The clothes felt strange to her, Fuujin thought as she walked through the halls of the school. Her clan had taught her the art of appearing non-threatening, even with the eyepatch; put a flowery dress on, one that allowed for movement without appearing to, and a person’s combat level appeared to be nothing.
She had reason to worry. This one... Wolverine... her clan knew of him, and this gave her cause for alarm. She knew of the shadow as well as the light; this one had been whispered from the darkness itself, of a terror beyond all human understanding. The Hand... those fools had made the mistake of killing his love, and those who had done so did not survive. Of course, she knew what that was like...
She shook her head, willing the thoughts away. No, she knew better than to try to cross him. Best to look as far from a target as possible.
As for her companion on this stroll...
“We are a strange pair, ne, Millia?”
Millia’s hair curled around her, like the tail behind a panther. Of all the girls rescued from the nursery, she was the only foreigner, and spoke with a slight accent to her Japanese. “What do you mean?”
“What she means is that you both have had a life in shadow,” a voice growled behind them.
Fuujin turned around in shock, a blast of wind at the ready; she glanced over to see that Millia’s hair was spiked in full combat mode. Both relaxed only slightly as a small chuckle came from the shadows - and Logan stepped out.
“Millia Rage. Freelance assassin; born in Russia among a clan of true assassins - Zato’s, if I recall correctly. Went ronin a year ago; believed to be responsible for the deaths of sixteen over the course of your short life.” He smiled. “All victims were criminals - or, more often, those assassins Zato sent your way for skipping out.” Millia flushed red; her eyes turned to the floor, but her hair remained spiked.
Logan turned back to Fuujin. “Fuujin. Real name unknown. Marumoto clan operative, specializing in covert operations; was partnered with one Raijin until your master sent you after the Hand in Madripoor three months ago.” He chuckled. “You know, I always wondered why that neighborhood was laid waste; I always thought you’d gone ballistic, but now I’m not so sure. Let me guess; his death caused your powers to surface?”
Fuujin growled; she felt like ripping his guts open, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. “What’s your point?”
Logan smiled. “My point is this: Who do you talk to when you’re alone at night - when there’s no one else there but your past?”
Fuujin gulped. A quarter-second later, she heard another gulp; Millia had gone pale - likely as pale as herself.
Logan sighed. “You won’t be able to say goodbye to them. I haven’t; for all I'd like to get rid of them, they’re always there.” The ferocity came to his eyes again, and within them Fuujin could see the blood he’d spilled. “But... you don’t have to let them destroy you.” He smiled, a rough grin devoid of humor. “This may be your chance out of the no-win situations you’ve found yourselves in. I suggest you pay attention over the next few days. You may find what you’ve been needing.”
Logan turned to his side, and let the grin widen. “By the way, the Professor wants to see how good you are. It’s been awhile since I’ve sparred with a Marumoto or a true assassin - even a ronin assassin. I’ll be in the Danger Room at 3:00.” He looked back at Fuujin, a twinkle in his eye. “And lose the skirt, kid. You move too well to not be considered dangerous.”
Logan walked off, leaving the two standing there. Fuujin fingered the fabric of her dress, that horribly annoying dress she wore, and grinned. She was going to enjoy this...
See other episodes by Nightelf
(Posted Mon, 04 Nov 2002 05:44)
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