Born In Blood

"Konnichi wa, Ōtosan." Daken stated to Logan lying in front of him. He saw that his father was mildly startled that he was there. Logan stood unsteadily on his feet then, swaying beneath his weight. Daken made no move to help. He watched as his father blinked at the sun as he focused his gaze of him…his son. Daken had said, Hello, Father. The two mutants stood, waiting for a response from either of them. His father's dark eyes warily locked with Daken's. Daken wondered what Logan hoped to find in his eyes. Forgiveness? Love? All the emotions he had concealed in his eyes were emptiness and hate. The love and forgiveness had been vanquished long ago.

"I didn't kill your mother." It was Logan who spoke. His voice was unusually hollow, and Daken watched as his father's eyes darkened. "Someone else did. I don't who, but they killed her. It wasn't me." Daken watched as his father clenched his fists to hold back his claws. He watched in amusement and mild fascination as Logan held the anger and despair within him. Then Daken's amusement and fascination faded. He realized that he too had inherited that habit and the expressions – the closing of the eyes, the ragged breathing, and the grinding of the teeth – that came along with it. Logan opened his eyes again and released the tension in his hands. His eyes locked with Daken's again, and this time Daken spoke.

"You lie." He spoke the accusation in a whisper. The rage and agony was clear in his voice because he could barely speak the words. "You murdered my mother in cold blood." Now his voice was cold, deprived of any emotion. "For the past fifteen years, you've forgotten everything about your past. You forgot that you had a son, a product of perceived love to a Japanese woman named Itsu." He paused on his mother's name. Although he knew his mother's name, Daken didn't know anything else beside that. Stryker wouldn't tell him. He would only tell Daken the story of how his mother was murdered by a mutant who would become the Wolverine – his father. Wolverine had left his dead wife and unborn son in her womb for dead. An unknown man had come upon the body of the tragic body of his mother moments after, and had saved her son by reaching out into her womb and taking the child. "You had forgotten that you murdered the woman who you supposedly loved."

Daken was still alive because of his mutation, Stryker had told him with a small smile. His healing factor that he had inherited from the mutant who had murdered his mother. For the past fifteen years, the story had haunted him. It was what had driven him to survive. He had survived Stryker's experiments and torture to kill his father. When he had woken up in a new place and on a table with a tall mutant standing in front of him, at first Daken didn't know where or who he was. For the first time in fifteen years he spoke his native language, Japanese. He had learned English from Stryker, forcibly and painfully. He had been shocked when the mutant asked him who he was in his mother tongue as well. Daken's memories of Stryker and of his story about his mother, father, and birth surrounded his mind as he met the old mutant in the wheelchair, Rouge, and another one of the old mutant's followers. He had noticed that the other mutant – the one who he had first met – seemed somewhat indifferent. There was an air about him that Daken liked, mainly because the mutant reminded him of himself. Through his subconscious he knew that the mutant was his father, but Daken didn't acknowledge that right away. He didn't acknowledge the fact until Bobby had mentioned that Logan had forgotten his memories fifteen years past. Then, Daken realized that it was true – he had found his father who had murdered his mother. The mutant who had liked because Logan reminded Daken of himself, silent, aggressive, and lonely, was the same person.

Daken didn't know what action he should take, but now, standing in front of his father, he knew what to do. He wouldn't kill his father, but he would wound him. His father would be wounded in the exact same manner as his mother, though not fatal. It occurred to Daken then that he was not what people had him called upon decades and centuries, a daken, a mongrel or a bastard dog. He wasn't someone who would never be loved because of who he was. Perhaps none of that was true. A daken would murder his father. Perhaps there was something more to Daken…just as Yuusuke had told him. Daken swallowed painfully to forgot the man. He hadn't thought of him since that day in the tenth year of Meiji.

Daken didn't think as he charged at his father. For some reason, Logan remained motionless. He knew what about to happen, that he was going to be attacked by his own son, but he didn't fight him. He couldn't fight him. Daken's retractable claws met his father's soft pink flesh. He felt his father collapse onto the ground toward the tree, and Daken fell with him, his claws piercing his father's flesh. Hot blood seeped through his claws, staining them and his clothes as the blood seeped through the grass and his father's own clothes. His jacket was now stained with his blood. Daken's whole hand now reached into the wound, grasping the fragile flesh inside along the way. His father's body shuddered and shook. His face was white, and his lips were pale. He murmured something intelligible. Something stirred inside Daken to tell him to stop, but he didn't listen. His mother's body and his birth – he, who was born in blood, echoed images in his mind. His claws plunged upward, scarring more of the gentle flesh. He saw red.

Then he heard Logan scream.

The scream echoed across the mansion. It was loud with agony, almost shattering Daken's hearing. The sharpness of the scream was like knives, obscuring all hearing but the scream. Eventually the scream subsided, growing softer in each passing minute. Daken watched as his father's eyes closed. His body was still. Daken stood. He steeped from his father's body, blood on his hands. Daken had a sudden memory of Yuusuke, screaming in agony as well, more than one hundred years ago. He sighed. He was no good to anyone. The hope had been erased, vanquished when he had killed Yuusuke and wounded his father. Daken did what he did best.

He ran, losing himself in his memories.