Tokyo, Japan

"Do you wanna dance? Oh baby-."

"Good grief!" Lorne stared with disbelief at the crumpled-suited businessman stood upon the oval shaped stage gyrating like a sake-inebriated hippo while simultaneously butchering one of rock ‘n’ roll’s early classics. "When god blessed the little people with karaoke, was he too busy to also give them the ability to sing?" Lorne shook his head and glanced around his garishly decorated club. Business was great, after Xander’s second influx of cash, he was up to thirty-nine clubs world wide.

His new-found empire had made him a multi-millionaire, a demon of considerable wealth, but had also exposed him to more appalling singers than he’d ever thought existed. "Oh thank Apollo," he muttered as the chubby Oriental clambered off the stage and waddled towards him for his reading. Lorne’s eyes narrowed as another man took his place at the microphone, noting his many tattoos. "Yakuza."

Yakuza, also know as gokudo, were Japan’s ruling crime syndicate and in fact, the nation’s shadowy second government. Like most crime cartels they indulged in extortion, prostitution, and of course drug-dealing, it was romantic nonsense to suggest such organisations weren’t whole-heartedly involved in such a profitable enterprise. Unlike most groups though, the Yakuza were considered almost legitimate.

Lorne bared his teeth in a scowl. He’d been approached by organised crime gangs before. Usually his affiliations were enough to send such underground organisations

scurrying, but the Yakuza were hardly underground.

His consternation grew when the man began singing. "Oh lordy, lordy," he groaned. He’d have to call the boss. His spirits rose briefly. At least he’d get to talk to his chocolate bun.

* * *

"Yo, Xan’s phone, his hotness speaking," Faith drawled into the cell.

"Why, hello my little chocolate chip."

Faith beamed at the familiar voice. "Hey Emerald, how’s it hangin’."

"Why Ebony-Eyes, you know I’m perfectly pert!"

"Yeah," Faith agreed. "It’s a bitch being like us ain’t it?"

"Oh the peons’ envy is a killer, sweet cheeks." Lorne giggled girlishly.

"So where are ya then, living la vida loca with Britney?" Faith idly asked as she twirled some loose locks of hair and laid back on the bed.

"Why dear, I’ve already got my nubile temptress, I’d never cheat on her!"

"Damn straight," Faith grinned. "So where are ya?"

"I’m in Tokyo, I’ve got a mission for you."

"Oh wicked," Faith grunted. "After three days in sunny Milwaukee, I’m really jonesing for some action."

"Well you’d get plenty of that I promise you," the demon soberly promised. His tone suddenly brightened. "And where’s that long tall streak of hunkiness you call a boy-friend?"

"If you mean X, he’s in the hotel gym workin’ on his love handles."

Lorne chuckled. "I just best you know how he loves to be handled."

"Innocent lil convent girl like me, how would I know?" Faith queried.

"Oh you are a scream!" Lorne tittered. "And how’s that sweet little songbird of yours?"

Faith smiled fondly. "Yeah Tar’s cool, the brat’s a kinda pain though."

"Now Faith," Lorne scolded. "If she makes Tara happy that’s the important thing isn’t it?"

Faith shrugged. "Sis could do a whole lot better."

Lorne giggled. "Oh my little caramel sweet, no-one would ever be good enough for your sister would they?"

"So I’m over protective, sue me."

"Sweetheart, when you have children," Faith trembled at the thought. "No-one will ever be good enough for them will they? But you wouldn’t want them to be alone would you?"

"Guess not," Faith conceded.

She looked up as her hotel room door opened and Xander strode in, her honey’s grey sweats darkened by perspiration. "Hi Faith," her boy-friend’s dark eyes narrowed as he registered her on the cell. "Who’s calling?"

"It’s Lorne," she threw the phone to Xand and kipped up to her feet. "See you later, gonna go see Ken, see if she wants to spar for a while."

* * *

"Oh right," Xander raised an eyebrow. "You know spar doesn’t actually mean break her?"

"Ah," Faith shot him a dimpled smile, "she’s got sis to kiss her bruises better." The curvy Slayer sashayed to the door, her hips doing their usual hypnotic sway. "See ya, Lorne!"

Xander shook his head as Lorne called out a good-bye. Faith usually avoided spending time with Kennedy except in crisis situations. "Hey Lorne," he spoke into the cell. "I’m guessing there must be trouble for you to be ringing me."

"I’m afraid you guessed right, fudge," the flamboyant club owner replied, his voice taking a more sombre note than his usual banter.

Xander sighed as he sat down on the chair beside his bed and rubbed wearily at his forehead. "Lay it on me, Seaweed."

Return To The Mithras Chronicles
"Emerald? Seaweed?" Lorne sniffed. "I just don’t know where you crazy kids come up with your nicknames!" Xander raised an eyebrow as an old saying about a kettle and a pot sprang to mind. "Anyhow I’ve been in Tokyo the last couple of days, enjoying the food, the culture, you know-."

"Lorne are you in danger of finding a point?" Xander sighed impatiently.

"Well there’s a lot to see and you’ll be seeing it soon," Lorne continued. "Because some fruit loop has the crazy idea of resurrecting the Samurai order and taking over the country."

Xander blinked. "Someone’s training an army of samurai."

"No sweetie," Lorne shook his head over the phone. "Resurrection of the actual historical samurai. Every single last one of them."

"Whoa," Xander took a breath as the world tilted around him. "How? Who?"

"No idea, honey-bun, the guy who sang was only a low-level enforcer employed by a third party." The singer paused. "You realise the ramifications."

"Of course," Xander pursed his lips as he slouched back in the chair. The samurai were virtual legends, almost heroic gods in Japan. If whoever was planning this insanity managed to pull it off, every nut-job terrorist, greedy crime-lord, or wanna-be dictator across the world would be trying it in their respective nations. The resulting fall-out could cause democratic governments to be replaced by totalitarian regimes and almost certainly destabilise the entire world and lead to countless deaths. "Give me everything you’ve got, Lorne."

"It isn’t a lot big guy," Lorne wanred.

"Just give me everything you’ve got," Xander repeated.

* * *

Hisao looked left and right as he entered the alley. She watched unnoticed from the shadows. She supposed a lesser predator than her would be amused by his wide eyes, shuffling feet, and the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. She only felt contempt that circumstances forced her to use such a piece of human flotsam even in such a lowly position.

"Mistress." The thug bowed and stepped into the false security of the alley’s solitary light, a shop’s flickering neon sign. "I was hired by a third party, are you my employer? It is done." The man’s licked at his lips. "I sang at the demon’s club."

"Good," she nodded. "Your job is finished." She smiled as she looked towards the man’s left. "As is your life." She stepped back as blood spewed from the man’s mouth as a newcomer shoved her weapon through his back and out his front. "Excellent." His expression stunned, the thug fell first to his knees and then pitched face-first to the ground. She turned to her assassin. "The trap has been baited, the warrior god is on his way here."

"And his Slayer?"

She smiled at the eagerness in her hired killer’s voice. "Why, she’s all yours."

* * *

Oki watched in barely contained awe as his master glided between the forms. It was almost unthinkable that a man as large as his master could move with such silken elegance.

His master spun to face him, unsheathed katana still in his hand, hard black eyes impaling him as surely as the sword could. "Any news?" he demanded.

"No sir," Oki dropped his head in shame.

"Then find some and quickly," the giant man’s face darkened. "I will not allow this madness to defame the tradition of the samurai!"

Tokyo

"Ya know, the more airports we see, the more they look the freakin’ same," Faith commented as they hurried out of the airport and into the city.

"But Japan’s definitely different," Tara argued.

"Ya ain’t lyin’ sis," Faith agreed as she looked up and around.

Tokyo was huge in a way that dwarfed even New York. Looming buildings were everywhere, flashing neon signs on their sides, and factories jockeying with the skyscrapers for space. The constant sound of airplanes could be over-head and rattling railways criss-crossed the entire city. And the people, man it seemed like the city’s architects had crammed people in every possible space.

Yet there was way more to Tokyo than modern technology. Cutting edge architecture glittered beside ancient buildings, contemporary factories standing beside ancient temples, and stoic office blocks towering over Shinto shrines.

Faith shook her head in disbelief before looking towards Xander. "We gettin’ a rental stud?"

Xander grinned. "On these streets, not a chance. We’ll use cabs and the railway. If we get stuck in an emergency we can always steal a car."

"Steal?" Kennedy looked around. "How good are the Tokyo police?"

"That’s a strange one," Xander responded as a taxi came to a halt in response to him flagging it down. "They’re efficient enough when it comes to independents, but as the government’s practically in bed with the Yakuza their hands are largely tied."

"Yakuza," Faith had read out them in a book about Japan on the way over. "Are they likely to be a problem?" She asked as they started towards the car.

Xander scowled. "That really depends on if they’re behind this." Xander nodded towards the waiting, gap-toothed cab driver. "Park Hyatt, please."

* * *

Park Hyatt

"Damn it!"

Hearing her boyfriend’s loud cursing, Faith strode in from admiring the view from their eighteen floor balcony to find Harris stood staring up into space, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets and a thunderous scowl on his face. "What’s up stud?"

"That was a call from one of Lorne’s contacts." Xander shook his head. "Damn it!" Faith waited more or less patiently until her man’s temper had cooled, knowing he’d tell her eventually. "The dismembered remains of the man who sang in Lorne’s club were found in a dumpster in downtown Tokyo last night."

"Oh wicked," Faith groaned as she perched on the edge of the bed and began peeling her shirt off. "That’s a freakin’ dead end. What’s our next move?"

Xander bared his teeth in a grimace before replying. "When Lorne read the man he told him about his employer, an independent who hired out thugs for bodyguard duty, extortion, bouncing, low-level muscle stuff."

"So we’re gonna put the squeeze on him?" Faith’s brow furrowed at Xander’s nod. "But wait a minute, hon. This guy seemed pretty low-rent to be involved in a large-scale operation like this. Smells fishy." Her comment was punctuated by the sound of her boots hitting the hotel carpet.

"Yeah, maybe," Xander almost agreed. "But on the other hand, maybe whoever is behind this doesn’t want to use the Yakuza for fear they find out their scheme and either try to stop or take over their scheme."

Faith wriggled out of her leathers before commenting. "Only one way to find out," Faith threw open her luggage and pulled out a pair of stone-washed jeans and a ‘Pitbull’s Gym’ black tank top. "I’m all sweaty after the flight so I’m gonna shower and change. When we gonna go after this sob?"

"In about three hours, after nightfall," Xander eplied.

"Wicked," Faith grinned as her bra hit the floor and she started peeling her v-shaped black lace panties off. " In that case the shower don’t have to be a short one." Faith gave Xander a coy look. "Care to join me?"

