Gran Torino and The Wolverine: p.4

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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"Is he well enough for questioning now, doctor?"

"Like I've told you, repeatedly, I will inform you after I've checked him over."

"And I've told you that's he at the center of a very important investigation!"

"Detective, I understand your frustration, but—"

Gran rolled his eyes, tuning out the argument happening just outside his small, if private, room. The police had been prowling the hospital for days. Chomping at the bit to interrogate the Pro that had been 'tortured' by the Wolverine.

Fortunately, the head doctor had a heart, and kept them at bay while Gran recovered. Unfortunately, given how many healing abilities there were, that recovery only lasted three days. And no amount of griping and groaning could keep the police away any longer.

The doctor entered the room, smoothing out his hair and sending Gran a warm smile. "And how are you feeling today, sir?"

Gran sighed. "Well enough to be questioned by the police."

The doctor's smile shrank. "Yes, they're rather incessant today." He eyed Gran. "…You know, we need to change out your IV bag. It could take—"

"I appreciate it"—Gran cut the man off—"but I think this is one bandage I just need to tear off."

"Alright." The doctor sighed. "I'll give you a minute to get ready." Gran nodded, getting comfortable.

Right on the dot, the police burst into the room. Two of them, one, young, clean-faced, and eager, the other, old, bushy-bearded, and mellow. Gran managed not to roll his eyes at the cookie-cutter interrogation ploy.

The older held up a notepad. "Morning…Torino Sorahiko, otherwise known as the Jet Hero Gran Torino."

"Just call me Gran."

"Right." The cop held up his badge. "I'm Detective Sato." He gestured to the younger cop. "This is Detective Hayashi. We've been assigned to investigate the circumstances of your capture at the hands of the vigilante, The Wolverine."

Gran huffed. "And here I was thinking you'd be asking for autographs."

Detective Hayashi clicked his tongue. "Why would we ask for some small-timer's autograph?" Ah, they were coming out swinging, huh? If Gran were the kind of Pro that cared about his reputation, he might have gotten mad.

Detective Sato made a disapproving grunt. Detective Hayashi flinched, moving back a step with a surly expression. Sato stared at Hayashi for another few seconds, before sending Gran a weary smile.

Like Gran thought, cookie-cutter.

Sato rolled his shoulders, holding up his notepad and a pen. "So, what led to the Wolverine torturing you?"

Gran made to speak but paused as a terrible thought came to life in his mind. He wet his lips. "Neither of you are able to compel me to say or do anything, are you?"

Hayashi and Sato narrowed their eyes, the former saying, "Why? You have something to hide?"

Gran sniffed. "I just don't want to end up on a rooftop dancing in the nude."

The detectives winced. Sato said, "That…was a one-off incident, and the officer involved has been punished to the fullest extent of the law. And regardless"—he pulled aside his shirt collar, showing off three pairs of gills on either side of his neck—"this is my Quirk."

Hayashi waved a hand. "And I don't have any powers." Gran eyed the younger man. He appeared to be telling the truth, but the minute he felt something was wrong, Gran would throw his IV bag in their faces, knock their teeth out, and toss them out on their asses…Not necessarily in that order.

"Alright." Gran shifted on his bed. "I was at the docks when that warehouse blew up—got caught in the blast."

Sato scribbled into his notepad. "And what were you doing the down at the docks?"

"Looking for some thugs to beat up." Sato kept straight-faced, but Hayashi frowned. "What?" Gran arched a brow. "I've got quotas. Need to prove that I'm putting in the work."

Sato nodded. "And do you know what caused the explosion?"

Gran tilted his head down. "I mean, it had to have been caused by a Quirk or something. I saw the wreckage before passing out—there's no way something like a gas leak or some mixture of volatile materials could've done that much damage."

Hayashi crossed his arms. "Yeah, we've already ruled out some kind of industrial accident."

Gran rubbed his left side, tracing the slash marks Logan had left at his direction. "Since the Wolverine was obviously nearby, maybe look at it from that angle."

"We are," Sato replied, "which brings us to the meat of the issue." He fixed Gran with a glare. "You're the only person who's met the Wolverine twice and lived."

Gran shrugged. "Just lucky, I guess."

Hayashi huffed, eyeing Gran's bandaged body. "Astonishingly lucky. But of course, it does beg the question—"

"Why me?" Gran rolled his eyes. "Believe me, I've been asking myself the same thing, then and now." That wasn't even an evasive answer—Gran genuinely wondered what he did to get stuck in his current situation. Still, Gran owed the man a debt, and he'd see it paid even if it kill—well, no, not that. Toshinori still needed him. But Gran would help Logan out as best as he could. He focused back on the detectives. "But that first time in that building weeks ago was all luck, believe me."

