The ten-hour flight from JFK to Narita had been a blur of airplane food and restless sleep. Jay stepped off the plane into Tokyo's controlled chaos, stretching muscles that had been cramped for too long. The enhancement made him immune to jet lag, but it couldn't cure the bone-deep fatigue of being stuck in a metal tube for half a day.

  'I really need to get a flight or teleportation power,' Jay thought, rolling his shoulders.

  Bright morning sunlight streamed through Narita's massive windows, casting everything in golden hues. Jay smiled despite himself. It felt fitting that his first real vacation would start in the Land of the Rising Sun. New beginning in the most literal sense.

  His mental checklist was embarrassingly simple for someone who'd just orchestrated political upheavals across two continents: Meet the connect, visit different cafes, explore Akihabara for anime merchandise, and see the life-sized Gundam statue in Odaiba. After all, every true man's first love was always giant mechs.

  Within minutes, he was walking toward the taxi stand, duffle bag slung over his shoulder and Bobby's jacket keeping off the morning chill.

  That's when the Rolls-Royce Phantom appeared.

  The sleek black vehicle glided to the curb like it owned the road. Given its probable cost, it basically did. Jay's danger sense remained completely calm, which immediately raised his curiosity. The timing was interesting, though. He'd reached out to the Yashida clan two weeks ago through carefully vetted intermediaries, trading information about a specific blade. They'd been cagey in their responses, noncommittal. Now they were rolling out the literal red carpet, right on schedule.

  The rear door opened, and out stepped a young Japanese woman, maybe early twenties, with bright pink hair styled in the cutting-edge fashion that made Tokyo famous.

  "Doctor," she said in flawless, accent-free English, bowing deeply from the waist, hands pressed formally at her sides. "We of the Yashida clan would request the honour of your presence. Please, allow us to extend our hospitality during your visit to Japan."

  Jay's comic book nerd perk kicked in like a mental alarm bell. Pink hair, perfect English, formal speech patterns, and a Rolls-Royce that screamed old money. This was Yukio, though which version of her abilities she possessed remained unclear. Death-sensing psychic or electricity manipulator? Different adaptations had never agreed on that particular detail.

  What really caught his attention was the deviation from what he remembered. In the movie version of the story, the Yashida family's patriarch wouldn't be on his deathbed for another three years. Yet here they were, desperate enough to send Yukio herself to fetch him.

  Instead of asking more questions, Jay surprised himself. "Alright," he said, shouldering his bag. "Let's see what this is about."

  Yukio blinked, clearly stunned by his immediate agreement.

  "Come on, Yukio," Jay said, walking toward the car. "I want to visit Akihabara later, and we don't have all day."

  Now she looked genuinely shocked. "You... know my name?"

  Jay slid into the Phantom's leather interior, which was exactly as ridiculously luxurious as expected. "Lucky guess."

  The drive through Tokyo was like watching controlled chaos find its rhythm. Neon signs flickered to life even in daylight, advertisements stacked ten stories high on buildings that seemed to lean into each other. Salarymen in identical dark suits flooded crosswalks in perfect synchronized waves.

  Vending machines lined every corner, their bright displays promising everything from hot coffee to cold beer, and a group of schoolgirls in sailor uniforms giggled as they passed.

  Yukio sat across from him in the spacious rear compartment, her initial composure gradually returning as she launched into what sounded like a prepared presentation.

  "The Yashida family has been a cornerstone of Japanese industry for over seventy years," she explained, her tone shifting to something more formal and practiced. "We've built our reputation on honor, tradition, and innovation. My master, Shingen Yashida, has guided the company through decades of prosperity, but recently..."

  "I can guess what you need?" Jay interrupted, cutting through the corporate pitch. "But why call me here?"

  Yukio's prepared speech faltered. "The Doctor is... too famous, too busy. When our sources informed us you were planning to travel to Japan to acquire the Muramasa blade, we had to seize the opportunity."

  Jay chuckled, shaking his head. Of course, the uber-rich elite would have tracking systems in place. They'd probably known about his flight before he'd even boarded the plane. The desperate always found a way to reach those who could heal them, regardless of cost.

  "Your sources," Jay said dryly. "Let me guess. Money talks in every language."

  Yukio had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "We prefer to think of it as... being prepared for opportunities."

  The Yashida compound was everything Jay expected and more. Traditional Japanese architecture mixed seamlessly with modern security systems. Gardens that probably cost more to maintain than most people's annual salaries. Ancient trees that had witnessed generations of family secrets. The kind of old money that bought history itself.