Xander grinned back at her. "Thought you’d never ask."

Faith chuckled. "Didn’t figure you were still shy, stud."

* * *

"Thank you." Tatsu bowed his head to the servants who’d just served their food. It was important to show respect to those who served you. "Please, shut the door behind you."

Once the door had shut, Tatsu turned to his six suited guests. The seven of them were the Oyabuns of Japan’s most powerful Yakuza clans. Normally they were men of power, men to be feared, a single world from any of them could mean a death sentence. Not today though, today they were frightened men.

Finally he spoke. "It has been confirmed, Mithras was spotted at Toyko Airport." Many of the clans employed spotters to watch for people of interest entering the country, offering hefty bribes to airport and harbour personnel to report in.

They’d never thought that HE would turn up here though, not in their worst nightmares, his operations had been restricted mostly to the US. and Europe. "We’ve all seen the photographs," barked one of his associates. "The Slayer is unmistakable! The question is what are we going to do about them!"

"No," another of his fellow clan leaders shook his head, "the question has to be why are they here?"

"That is unimportant," Tatsu disagreed. "The fact they are here is enough. Wherever they go, chaos and carnage inevitably follow. The only question is how to deal with them."

"Perhaps we shouldn’t even try to confront them," suggested another Oyabun. "Perhaps we should shut down our operations until they leave."

"We can’t do that," he disagreed with a shake of the head. "We would lose millions of yen. Worse, we would lose great face. Anyone watching would think us weak, take heart from it, and think to defy or even attack us." He paused. "If they have come for us, shutting down operations will not work."

"Then what are we to do?" demanded another of his peers. "This foursome have defeated The Kingpin, Arabic terrorist organisations, The Scourge, The Tarakan Order, and others. Our men are more than competent, but the Mithras group are formidable adversaries. We could lose many enforcers in a battle with them."

Tatsu smiled thinly. "That’s exactly why I don’t intend for us to take them pn ourselves."

"Who do you intend to hire?"

Tatsu’s smile broadened. "The Hand."

An excited mutter ran through the room. "Will you have them all killed?" queried one of his associates.

Tatsu glanced down at the four glossy photographs arrayed on the table before him. All three of the women accompanying Mithras were strikingly attractive, girls who could make them fortunes in brothels catering to those whose tastes ran to gaijins. But the Slayer and the witch were far too powerful to risk leaving alive and the potential could herself be Callled at any moment. "Yes, we kill them all."

"Jesus, Xan," Hattori Hanzo looked up disapprovingly as a young Western male and a trio of gaijin girls entered his dimly-lit and very traditional-seeming tea shop. "I thought we were supposed to be in a fuckin’ hurry."

Hattori shook his head. Children today, no matter the nation they were all the same, profane and coarse, lacking in respect for both tradition and their elders.

The young man strode through his empty shop and came to a halt by the counter. "Hello sir," he cursed the need to speak English, Japanese was a proud language and he thought he was far enough off the tourist trails to avoid being annoyed by Americans, "what would you like to drink?"

"Thank you, no," the young man’s dark eyes seemed almost to sparkle, "I understand you’re Japan’s finest smith of traditional weaponry?"

"Weapons," a coal-eyed, leather-clad beauty stalked over to the bar, her hip-swinging stride both impossibly erotic and terrifyingly predatory, "you brought us to an armoury? Why didn’t you say? Weapons are one of my favourite things!"

"I know," the young man smiled at his sultry companion before directing his gaze back towards him. "Could we look at your merchandise please?"

"I’m sorry," Hattori shook his head firmly. He did not sell his creations to just anyone and never to gaijins. "You are mistaken."

"Right." The young man nodded before drawing a pair of knives from nowhere, spinning on his heel, and flinging them at his companion.

"Jesus, Xan!" Hattori’s eyes narrowed when the doe-eyed bombshell effortlessly plucked the weapons out of mid-air. "You know who I hate these circus tricks! I’m not a fucking performing seal!"

"Could have fooled me," chuckled the young man.

"How?" Hattori looked from the male to the female and back again.

"I’m sure a man as learned in the fighting arts as you knows of the Slayer myth." The young man smiled. "She’s no myth."

"Hey," the brunette grinned, "I’m Faith."

"An honour," Hattori bowed at the waist, his heart racing with excitement. "I am aware of the Slayer, and that it is no myth. My grandfather supplied weapons to a Slayer in the 1920s. A great honour, please." Hattori turned and pulled a panel back in the wall, revealing the hitherto concealed passageway. After turning the light on he turned back to his guests. "Please, after you."

Once his guests had traipsed into the hole, he hurriedly closed and locked the front door before following them into the passageway, pulling the panel shut behind him. "Here," he preened himself slightly as he reached the three-walled chamber at the bottom as he looked around the chamber, the weapons collected in the wall-encompassing display cabinets gleaming seductively, "we have my collection."

"The Japanese have a long and rich martial tradition," the western male replied. "Perhaps Master Hanzo could explain some of it to us."

Hattori bowed slightly at the waist, slightly flattered by the young man’s respect. Perhaps some gaijins did know how to behave. "Over here," he walked over to the first of the cabinets, "we have a collection of Okinawan kobudo weaponry." He paused to unlock and open the cabinet before turning to his surprisingly attentive audience. "In the old days the Okinawan farming tools evolved into weapons because the nobles forbid peasants from arming themselves. The earliest weapon was the bo," he pulled out a six feet long staff, "it was developed from a tenbin, a stick carried across the shoulders with baskets carrying produce hanging from either side.

Next to come out were a pair of sai blades, the weapons’ three-pronged blades glinting in the light. "In the old days these were commonly made from wood and used as a truncheon, now they can be used to stab and kill."

"Like Elektra Natchios."

Hattori was shocked to hear the Slayer mutter the name of the infamous assassin that was also one of his clients, but continued with his explanations. "This is a Nunchaku," he pulled out a pair of eighteen inch long wooden staves connected by a thin steel chain. "It’s believed that the first nunchakus evolved from threshing flails." He swung the weapons over his head a few times for illustration before continuing. "Apart from being easy to carry, they can be used to defend against almost any weapon. The nunchaku can also be utilised either to strangle or joint-lock an opponent."

"The kama," he pulled out a pair of curved sickles, "evolved from farming sickles. They were one of the most difficult weapons to practice with, but in the hands of a master one of the most devastating, especially against a sword or bo, users are able to trap or block such long weapons with one Kama and attack the opponent with the second."

Next out was a chain with a blade on one end and a weight on the other. "Man," the girl identified as the Slayer whispered, "that’s just fuckin’ vicious."

"This is a Surujin, an ideal Okinawan weapon because of its ease of concealment. In olden days they were made of leather cord, but now they are made of metal."

Hattori placed the Surujin back and pulled out a pair of red oak batons. "Whoa," the Slayer commented, "that’s a nightstick, what in the hell they doin’ here?"

"This is called a Tonfa," Hattori chuckled. "And you are correct, they are a direct line from the past and to the modern nightstick, although their use is quite different. For one they are normally used in pairs, unlike the police baton. There are numerous ways to defend and attack with the tonfa. As the tonfa can be held in many different ways, education in the use of the tonfa often involves learning how to switch between different grips at high speed. Such techniques require great manual dexterity. When one defends, grasping the handle will ensure the shaft protects the forearm and hand from blows from the opponents and the knob can protect the thumb. If both ends of the shaft are held, the shaft can be used to ward off blows and the handle can be used as a hook to catch the opponent's weapons. In attack, one can swing the shaft to strike the target. Large amounts of momentum can be imparted to the shaft by twirling the tonfa by the handle. The tonfa can also be wielded in such a way as to use the knob as a striking implement, held either by the handle or by the shaft. One can also stab one's opponents with the shaft of the tonfa." After allowing the Slayer to experimentally try them, he took them back, placed them back into the cabinet and closed it before moving onto the next cabinet. "This display case contains ninja weaponry."

"Now you’re talkin’."

"I’m sure you’re aware of the ninjas’ reputations as assassins and spies in feudal Japan," Hattori continued. "This is a Kunai, a Kunai is supposedly a farming trowel," he passed around the leaf-shaped with a pommel attached and a ring on the far of the end of the pommel, "however my ancestors’ ingenuity ensured it had other uses too. Its handle’s design allowed it to be wrapped to act as a grip, or when used as a weapon to be strapped to a stick as an expedient spear or to be tied to the body for concealment." Hattori sniffed disdainfully. "Contrary to the rubbish shown on tv, they were not designed to be used primarily as throwing weapons, though they can be thrown and cause damage. Instead, they were a close-quarters weapon, specifically for thrusting and stabbing."

Once he’d placed the Kunai away, Hattori got out a Chigiriki, the Slayer whistling appreciatively at it. He passed the two foot long stick with a two foot chain with a spiked ball on the end of the chain over to the Occidental beauty who passed it around her friends. "This is the Chigiriki, our version of your morning star." Hattori replaced the Chigiriki and pulled out a long cord with a knife and a ring at either end. "This is a Kyoketsu-shoge. The kinfe could either be used in close quarters or at distance, swung around and controlled by holding onto the ring."

"Freaky," muttered the Slayer.

"My people were most inventive, and it was this inventiveness that made the Ninja so deadly," Hattori commented as he pulled out a weapon that was similar to the earlier nunchuka, except the chain was seperated not by a pair of long wooden staves but a pair of shorter but heavier metal handles. "This is a Manriki Gusari. As you can see it’s a three foot chain, weighted on both ends. Originally a self-defence weapon but was also a wickedly offensive weapon in the hands of a ninja. It was small and easily concealed in the palm of the ninja's hand, or in a sash. While holding one end of the chain, it could be swung around and used as a whip. The weighted end could cause a great deal of damage."

"Now for the weapon the ninja is most famed for," he pulled out a pair of five pointed steel stars, "the shuriken. Despite all the legends to the contrary, the shuriken was not originally designed as a killing weapon. It was mostly used to distract pursuers so the ninja could flee if discovered. Another weapon the ninja used in such a manner was the tesu-bishi," Hattori produced pieces of metal bent with opposite ends designed so that one point would always be up. "The ninja would usually scatter them behind them so pursuers would stand on them." Hattori paused. "And finally we come to the most honoured of Japan’s warriors, the Samurai."

FIC: MC 55. July ‘02 Crossing Swords (4/?)

