He and Gin went to Hiroshima first. After finding nothing, they kept following the direction of the Future Mountain Pass Line toward more remote places, and finally heard a piece of news near Miyajima.
Something about some powerful Wolf Warrior marrying into the Yamamoto Family, about how that guy could have a Horse run along his arm, stand a person on his fist, and that his wounds would heal instantly and so on, all kinds of rumors.
One listen and you knew it had to be him.
Wolf Warrior, sigh....
Can you really blame the Japanese for not being able to tell a Wolf from a Wolverine? The latter only lives widely in North America and the northern parts of Europe. In this era, there are plenty of Japanese who never leave their own town their whole lives; even Wolves are animals out of Legends to them.
Let alone Wolverines. The fact that they could catch that one word "Wolf" out of Logan's awful Japanese was already pretty good.
"Yeah, he just got married today. When I arrived, he was busy tormenting that poor woman." Natasha blinked mischievously, not the least bit shy.
"She really is a poor woman." Su Ming's tone left Natasha a little confused. The Mask hid too much, but he had no intention of explaining. He continued, "So what are you planning to do with these Robots now? We'll have better ones soon."
"I want to find out who came to kill Logan, and who used poison that suppresses Mutant Ability." Natasha spread her hands, and hugged Gin: "Too bad I can't see anything from them."
Su Ming rubbed his chin: "That's because you're thinking in the wrong direction. You're trying to start from the parts, but modern Japan is all workshop-style production. You won't be able to track anything that way."
"Exactly, the trail's cut." Natasha took a couple of deep breaths—Gin was too strong; she felt like all the air in her lungs had been squeezed out.
"Looks like you're still lacking experience. I should organize a group trip for you one of these days so you can broaden your horizons." Su Ming walked around her and came up beside one of the puppets. There was a big hole in that puppet's chest and four small holes in its back—obviously Wolverine's handiwork.
But he didn't dissect the broken toy. Instead he bent down and picked up the instrument lying in the snow, lightly brushing the snowflakes off it. The red monocle in his Mask shimmered in the Darkness.
"Know what this is?"
"A Shamisen, a special plucked instrument from Japan." Natasha answered as if she were in class: "I heard they use cat skin on it."
Gin curled her lip. Using animal hides to make instruments? What a waste. Good leather should be made into Armor; that's the most efficient use.
Though, she really couldn't think of any big use for cat skin. Maybe a waist pouch?
Su Ming nodded and held the instrument in his hands, looking at her: "Do you think these puppets came off the assembly line with their own instruments? I mean, there are more than a dozen different instruments here, and that kind of differentiated loadout definitely means differentiated procurement...."
Natasha got it. The winter night wind blew through her long hair, and she suddenly felt her mind open up: "So we can trace their origin through the instrument?"
"Exactly. This is a Shamisen, but if you subdivide Japanese instruments of this type, you can get seven or more kinds, each with subtle differences. This one has a thick neck and an almost right-angled pigeon chest. It's a Yitai Fu Sanmei Line, mainly used to play Puppet Show pieces like 'Pure Glaze', and it first became popular among Official's Family women. Add in all those other fancy luxury instruments, and we can narrow the location down to a few places that once had a Shogunate."
Su Ming handed the instrument to Natasha, then looked around on the ground again and picked up the pick for the Shamisen.
"This thick pick is made of Hawksbill Turtle, a kind of sea turtle shell product. And Hawksbill Turtle products in Japan have only one most famous place of origin, historically called Edo, renamed Tokyo in 1836. The Edo Shogunate was indeed there, in what's now the Chiyoda District, Tokyo..... So, ladies, care to experience the life of a Supreme Emperor?"
As he spoke, he casually strummed Natasha's Shamisen twice with the pick, watching her small mouth hang open in astonishment, and showed a smile no one could see.
"How do you know all this? How long did you used to live in Japan?" Natasha had gained a lot. Holding the Shamisen and pick, she stared in disbelief at Deathstroke, who was being hugged by Gin.
Su Ming shrugged and looked at Wolverine, who was striding out from the bedroom: "I've never been to Japan before. This stuff is just in my head. That's all."
"Tch, who are you trying to fool? You think I'm a kid?" Natasha didn't buy it at all. Who the hell is born with knowledge pre-loaded in their brain?
Meanwhile, Wolverine burst out of the room, bone claws already popped. He jumped in the corridor and pounced at Su Ming. His heart was full of Anger and confusion—he needed to vent.
And a stranger showing up in his courtyard in the middle of the night—what better target could there be?
"Ah!!!!"
With a move like a vicious dog pouncing on food, he came flying in with a rush of wind, his two Damao legs bared.
Have to admit, his lower body strength is pretty good—probably because he's so short and constantly needs to jump.
Su Ming raised a hand to stop Gin from intervening, and sized up Wolverine's position. Perfect. He wanted to handle this himself.
He drew Godslayer from his belt with a backhand. That golden Weapon seemed to grow in the wind as it swung through the air, turning from a short curved blade into a gigantic oar more than a person tall and over half a meter wide.
Wolverine's face changed midair. He only now remembered that he'd just suffered for leaping with nowhere to brace himself. So why couldn't he control this urge to jump?
But the laws of physics don't change for his convenience. Even though he tried to "swim" through the air to change direction, it was too late.
With a howling gust and then a dull thud, Su Ming slapped him straight into the ground.
The snow on the ground bounced up; the trees in the courtyard rustled.
The night wind blew and the snowflakes fell. In the picturesque Japanese-style courtyard, it was as if only that black-and-yellow figure remained standing. The snow brushed across his Battle Armor like drifting cherry blossoms.
Natasha and Gin both showed a look of longing.
Too fast—Deathstroke moved so quickly they almost didn't catch it, and then everything returned to calm.
Is this the fleeting beauty of violence that Japanese Samurai pursue?
"That hit was for my cousin. Don't hate me for it." Putting away the massive Weapon, Su Ming turned around and said calmly.
All of Logan's bones were broken. The force had been distributed very evenly. Face pressed to the ground, he could only squeeze out a question: "You... your cousin... who is it?!"
Once he finished, he passed out. Su Ming had pulled his strength, but Logan's brains were probably all slapped loose and scrambled; being able to get a sentence out was already impressive.
Still, it drew Su Ming's complaint: "Asking a question and then falling asleep before hearing the answer—how rude. Let's go, Natasha. Don't hang out with such rude people in the future, howling around, okay?"
Deathstroke's slap was smooth and fluid, like it wasn't the first time he'd done it. Only now did Natasha react: the one who'd just been smashed into the ground was her little uncle, but she'd been too busy appreciating the aesthetic vibe earlier.
So when she heard Deathstroke's words, her eyes went dead-fish blank. She stared at him speechlessly, as if all strength had drained from her body.