  Stone lanterns lined the pathways, their placement following principles that were probably older than America. A koi pond stretched across the courtyard, the fish moving in lazy circles beneath lily pads. The sound of water trickling over bamboo created a rhythmic tock-tock-tock that seemed to mark time differently here.

  Inside, the wealth was displayed with subtle precision. No gaudy golden fixtures or obvious displays of excess. Instead, everything whispered expense: aged wood floors that gleamed without a single scratch, art pieces that belonged in museums, silk tapestries that had probably been handwoven by masters. The smell of tatami mats mixed with incense, something sandalwood and subtle. Calligraphy scrolls hung in alcoves, the brushwork so perfect it looked effortless.

  They were led to a private wing where Shingen Yashida waited.

  The man was old, probably in his late eighties, but still carried himself with the rigid posture of someone accustomed to absolute authority. He lay in a hospital-style bed surrounded by more medical equipment than some emergency rooms, yet his eyes burned with the intensity of someone who refused to accept defeat.

  Beside the bed stood a woman in her thirties, beautiful in that understated way that suggested both breeding and intelligence. Her dark hair was pulled back severely, and her business suit was perfectly tailored. This had to be Mariko Yashida, the daughter who'd inherited her father's steel spine along with his business acumen.

  "Jay-san," Mariko said, bowing respectfully. "Thank you for agreeing to see my father. We've heard of your... remarkable abilities."

  Jay studied the old man, his enhanced senses picking up details that normal perception would miss. Shingen was sick, certainly, but not as deteriorated as he should have been according to the movie timeline. His breathing was labored but not desperate. His color was poor but not deathly. After using his healing aura to passively scan him he saw his cellular degradation suggested aggressive cancer, but not the natural decline of extreme age. Someone or something had poisoned him. Recently.

  But there was something else. Deeper. Older Radiation damage at the cellular level, the kind that took decades to manifest. The poison was recent, opportunistic, but the radiation had been killing him slowly.

  "Have any doctors named Green approached your family recently?" Jay asked without preamble.

  Mariko and Yukio exchanged glances. "We've had many physicians attempt to gain our favor," Mariko replied carefully. "But none by that particular name. Why do you ask?"

  Jay filed that information away. 'So Viper, our very own Madame Hydra, hadn't made her move yet. But someone else had. The Hand, maybe? They'd want control of Yashida's resources, and poisoning the patriarch would create the chaos they needed.'

  "I can heal him," Jay said bluntly. "But that would just delay the inevitable. In a few years, maybe a decade, you'd be looking for me again. Age isn't a disease I can cure permanently."

  Mariko's composure cracked slightly. "We're prepared to pay any price on top of the blade. Please name your terms."

  Jay shook his head. "As you may know, I can absorb and utilize others' powers. Material wealth doesn't hold much appeal when you can reshape the world with your bare hands."

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Mariko gestured to Yukio, who showed him a tablet displaying a video of a silver samurai suit in action. "This entire suit is made of pseudo-adamantium, nearly the same durability as the real material, and this is all we were able to produce."

  Jay studied the footage briefly before responding. "You were a month too late. Now I do not need an inferior copy."

  Shingen's face darkened, and he struggled to sit up straighter. His mouth opened, anger building in his eyes as he prepared to speak. Whatever he was about to say, Jay sensed it wouldn't be diplomatic.

  That's when Yukio moved.

  She didn't just step forward. She physically restrained the old man, one hand on his chest, the other gripping his wrist with surprising strength. Her face had gone pale, eyes wide and distant like she was watching something happening in a place only she could see.

  "Yashida-sama!" she said urgently, her voice trembling, dropping into rapid Japanese. "Tsugi no kotoba o yoku kangaete kudasai..."

  She was still gripping his wrist, her knuckles white. Jay noticed her other hand shaking against Shingen's chest. Whatever she'd seen had rattled her badly.

  The change in Shingen was immediate and dramatic. The anger drained from his face, replaced by something Jay rarely saw in men of his generation and power: fear. Deep, bone-chilling terror that made his hands shake and his breathing quicken.

  Jay understood immediately. This Yukio's power; it wasn't electricity manipulation. It was death-sight. She could see how people would die, and whatever Shingen had been about to say would have resulted in his death. Probably at Jay's hands.

  The old man's reaction confirmed it. He'd been about to make some kind of threat, and Yukio had seen the consequences play out in her mind's eye.

  "What were you going to say?" Jay asked, genuinely curious now.

  Shingen swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing. When he finally spoke, his voice was carefully controlled. "Perhaps... perhaps we can offer something more valuable than money."