Hattori couldn’t help but notice the youths’ quick exchange of troubled looks but continued to talk. "The samurai’s principal weapon was the katana," he drew out his prize piece, preening slightly at the Slayer’s appreciative purr. "But although it was commonly believed the katana was the samurai’s only weapon, that was incorrect. There is also the wakizashi," he drew a slightly smaller sword, "the samurai’s ‘honour blade’ that purportedly never left his side. He would even sleep with it under his pillow." The Slayer whistled as he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a third sword, this one’s blade only a few inches short of her height. "This is the nodachi, as you can see it looks a lot like a katana, only larger. The nodachi was carried by foot soldiers and was designed as a weapon for war versus cavlary and open field engagements. Nodachi were generally used on open battlefields as their length made their use indoors or at close quarters difficult. They were an effective weapon against cavalry, though they were not commonly used primarily because of the complexities involved in forging a blade of this length, and the power needed to wield one." Hattori smiled. "However I have solved the first problem and I believe a Slayer would have more than enough power."

"It’d be like swinging a girder!" Faith beamed. "I want one!"

"However the Samurai used more than just swords. This is a naginata," Hattori brandished the five and a half foot long pole arm with a hooked blade on one end with a flourish that hinted at his expertise. "The naginata's shaft is normally the height of the user's body, with the blade mounted atop usually measuring around thirty inches long. The standard blade for a naginata is usually curved, like this one. As with Japanese swords, naginata blades were forged blades, made with differing degrees of hardness on the spine and edge to retain a sharp edge but also be able to absorb the stress of impact. Naginatas were used by foot soldiers to create space on the battlefield. They have several advantages over a sword. As you can see their reach was longer, allowing the wielder to keep out of reach of his opponent. The long shaft gives more leverage in comparison to the hilt of the katana, enabling the naginata to cut more efficiently. The naginata's added weight gives power to strikes and cuts, although the weight can also be thought of as a disadvantage. Of course swords have their own advantages, they can be used to attack faster, and were able to be more precisely controlled in the hands of an experienced swordsman." Hattori smiled at the Slayer. "Of course someone with your power could use a naginata with just as much ease as someone could use a katana."

"Very cool," the Slayer’s eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"Here we have a weapon that requires little skill but plenty of muscle to use-."

"Perfect for Faith then," giggled the other brunette.

"A kanabo," he ignored the interruption to pull out an oaken staff that resembled a crudely cut but longer baseball bat, the top third of it covered in iron, several rows of metal studs covering the metal-shod end. "It was reckoned good for breaking swords and horses’ legs and its weight meant that it could inflict serious blunt trauma even on armoured opponents. However, its weight also made it very cumbersome to wield. This weapon is associated particularly with oni, the devils of Japanese folklore."

"I bet," the Slayer now identified as Faith muttered, lips curling up into a scowl, "that is one evil-looking piece."

"Then there was the tessen," he pulled out a silken fan decorated with a dancing yellow dragon on a red background.

"A fan?" the Slayer’s eyes were suddenly sceptical.

Hattori chuckled. "These fans have an iron frame and when folded could be used to club an opponent. This one has a sharp edge that can be used to cut your adversary." He smiled and bowed slightly at the waist. "And that is it, please, honoured guests take your time examining my creations."

* * *

Never one to be asked twice, Kennedy strode over to the ninja cabinet, mesmerised by a pair of gleaming sai blades hung there. She gasped when she took them out, amazed at how their grips seemed to mould themselves to her hands. They were so light, so perfectly balanced.

"Do you like them?"

Kennedy started at Xander’s soft voice behind her. She’d been so engrossed that she hadn’t sensed the man’s approach. " They’re beautiful," she replied, dark eyes still fixed on the matching weapons.

"Do you want them?"

Kennedy’s gaze snapped towards the smiling man. "I don’t know how to use them," she admitted. Her Watcher had been most thorough, training her for several years in the martial arts, in addition to archery, fencing, and a number of other weapons, however more exotic weaponry such as this had been considered too trifling to train in.

"You can learn can’t you?" Xander’s smile widened at her slight nod. "If you like them it’s settled, I’m buying them for you."

Kennedy beamed. "Thanks Xander."

* * *

"My pleasure," Xander bobbed his head before moving onto Tara avidly inspecting the Tessens. "Never seen you look at weapons like that before."

The witch predictably flushed at his observation. "The designs are just so beautiful, I can’t decide which one I want."

"Then buy them all," Xander suggested. "It’s not like you can’t afford them."

"True." Tara favoured him with a sparkling smile. "What are you going to buy?"

"Me?" Xander shook his head and chuckled. "The way Bruce Leia," he nodded towards his beloved, "is going through the collection, there’s not going to be anything left for anyone else."

Tara giggled. "Don’t you mind?"

"Tara, I’d give her the world if I could."

* * *

"Man," Faith attempted a few thrusts and slashes with a new katana. She said ‘hers’ ‘cause there was no way in hell she was leaving the shop without it. "This piece handles like a dream." She looked towards the watching weapons-smith. "How much?"

"Forty-five thousand for that and that wakizashi. I will not separate them, they are a pair," Hattori replied.

"No problem, I got the green," Faith replied. "And I’ll take six of those shuriken, a nunchuka, and pair of those kama blades too." Faith grinned. "Oh and that big-ass nodachi too."

"That would be another eighteen thousand," the craftsman responded. "But for a Slayer, the honour of selling it means so much, sixty thousand for everything."

"Sweet," Faith approved with a nod.

The portly Oriental looked towards a watching Xander. "He is young to be your Watcher is he not?"

"He would be if he was, but he ain’t," Faith responded. "Don’t have one," she looked towards Xander and grinned, "he’s my man."

"A Slayer without a Watcher?" the oriental pressed. "Who guides you?"

"I guide myself," Faith tartly replied. "’Sides," Faith ran her finger up the blade’s edge, admiring its sharpness, "X ain’t ‘xactly an amateur, seein’ as he’s a descendent of a warrior god and all." Normally she didn’t blurt out their secrets to just anyone, but she figured if X thought it was safe to tell him about her bein’ a Slayer, it must be safe to tell him ‘bout Xan’s ancestry.

"The legend," Faith’s brow furrowed at the look on the suddenly open-mouthed weapon-smith’s face. "It’s true." The dazed armourer backed away from her and turned towards Xander.

* * *

"You are the Mithras-born?"

"Yeah," Xander stared warily at the man, Faith shrugging behind him, "I am."

"Please," follow me." The Oriental led him under the stairwell. The armourer tugged on the bottom frame of the picture hanging there. There was a click and the wall panel to the picture’s right slid away.

Eyebrow raised, Xander followed the older man into the hidden alcove, the Always Pocket held open in case of a trap. Instead he found a darkened room with a dusty floor and a gleaming safe pressed against the far wall. The weapons-smith dropped to one knee with a groan and a creak that spoke of old age, and dialled in a four digit control on the keypad.

There was another click and a wall panel to the safe’s right slid open, revealing a palm-print reader. The weapons-smith pressed his palm into the reader.

There was a hum and another, larger, panel slid away in the left wall. Xander’s eyes widened as he followed the Oriental into the room beyond to find a display cabinet hanging on the far wall. In the cabinet there hung a beautifully gleaming long sword, its leaf-shaped blade was three feet long and its jewelled pommel glittered tantalisingly.

Xander stepped towards the weapon, entranced by its perfection, the way it seemed to sing to him. Suddenly conscious of the Asian’s intent gaze, he turned and smiled apologetically. "May I?"

"Yes," the Oriental smiled and bowed at the waist. "It is an honour to have you here. You most of all."

His brow furrowed at the strange comment, but shook it off with a shrug and stepped towards the cabinet, halting just in front of it to drink in the sword’s sheer majesty. "Go on, Xan."

He started at Faith’s soft voice, and glanced over his shoulder to see his three companions crowded into the entrance. After a nervous smile and a nod, he turned back to the weapon and took it out of its case, gasping at its perfect balance, amazing lightness, and unmarred edge.

"Legend has it that my ancestor helped make it for a champion who led an army that rid the world of demons." Xander looked towards the talking Oriental. "But before he could be presented with the sword, the hero was murdered. My family were entrusted with holding it until the descendant came to claim it." The weapons-smith paused. "It’s called ‘Demon’s Death’."

"H..how much?" Xander stuttered.

Hattori shook his head. "You misunderstand me, the debt was paid eons ago. It is a gift."

"This is the office of our man’s employer," Xander announced.

"You sure X, only you said it about the first three places we visited," Faith needled.

"Hey, Tokyo’s like a rabbit warren," Xander protested as the taxi they were squeezed into pulled up. He shoved a wad of crumpled yen between the window and door frame as he clambered out. The driver snatched the notes and unleashed a stream of unintelligible Japanese before driving off. Xander nodded sagely. "Yes, I’m sure."

Xander looked around the narrow, refuse-strewn alley, the surrounding buildings mostly crumbling tenement blocks, the only illumination the occasional still working lamp light. Japanese pop music could be heard coming out from some upper-floor window.

On balance he’d rather listen to the snarls of hellhounds again.

This was definitely the sort of neighbourhood their target would set up in.

"There’s something wrong."

Xander joined the others in looking towards the pale-face witch. "Such as?" he quietly asked.

"I don’t know, but I sense something," Tara replied, eyes fixed on the battered door they were heading for.

Xander pursed his lips, knowing that the New Mexican wicca had an uncanny way of sensing things. Xander drew his new blade and threw MP5s to Faith and Kennedy. "Kennedy, you hang back with Tara. Faith, with me!"

"Just for once, I’d like not to be in the first wave," Faith grumbled as they took up flanking positions by the door.

"Faith, you’re always moaning," Xander reproved.

"When it’s in bed, you don’t complain’," Faith shot him a shit-eating grin.

Xander flushed. "Let’s see what’s through here shall we?"

"Chickenshit," Faith chuckled before raising her foot and kicking the door in. "Holy shit," the Slayer’s sultry smile quickly faded at the horror that greeted them.

Light flooded in on the cramped office, illuminating a massacre. Blood drenched the carpet and soaked the walls. Dismembered body parts lay everywhere, on the floor, the chairs, the filing cabinets, and the photocopier, while six severed heads sat on the desk staring sightlessly towards the entrance. Xander gagged at the stench of blood and decaying flesh. "What the fuck happened here?" Faith whispered.

"I don’t know," Xander muttered, "but I’m guessing the cleaners will quit over this mess." Xander looked around the office, grimacing as he noticed the computer lying in two serrated halves. He looked towards the filing cabinets and then Faith. "I don’t suppose you’ve been learning Japanese?"

"You mean between gigs saving the world and unimportant crap like that?" Faith snorted.

"Yeah, that’s what I figured." The stench of blood almost choking him, Xander followed his girl-friend in backing out of the office, easing the door shut behind him.

"What did you find?"

Xander jumped at the soft voice behind him. He’d been so engrossed by the slaughter he’d forgotten the others. Berating himself for his sloppiness, he spun to face the waiting pair. "Nothing useful," he evaded

Kennedy stared curiously at the closed door before looking towards him. "No files or anything?"

