Gran Torino and The Wolverine: Fight at First Blush

Spider-Man, Captain Britain, and all associated characters, are property of Marvel. My Hero Academia and all related characters are property of Kohei Horikoshi

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"You're making a lot of waves, Gran." Hinata Sera said, offering the man a cup of sake.

"'Waves'." Gran scoffed, downing the drink in one gulp. "Is that your kind way of saying I'm not doing shit?"

Hinata sent him a flat look. "…I realize we're working towards a greater goal, but you can stand to take pride in what you've achieved thus far."

"Not happening." Gran replied. He couldn't rest. Toshinori was counting on him. "Is that the only reason you called me out here?"

"No. Give me a little credit," the man said, offended. He opened one of his desk drawers, pulling out a file. "What do you know about…Logan Howlett—otherwise known as the American Vigilante 'The Wolverine'—affiliate of the X-Men?"

Gran narrowed his eyes. Toshinori had talked about them a couple times, but Gran didn't really care. Until the Wolverine got really cozy with the Yakuza. "…I know that he dropped off the map after his wife was killed."

"Fiancé." Hinata gently corrected him. "Yashida Mariko was killed before they were officially wed." A bit of Gran's anger faded at that. Regardless of his personal beliefs, that was something no one should have to go through. "And he's reappeared—or maybe he never left." Hinata pushed the file across the desk.

Gran opened it. He blanched at the first photograph—a hostess club covered in blood and gore. The report attached to the picture colorfully described the scene as 'the inside of a blender'. There were half-a-dozen more cases like it—another Hostess Club, a bar, a doctor's office, a warehouse, a restaurant, and the headquarters of a construction company—each just as, if not more, grisly. Spread out all over the country.

It didn't take a genius to know who was responsible for all this.

But there was something else—about the locations. Gran reread a couple reports, until it all pieced together. He looked up sharply. "These are all Yakuza fronts." A couple of them belonged to clans that he'd been keeping an eye on but had gone dark over the last couple weeks. He'd originally assumed that was a conscious effort to lower their profiles (and he may have stroked his own ego by believing he was the root cause of such things), but now…

"Yes," Hinata nodded. "And these are just the ones that we've heard about. I'm certain that there's many, many more."

Gran clicked his tongue, turning back to the reports. He wasn't a fan of such…excessive violence and gore, but any blow against the Yakuza, and All for One, was a good one. He was a bit annoyed that he needed it so blatantly told to him though—maybe he did need to take a break if such events slipped by him.

He dropped the file on Hinata's desk, leaning back in his seat. "Guess you're gonna tell me to lay low for a bit?"

"On the contrary"—Hinata held up a finger—"I think now's the perfect opportunity to strike even harder."

Gran was mature enough to admit that he outright goggled at his friend. "You what?"

Hinata tried, but he couldn't keep the excitement out of his eyes. "Gran, this case—these murders—wasn't formed by the police, or even the HPSC. It was given to us."

Gran took a sharp breath. "You mean…directly by the Yakuza?"

Hinata nodded fervently. "They're panicking, Gran. Afraid! Want every available resource focusing on the Wolverine because he's slaughtering them left and right!"

"Leaving gaps in their security," Gran concluded, tapping his chin. "Any idea which Pros are being assigned to this?"

"Iida Tendou, and his daughter, Iida Tenshi, and Todoroki Enji are the more prominent ones."

Gran chuckled; the European obsessed dorks and Sunfire's lapdog. The former were so 'chivalric' they could be led by the nose by anyone with a slightly higher social standing, and the latter, from what Gran knew, was a young punk begging for an excuse to prove himself. He then frowned, "Wait…what about Sunfire himself? I'd imagine he'd want to lead the charge against an American."

Hinata hummed, lips shifting into a thin line. "…You didn't hear it from me, but various doctors have been rotating in-and-out of Sunfire's residence. Besides, the Wolverine's Canadian."

"Any Westerner, then," Gran replied offhandedly. Sunfire was sick? Gran didn't like the man—well, no one did—but he was an effective Hero. An efficient deterrent for even the foolhardiest criminal. Even All for One didn't mess with Sunfire when he was suitably motivated (He'd once asked Nana why they never sought him out for help. She'd just gain a shifty look in her eyes and spout some nonsense about old grudges).

If Sunfire were to die from some disease…Well, it wasn't really his problem at the moment.

Gran slid the file back over, rolling his shoulders. "There has been this one office building in Shibuya that I've been wanting to look into."

"Now's the perfect time to strike," Hinata said. "But still, be careful. Just because they're focusing the majority of their resources on the Wolverine doesn't mean you can get reckless."

Gran resisted the urge to scowl—he wasn't some doe-eyed zygote looking to prove himself. He had something greater than himself he needed to accomplish. Regardless, he rose from his seat, bowing his head. "Thanks for the info. And watch your back too—can't imagine this information is freely available to anyone who asks." Not that Hinata needed the warning—there were very few people out there that knew about All for One and weren't in his pocket. Those few could take care of themselves.