  He gestured to Yukio, who produced the tablet again with obvious reluctance. The screen now displayed a list of names and abilities that made Jay's comic perk work overtime.

  The Yashida family's list read like a who's who of Japan's mutant community, and the implications were staggering. These weren't employees or hired muscle. The formal language, the way Yukio had phrased it earlier, suggested something far more binding. 'Giri', the old concepts that still held weight in certain circles.

  Sunfire, Shiro Yoshida, wielded superheated plasma and flight capabilities. His cousin Sunpyre, Leyu Yoshida, possessed similar abilities at reduced power levels. Family ties, probably leveraged through obligation and debt. Blood called to blood in the old ways.

  Surge, Noriko Ashida, could absorb electrical energy for lightning attacks and superhuman speed. Armor, Hisako Ichiki, manifested psionic exoskeletons for enhanced strength and protection. Young mutants, likely bound through tradition or cultural pressure. Their families probably owed the Yashidas, and the debt passed down through generations.

  Akihiro had a healing factor, retractable claws, enhanced senses, and pheromone-based emotional manipulation, one from Wolverine's bloodlines. Silver Samurai, Kenuichio Harada, generated tachyon fields to charge weapons for molecular disruption. Gorgon, Tomi Shishido, could petrify with his gaze and possessed enhanced strength with regeneration.

  The list continued. Sumo with his enormous size and proportional strength, and the MLF operatives Kamikaze and Samurai with their enhanced combat capabilities.

  This wasn't a corporate asset list. This was a feudal structure dressed in modern clothing, with mutant powers replacing samurai swords. The Yashidas had recreated the old clan system, binding powerful individuals through honor and obligation instead of simple employment.

  "Giri," Shingen said quietly, using the old Japanese concept of duty and obligation. "Even Yukio has offered her abilities if it means saving my life. Such is the burden of those who serve the Yashida name."

  Jay studied the list with growing interest. A month ago, he would have leaped at Armor's power. Who wouldn't want their own personal ? But Creel's molecular absorption had given him defensive capabilities that were arguably superior and more versatile.

  Silver Samurai's tachyon field, however... that was genuinely intriguing. The ability to disrupt molecular bonds, to cut through virtually any material. Combined with his existing defence, it would make him well-rounded in combat.

  He considered Yukio's death-sight but immediately dismissed it. Seeing Bobby's death, or Maria's, or any of the people he'd come to care about, that kind of knowledge would be too much for him to bear.

  "How interesting," Jay mused, "that a dying man would put his illegitimate son Kenuichio Harada on this list as a sacrificial lamb."

  Shingen's composure flickered again, but he managed to maintain eye contact. "Desperate times require difficult choices."

  "Even with Kenuichio's power, it wouldn't be enough," Jay said thoughtfully. "What about the blade we discussed?"

  The old man gestured to Mariko, who left the room without a word. She returned several minutes later, accompanied by a young man carrying a wrapped sword. Jay's danger sense gave a subtle warning. Not an immediate threat, but definitely something to be cautious about.

  Kenuichio Harada was in his late twenties, with the kind of lean build that suggested extensive martial arts training. His face was a careful mask of resigned acceptance, but Jay caught the flash of resentment in his eyes. His jaw was clenched tight, and the tendons in his neck stood out like cables. When he knelt to present the blade, his hands trembled slightly before he forced them still.

  He sat in seiza, the formal kneeling position, back straight despite the obvious tension in his shoulders. The wrapped blade rested across his palms, offered with both hands as tradition demanded. But his eyes remained fixed on a point somewhere past Jay's shoulder, refusing to meet his gaze. The pride of a man being stripped of everything that made him dangerous, forced to maintain composure through the humiliation.

  "The cursed blade Muramasa," Shingen explained, his voice carrying the weight of history. "Forged from a piece of an immortal's soul. Someone who owed my ancestor a considerable favour during the Heian Era."

  Jay's smile widened. Finally. This blade was forged by capturing a fragment of an immortal's soul and forging it into a weapon. Named after its creator, Muramasa himself.

  Jay had been hunting for this weapon specifically because of what it represented. In a world of healing factors and sorcerers, conventional weapons weren't cutting it anymore against high-tier threats. Wolverine could shrug off bullets. Deadpool laughed at explosions. The Masters of the Mystic Arts could kill or contain him in a dozen different ways.

  But a blade that could cut through mystical defenses? That could slow even the most powerful healing factors? That was the equalizer he needed. It would supplement what he lacked due to his 'No Arcane Drawback'. The Muramasa was designed to kill gods and monsters, forged in an era when such things walked openly.

