Kuroyama concentrated on the fight. He was not only a master of the Hand and their leader but he was a strategist. He knew what he was doing every step of the way in his battle with the Silver Samurai. He knew he could have finished him quickly, but it was not what he wanted. He wanted him humiliated, and if that meant holding back and letting the fool think he was winning, so be it.

In the background he heard a strange noise, but ignored it, for the Samurai demanded his attention. Yukio was broken, Elektra's arm was broken and Nina was out of the fight as well. There was nobody else he had seen, so who was there left to challenge him, but this fool? The sound stopped as quickly as it started but Kuroyama did not notice. His plan was simple - manoeuvre the fight so he could claim the sword and kill Harada with it, the ultimate in ignominy. It would require some deft work from him to do it but Harada was fighting by the rules, and Kuroyama did not have to. His code of honour meant that he did not have to, for he was of the Hand and the acts against this disgraced and disowned child of the Shingen would not mean any disgrace in the eyes of his peers.

In moments he had reached his target, his prize and he suddenly he stopped fighting, broke away from the Samurai and pulled the Black Blade from where it was embedded in the slender wooden wall. Instantly he felt a surge of demonic power rage through him, as the soul of the Sword of Muramasa found a new host, a host who would not dominate its powers, would not negate its influence. The Silver Samurai had been the man fate had chosen as his master, however fate and destiny were tricky things and the rest of the prophecy had been lost centuries ago.

Kuroyama's own will raged at the domination of the Sword over him for he was one of the undead and the Blade should not have mastery over him. He fought using every trick the Hand had taught him when they brought back Nina, had demonstrated on him using their arcane rituals to bring him back for the netherworld. He was the Black Mountain of the Hand and a blade could not best a mountain. The fight ended in a stand off, and lasted for the few seconds it took for Kuroyama to loosen the sword and swing it at the Samurai and slicing through his armour. The Black Blade cut through it as if it were paper and the Samurai shuddered as it sliced in to him, and his blood ran down the blade on to Kuroyama's hand.

Kuroyama looked deep in to his eyes, feeling the low chuckle of the Blade, knowing that the Blade had allowed him to kill the Samurai, and that the act had bound them both in blood. He could see in his eyes the fear and realisation of what had just happened and there seemed to be a silence in the air where they could both hear Harada's heart beating, slowing and suddenly stopping. Kuroyama saw the Samurai's eyes shift to look away from him before he finally fell to the floor, dead, denying him the last moment of life escaping from his body.

"Huh," sneered Kuroyama, his voice echoing in a way it hadn't before and his clothing had become darker than it had been just moments ago. The Black Blade has possessed the Black Mountain and this game just got a whole lot more deadly, and he looks down at the fallen Samurai. "Fool!" he said and gave the corpse a kick.

~SCHLUKT~

The sound of something grating against bone and flesh, ripping through skin and appearing in the cold air of the morning hit his ears and he turned and to see Logan standing there. Logan, who should have been elsewhere; Logan, the Chosen One of Ogun; Logan the sworn enemy of the Hand. His presence was a surprise he should have anticipated, and the sword also recognized him

"You!" They said in unison, using Kuroyama as the host to speak, and Logan simply smiled, or something that looked similar to a smile crossed with a savage grimace, and Kuroyama prepared himself, the muscles in his body tightening in readiness and in something more unexpected - dread.

Finally, Logan spoke.

"Okay, bub. Now it's my turn."

"Come, warrior," spoke the Blade through Kuroyama. "Let us dance this tune once more." It wasn't lost on either Kuroyama or the Blade that at that phrase Logan visibly shivered.

Matsu'o Tsurayaba made his way to the chapel area of the Yashida Compound. The air was thick with the stench of burning wood, as the fire began to spread across the once stately compound. Shiro had done his work most admirably, he thought as he crawled across the floor towards the Statue of Ameratsu, the Japanese Sun Goddess. He managed to pull himself up and sat with his back to the statue.