Indeed, the weary stare in Hinata's eyes told Gran all he needed to know.

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Gran pinched the bridge of his nose as a pair of thugs were dragged into a police car. He supposed it was too much to hope that every lowlife would stay hidden under their rocks when even the Yakuza were getting nervous. Where were the other Pros when you needed them?

He would have just ignored the punks, but he couldn't shake the image of Toshinori's disappointed, sad stare. Damn brat had gotten even worse about that sort of thing ever since he started hanging out with Spider-Man, Captain Britain, and whatever other crazies hung around New York (but Toshinori was happy again, so…it wasn't that bad).

Taking a deep breath, Gran rocketed into the sky, scanning the rooftops. The building was a block south from the 109 building…there! He angled downward, zooming forward with gravity's pull. He landed on the rooftop without a sound, carefully making his way towards the roof entrance. The door was locked, but a swift, full-breath charge slammed it open easily enough. (Nana had always complained when he'd do that—said it lacked 'subtlety'. But the woman couldn't go anywhere without spewing out a miniature tornado, so what did she know?).

He made it down one floor before a pit formed in his stomach. Nothing was outwardly wrong, but years of experience and pure instinct told him something was up. So, he wasn't all that surprised when, two floors down, he started smelling blood, piss, and shit. So much of all three that he had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from gagging.

And he had a sinking suspicion as to the source of it all.

Indeed, another floor down, he started to hear it. The sound of something sharp—multiple somethings, actually—stabbing into flesh.

He followed the noise, and eventually, the large, oozing pool of blood, to the source. A room, the door mostly closed, a bit of light peeking through the opening.

When he peered his head through, he wasn't entirely surprised to see the Wolverine, back to him, hunched over a corpse—one of dozens lying in pieces in the blood-soaked room—stabbing it repeatedly.

Gran bit back a groan—when the hell did the Wolverine leave Nagano? This fucked things up, beyond the fact that the Vigilante/Criminal had killed literally everyone Gran could have interrogated.

Gran was prepared to leave—regroup and potentially capture the Wolverine with a substantial amount of backup (Gran was good, but he wasn't stupid). Only for the Wolverine to pause his desecration of the dead. The Wolverine leaned back, tilting his head up and sniffing the air. Gran bit back a curse when the man whirled his head around, face twisted in a snarl, eyes alight with manic rage.

With surprising speed, the Wolverine leapt from his position with a roar, claws outstretched to skewer Gran. Gran ducked beneath the savage swing, a quick twist and huff of air sending him soaring underneath the Vigilante. He grimaced as he slid in the large pool of blood, flipping up and perching on a desk. It was also covered in blood, but there was less chance for it to seep up his boots.

The Wolverine let loose a harsh bellow, slashing through the door and sprinting towards Gran. He took a breath before blasting to the ceiling, bouncing off it and onto the walls. The Wolverine stopped at the center of the room, spinning around to try and track Gran. Not that he had the chance, when Gran shot off from the southern wall and slammed his heel onto the Wolverine's skull.

And almost immediately fell onto his ass with a yelp. Still, Gran was a professional, and quickly shot away. But he was unable to avoid the swipe at his leg, three claws cutting into his leg.

"Fuck." Gran cursed at his throbbing foot. It felt like he tried to crush a steel beam. And the bleeding wound above it wasn't helping anything. The snarl on the Wolverine's face gained an amused tinge as he rushed forward once more. Gran blasted away, spraying blood up to disorient the Wolverine. He did close his eyes, but the Vigilante's swings were still too close for comfort.

He took the precious seconds it took the Vigilante to clean his face to really look him over. He didn't like what he saw—aside from the blood stains, the Wolverine didn't have a mark on him. And he wasn't anywhere close to tired.

A tremor ran though Gran's spine—he…he wasn't sure he could win this one. The Wolverine was made of different stuff than the usual brand of punks and lowlifes he knocked silly. But as quickly as the thought entered his head, he tore it to shreds. He couldn't die here. He wouldn't die here. Not while All for One still lived, while Toshinori was still in danger.

The Vigilante focused back on him, a harsh roar blasting past his lips. Gran just sneered in response.

When the Wolverine was within spitting distance, claws reared back to skewer him, Gran braced himself against the floor, lifting his feet up and blasting the Wolverine in the face. The man may have an astonishingly thick skull but getting a face full of carbon dioxide would ruin anyone's day.

The Wolverine let loose a growl, stepping back and clawing at the air. Still, he regained his bearing faster than Gran would have liked, sheathing one set of claws, and holding his head. When he removed it, however, instead of the wild fury from before, he just looked wary, if tired.

"Wait," the Wolverine said, narrowing his eyes at Gran. "I…I know you."

"So, you can speak," Gran drawled, hovering in the air, fists raised.