"There’s plenty of files, but they’re all in Japanese, and I left my phrase book back at the hotel, you?" Faith snarked.

"What are we going to do now?" Tara queried.

That was a very good question, and one that didn’t lead anywhere healthy or hopeful. "Anything underhanded in Japan will more than likely include Yakuza involvement or at least knowledge. They’re too ingrained in the culture for it to be otherwise," Xander commented as they started down the alley.

Faith returned his scowl with one of his own. "They’re pretty bad hombres, Xan."

Xander forced a smile. "You’re forgetting we’re pretty bad hombres ourselves." Xander shook himself, forcing the problems to a temporary distance. "Anyway, we can worry about that tomorrow. We’re young and in a strange country, let’s catch a cab back to our hotel, change and hit a club." He looked towards his suddenly groaning girl-friend. "Oh come on, you love clubbing, what’s up now?"

Faith shot him a hangdog look. "Have you heard the freakin’ music here?"

* * *

Xander beamed as his three companions joined him. All three girls wore tight leather pants that more than emphasized their curves, while Faith had changed into a black muscle vest that clung to her rounded chest and displayed her sleek arm muscles and Kennedy had chosen a lacy, low-cut midriff top that displayed both her flat stomach and deep cleavage. Predictably Tara had gone conservative, choosing a black silk blouse with just the top couple of buttons unfastened.

"What are you lookin’ at Harris?" Faith demanded as they headed into the hotel lobby.

Xander just grinned. "I’m just deciding which of you lucky ladies gets the X-Man tonight."

"Oh yeah?" Faith snorted. "Lucky is it. That’s the first time I’ve heard it described like that."

"I’ve not heard you complaining," Xander defended as a taxi pulled up to the kerb.

"You’re right, Faith," Kennedy giggled. "He is deaf."

* * *

The club was a confusion of flashing multi-coloured lightning, gyrating teens and twenty-somethings, and crashing music. The air was filled with the musky scent of sweat intermingled with booze and smoke.

All in all, just the sort of place Xander loved to hate but Faith just loved. "Come on!" The raven-haired Slayer grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the dance floor, looking over her shoulder to yell to the others. "Don’t let sis stay at the table all night, Ken!"

Two hours later Xander was drenched with perspiration but also brimming with pride at the complete disinterest Faith showed for dancing with anyone bar him, despite a number of offers. Suddenly his girl-friend took his head in her hands and pulled him into a kiss, groin grinding into him in rhythm with the pounding music.

Xander was just beginning to enjoy the impromptu make-out session when Faith pulled away. He was about to protest when he saw the disquiet in his bombshell’s luminous orbs. "What?" he bellowed in an attempt to be heard over the music.

"There’s fuckin’ ninjas at the entrance, the rear fire escape, and the upper balconies!"

Xander’s gaze quickly took in the scene. Purple gi and mask wearing figures were swarming through the club, heedlessly knocking down the screaming patrons who weren’t quick enough to get out of their way, Kennedy and Tara fighting through the panicked crowd to join them. "They’re not the ninjas," Xander declared in a growl. "They’re the Hand."

"Everywhere we go!" Xander cursed before looking accusingly at Faith. "I never used to get in this much trouble before I met you!"

"You can thank me later, but right now I need my weapons!" Faith snapped. "My new swords would be a wicked start!"

"Sure!" Xander bellowed over the club’s chaotic din. Tables and chairs crashed over as the club-goers stampeded to the entrance. Xander winced as he saw more than one customer go down, their blood showering everywhere as the assassins cut them down in their eagerness to get to Xander and his friends.

Faith caught the swords Xander flung to her, and Kennedy took a pair of Berettas and a short sword. For himself, he drew his favoured Desert Eagles. The moment the room was clear of innocents, Xander started pulling triggers.

* * *

Faith’s eyes widened as a trio of Hand assassins leapt over the bar counter and charged her. "Wicked," she muttered before charging to intercept the trio, her new weapons seemingly moulded to her hands.

Two of the ninjas drew and flung shurikens as they ran. "You’ll have to do better than that, boys." Faith didn’t miss a step as she charged, her weapons slashing left and right as she knocked the shurikens away. The two shuriken throwers pulled out sai blades as the third assassin dropped to one knee and put a blow-pipe to his mouth. "Shit!!" Faith leapt into the air, flying above the quickly fired dart, and curling into a ball, sailing between the two charging assassins, and landing behind the third.

The masked killer dropped his blowpipe and spun to face her, drawing a pair of nunchakus as he did so. Faith’s leaping heel kick crashed into his chest, knocking him onto the ground.

By now the other two killers had turned and charged her. Faith’s katana parried the one to her right, while her stabbing wakizashi kept the attacker to her left back.

Suddenly the duo changed tact, the one to her left slashing at her feet while his companion thrust at her neck. Both sets of blades skewered just air when Faith leapt up and twisted and controted her body until she was parallel with the ground and between both swords. Bone cracked as Faith kicked the left assassin in the chest, knocking him on his ass with a pained gasp, blood spewing from his mouth.

"Ooof," Faith frunted as she hit the ground on her side. She’d barely rolled upright when the surviving sai blade wielder charged in. Faith sidestepped the low blade with a graceful step to the left, parried the high blade with her wakizashi, and slid her katana through his now wide-open guard and into his heart.

"Aaaaah!" Pain shocked through her right arm when the first Hand assassin swung his nunchaku into her shoudler. Her katana fell from nerveless fingers as she kicked out at her attacker.

"Fuck!" Faith fell backwards when the killer’s nunchaka collided with her right knee, numbness and loss of muscle control instantly following pain.

The masked killer had the nunchaka around her neck before she could react, steel chain choking her. Forcing the pain aside, she reached up with her good arm, grabbed the nunchaka’s left handle and pulled. The moment the chain loosened, Faith threw herself forward, her momentum carrying her attacker over her to land in a ball and roll up to his feet.

By contrast it took a still-recovering Faith a half-second longer to regain her feet, the brief pause all the time the Hand assassin needed to draw a pair of kamas. Leg still weak, Faith backwards until her leather clad butt collided with the bar. "Blowpipe, nunchakas, and kamas, what’s he gonna do next? Throw a fuckin’ kitchen sink?" Faith muttered as she searched desperately for something she could use as a weapon.

The killer came in fast, kamas shredding the air between them. His head snapped back as her hastily snatched up and flung beer bottle smashed into the side of his head. The feeling finally returning to her arm, Faith lunged at the man, blocking one kama on her left arm while driving a knee up at the man’s midsection.

The Hand assassin danced out of the way, his own foot coming up in a kick at Faith’s face. "Oh please." Faith grabbed the man’s ankle and yanked the leg up while driving her other palm down and into the man’s knee, the bone breaking with a resounding snap, the assassin’s pained cry turning to a gasp when Faith drove her fingers into the man’s throat, crushing his larynx. His last breaths coming in wheezes, the man fell to his knees.

* * *

Xander’s gun took out six of the assassins until he was out of ammo. Replacing the Desert Eagles with ‘Demon’s Death’, he took the nearest of the killers’ head off with a back-handed swing.

Another Hand cultist lunged in fast only for Xander to snap his short blade in two with a downward slash. The assassin gasped before leaping up into a standing dropkick that Xander crouched under before thrusting his sword up through his rival’s back and out of his stomach, blood spurting out as Xander yanked his blade out, the man sailing on to crash to the ground, his body thrashing in its spasmodic death thores.

Another killer lunged at him, a chigriki swinging over head, Xander ducked the first attack, wincing slightly as the chigriki’s spiked ball took a chunk out of one of the nightclub’s support beams. The moment the assassin attempted to pull the weapon back, Xander drove forward, his blade swinging up to impale his attacker, the blade skewering through bone and flesh alike to come out of the other side, the assassin shuddering as slumped down on the blade.

And then it was over. Cordite hung heavy in the air, together with blood’s coppery stench. Bodies lay everywhere, corpses of Hand killers lying with their victims, some fortunate few were moaning piteously, but most were deathly silent. Xander noted distractedly that no matter the victims’ skin colour, their blood was the same.

"Xan," Xander started at Faith’s soft voice, "I can hear sirens in the distance."

"Right," Xander pulled himself together. "Out the back, let’s hustle."

A/N: In case any one wonders, I’m using the movie version, ‘cause Kelly Hu’s hot….

Faith spoke as they crashed out of the club’s back entrance and into the chilly alley beyond. "You said those hombres were the Hand? Who the hell’s the Hand?"

"Short story version is they’re a cult of mystical ninjas who work as assassins for hire. They’re based here, but work all over the world, although they hire their skills out for a high price, they covet power above all else. They were founded as a secret society of nationalist samurai in the late 16^th century, but were co-opted by the Snakeroot, an ancient ninja clan who serve a primordial demon."

"Ya know," Faith commented, "the world we live in gets fucking weirder by the day!"

"Yeah," Xander didn’t slow in his walk as he looked left and right, "we got lucky tonight."

"Lucky?" Kennedy snorted. "There were twenty of them, how was that lucky?"

"Because some of them aren’t just assassins, some are practioners of powerful dark magics," Xander replied.

"Hey," Kennedy bumped her hip into Tara, "we’ve got Tara."

"That we have," Xander half-smiled. The Sunnydaler looked left and right as they ducked into an alley flanked by two high-rise buildings. "There’s something-."

* * *

Kennedy screamed as the doors to either side crashed open, and dozens of thickly-built thugs dressed in jeans and t-shirts raced out to surround them. Her left heel crashed into the nearest thug’s chest, knocking him back into the wall, an elbow to the nose sending blood splattering, the glassy-eyed man sliding down the wall to the ground.

A second charged her, Kennedy flung herself to the left, crashing into some trash cans stood there, one bouncing off her head before spinning away. Head ringing, she barely had time to roll away from an attempted stomp to the face before heel-kicking her assailant in the ankle, the Oriental’s pained scream lost in the crack of his shattering ankle.

Kennedy kipped up in time to see another thug gliding into the attack. Kennedy reached blindly behind her, snatched up a trash can lid and slammed it into the side of the attacker’s head.

Kennedy saw stars when the man replied with a jarring hook to the jaw. Her legs buckling beneath her, Kennedy fell against the wall, helpless to avoid an overhead right to the forehead. Another man punched her in the mouth, the back of her head bouncing off the hard concrete.

"Ooooh." Kennedy groaned as she threw a right that bounced off her assailant to the left’s shoulder. "Aaaa." Air exploded from her when the man crashed a left to her gut. Kennedy crumpled to her knees. " Aaa." She could only manage a croak when one of her attackers snatched a hold of her ponytail and dragged her up.