He did so not out of disrespect, but for the fact he was not worthy to look at her as he died. It wasn't that he regretted the things he had failed to do, or that he repented of that which he had, it was that he knew that where he was destined to go, there was no power of Good that could forgive him.

He would soon go and be judged by the God of the Underworld where he would endure an eternity of pain and suffering as the balance of his life was brought up. The shame of it was, though he had known this was an option he had always thought he would live forever, or at least be resurrected by the Hand if he died. Had he not fought for them? Suffered for them, made them a powerful force? Though he had been defeated and derailed much in recent times, there was much success that he had wrought on their behalf. He looked back at how it had come to this and heard the words of Kuroyama's denouncement in his ears and remembered the pain as Nina had struck home with the final shot of their duel and decided that, all things considered, this was a cruel twist of fate.

"How very, very true," came a voice and he looked up to see a dark vision emerging from the flames.

"Amatsu Mikaboshi!" said Matsu'o, recognising the Japanese God of Evil as he approached him, and though he had expected him to come, he was afraid.

"Quite," said the demon and sat down next to him. "I thought I'd save some aggrivation and get to you now before the judicial proceedings take place. You will be mine, I just really hate red tape."

"You are not what I expected," admitted Matsu'o, as he coughed up a blood bubble.

"Everyone sees me as they want to see me," said Amatsu Mikaboshi. "I have varying forms, varying names. And I just love sushi."

"Who are you?" said Matsu'o, his eyes beginning to get heavy as he finally began his walk down the path to eternal night.

"The August Star of Heaven," said Amatsu, shooting him a sideways glance. "I chose that name for myself long ago and your poets latched on to it so very easily. There is only one name that has forever stayed with me. You may call me Mephisto or, better yet, Master."

"Are you offering me a deal?" asked Matsu'o as the light began to dim.

"No, because you have nothing to offer me. You are dying, your soul is mine by right and this is a moment to be savoured. I'm about to bless you with my touch. You and your lover, Kwannon, will be reunited and you will work for me as my agent. I have plans for you both."

"What do I have to do?" asked Mastu'o, fear in his heart but there was a chance to live which me meant to grasp, so he could gain his revenge on Kuroyama.

"That's simple," said Mephisto and he put his arm around Matsu'o's shoulders in a mock friendly hug. "You have to die. Which should be any second..."

Matsu'o realised he was in trouble as soon as Mephisto said he had to die and that although Mephisto offered something there had to be a catch. He was not the Prince of Lies for nothing. He fought with all of his will to keep going, but the damage done to him had been too great. Nina's attack had been fatal, it had just taken a while. All of a sudden he heard the screams of the underworld calling him as he was engulfed in a cold, black fog and he knew that he had finally died, not in a battle but alone in an enemy camp bleeding to death on a cold stone floor.

"Now," concluded Mephisto and looked at the corpse before him, then unleashed a bolt of hellfire and reduced it to ashes. Then he looked at the statue of Ameratsu. "Madam," he said, tipping an imaginary hat. Then he laughed out loud and vanished in to the flames that were engulfing the compound.

This ain't good.

Kuroyama would be a handful under most normal circumstance, but with the Black Blade this makes it even harder.

Couldn't smash that sword when I had the adamantium, and it couldn't cut through me either. Things have changed, and even though my healin' factor can help, it won't save me if he slices me clean in two. Best way to stop that is to make sure he doesn't get that good a shot in.

He lunges forward with the Blade and I dodge out of the way, sweeping my arms as I do, and the claws graze his skin. He spins and looks at me as I take up another defensive stance.

"First blood to you," he says and we go at it again. Both of us are disciplined in the art of the samurai and I know he was taught by Ogun, same as me. There are also moves that the Blade learned from Jessica Drew when it possessed her, and from me when it possessed me as well. He swings and I leap up, kicking him in the head. He's slowing because there's a conflict between him and the sword. His moves aren't as fluid, but he's fast enough anyway, and my shots don't seem to phase him anyway, then after we've been fighting for a few moments, I realize he's been taking his measure of me and he makes a daring move.