Sato frowned, tapping his foot in time with Gran's heartbeat monitor. "And this time?"

"This time…" Gran clicked his tongue. "He wanted to know what caused the explosion."

Sato scribbled into his notepad. "And what did you tell him?"

"Nothing," Gran replied. "And after we got the polite conversation out of the way, he beat me up a bit."

"But he healed you, didn't he?" Sato arched a brow. "Why would he harm you again?"

"Well, I was caught in an explosion." Gran hummed. "Even if I was willing to answer his questions, it'd be easier to question a man that isn't, I assume, burned just shy of a crisp." Sato, and even Hayashi, nodded. "Then, well, he turned tail when we heard the sirens."

"And he didn't think to kill you before he ran?" Hayashi harrumphed.

Gran shrugged. "Well, if I'm being honest, there's really no reason to kill me." At Hayashi and Sato's flat stares, Gran replied, "I wasn't at his wedding-turned-mass funeral."

Hayashi flinched, looking away, lips thinning into a straight line. Sato just sighed deeply, the wrinkles on his face growing deeper. "Yes," Sato said, "I've heard there's a noticeable pattern in the Wolverine's rampage across the country. Still"—the man set his shoulders—"just because he was the victim of a tragedy doesn't mean we can let him tear through the country like a rabid animal."

Gran snorted. "Considering who he's going up against, can you really blame him?"

Hayashi jerked, facing Gran with a sneer. "Wha—you approve of him?!"

Gran chuckled, lips curling into a wry smirk. "You're just green all over, huh?"

Hayashi surged forward. Only to be pulled back by Sato just as he reached Gran's bed. "Calm down," the older man said. Hayashi didn't, but he did step back. Sato stared at him for a few moments, before turning back to Gran with a sympathetic frown. "I get where you're coming from—believe me—but c'mon, you're smarter than that."

"Yeah, yeah," Gran groused. He leveled Hayashi a glare. "And for the record. I don't 'approve' of what the Wolverine's doing. He's killed far too many people in his pursuit of revenge." But Gran deeply understood why Logan had been doing so and could respect it. "Are there any other pertinent questions you want to ask?

Sato flipped through his notepad. "…Not at the moment. When you're cleared to leave, I do want you to come down to the police station for another interview. Sometime next week, perhaps."

"Of course," Gran said with a roll of his eyes. "Nice talking with you."

Sato nodded, sending Gran a brief smile as he exited the room. Hayashi kept a scowl on his face, but he did bow lightly as he left. They were barely gone five seconds before the doctor entered the room, face pinched into a worried frown.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine." Gran rolled his neck. "Hey, is there a phone I can use?"

"Down the hall. You should be well enough to make the walk at the end of the day." Gran nodded. His legs were still the worst of all his injuries, what with the various stab wounds from Logan's metal claws. Logan had actually wanted to leave them alone, settling for some heavy bruising. But Gran rejected the idea. Anyone with even an inkling into Gran's mind would know that as long as he could use his legs, he could fight his way out of anything. The only way people would believe Logan could keep him grounded is if they were too injured to use. It was painful, but for the sake of pulling their ruse off, Gran could handle a little pain

Still, the sooner he started fulfilling his promise to Logan, the better.

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Gran poked at the bandages on his arms as he walked down the street. For some reason, most doctors refused to use abilities to heal IV and other various needle marks. Something about consequences, he supposed.

He entered the bar he'd told Logan about—a place with a western aesthetic called 'Lucky's'. It wasn't a popular place by any means, but it did have one thing that Gran planned to take advantage of. It was one of the handful of places that foreign, typically western, crime groups used to conduct their business. A place the Yakuza were aware of but left alone for the sake of international business. Suffice it to say, a well-placed bribe to the staff would ensure no one remembered Gran or Logan.

Gran grabbed a corner booth, ordering a bottle of brandy and two glasses. He quickly downed his first pour and shuddered as the liquor burned its way down his throat.

"Mind sharing?" Gran looked up and grunted at Logan's smirking face.

"By all means." Gran poured out two more drinks. Logan eagerly drank his share, pouring out another before Gran had a chance to drink his. Gran just stared down at his glass. When was the last time he'd shared a drink with someone? Not out of grief, like he'd done with Toshinori after Nana died, but just to enjoy time with a friend? Not since Nana, certainly.