The moment she was upright, Kennedy swung an elbow up into one of her attacker’s chest. The other responded with a fist to the kidneys, Kennedy slumped into her other assailant’s arms, beaten beyond her capacity to resist.

"Most fiery," a tall muscular woman with long green hair and matching eyes walked into the bedlam, "Harris give up. Otherwise the witch," Kennedy’s heart skipped when she registered an unconscious Tara slumped in the arms of three more thugs, bodies littering the body around her, "and the potential will pay the ultimate price."

Xander looked from Tara to her. "Don’t stop-," Kennedy gasped as one of the hoods cut her off with a chokehold, his muscular arm wrapped tightly around her throat.

"Fine," the resurrected warrior god shoved the nearest hood away from him. "But this isn’t even close to over." Kennedy shuddered at the bleak coldness in her friend’s eyes. Did they have any idea who they were messing with?

Suddenly a tranquiliser dart crashed into Xander’s neck. Eyes glazing over almost immediately, the Californian slumped to his knees and then fell onto his face. Kennedy’s last thought as a needle entered her neck and she lapsed into unconsciousness was just where was Faith?

* * *

Faith grinned as a slender Oriental beauty about her size and dressed in a black cat-suit raced to confront her as violence erupted around her. "Bitch you are so-."

Blood spewed from her mouth when the Oriental beauty smashed an awesomely powerful backhand into her face. Faith wailed as the blow lifted her from her feet and flung her into the wall to her left.

Faith managed to cartwheel out of the way of the warrior woman’s follow-up attempted thrust kick to the face. Faith blinked as brick chipped and cracked under the blow’s impact. This bitch was playin’ for keeps.

Before her attacker had chance to right herself after her failed attack, Faith rammed an elbow into the Oriental’s lower back but all she got for it was a stunning backhand to the back of her head. Faith gasped as she stumbled away from her rival, Slayer strength no shield to her rival’s power.

The woman spun to face her, emotionless eyes boring into her. Faith’s own eyes widened in shock when adamantium claws shot out of the woman’s hands. "Oh fuck!"

Faith thought rapidly. Much as she hated to admit it she doubted that she could beat a mutant with roughly the same powers as Wolverine. So the best thing she could do was get this bitch away from the others. At least then they might have a chance.

Faith dropped into a squat and then rebounded up, hands grasping upwards as she leapt over her adversary’s slashing claws. Faith grabbed the railing of the balcony three floors above her, tensed her arms, and swung over the railings and onto the balcony, landing in a cat-like crouch. The moment her feet touched ground she was turning and leaping shoulder-first through the apartment’s glass door.

She hit the ground on her shoulder, glass cascading on the carpet around her. "Shit!" Faith winced as she pulled a shard out of her left thigh, blood leaking out of the wound. She looked up to see a grey-haired, doughy-faced woman sat in a chair staring goggle-eyed at her.

"Sorry ‘bout the window," Faith muttered as she pulled herself up on the kitchen counter. "I’d stop to explain only-." Her mouth dried as the mutant appeared on the balcony. "Gotta go!"

Faith charged through the apartment’s wooden door without bothering to open it. Her plan to get the bitch away from the others had worked. Now all she had to do was stay alive.

Even as she thought out her next move, she was moving, charging down the flickeringly-lit corridor with its peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet. Upon reaching the stairwell, she leapt up onto the banister and powered upwards.

Faith cleared two floors before grabbing the third’s banister rail and swinging over to land on the stairs. The moment her feet touched the stairs she was off and running, eating up the steps at a blur, mane swinging wildly.

But as fast as she ran, she could hear the mutant chasing. Faith glanced over her shoulder to see the mutant just two flights behind. Faith leapt backwards over the banister rail, dropkicking her pursuer full in the chest.

"Aaaah!" the mutant fell head over heels down a flight but then leapt back up.

"Oh you have got to be fucking kiddin’ me!" Faith cursed as she made a landing, turned left and charged down the corridor, her breath coming in over-exerted grunts, sweat beading down her face. A door half-opened, a set of piggy eyes staring out to see what the disturbance was.

Faith heel-kicked the door before its owner had a chance to close it, door swinging fully open. She shouldered the oriental standing open-mouthed in the hallway out of the way before charging through his apartment. She had the briefest glimpse of an untidily dreary apartment, take-out boxes and dog-eared magazines littering the floor, and then she was bursting out onto the balcony, not slowing down but increasing her pace as she set off and leapt into the air.

Cold dark air hit her as she sailed into the sky, coming to an undignified crash onto the across the street balcony, grunting as she hit the hard floor. "Jesus," she muttered as she leapt off the balcony, somersaulting down and to her left to land on a balcony two floors down. Her legs buckled beneath hear, causing her to fall through the half-open door, a splinter slashing open a cut above her left eye, blood spilling into her vision.

A burly Oriental stared at her as she crashed down onto the carpet. A slow grin spread across his portly face at the exotic foreign beauty seemingly delivered to him by the gods.

The moment the man rose and stepped towards her, Faith swept his legs from beneath him with a hand and leapt up. Faith wiped the sweat and blood from her brow with the back of her arm as she strode through the apartment. The front door gave way under a single kick and a half-second later she was in the corridor.

"Oh you have got to be shittin’ me!" Faith groaned as she saw the mutant charging towards her.

Her eyes alighted on a laundry chute in the wall opposite. "Oh to hell with this!" she muttered before leaping head-first for the opening.

Faith had always enjoyed the amusement parks they occasionally visited. Big surprise, she’d come something of a rollercoaster ride junkie. And she was on one hell of a ride now, pitch black on a winding slide seemingly going as a hundred miles an hour.

Suddenly she saw sheets and braced for impact, twisting in mid-air so to hit them shoulder rather than head-first. Faith flopped down on the sheets wanting nothing more than to rest. Instead she leapt up and stumbled up the basement’s stones steps.

Flinging the basement door open, Faith found herself in a dimly lit entrance hall. Faith started across the hall, eyes skirting nervously around. And then the entrance doors flew open and she walked in.

"Fuck this running shit!" Faith snarled before leaping into the air, snatching a hold of a ceiling beam and swinging into a dropkick. "Fuck!" Faith twisted in mid-air when the mutant extended her claws and attempted a skewering.

Faith winced as the claws lashed at her, ripping open her vest and tearing a series of bloody furrows across her upper stomach. Landing beside the mystery woman, she drove her elbow into the side of her rival’s head. The mutant didn’t so much as blink before attempting a side thrust kick that Faith managed to side-step a half-second before getting a back-hand across her already battered face.

Faith grunted as she flew into the empty reception counter, wood cracking with the impact. Damn, but her rival was strong. Faith wriggled eagle-like away from another side thrust-kick, back-heel kicking at her adversary’s raised leg.

The mutant stumbled to one knee. Not knowing if this mutant needed oxygen, Faith decided to chance her luck and looped an arm around her adversary’s neck.

The oriental grabbed Faith’s arm before she had chance to tighten her grip and flung her half-way across the long hall. "Shit!" Pain roared through Faith’s back as she landed on a wooden table in the room’s centre, the collision’s force collapsing the table. Faith groaned as she rolled out of the way of an attempted stomp to the face, picking up a table leg and swinging it as she did so, only for it to snap on the mutant’s forearm. A kick to the gut doubled Faith up, a knee to the chest knocking her back down. Before she had chance to move the mutant was reigning kick after kick onto her. The moment the kicking stopped, her adversary grabbed her by her hair and repeatedly drove her head into the ground, Faith’s gasp on consciousness becoming more tenuous with each blow.

Faith watched through almost bludgeoned shut eyes as the mystery woman yanked her up and extended her claws. "Now it ends."

Lady Deathstrike smirked down at the battered brunette lying at her feet. The gaijin had led her on quite a chase, but now she was beaten into a barely conscious submission. All there was left to do was finish her off.

She reached down for a handful of the Slayer’s thick mane and pulled her up to her knees. She hissed as her claws pinged out of her other hand, the all-too familiar pain shooting through her limb. "Now it ends."

"I think not, Yuriko."

Deathstrike gasped as her deathblow was blocked by a sword. She looked up at the giant clad in samurai armour. "This is none of your concern, Ken."

The samurai’s eyes narrowed under his helmet, impaling her with his glare. "You dare to desecrate the noble tradition of the samurai and you think it is none of my concern? Do you forget who you speak to?"

"I know you, Silver Samurai." Yuriko released her grip on the Slayer, the beaten occidental limply dropping to the ground. "My employer will no be so tolerant of your interference in the future," she warned as she backed to the door.

The samurai failed to drop his guard until she was at the entrance. "I warn you Yuriko, both your employer and yourself should worry more about me if you continue on this path. I will not allow this madness, this blasphemy to continue."

"Stand in our way and the next time we meet, I will kill you." Yuriko warned before exiting.

* * *

Kenuichio Harada stared after his fellow mutant. Outwardly he was impassive, but inwardly he seethed. The Samurai were amongst Japan’s most honoured traditions. And now a megalomaniacal fool wanted to debase that tradition in some sick scheme to snatch power.

Not if he had anything to do with it. Kenuichio sheathed his katana and started towards the door. There were leads to follow up-.

"X….Xander."

Kenuichio stopped and turned at the slurred groan behind him. He strode over and crouched beside the beaten girl. The girl moaned and writhed when he ran the back of a gauntleted hand down a swollen cheek. She was, he decided, astonishingly beautiful for a gaijin, even allowing for her pummelling. More than that, she had fought with honour and bravery against a far superior adversary. It would dishonour them both for him to just leave her here.

The young woman groaned and shifted as he scooped her in his arms and lifted her off the floor. He looked down at the barely conscious lovely cradled in his arms, shocked by how small and light she was. "Sleep now child," he soothed as he made his way to the door. "You have no need to worry. The Silver Samurai does not make war or take advantage of those unable to defend themselves."

* * *

A half-hour later and he was arriving at his traditional Japanese mansion on Toyko’s outskirts, his guest having lapsed into a full unconsciousness. The gleaming gates slid soundlessly open before him. The moment his limousine purred to a halt outside his home, his servants were rushing down the entrance’s marble steps to greet him, forewarned about his return and unexpected guest. "Oki," he greeted his head servant. "It appeared your information was correct."

"I am gratified to hear it," his servant bobbed respectfully, curious eyes fixed on the woman crumpled in the back seat. "Your instructions, mi lord?"

"Have her taken inside and given to the women to clean and dress her wounds. Then put her in one of the guest rooms."

"As you wish mi’ lord," Oki bobbed his head again before looking towards the mystery westerner. "If I might ask…"

"You above all others, may," Kenuicho smiled wryly. "Unfortunately I have no answers. I only know that she fought Lady Deathstrike with exceptional heart and I could not reward such bravery with indifference."