Kuroyama leaps up, aiming a kick towards my head, and bringing the sword down, to cleave me in half if I move out of the way of his foot, so I do something else instead and stay where I am. His foot connects with my face before the sword comes down, and it gashes my forehead as the kick knocks me back. My nose is broken, and there's blood pouring in to my eyes. That one move's done a lot of damage, but not as much as it could have done, but it's still more than he's done so far. The bleeding quickly stops as the healin' factor kicks in an' I can feel the beast within me rise at the challenge, my vision blurred from the blood and I try and push the beast back from where it came, but in doin' so I make a mistake.

The instinct to charge overcomes me and I rush forwards and slash with my left set of claws towards his neck, but he's ready for me, and he leans back, taking the target out of my reach and swings the sword up and pain shoots up my arm and there's the rattle of bones hitting the wooden floor. The skin has been taken off the lower part of my fingers, my claws have been sliced clean off, and I'm missin' a chunk of the knuckle from my index finger. Hurts like blazes, and as I take a moment, he swings the Blade towards me again and I duck, but it's a trap for as I duck, he brings the sword back. I twist and see it coming and try and catch it with my hands. It only slows it, and it catches me in the throat and I fall to the floor, struggling for air and bleeding all over the floor.

Last thing I think of before I black out is that it didn't take my head clean off and I wonder if even my healin' factor can fix this...

As Wolverine and Kuroyama fought each other, Elektra pulled herself up from the floor, gripping her arm and wincing at the pain. She finally had breath back in her lungs and she could see Nina lying there. Elektra knew that it might be too much to ask for but she had to try and free her from the conditioning of the Hand, she had to break the spell and free her soul.

"Nina," she said as she managed to get close to her, avoiding the fighting, impressed with Logan's moves. Everything had come back to him since she had put him back on the path and retrained him. The sword did indeed remember. "Nina," she said again, putting her hand on her shoulder. Nina's body had taken a beating from the Samurai, and Elektra guessed that it was the experience of the Samurai that had won through, and she shook the woman. "Nina, it's me. Elektra."

"I know," said Nina and pushed up. Elektra's bad arm meant she couldn't defend from the swiftness of the attack and she was thrown to the floor, landing on her back, with Nina on top of her straddling her waist their faces almost touching as Nina pushed down on her. Elektra could feel the warmth of her breath on her cheeks, and see the rage in her eyes. "This time, I'll finish you forever, the rituals be damned."

"Strike then," said Elektra. "I will not stop you." She relaxed her body; stopped resisting and Nina almost fell from her as Elektra went limp beneath her. "I never intended for this, for you to be abused like you have been and I know that the scales must be balanced."

"This isn't about us," sneered Nina. "This is about you and the Hand."

"No, it isn't. 'The rituals be damned', you said. This has never been about the Hand, it's been about us. By going with Kuroyama you have moved to the person who would look after you, like I failed. Like your father failed." Nina's hand slapped her across the face.

"How dare you bring him in to this?"

"The truth hurt?" said Elektra, keeping her voice calm and measured. "You've tried to be me, you've tried to destroy everything good in my life and tried to hurt me. Everything you've done to me says revenge and I am tired of this. I am tired of running from you. If it takes my death to satisfy your soul, so be it. A swift strike to the throat now would crush my windpipe and I would slowly suffocate."

"You do not deserve such a swift end. You deserve to scream as I did, so I can watch as you die."

"So be it," said Elektra. "Kill me, but remember this - I love you, Nina. No matter what you do and what you have done."

Nina's grip relaxed slightly at that. "You're lying."

"So what if I am? Kill me and have done with it."

"I... I..." Nina was faltering, Elektra's words reminding her of a past she had left behind, stoking memories she didn't want and making her question her loyalties. Was what she felt for Kuroyama just transference of protection from one person to another, and their relationship her repayment? What was she doing? Was she for the Hand or for herself?

