Chapter: The Crimson Sky of New York
The streets of New York City were in chaos. The sky, once a brilliant blue, had turned an ominous crimson, casting an eerie red hue over the buildings. Portals pulsated in the air like angry wounds, and from them poured grotesque demons, snarling and lunging at anything in their path. Amid the madness, two familiar figures swung through the air, weaving between skyscrapers like threads in a chaotic tapestry.
Spider-Man and Ghost-Spider moved with practiced precision, their web-slinging forming a synchronized dance of heroism.
"Okay, seriously, why this happened now, when my girlfriend confessed her love to me," Peter Parker quipped as he shot a web at a demon, yanking it off its perch and slamming it into the ground. "Do we have a punch card for these? You know, fight ten demons, get a free coffee or something?"
Gwen Stacy, aka Ghost-Spider, flipped gracefully through the air, her movements fluid and deadly. "I think we're fresh out of punch cards, Spidey. But hey, at least we're getting in some cardio."
Peter grinned behind his mask, but his mind drifted for a moment. A few hours ago, Gwen had confessed her feelings to him, her voice soft but steady. It was Oberon's suggestion, oddly enough, that had pushed her to speak her mind. And now here they were—partners in heroics and something more.
But their budding relationship would have to wait. The streets below were flooded with panicking civilians, and demons were everywhere.
"Hey, Ghostie," Peter called out as he kicked a demon into a lamppost. "Quick ethics question—do we get a free pass for killing demons, or are we going to end up on some interdimensional watchlist?"
Gwen launched a spinning kick at another demon, then shot a web to catch a falling streetlight before it crushed a car. "Pretty sure it's fine. Unless demons have a government with rules against this sort of thing. But considering they attacked first, I think we're good."
"Cool, cool," Peter replied, twirling a demon's sword he'd just snagged. "I don't usually go for sharp objects, but hey, desperate times."
As they swung through the chaos, Gwen pointed to a car trapped in a sea of snarling demons. A person was inside, screaming for help. "Peter, look!"
"On it!" Peter said, his voice sharper now. The two heroes dove toward the vehicle, but just as they prepared to engage, shimmering golden threads of magic erupted in the air, slicing through the demons with precision.
The source of the magic stepped forward—a Unfamiliar figure in a flowing cloak. Wong, the sorcerer, stood amidst the wreckage, his hands glowing with arcane power.
Peter and Gwen landed near him, their suits slightly scuffed from the battle. Peter tilted his head. "Hey, thanks for the assist, uh… mutant guy? Or is this some sort of government experiment?"
Wong raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "I'm not a mutant," he replied. "I'm a sorcerer. This is magic."
"Magic?" Peter echoed, crossing his arms. "You're telling me magic is real? Come on, everything can be explained by science but Magic isn't one of them."
"That," Wong said with the patience of someone who'd had this conversation far too many times, "is precisely why it's called magic."
Before Peter could retort, Gwen had already moved to the car, tearing off the jammed door with her enhanced strength. Inside, a man sat slumped over, his face pale and his hands twisted at unnatural angles. Blood dripped onto the seat.
"Peter, we've got a problem," Gwen called, her voice serious.
Peter crouched beside her, his usual levity replaced with concern. "Whoa, buddy, what happened to your hands?"
The man looked up, his voice weak but laced with determination. "I… I'm Dr. Stephen Strange. My hands… they're broken. I need a hospital."
Peter's eyes widened. "Wait, the Dr. Strange? Like, world-renowned surgeon Dr. Strange? Man, you've had a rough day."
Strange managed a faint smile. "You have no idea."
Peter carefully lifted Strange into his arms. "Don't worry, Doc. I've got you. Just hang tight." He shot a web to the nearest building and swung away, Strange cradled securely. "And hey, if I drop you, it's not like your hands can get more broken, right? Kidding, kidding!"
Strange groaned. "Your sense of humor is… insufferable."
"That's what Gwen says!" Peter thought over his shoulder.
As Peter disappeared into the skyline, Gwen's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and sighed. It was her dad.
"Hey, Dad," she answered, trying to sound casual. "What? Oh, yeah, I'm at the bakery with my friends. No, no demons here. Just donuts. Yep, totally safe."
Wong gave her a look as he fended off another wave of demons. Gwen shrugged. "What? He worries."
The battle continued, the streets of New York serving as the backdrop for chaos and heroism. And for Peter and Gwen, it was just another day in the life of Spider-Man and Ghost-Spider—saving lives, cracking jokes, and proving that even in the darkest times, hope and humor could shine through.