Oki gasped. "Lady Deathstrike, mi lord?"

"Aye," Kenuicho stepped aside to allow two of his men to pick up and carry the unconscious woman inside. "It appears she and Madame Viper are behind this scheme, although as I said I am at a loss to just who our guest is, and why her companions are so important to Viper’s scheme."

* * *

Madame Viper smugly watched as the resurrected god was wheeled out of the back of the van. Even if she didn’t notice his glazed-over eyes, she couldn’t fail to note the intravenous sedative pumping into him. "Take him to the preparation area," she ordered, voice briskly efficient. "The other two are to be taken to the cells. Make sure their sedatives are kept working at all times." She paused, things were going so well she hated to tempt fate, but a warning needed to be given. "We don’t need any complications."

"Well I’m afraid we’ve got them."

Her earlier satisfaction dissipated as she spun to face Lady Deathstrike. "The Slayer escaped you?"

"Worst than that." Her subordinate’s beautiful face twisted in a scowl. "The Slayer was spirited, but I beat her down. Then Kenuicho Harada interrupted me."

"The Silver Samurai?" Viper chuckled dourly. "Unfortunate, very unfortunate, but hardly unexpected given what we’re att-, doing here. We have the Mithras, he’s the important one." She paused for a second. "Reinforce the security so that they’re aren’t any further misfortunes."

"Yes Madame," Lady Deathstrike half-bowed before staring at her. "How many samurai remains have you collected?"

"Sixteen hundred," Viper smiled beatifically. "Sixteen hundred killing machines to obey my every command."

"Jesus," Faith groaned, her body throbbing as she rolled onto her side. "Anyone get the number of the truck that flattened me?" Her eyes sleepily fluttered open, half closed again, then shot back open as she registered the unfamiliar four-postered, flowery draped bed she was laid upon.

Her second shock was when she realised her bandaged body was naked under the blue cotton sheet. "Son of a bitch!" she winced as she rolled up and sat on the edge of the bed, sheet wrapped around her. "That fuckin’ hurts!"

Slayer Healing was wicked but it had its limits, and it appeared being used as a football and sliced and diced were just two of them. Faith’s brow furrowed as she fought off nausea. As much as she’d like to she couldn’t forget the chase and the beating she’d taken. The last thing she remembered was the mutant standing over her. She didn’t have a freakin’ clue how she’d got from there to here though.

The mystery woman had definitely been plannin’ to smoke her, had even said so. It didn’t seem likely the mutant had changed her mind, she’d seemed real set on it. So the question was who’d saved her and why.

If Faith was an optimist she’d figure a knight in shining armour had rode in and saved her. Unfortunately she was a realist, and she had to figure her rescuer had ulterior motives.

Faith scowled. She’d never been the sorta person to just sit back and wait for things to happen. Sometimes it got her into trouble, but that was who she was. ‘Sides, Xand and the others probably needed her.

Wrapping the blanket around her, Faith forced her still wobbly legs under control, stood, and staggered to the door. Her eyes widened when the door opened at her attempt. No lock, maybe she wasn’t a prisoner after all.

She’d barely taken two steps into the wood-panelled corridor when a door slid open and a pudgy, wizened Oriental started towards her, robe hitched so he could run. Faith waited until the man was in arm’s reach before shooting out a hand and grabbing the surprised man around the throat. Faith let the blanket drop as she spun around and slammed the unfortunate man into a wall. "I want some answers and I want them now! Where am I? Whose crib is this? And," her eyes burnt into the paling man, "who the hell undressed me? ‘Cause if I find-."

"I assure you none of my people would act so dishonourably. I had my women strip, bathe, and dress your wounds."

Faith released her grip on the servant’s throat and turned to the speaker. He was she realised a big man for an American or European, for a Japanese he was a giant, six feet six inches tall with a chiselled from granite physique, an unruly black mane, and matching brooding eyes. "Who the hell are you? Wait," Faith’s eyes widened as some memory flickered in her head. "You were there! You saved me!" Her brow furrowed as she remembered something else. "She had claws like Wolverine-."

"You know Logan?" her mysterious host demanded.

Faith groaned inwardly at the hard note in the Oriental’s voice. Oh she’d put her foot in it. Again. Wicked. "Met him," she evaded. "You a mutant like him?"

"I am," her host nodded, "they call me the Silver Samurai. The woman you fought is Lady Deathstrike." The mystery man stepped towards her, Faith held her ground, daring him to try anything. "And what of you?" The mutant looked her from head to foot. " A normal woman would not have healed so quickly or completely."

Faith raised an eyebrow, remembering but unfazed by her nakedness. "I’ll tell ya later only I’d kinda like to get some clothes on."

The oriental smiled wryly. "I’m afraid your clothes were rather bloodied and torn. They had to be thrown away." Faith raised an eyebrow. No matter what the bitch and the witch thought she’d never planned to be a stripper. "However," the mutant smoothly continued, "I have organised some clothing for you in your room. Your belongings are also there." The mutant bowed at the waist, eyes fixed on her face. Oki will wait outside your room. Once you are ready, he will escort you to my dining room. Then we’ll talk."

Faith’s belly growled at the words ‘dining room’, reminding her how long it was since she’d eaten. "Five by five," Faith nodded warily. Faith swallowed, finally she had the nerve to ask THE question. "Ya know what happened to Xander and Tara?" Her breath caught at the man’s not unexpected puzzled expression and headshake. "Yeah, that’s what I figured."

Faith’s stoic resolve only lasted as long as it took for to her hip-swingingly saunter back into her room and close the door. Then she slumped against the wall, body shaking with a combination of pain and worry. God, what had happened to Xan and Tar?

Forcing her nerves under control, she walked over to the wardrobe and opened. "Oh boy," she chuckled humourlessly at the sight that greeted her. Instead of her normal leathers, denims, sweats, and minis there hung a selection of traditional Japanese kimono dresses. Faith grinned and shook her head. Xander would get a blast out of seein’ her-.

Except, Faith winced as her heart caught, Xan might never get to see her like this.

"Like hell," Faith grated. Nothin’ was gonna get between her and her man. If that meant stormin’ the gates of hell, well get her a flame-retardant suit. Spying her cell on the table beside the wardrobe, she grabbed it, and began dialling up numbers. When Xan, sis, and the brat failed to reply, she slammed the cell back down.

And picked it back up. So she couldn’t get hold of the gang, but there was one person who could help her with the Silver Samurai. Faith quickly called up a number.

"Hello Faith," the learned man at the other end answered after nine rings.

"Hey Prof X," Faith smiled instinctively at the bald mutant’s soothing tone. "I’m in kinda mess-."

"Yes, so I see." The professor sighed. "I can reassure you on at least one thing though, Kenuichio Harada is an honourable man."

"Thanks Prof," Faith exhaled. " What’s the 411 on him?"

"The 411," the professor chuckled, "oh of course, you’re so colourful."

"That’s me, colourful."

"Kenuichio Harada is a mutant and master of the martial arts with few equals. His power is the ability to generate an energy field from within his body and focus it through anything, normally a weapon."

"Right," Faith nodded even though she didn’t completely understand the second half of what the learned mutant had just said. " And he’s totally on the level."

The professor paused before answering. "Kenuichio has travelled some dark paths in his life, but ultimately he is an honourable man." The wheelchair-bound man paused. "And given your shared aims, he’ll be most determined to help you bring your enemies down."

"Thanks," Faith paused. "What about this Lady Deathstrike?"

"She’s a mutant with a healing ability similar to that of Wolverine which enabled her to have her skeleton replaced with Adamantium." The professor paused. "I can have my people with you in a matter of hours."

"Nah," Faith shook her head. "We don’t have the time. Only you know that helmet you use to track mutants?"

"I’ll use Cerebo to find Lady Deathstrike immediately."

"Thanks." Faith said as she hung up. She grinned unwillingly as she looked towards the half-open wardrobe. She’d never tell anyone, but the idea of wearing a dress was kinda fun.

* * *

"I bet you think this is a laugh riot."

Kenuichio’s breath caught as the foreign woman entered his dining room. She’d dressed in a red silk kimono patterned with black dragons spewing yellow fire, her black mane resting on her shoulders. The stranger’s face was completely devoid of make-up, something that stripped away her mask, leaving her with a sweetly seductive beauty.

Finally he managed to reply. "A woman’s beauty can be many things, glorious, splendid, exciting, and exhilarating, but humorous is not one of them."

"Exhilarating?" A slight blush rose in the young woman’s high cheeks as she sat cross-legged at the table’s opposite end. "You get I’ve got a boy-friend?"

"Then," Kenuichio replied, "he is a fortunate man indeed. Brave, beautiful, and loyal."

"Thanks." The young woman looked almost relieved when the door slid open and one of his servants walked in. The servant bowed at the waist to him and his guest in turn before placing a bowl of brown rice and steamed fish before each of them. The beauty’s nose wrinkled but she nodded towards the servant and picked up her chopsticks.

"Thank you, Shika, you may go." Once the door had closed behind Kenuichio he directed his gaze towards his beautiful companion. "You said you would explain how you were able to heal so well?"

"Yeah," the brunette nodded. "See I’m a vampire Slayer-."

"Ah, I have heard of them," he smiled at the proclaimed Slayer’s shocked look. "I am not merely a warrior-," he stopped as he realised he didn’t know the stranger’s name, good manners having prevented him from ordering a search of the young woman’s belongings when she’d been brought here.

"Faith," the young woman supplied.

"Faith," he nodded. "I am also a student of the world’s warrior history and traditions. I know all about Slayers." He smiled. "I even have an interest in the world’s warrior myths. The Crow and the Highlanders for example." Kenuichio raised an eyebrow at the girl’s chuckle. "What is so amusing?"

"They ain’t myths," the supernatural warrior’s heart-shaped lips parted in a smirk. "I know ‘cause I’ve met them."

"Really?" Kenuichio smiled. His guest was growing more and more fascinating by the second. "And the companions you spoke of before?"

"Yeah," the Slayer’s smirk fled. "The brat’s a potential Slayer, Tara’s a witch, and my Xan’s sorta a resurrected warrior god."

Kenuichio suddenly found it very difficult to breathe. "He is the Mithras one?"

"You’ve heard of-." The Slayer nodded. "Oh yeah, that studying warrior thing. Yeah he is."

Kenichio stared at his guest for a long second before speaking. "He must be a mighty warrior."

"Yeah," a light shone in his guest’s pool-like eyes, "he kinda doubts himself, but he shouldn’t. And he’s way more than just a fighter."

"Indeed," Kenuichio quelled a jealous surge with the ease of a man trained in controlling his emotions, "he’s a very lucky man."

Faith flashed him a dimpled smile. "You better tell him that when," the girl’s smile faltered, dimming momentarily before regaining its full illumination, "when you meet him."