  The blade would be capable of cutting through mystical defenses and slowing even the most powerful healing factors to a crawl.

  It was, quite literally, a weapon designed to kill immortals and supernatural beings.

  "The price is appropriate," Jay said finally.

  He reached out, placing his hand on Kenuichio's bare skin, and began absorbing the young man's tachyon field generation. The power flowed through Jay like water, and he could feel the new ability integrate with his existing powers. The sensation was like gaining a new sense, suddenly becoming aware in a completely different way.

  Kenuichio's eyes went wide, then squeezed shut. The loss of a mutant power wasn't just losing an ability. It was losing a fundamental part of identity, like going blind or deaf.

  Then he accepted the Muramasa blade, unwrapping it carefully. The malevolent aura hit him with full force. The blade itself was beautiful in a cruel way. Dark steel that seemed to drink in light rather than reflect it, with an edge blood red in colour and so fine it looked like it could cut reality itself. The tsuba was simple, unadorned, because the blade needed no decoration to announce what it was.

  Jay's danger sense spiked the moment his fingers touched the hilt. Not warning him away, but acknowledging what he held: a weapon that wanted to be used. That hungered for what it was made to kill.

  He wrapped it again quickly, the hair on his arms standing on end.

  Finally, he approached Shingen's bedside and placed his hands on the old man's chest. The healing process was more complex than usual. This was not just repairing damage, but essentially turning back biological clocks. First, he had to identify and neutralize the poison. Some kind of slow-acting toxin that mimicked natural cellular decay. Clever. Diabolical, even.

  Then came the actual healing, and that was where things got difficult. Cancer cells had metastasized throughout Shingen's lymphatic system. Jay had to hunt down every corrupted cell and flush the debris. His hands grew hot, then burning, as he channeled more and more energy into the process.

  The radiation damage was trickier. Eighty years of accumulated cellular corruption, mutations that had compounded over decades

  Jay almost smiled, seeing the irony of it all. Wolverine had saved a kid during the bombing. And now, eighty years later, that same kid was trading his illegitimate son's powers and a cursed blade to stay alive a little longer.

  He couldn't stop ageing, but he could reset the accumulated damage of years. The procedure was very exhausting, even with his enhanced capabilities. Given his enhancement, that was saying something.

  When the healing was finished, Shingen looked like a man in his sixties rather than his eighties. Still old, but with the vitality of someone who had years ahead of him rather than months.

  The Yashida family members had expressions of shock and awe, but all clearly thought any price was worth this miraculous restoration.

  "There's something you should know," Jay said as he stepped back, exhausted and panting. "After all, I wouldn't want my hard work to go to waste."

  Shingen's newly restored energy immediately focused into sharp attention. "What do I need to know?"

  "Two organizations are moving against you. First, someone named Viper, also called Dr. Green. She'll come offering medical expertise, probably claiming she can extend your life even further. She's after your company's resources."

  Jay continued ignoring their reactions.

  "Second, a man named Murakami from an organization called the Hand. They're the ones who've been poisoning you. I could taste their handiwork in your cells. They want chaos, want you weak so they can carve up your holdings."

  Jay paused, letting that sink in. "They're coming soon. Weeks, if not months. Your improved health will actually accelerate their plans, because they'll realize their poison failed.

  "Oh, and regarding Murakami, when you kill him, burn the body. Think of it as a professional courtesy."

  Jay smiled mentally, picturing two massive criminal organizations about to collide with one of Japan's most powerful corporate dynasties. The Yashida clan had the resources, the manpower, and now the warning. Hydra and the Hand were about to learn a hard lesson about underestimating old money backed by mutant powers.

  Plus, it kept both organisations busy and away from his people. Two birds, one stone. The Yashidas would handle threats that might have eventually circled back to the Network. Win-win.

  The old man immediately turned to Mariko. "Have Kenuichio taken for a medical evaluation. Alert security and all the subsidiary clans and our yakuza allies. Even hire the Kagemusha if you have to. They must watch for these individuals immediately. I want them identified and eliminated before they can make their move."

  Without any further pleasantries, Jay collected his things and headed for the door. After all, the Gundam statue was waiting for him, and he'd promised himself this would be a real vacation.

  Behind him, he could hear Shingen already making phone calls, marshaling the resources of one of Japan's most influential families against threats that had no idea what was coming for them.

  Jay stepped out into Tokyo's afternoon sunshine, feeling lighter. For once, someone else could handle the planning and politics.

  He had giant mechs to see.