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Chapter: Rebuilding the Yashida Legacy
The crimson hues of the setting sun bathed the Yashida estate in a warm glow, casting long shadows across the carefully raked gravel of the zen garden. The tranquil hum of cicadas blended with the occasional clink of a training sword from the courtyard where a young girl, her hair tied into a neat ponytail, practiced her swordsmanship. Her movements were deliberate yet graceful, mimicking the precise techniques passed down through generations of the Yashida clan.
From the veranda of the traditional Japanese house, Wolverine and Mariko Yashida watched their daughter in silence. Mariko sat in her wheelchair, a silk kimono draped elegantly over her frame, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders. The soft breeze played with the strands, as though nature itself sought to comfort her. Logan, dressed in a simple yet dignified yukata, sat beside her, one hand resting protectively on hers.
She didn't recover from everything she went through by Hydra, thanks to BB and Ritsuka, Wolverine learnt his wife is still alive and his dead daughter saved her mother and herself. But they are taken by hydra. With Brotherhood of mutants and magneto help they found out where his family is. While Magneto still searching for his kids with his team.
"I still feel like this is a dream," Mariko whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. She looked at Logan, tears glistening in her eyes. "And I don't want to wake up, my love."
Logan turned to her, his rugged face softened by a rare smile. He reached out, gently brushing away her tears with one calloused hand. "I feel the same way, Mari," he said, his voice low but steady.
Mariko clasped his hand tightly, as though afraid he might vanish like an illusion. "Thank you," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "Thank you for accepting my wish to rebuild our family."
Logan shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's our family, Mariko. Don't forget that." His tone grew firmer, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. "Don't worry about the rival clans. The clan elders already made us the heads. We'll bring the Yashida name back to its former glory. No one's gonna mess with what's ours."
Mariko gazed at him, her heart swelling with both love and pride. Logan's loyalty to their family and his unwavering resolve made her feel safe, even amidst the storms they had endured.
The Yashida clan, once a symbol of honor and strength in Japan, had been on the verge of ruin during their absence. Corruption had seeped into the government, and rival clans had grown bold. But now, with Mariko as the rightful heir, her husband beside her, and their daughter continuing the family's traditions, the tides were beginning to turn.
"My dear," Mariko began hesitantly, her cheeks flushing faintly. "Why haven't you told your X-Men friends about any of this?"
Logan exhaled sharply, leaning back slightly. "No, Mari. I'm not gonna drag them into this. Calling them means trouble. I don't want that. I just want to live normally—with you and our daughter."
Hearing those words, Mariko's blush deepened. Even in her thirties, she looked radiant, and Logan couldn't help but admire her beauty. Despite the trials they had faced, she was still the woman he loved with every fiber of his being.
After a moment, Mariko broke the silence. "My dear," she said softly, "you told me a Japanese boy helped you find the truth about me and our daughter."
Logan's expression grew thoughtful, and a small smile played on his lips. "Yeah, that kid's name is Ritsuka Fujimaru. Without him, I'd still think you were dead. I'd have never found you, never saved you. I owe that kid more than I can ever repay."
"I would like to thank him personally," Mariko said, her voice warm with gratitude. "And I must admit, I'm curious about him."
Logan chuckled lightly. "He's a good kid, Mari. Got a heart bigger than most adults I know. But he's been through a lot. Too much for someone his age. Kinda reminds me of myself sometimes. I don't know but my instincts sensed this when I saw him for Frist time."
Mariko tilted her head, studying her husband's expression. There was a rare softness in his eyes when he spoke of Ritsuka, a boy who had somehow managed to touch Logan's guarded heart.
The gentle clinking of Sakura's wooden practice sword echoed through the courtyard as she returned from her training. Her long black hair, tied in a loose braid, swayed with each step. The sharpness in her eyes mirrored Logan's, but there was a reserved grace about her that clearly came from Mariko. She had the steely resolve of a warrior but carried the weight of someone who had lived through pain far beyond her years.
Without a word, she sat across from her mother, carefully avoiding Logan's gaze. The tension in the air was palpable, as if an unspoken chasm existed between father and daughter.
"Old man," Sakura said, breaking the silence. Her tone was neutral, but the term cut deep, more so because of its lack of warmth. Logan's jaw tightened, his eyes briefly flickering with a mixture of guilt and frustration.
Mariko shook her head gently, exhaling softly at the strained relationship between the two.
Sakura tilted her head, her expression questioning. "Why is my name Sakura instead of X-23?"