"I will," Kenuichio promised. His brow furrowed as a troubling thought occurred. "I have come to a conclusion," he said. "Your lover is undoubtedly alive," he licked his suddenly dry from nerves lips, "because some research I’ve done leads me to believe Lady Deathstrike’s employer intends to use his essence to fuel the spell to resurrect the samurai. The power of a god to rebuild an army."

The sultry American paled. "That ain’t gonna happen," she declared, fire flashing in her eyes. " No fuckin’ way. And who’s behind this?"

"A crime lord by the name of Viper," Kenuichio replied. "She’s a formidable foe. My investigations reveal she was born in 1920s, and orphaned as a child. By allying herself with the Elder God Chton, she ended up with a slowing rate of aging and became a mercenary, specialising in working in Asia." Kenuichio fixed his guest with a stern stare. "Viper’s a cunning criminal strategist skilled in a number of martial arts in addition to being an adept markswoman and expert in the use of a bullwhip. Viper is highly respected both in her organisation and in the international criminal underworld, as well being a master of espionage. Perhaps her greatest strengths are her influence, the financial resources at her disposal due to her stature in organized crime, and an uncanny luck which has allowed her to cheat death in situations where lesser people would have died. Viper is also extremely knowledgeable in the properties and uses of toxins, poisons, and snake venoms, frequently creating her own poisons that she spreads through her hollow fangs or poisoned lipstick."

The Slayer’s phone rang suddenly. "I gotta take this," the brunette talked into the phone before hanging up. "That was Professor Xavier, I rang him to ask about you. He said you were a stand-up guy-."

"I am honoured that such an esteemed man has a high opinion of me," Kenuichio replied.

"Yeah, anyhow, he’s got hold of Deathstrike’s location for me," Faith continued. "Only I can’t exactly fight in these clothes."

Kenuichio smiled. "I sent one of my servants out to buy some clothes more to your taste while you were unconscious. They’ll have been put in your room now. I just thought it would be amusing to see how you looked in something traditional."

The Slayer’s full lips parted in a smile. "I thought you said a beautiful woman was never funny?"

"I lied."

Faith stared at the sprawling Japanese-style mansion surrounded by a nine feet wall. After a long second she passed the binoculars back to Kenuichio, the towering warrior now dressed entirely in samurai armour. "Nice place," she grinned at her companion. "Not as nice as yours of course." Her eyes hardened. "What’s your plan?"

"Do you not have any ideas?"

Faith smirked. "I keep my head in shape by hitting things with it, not by thinking."

"As you wish," Kenuichio nodded. "I will create a distraction by attacking the front gates. You go over the wall and rescue your friends. Without them Madame Viper will be unable to execute her spell."

"That’s your plan?" Faith stared disbelievingly at her companion. "Jesus, I could have thought of that!"

"And yet, you did not."

Faith shook her head in disgust. "Wise-ass, why am I surrounded by wise-asses?"

* * *

Madame Viper smiled as she looked around the darkened room, anticipation building within her. The sedated warrior god was laid in the centre of a pentagram, a flickering candle stood at each point of the green-painted symbol. The paint buckets stood next to the water pails they’d used to clean up the last occult pentagram. A group of grey-cowled occultists encircled the diagram and the unconscious champion. In just a few hours it would be midnight and time for her to cut his heart out with her black stone dagger, his unique life-blood the fuel for her spell.

BLAH! BLAH! BLAH! BLAH!

Madame Viper looked around, shocked by the sudden alarms blaring out, shattering the room’s eerie silence. Her eyes snapped to Lady Deathstrike. "Deal with it!"

* * *

Kenuichio’s katana sliced effortlessly through the hinges of the mansion’s iron railing gates. The gates thudded to the ground, dust billowing up.

Kenuichio strode through the grounds’ entrance, unmindful of the klaxons sounding around him. "Enemies!" he roared. "Cowards! Desecraters! Face me!"

A pair of bo-wielders burst out of the darkness, staffs swinging through the air as they charged him in a pincer motion. Kenuichio didn’t break stride as his blade flashed left and right.

Blood spewed out of the decapitated men’s necks, their headless corpses toppling to the ground, bodies twitching in their death throes. A gun crack had him twisting to his left and dropping to one knee, katana flashing upwards to parry the bullet back in the direction it had come. Kenuichio heard a pained yelp and the sound of a body falling as he glided back to his feet, four gunmen charging out of the shadows to encircle him.

Kenuichio sidestepped to the left, allowing the two men stood behind and in front of him to shoot one another. Kenuichio’s katana simultaneously slashed to the side to take the gun-hand of the man to his right.

"Aaaaa!" the man screamed and cursed as blood gushed out of his wrist stump, severed hand still wrapped around the automatic as it fell, the wailing man likewise dropping to his knees. Kenuichio spun around, sword slashing diagonally up to slice through the last man from right hip to left shoulder.

Kenuichio had barely stepped through the downed quartet when a flame-haired occidental even taller than him burst out of the shadows. Kenuichio only just managed to parry the massive powerhouse’s downwards cleave, the impact reverberating through his shoulders and arms.

"Arggggh!" The European followed up with an attempted stomach skewer. Kenuichio twisted at the waist, the blade sliding past him as he countered with a back-handed slash at his opponent’s head.

The giant swordsman crouched under his attack, and retaliated with a thrust at Kenuichio’s chest. Kenuichio glided outside of the warrior’s lunge and swung his own blade up and through the swordsman’s out-stretched arm at the shoulder.

"Aaaaa!" Blood jetted out of the giant’s stump, splattering Kenuichio’s chest armour. The screaming swordsman slumped to the ground, maimed body shaking spasmodically.

"I wish you hadn’t come back, Kenuichio. Now I’ll have to kill you."

* * *

Faith shook her head as alarms shook the compound. Ken was about as subtle as she was, but she had the distraction she needed.

A single leap took her all the way over the wall and landed her in a crouch on the lawn. After a glance around to check her entry had been unnoticed, she sped towards the illuminated mansion. She was half a dozen paces from the house when she leapt into the air, arms crossed over her face.

Faith hit a second-floor window arms first, glass exploding inwards. She hit the carpet in a ball and forward-rolled to her feet by the far wall. The room’s other two occupants stared blankly at her for a second before charging. Faith sidestepped the first before driving a knee into his gut. The man croaked, doubling up as Faith grabbed him by his jacket collar and threw him into his companion. The two men crashed into the wall and slid to the floor, dazed expressions on their faces. Faith grinned before striding out of the room.

The moment she was in the polish-floored corridor, its walls adorned with paintings from what looked to be Japanese legend, she saw a sumo-sized giant lumbering towards him. Faith charged to meet the four hundred plus mammoth. As the last second she dropped onto her back and allowed the momentum generated by the slippery floor to slide her between the man’s tree-trunk legs then reached up, grabbed his hamstrings, and pulled.

"Gaaa!" the fat man crashed face-first to the ground.

"Sorry ‘bout that!" Faith leapt to her feet and started down the wide, velvet-carpeted stairwell, three steps at a time. Logic dictated that any prisoners or occult chamber would be in the basement, it wasn’t as if people wanted their captives out in plain view with the nice china.

Faith was six steps from the bottom when she saw a cleaver-wielding man charging to intercept her from the left. Faith flung herself over the banister rail at the man, her hand grabbing the man’s cleaver-wrist and twisting while simultaneously punching him in the throat.

"Baita!" The man’s wrist snapped like a twig and his face purpled under her attack. Faith hit the ground on top of the man, his body cushioning her fall. Faith was up instantly and running past the downed man and into the darkened doorway beyond.

Her elbows snapped left and right, colliding with the faces of the two men hidden either side of the door. "Nice try, boys."

Faith hurried to the back of the room, a single kick taking the thick wooden door there off its hinges and onto the guard hidden behind it. Heart thumping and mouth dry, Faith leapt over the broken door and down the six steps stairwell.

Faith’s stomach hollowed at the candlelit chamber, her honey tied down in the middle of a pentagram painted at the room’s centre. "Xan," she started forward.

"Shittttt!" Faith screamed herself hoarse as pain jolted through her lower back, legs suddenly numbing beneath under her. Faith hit the ground in a heap, body helplessly convulsing.

"That was sloppy, Slayer." A green-haired muscular woman stepped out of the shadows, a hateful smirk twisting her scarred face. "I know he’s your lover, but allowing that to dull your senses, sloppy."

"Fucccck!" Faith screamed as Madame Viper shocked her with the stun-gun again, writhing desperately on the stone cold floor.

"You really need to be taught caution." The crime-lord’s finger tightened on the trigger. "And pain is such an effective teaching tool."

Teeth gritted with the effort, Faith rolled away from the crime-lord’s attack. Sparks ignited on the concrete where she’d been laid. "Naughty Slayer," Viper’s mocking tones cut through Faith’s tortured breathing. "Won’t stay still will you?"

"Not planning on it," Faith muttered as she pulled up onto her hands and knees, body still twitching spasmodically.

"You will."

"Jesus!" Faith screeched as she failed to dive out of the way of another stun gun charge. Body convulsing, she started to pull herself away from the criminal mastermind, deeply conscious that if not for her Slayer constitution, she’d almost certainly be unconscious if not dead. "Aaaaaaaaah!" She screamed again as another shot hit her, body contorting so hard she thought her muscles would snap.

"I wonder how many shot it will take to kill you?" A combination of desperate panice and blind instinct had Faith rolling to the right. Her hand brushed against something metal. Desperate for a distraction, she flung the object over her head and at her attacker.

"Aaaaaa!"

Suddenly her ears filled with the other woman’s scream and the stench of burning flesh. "Oooo." Faith moaned as she rolled onto her back. Her eyes widened at the sight of Viper lying on the ground, smoke wafting off her corpse. Faith grinned, there must have been water in whatever she’d thrown at the crime lord. "Score," she muttered before peering at the corpse. "You’re not so fuckin’ talkative now are ya, Crispy?"

"Shit," Faith’s taunt turned to a groan as she rolled onto her back, breath coming in pained pants. She slowly, achingly raised an arm only for it to flop uselessly. "Jesus," sweat beaded down her face as she rolled onto her front and dragged herself on her elbows over to Xander.

"Hey hon," Faith whispered. She smirked as her hand raised with increasing ease to stroke her baby’s wavy locks. "Sorry ‘bout the delay and everythin’, but she really didn’t wanna give you up. Must be that animal magnetism you’re always tellin’ me you have. Don’t see it myself, but hey." Faith crawled over to the sedative stand and tore the drip out of Xander’s arm. "Xan," Faith whispered into her man’s ear, "I ain’t got time to wait for you to wake up naturally. I need you to pull an adrenalin shot out of the Always Pocket for me, ya hear?"

