. But there was one thing that made the village unique. In the center of the main home square, there stood a ziggurat. Twenty feet across at its base and nearly the same high, it was a nexus of powerful energy.
At its summit, a man sat in a meditative pose. He was thin, almost skeletally so. He was bald, but covered in vibrant red tattoos. His eyes were closed in serene contemplation. His protégé stood on the step below, watching the master. Dhalsim had long brought peace and healing to the village, as was his charge.
Suddenly, his milky-white eyes opened. "Great evil is gathering strength. Changed humans will join this evil. A great leader will be overthrown in his own mind."
"Master Dhalsim, can this evil be defeated?"
"Yes, but only if all those who have the hearts of heroes unite. This evil cannot be contained by force alone. Only unity, balance, and sacrifice will prevail."
The rose to his feet slowly, languidly. The hot noonday sun beat down on him, but he took no notice of it. Slowly, he began to descend from the ziggurat.
"Master Dhalsim, where are you going?"
"Where I am needed most," said the monk simply. With less than a puff of wind and a whisper, he was gone.
***************************************************
Guy Hintao sat meditating on the slopes of Mount Fuji. His orange and black uniform stood out against the grey and white of the stone and snow. The cold wind bit into his skin like knife wounds. He focused on nothing but the cold pain, and then transcended it. He let his mind wander. An indefinite time later, his thoughts drifted to street fighting and those whom he'd met in his journeys. He knew of the evil of M. Bison, and his responsibility as heir of the Bushin style to defeat this terror.
In the moments when Guy examined himself, he realized that he felt the honor of the fights against the evil of Bison and his Shadowlaw organization had been taken by Ryu Hoshi. Though he knew such thoughts were of no matter on the grand scale of destroying evil, Guy still wished he could have faced Bison himself. But Guy knew Ryu, as an ally, and as a friend. Guy knew he was an honorable man who sought, in his own way, to protect the weak and defeat evil. He was perhaps not as zealous as Guy, but that might be why he had often succeeded in place of the ninja.
Suddenly, the air turned chill. The cold wind took on a sinister pall that affected the Bushin warrior down to his bones. The chill of true evil.
Guy shuddered. Bison's evil felt like this, but not so intense. Something was different about it. Something had happened that had made this evil worse. Guy knew instantly that there would be no way he could fight this evil himself; he would need help. The one person who could stir jealousy in the ninja's heart was the one person he knew he would need help from: Ryu. He was also possibly one of the few who would believe his fears. Guy rose to his feet and began the trek down the mountain. He knew Ryu had returned to Japan. It was only a matter of finding him.