The Wolverine continued as if Gran hasn't said anything. "You're…You're one of the good ones."

Gran paused. "…I'm what?"

The Wolverine sheathed his remaining claws, fixing Gran with a hard stare. "One of Japan's so-called Heroes that both isn't on the Yakuza's dime, and actively fighting against them."

Gran scowled (though the compliment did feed his ego). "A lot of your old friends bitch about me, huh?"

The Wolverine scowled, "None of us were friends!"

Gran scanned the corpses strewn about the room. "Maybe not these poor fools, but you did almost marry a clan heiress."

The Wolverine's rage simmered down a touch. He swallowed thickly. "Mariko…she didn't want anything to do with that part of her family. Planned to cut ties with the Yakuza entirely, once we were able." Gran's brows knitted together—she had, had she? Maybe Yashida Mariko was killed for reasons beyond falling in love with a foreigner.

"So," the Wolverine crossed his arms, "is this the part where you try and arrest me?"

Gran knew that he should—the Wolverine had killed a lot of people, regardless of their criminal affiliation. But…in hindsight, he'd also been making Gran's task a lot easier, macabre and depressing a thought as it was. The Wolverine was probably more useful outside a set of bars than in them. Gran pointedly ignored the voice in his head screaming at him for even entertaining such a…Vigilante notion. However, against All for One, all bets were off (he could imagine Nana staring at him disappointedly. But she was dead, stuck at the bottom of the ocean beneath the remains of a no-name island. He couldn't afford to slowly plod along like they had in the beginning, not if Toshinori had any chance of survival).

Gran sighed, rubbing his temples as he fully took in the corpses strew about the room. "Did you have to kill everyone?"

The scowl on the Vigilante's face returned with a vengeance. "Only the ones dumb enough to get in my way." He turned to the most destroyed corpse, spitting on it. "The only one I wanted to kill was him!"

"Dare I ask why?"

All at once, the Wolverine's face fell, a deep, heavy sorrow threatening to swallow him whole. "…He was there."

Gran's mood dropped along with the Vigilante's. He took a deep breath, jerking his head towards the door. "Just…leave. I got more important shit to deal with than you."

The Wolverine narrowed his eyes at Gran, walking towards the door. But just as he entered the threshold, he stilled, claws popping out. He whirled around, a snarl back on his face. "Mind telling me why I'm hearing a sports car speeding this way?"

Gran arched a brow, before clicking his tongue. "Captiosus!"

"…The renaissance freak?"

"Don't know how the hell he knows you're here," Gran said. He gulped, "…Unless—"

"They're not on the take—that family's as annoying as you, I'd heard," the Wolverine said, cutting off Gran's horrifying thoughts. "The only ones here with something resembling a brain turned tail the second I popped my claws. Still, I'd have expected a hit squad over what passes for a Hero in this country."

Gran grunted, relieved. The Iida family presented themselves as noble and altruistic; how genuine they were was up for debate, but at least they weren't in the Yakuza's pocket. He nodded at the Wolverine. "Haven't you heard? You've become so big a problem that the Yakuza are willing to let the Pros do their dirty work—well, directly do their dirty work."

"Won't do them any good." The Wolverine growled, glaring down at his silver claws. He sheathed them with a grunt, sending Gran a smirk and a lazy salute. "Nice tussle—been a while since I've met someone that doesn't eat it in the first three seconds."

Gran rolled his eyes, "Get the hell out of my sight." But before the Wolverine left the room, Gran said, "I busted down the roof entrance." The Wolverine didn't reply, but his footsteps rose higher and higher before finally fading away.

Gran sighed, running a hand through his hair—only to grimace when blood dripped down his face. He hoped this wouldn't bite him in the ass. He winced as the adrenaline slowly started to leave his system, the various cuts across his body throbbing incessantly. He lifted a boot, groaning as blood dripped down it; he really hoped he didn't get some sort of infection.

Shaking himself free of the errant worry, he walked over to the one still standing filing cabinets (the others having been slashed to bits). The first three drawers didn't have anything useful, but the fourth held a small folder, in which were pictures. Pictures of Gran. Nothing of him in his private life—or with Toshinori, thank god—but of him in action, staking out the current building.

Damn, he owed the Wolverine, didn't he? No, wait, he let the Vigilante go. They were even.

Finally, Gran heard Captiousus's engines roaring from outside, and steadily getting closer. He quickly scanned through the rest of the file, stuffing anything incriminating in his belt. He knocked the cabinet over just as the sound of roaring engines rose to a fever pitch, before coming to a sudden stop.

Captiosus, in all his armored glory, slid to a stop in front of the door. "Halt your evildoing you vile—holy shit!" The man jerked back, his eyes widening to almost comical proportions behind his helmet.

"You're a little late," Gran drawled, walking past him and patting his shoulder.

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A/N: Toshinori didn't get all the fun while he was abroad.