Mariko's lips curved into a soft smile, her gaze steady as she turned to her daughter. "Because the name Sakura carries meaning, my dear. It's tied to the story of how your father and I first met."
Logan, leaning back slightly, remained silent, allowing Mariko to explain.
"It was many years ago," Mariko began. "Your father and I first crossed paths when the X-Men were called to Japan to stop a man named Moses Magnum. At that time, I was part of the Yashida clan, a family deeply tied to tradition but also to darker elements of the Yakuza. Despite the chaos surrounding us, your father gave me a sakura flower. In Japanese culture, the sakura, or cherry blossom, represents beauty and the fleeting nature of life. That single gesture of kindness amidst the turmoil was the beginning of our story."
Sakura's gaze softened slightly, but she pressed on, her curiosity piqued. "And what about your marriage?"
Logan finally spoke, his gruff voice cutting through the stillness. "Your mother didn't exactly have it easy. Her father, Shingen, tried forcing her into an arranged marriage with a criminal named Hideki Kurohagi. That scumbag owned Madripoor and was looking to expand his empire. The marriage would've given Shingen more power and Hideki more territory." Logan's fists clenched as he recounted the events. "I couldn't stand by and let that happen."
Mariko picked up the story, her tone gentle. "Your father fought an entire army just to reach me. He confronted my father, not just as a warrior but as a man of honor, determined to do what was right. He saved me, but more importantly, he gave me hope when I had none."
She doesn't want to tell her kid that Logan killed his Father-in-law.
"I think it's enough sakura for today, Go and change into women clothes, you should learn to be like women. Tell the workers it's prepare dinner. We are descendants of Muramasa and protectors of his swords. We should follow our traditions,"
Sakura listened intently, her serious demeanor unwavering. After a moment, she stood and bowed respectfully to her mother. "I understand, Mother. I'll change into formal attire and prepare for dinner. Tradition must be upheld."
As she walked away, Logan exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "Kid's tough, just like her mom."
Mariko smiled knowingly, her eyes softening. "She's your daughter too, Logan. She'll come around. Give her time."
Logan remained silent, but the weight of her words lingered.
Once they were alone, Mariko gestured for Logan to rest his head on her lap. Despite her wheelchair, her presence was as commanding as ever. Logan hesitated for a moment before obliging, leaning his head against her. Her arms wrapped around him gently, and for the first time in what felt like years, Logan allowed himself to relax.
Tears welled in his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away, but Mariko saw them nonetheless. She held him tighter, her voice soothing.
"Oh, my love," she whispered, her words like a balm to his weary soul. "We're finally free. Please don't cry. This moment with you is better than a lifetime of sorrow. You'll always have my love, Logan. You're not alone."
Logan tightened his grip around her, drawing strength from her warmth. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Mari. I'll never let anything happen to you or Sakura. I swear it."
But the tender moment was abruptly shattered.
The evening sky darkened, shifting into an ominous red. The air grew heavy with an unnatural energy. Logan's instincts flared, and he shot to his feet.
From the shadows, a grotesque demon materialized, its eyes glowing with malevolent intent. Its body was a twisted mass of muscle and sinew, and its claws dripped with dark ichor.
"Stay back!" Logan growled, positioning himself between the demon and Mariko.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the Muramasa blade displayed in the hall, its sharp edge gleaming in the dim light. With a single, fluid motion, Logan charged at the demon, slicing through it in a clean arc. The demon let out an ear-piercing screech before collapsing into ash.
Mariko, her eyes wide with shock, gripped the arms of her wheelchair. It was her first time witnessing such a creature, and the sight left her shaken.
The commotion drew the clan warriors, who rushed to the scene armed with traditional weapons.
Mariko quickly composed herself, her voice steady as she issued orders. "Secure the estate. Protect the women and children. Be prepared for more intrusions."
Logan, his stance tense, added, "Close the gates and keep everyone inside. If any more of those things show up, we'll handle it."
As the warriors dispersed to follow their orders, Logan turned to Mariko, his resolve unwavering. "I don't know what's coming, but I'll protect you and Sakura no matter what."
Mariko nodded, her faith in him unshaken. "And we'll stand together, my love. No matter what the future holds this time."
As the red sky loomed overhead, the Yashida family braced themselves for the battle to come, united by love and an unyielding determination to protect what mattered most.
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Note: I still had one more chapter to post but I think I will post it tomorrow.
I love Logan x Mariko ship very much. I want to gave more Development to them in this story. They are my favourite ship.