After a second a syringe dropped from Xander’s limp hand, Faith’s far slower than normal reactions barely managing to catch it before it hit the ground and shattered. Faith pulled the top off the needle and lifted the syringe. "This is fuckin’ embarassin’, playin’ doctors and nurses, and he’s not even awake," she groused as she steadied her still faltering hand and jammed the syringe into her man’s chest like she was staking a vampire then jammed the plunger down hard.

Xander’s body arched up like a bow before crashing back down onto the gurney, his breath coming in pants as his eyes fluttered open. "Faith?"

"You know it!" Faith cheered as she threw her arms around her man and crushed her lips to his. After reluctantly pulling away, she winked at her man. "Boy-Toy, get some clothes on. I’m pleased to see you an’ all, but we’re kinda on a schedule here."

Xander grinned even as he blushed. "You’re no fun anymore." Her boy-friend’s eyes narrowed. "You look kinda frazzled Faith."

Faith chuckled humourlessly. " Frazzled is ‘bout right, bitch had a stun gun, but I smoked her ass." Faith smirked. "Now ‘bout those clothes?"

"Spoilsport," Xander chuckled before materialising a pair of jeans and matching short-sleeved denim shirt. Once he’d quickly dressed he spoke. "What’s the plan?"

"We find Tar and the brat." Faith grimaced at Xander. "Only I’m gonna need some help, that bitch’s stun-gun took my legs."

"Oh." Xander grinned as he pulled her up. "Do I pick you up by your collar or drag you by hair?"

"Just try it," Faith darkly warned.

* * *

Kenuichio’s mouth dried. "Yuriko," he stonily greeted his fellow mutant. He was under no illusion about his chances against Lady Deathstrike. He was the more skilled fighter although Yuriko was hardly a slouch, but Deathstrike’s powers far out-stripped his. Her claws were just about the only thing in the world that could cut through his katana, and her enhanced healing and stamina gave her yet more advantages. "This is your last chance. Leave here now."

Deathstrike’s only answer was an half-smile. And then she was charging forward, black mane whipping behind. Kenuichio twisted away from the slashing diagonally claws. His sword flashed down but before it could strike home Yuriko was inside his defences.

Pain flared through his nose as his adversary butted him in the face. Blood dripping down his face, Kenuichio stumbled backwards, sword flashing up but impaling nothing but air, the warrior woman sliding outside of his attack.

His bleary eyes caught the flash of claws then he was dropping to one knee, the claws slicing through the air above his head. Before the woman had chance to pull back, Kenuichio executed a back-handed slash at her knees.

His fellow mutant backwards somersaulted out of the range of his attack, landing in a crouch. Kenuicho surged up and charged into the attack, blade cleaving downwards. The fast as lightning mutant darted inside his attack. Kenuichio barely had time to twist away from her thrusting claws.

"Aaargh!" Yuriko shrieked as his katana sliced into her forehead. Blood gushed out of the wound, but while a normal person’s head would have been sliced in two, his blade came to a halt when it hit the steel of her skull. Before he had chance to pull his weapon all the way back, Yoriko’s elbow crashed into his jaw, Kenuicho tasting his own blood. A split second later and Yuriko’s claw slashed upwards and through his katana.

Kenuicho responded with a roundhouse kick. His grounded leg buckled under a kick to the knee from Yuriko. Kenuichio grunted as he hit the ground on his side, a follow-up kick to the ribs robbing him of air as his fellow mutant straddled him, claws out-stretched.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The night echoed to the sound of a quartet of shotgun shots. Blood fountained out of the female mutant’s open mouth, astonishment flooding her midnight dark eyes. Kenuichio rolled to the side as Deathstrike’s legs buckled and she hit the ground, body shaking in pain.

Kenuichio’s eyes widened at the sight that greeted him. Faith was stood there with two other strikingly beautiful women and a young man holding a pair of smoking handguns. The westerner, he had to be Faith’s warrior god to judge from the looks the Slayer lovely was giving him, looked towards him. "How long will she be out for?"

Kenuichio glanced at Yuriko’s body as he stood, wincing slightly at the bloody cavity that ran through her back and out of her midsection, smoke smouldering off it. "I imagine there is considerable damage to the nerves of the spinal column. Healing will take a while."

"A while?" The young Westerner grimaced. "Vague it up why don’t you? But she’s a mercenary?" Kenuichio scowled and nodded. He loathed mercenaries as the most dishonourable of foes. "Now her boss is dead," Kenuichio stared at the young man, "she’ll probably realise there’s no profit in coming after any of us."

"Probably." Kenuichio agreed. He looked towards Faith and then back to her boy-friend. "You are Xander?" The younger man nodded. "You are a lucky man."

"I know, but don’t tell her that," Xander grinned boyishly. "She has a big enough head as it is."

"Hey!"

"She is not lacking in confidence," Kenuichio agreed.

"Hey!"

The younger man’s grin widened. "You noticed that too?"

The Slayer muttered something most unladylike. "It would be an honour if you and your companions would join me at my home," Kenuichio offered.

The Westerner looked towards the honey-blonde as if seeking guidance. "Ken’s on the level, Xan," Faith put in.

"Faith’s right," the blonde agreed.

The young man nodded. "We’d be honoured."

"My limousine is this way," Kenuichio turned and started towards the compound’s shattered entrance.

"His limo, he drives to war in a limo?" Xander gasped.

"No, his chauffer drives," Faith corrected. "Ken does things in style. Ya might wanna think ‘bout takin’ some notes."

Kenuichio fought back a chuckle at the boy’s long-suffering sigh. "Yes, dear."

* * *

Xander stared at the man sat at the opposite end of the table. Even if you didn’t know about Kenuichio’s mutant powers, he was about as intimidating as they came. Six feet six with a rock hard not to mention massive physique, and eyes about as dark as you could get, he nevertheless moved with an almost inhuman grace. "I was wondering if you’d be interested in running Japan for me," Xander paused, "that is running a Japanese branch of the Brotherhood."

Rather than honoured or disinterested, Kenuichio looked troubled. "My past is hardly spotless and some of your allies may well be displeased by your inclusion of me."

Xander stared at the Oriental swordsmaster. "My allies don’t pick my team for me, I do," paused. "Well as long as Faith approves-."

"Damn straight."

"Faith and Tara vouch for you, that’s enough for me," Xander ignored his girl-friend’s interruption.

"Then," the mutant bowed his head, "I would be honoured."

"Wicked!" Faith crowed.

Xander smiled. "You’ll have the annual interest off a $ 150,000,000 trust fund to run your branch with. Tara?"

The witch looked up from behind her laptop screen. "Each of Japan’s ten largest cities has at least one group of ten vampire hunters." Faith whistled. "Tokyo has three. Here are the printouts."

"Paperwork?" Kenuichio looked at the paperwork.

"Yeah," Xander nodded woefully, "I feel your pain."

Tara glared at both of them in turn before continuing. "We’ll supply you with computer discs relating to everything we know about demons, useful contacts, security, and organisational protocols, that sort of thing."

"I am most grateful," Kenuichio nodded.

"Your sword was destroyed during the fight with Deathstrike?" Xander queried.

"It was," confirmed the Oriental.

"Then maybe this will replace it."

"You cannot," Kenuichio gasped as Xander took out the katana Hanzo had given him and passed it over the table. After a moment staring at the sword, Kenuichio looked up, wonder in his eyes. "I cannot ever repay you."

Xander looked across the table at Faith and smiled. "You’re wrong. I’m the one who cannot ever re-pay you."

"Damn," Faith flashed him a dimpled smile. "Sometimes Harris you manage to say the right thing."

Xander’s own smile broadened. "I try, I try."

* * *

"There is something we should discuss."

Xander started as Kenuichio stepped out of the shadows surrounding the toilet he’d just exited. "Jeez, now I have to go ag-," he paused at the Japanese’s stern expression. "What’s wrong?"

"Faith told me you were attacked by the Hand?" Xander nodded. "I have certain contacts in the Japanese underworld. I had heard about the Yakuza hiring the Hand for a hit. I thought them fanciful rumours, they rarely go outside their own ranks, but then Faith told me of their attack."

"Do you know who ordered these attacks?" Xander asked as he forced the anger he felt from his voice.

"These are dangerous people," Kenuichio warned.

Xander chuckled humourlessly. "I’m not exactly a shrinking violet."

Kenuichio stared evenly at him before nodding. "Very well."

Xander waited until the Japanese had recited the name and address before nodding. "Thanks, I’ll see you and the others later." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Xander turned back to the mutant. "What should I tell Faith and the others?"

"Tell them I’m paying a debt."

* * *

Tatsu poured himself a glass of sake. Then he spent the next five minutes staring at him, holdin it in his sweaty hand. Tatsu shuddered. The Hand had utterly failed to kill Mithras and his companions. In fact, they’d been slaughtered.

The Hand had other agents, but if they failed to get to Mithras before he found out about his part in this… Tatsu shuddered.

"I killed three men to get to you." Tatsu croaked as he spun to face the Westerner framed in his apartment’s doorway, his stomach hollowing at the young man’s forbidding expression. "Maybe I’ll make it four."

"Mith-." Before he had chance to react the man had his hands around his collar. A half-second later and Tatsu was in the air, crashing against the wall and sliding to the ground.

He wasn’t even up to his knees when the raging Westerner had him by his belt and collar, then he was airborne again, crashing onto and throught the lounge’s glass table. Breath coming in desperate pants, he reached for a glass shard to use as a weapon. "Aaaaah!"

Tatsu screamed as the Westerner stamped on his hand, breaking several fingers.

"Don’t even borther." Tatsu grunted when the American kicked him in the gut. "You’re old and out of shape, I do this sorta thing for a living." The young man grabbed him by his collar, flipped onto his back and kicked him in the balls. "And against creatures that wouldn’t even break stride to kill you."

While Tatsu was still writhing and screaming in pain, the Occidental picked him up and threw him onto the couch. "I’m tryin’ real hard to forget you tried to have my friends and I killed." Tatsu gasped when the youth snatched his hair and yanked his head back. "See how easily I got in this building. I could get to you at any time. So you’re gonna work real hard to please me. Otherwise."

"Aaaaah!" Tatsu wheezed when the youth jammed his thumb into his throat.

"I will kill you." Xander’s voice was cold as winter’s first bite. "And it won’t be easy or quick. So what you are going to do is make sure Kenuichio Harada’s Mithras Brotherhood Branch gets absolutely no problems from the Yakuza, you dig?"

"Hai," Tatsu nodded, heart thumping in terror.

"Good." Mithras released his grip on his hair. "The moment Harada does have problems, I’ll come looking for you, and you won’t like that at all."

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