Unbidden, he remembered one of the last conversations he'd had with Nana. Toshinori had started his internship with them, and when he graduated from U.A. and became a full-fledged Pro-Hero, Nana had said she wanted to open an old bottle of sake she'd gotten ages ago, but never had an excuse to open.

Now that Gran recalled, he recognized the bottle that Nana had shown him. Was it…did her husband buy it? Yes…Yes it was years ago, now. He'd confessed it was an impulse buy, the same brand of sake his own father had bought him years ago when he finally reached the legal drinking age. He planned on sharing it with his and Nana's son, Kotaro, when he finally grew up.

Of course, Nana's husband had died in the crossfire of a villain attack, and Nana gave Kotaro up for adoption soon after, cutting him out of her life for fear of his own. Gran supposed giving Toshinori the sake was a way to fulfill the intention of her late husband's wish.

And then she died too.

Gran downed his glass in one gulp, grabbed the bottle of brandy, and after a moment's thought, took a long swig from the bottle.

"Who died?"

Gran blinked, staring at Logan.

Logan shrugged, scratching his chin. "I recognize that look—seen it in the mirror more often than not. So"—Logan fixed Gran with a sympathetic frown—"who died?"

Gran considered the question. Admittedly, this wasn't the first time someone was able to eke out that Gran was still in mourning. But something was different about Logan. Maybe because he he'd also lost someone precious to him in a terrible way. To a monster in human skin.

Gran cleared his throat. "My partner."

"Platonic or romantic?"

Gran chopped the air in front of him. "Strictly platonic. She was happily married when we met and remained faithful as a widow."

"Until her death," Logan concluded.

Gran hung his head. "…Yeah." He poured Logan another glass and took another swig. At least, he tried to, but Logan grabbed the bottle out of his hands.

Logan grunted. "I'm all for drinking to forget the past. But before that, I think you have something for me?"

Gran nodded. "Right, right." He reached into his coat and pulled out a manilla folder. He slid it across the table. "What do you know about Goro Hinata?"

Logan opened the folder. "A drug-dealer associated with the Yashida clan. Small-time."

"A drug-dealer that dipped his toes into gunrunning. Just a few months before your"—Gran paused—"…before Mariko's death."

Logan's face pinched into a snarl, the skin above his knuckles pulsing. "Did he now?"

Gran chuckled. "He was actually running guns out of one of the warehouses at the dock where we last met." He shrugged. "I'm sure you would have found out if thing's hadn't gone sideways."

Logan leafed through the file. "I figured Goro had something to do with Mariko's murder. But in the beginning, when I was too angry to really think of anything besides gutting anyone that got in my way, I gave up on finding him after he went underground." Logan stopped, peering closer at his chosen page. "…You've gotta be—Onomichi? I was there at the beginning of the month!"

"And I'm sure Goro is counting his lucky stars that you didn't cross paths." Gran leaned forward, lips spread into a thin smile. "And taking much less care in hiding himself away."

"I bet he is." Logan's face relaxed a bit. His anger was still there, his eyes burning with rage. But he looked much less feral, more controlled in his wrath. Logan closed the folder, smirking grimly at Gran. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Gran rolled his shoulders. "Find me when you're done, I should have someone else lined up for you to knock down." He paused. "Course…don't really know how we'll meet up again. Not like either of us have set schedules." Thinking further on the problem, Gran realized he hadn't actually considered how this partnership was going to go after the first meeting.

Logan snorted. "Don't worry, I'll find you."

"How?" Gran arched a brow. "I can't meet you in bars like this too often. It's not safe for either of us—well, mainly me."

"Don't worry." Logan waved a hand. "I'll contact you. Safely."

"Again, how?" Gran snorted. "Gonna sneak up behind me and slip a note with a meeting place in my pocket?"

Logan smirked. "Well, I am a ninja."

Gran sent Logan a flat stare. "Okay, I know you've lived here for a while—and have a fantastic grasp on the language—but you don't have enough cred to start claiming you're a 'ninja'." Logan snorted, wagging his finger mockingly.

Before Gran could launch a retort, a loud crash sounded from behind them. Gran darted his head back, narrowing his eyes at the commotion. A man's barstool had broken underneath him—no, not just broken. It was deliberately damaged. The broken leg had been cut. By a very sharp blade.

Gran turned around to question why Logan would have done that, only to come face-to-face with an empty seat, a small stack of Yen stuck underneath Logan's empty glass.

Gran hummed, holding up the stack of Yen. "Huh…Maybe he is a ninja."

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A/N: Wolverine is a ninja. And so is Kitty Pride. That is all.