[ Local Temple, Tokyo, Japan ]
Daisy yanked Mariko up and steered her toward Shingen Yashida, who was surrounded by politicians, dignitaries, and other fancy types who believed temples and bloodbaths didn't mix. Sadly, the Yamaguchi-gumi didn't get that memo—or they shredded it on purpose.
Peace cracked like cheap porcelain when shadows rustled above the eaves. Out of the creeping dark, figures in full ninja regalia emerged, moving with eerie precision. These weren't bored college kids playing shinobi. They were the real deal. Bows bent in unison, strings drawn tight. With a sharp whoosh, three arrows zipped straight toward Daisy.
These weren't panicked potshots. The formation was tighter than SHIELD budget approvals. No matter how she dodged, at least one of them would land—unless she sprouted wings.
Now, she could dodge bullets. Easy peasy. But trying to shoot arrows out of the air with a Glock? That was a Cirque du Soleil act, and her marksmanship... well, let's just say she passed the eyesight test, not the God-tier aiming one. These ninja are too nimble and fast on their feet.
Daisy didn't dodge. She grabbed Mariko, shoved her behind her, then did the sensible thing: she picked up a conveniently dead gangster—one Wolverine had artistically ventilated earlier—and used him as a makeshift meat shield.
Lifting a full-grown man one-handed wasn't normal, and Mariko's eyes widened like she'd just seen a unicorn doing deadlifts.
The arrows thunked into the corpse with chilling precision. Daisy let the pincushion drop, grabbed Mariko again, and sprinted.
Then Mariko froze.
Daisy skidded to a stop, already bracing for some philosophical protest about running. But no—Mariko's gaze was locked upward.
One of the eaves wasn't just swarming with hostiles. A young man teetered there, bloodied and outmatched. No close-combat gear, only a bow. He was trying to hold his own but got overwhelmed fast. He tumbled off the roof like a ragdoll and landed in the koi pond with a theatrical splash.
Mariko didn't hesitate. She ran toward the pond like it was the final act of a tragic opera.
"Of course," Daisy muttered. "Let's all do dumb, dramatic things today."
Elsewhere, things had completely gone to hell. Shingen Yashida had entered the fray like a boss-level samurai. This was no wannabe warrior playing dress-up—his blade moved with intent, precision, and years of I-can-kill-you-in-one-swing energy. But he was outnumbered, overwhelmed, and slowly being pushed back.
"Mr. Logan, please protect Mariko!" Yukio shouted across the chaos. Her tone? Pure 'not-a-request' energy.
Logan's attention snapped toward Mariko. Sure, Shingen had the honorable-dad vibe, but Mariko? Young, pretty, and conveniently un-armored. The obvious choice.
With a feral growl, Wolverine carved through gangsters like butter. He landed beside Mariko, who was now doing her best tragic-heroine impression while clutching the half-dead archer. It was so dramatic it might've made a soap opera jealous.
Daisy glanced over. She vaguely remembered the guy—Mariko's childhood sweetheart. Used to stalk her from the shadows like a knockoff ninja. Word was, he worked for Madame Viper. Supposedly good with a sword… yet here he was, swordless, useless, and rapidly dying. Great résumé.
Back at the temple, chaos reigned supreme. Someone even chopped the old man's spirit tablet in half. Sacrilege? Yep. Oops? Definitely.
Then came the real problem: the Red Ninjas.
No shouting. No flashy entrances. Just cold, coordinated, surgical murder. Politicians, gangsters, second cousins twice removed—everyone was fair game. Their target? The Yashida family. Shingen. Mariko.
The resistance was a dysfunctional soup of bodyguards, and a few plot-armored characters desperately trying not to die.
Daisy scowled. The script was wrecked. She needed Shingen alive—for leverage, for strategy, for the kind of future that didn't involve nuclear blackmail.
Her Glock clicked empty. Reloading mid-chaos? That was an excellent way to collect a blade between the ribs. She dropped it, snatched a fallen katana, and let her enhanced strength do the talking.
She carved a crimson path through the crowd, met Shingen midway. They were both bloodied, breathless, and irritated.
"Mr. Shingen! We need to move!" she barked, slicing through another ninja like warm butter.
Shingen didn't ask about his extended family. Daisy didn't pretend to care.
They sprinted toward Mariko.
Wolverine had gone full berserker—claws, growls, and the combat style of a pub brawl champion. Adamantium claws met soft tissue. His healing factor shrugged off injuries like they were mild annoyances. The man was a walking bug in the game of life.
Unfortunately, Shingen didn't have plot armor. An arrow hit his side. Wolverine took a few more before Daisy noticed something was off.
"They're poisoned!" she shouted.
Logan grunted, his healing slowing like a buffering video.
Daisy fired at the archers. It was mostly theater. These ninjas dodged bullets like they'd trained in VR.
"Fall back!" she ordered.
Logan wanted to stay, but Daisy glared at him—steel-hard and twice as lethal.
They retreated to the front yard. Surrounded. Outnumbered. Running out of miracle cards.
Time for Plan B.
With a curse under her breath, Daisy twisted her wrist and opened a glowing, water-blue portal. Magic? Science? Who cared—it screamed 'escape hatch.'
"Inside! Now!" she barked.
Mariko didn't hesitate. She bolted through like her life depended on it. (It did.)
But before Daisy could step through, a voice slithered into her ear. It was elegant, cultured Mandarin with a dash of venom.
"Little girl, you made me look for you for a long time."
Madame Gao appeared like the world's deadliest grandmother. Hunched, wrinkled, cane in hand—she looked like a stiff breeze could end her. But her eyes? Pure malice.
She spotted the portal. Her lips curled. Gold energy crackled from her fingers and slammed into the portal like a death sentence.
The portal glitched. Backfired.
The backlash hit Daisy like a regret-wrapped freight train. She was sucked in—along with Mariko and Logan.
They landed with a bone-jarring crunch.
Daisy barely had time to register their new location before her head exploded with pain. Not literally, but close enough. She dropped to one knee, coughed, and spat blood.
Terrific.
And now Madame Gao was officially on her tail.
This just kept getting better.
To Be Continued...
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