"You're hesitating," came Elektra's voice in her head. "Whose will is dominant - yours or the Hand?"

"I... don't... know..." stammered Nina and released Elektra, gripping the sides of her head, as if in unbearable agony.

"Then it is not the Hand," said Elektra and smiled as Nina stood up and looked towards Kuroyama. Then there was a thud that drew Elektra's attention as well and she saw Logan hitting the floor, blood creeping across the floor and her heart froze for an instant, and she leapt up from the floor.

"The Chaste have taught you well," he said as he saw Nina's inner torment. "You have put the fears in her mind, given her doubts and set her towards the so-called Path. Even Stick could not succeed in that."

"Sometimes you have to walk the same steps on the Path to truly know," she said.

"Perhaps," said Kuroyama, "but the end is near. Logan has fallen, Yukio has fallen, the Samurai has fallen. There are none left to aid you and you could not best me before."

"Today is a good day to die," she said.

"Then let us start our final dance," said Kuroyama and Elektra knew she had to draw on everything she had to take him down. Then there was a feral roar and both of them looked to where it had come from. Logan was there, crouched on the floor, the last of his claws out, the bloodlust in his eyes. There was no semblance of anything human in his stance, and both could see the slice on his neck was nothing more than a scar now, but in order to heal himself something had been sacrificed and though he was normal in appearance, the beast he kept within him had been raised and was now dominant.

I wake, but as I do, I know it isn't me anymore as the berserker within my soul kicks in and it's as if I'm watching the scene from outside my body. Elektra's in trouble and I, both man and beast, associate her with friend. She pulled me back from the brink when I was lower than I ever thought I could go. I owe her. We owe her and I try and call her name but it comes across as a feral cry and both of them look at me, Elektra in sadness, Kuroyama seeing the new threat and takes it in his stride.

But the person Kuroyama now faces is one neither the Blade has seen of, or Kuroyama knows the moves of. The attacks are no longer patterned, logical manoeuvres. Each move is deadly, instinctive; using every facet of my enhanced senses to make the moves, aiming not for vital areas, but something simpler that the man would never think of, being too interested in defending himself. Kuroyama finds himself on the back foot, and tries to press forward again but the remaining set of claws know the true enemy, can sense the evil of the sword that drives him and in a swift move the claws come through the wrist that holds the sword sending it flying through the air, disarming Kuroyama and the sword hits the floor with a clank.

No blood pours from his wound, as he is still dead and I doubt he has any blood left within him, but the shock of losing a hand is evident and the beast senses the prey is wounded and fights on, but Kuroyama is free of the influence of the Black Blade and his reaction time is that much faster and he easily swats he away before bolting for the door. I know he's on the run and the thrill of the hunt beckons as I set off after him but a voice calls to me and the beast stops in it's tracks.

"Logan," calls Elektra. "Come back, Logan."

Her words reach in to my soul and I can feel the pressure easing, my wounds healing and my anger and fire draining away. It's much the same way she called me when she first met, but this time I'm not that far gone and I can pull myself back properly.

"Please," she calls, her voice a lifeline my sanity grabs on to and pulls the man back to the surface.

"...Lek.. Elektra," I manage to say and she smiles. I'm exhausted, Kuroyama has got away but he's left Nina and though the compound is damaged, it can be rebuilt. There have been losses today on both sides. Kenuchio is dead, the last of the children of Shingen and that's a victory Kuroyama can never be denied.

We all regroup later, after the fire is put out, and the Hand have been dispatched by Sunfire. Matsu'o's body is gone as well, and though he could be dead we can't count on it fully.

"So what now?" I ask Shiro, who is next in line for the head of the Clan Yashida.

"I do not know," he replies. "The Hand have been driven away and anyway we look at this, the end result is a stalemate. Until they regroup, they won't try again but they will and we must prepare."

"I will stay and help Shiro rebuild," says Yukio. Her wounds weren't too bad, but she needs to rest for a while. Amiko saw everything happen in the room and hasn't spoken since. I've put a call in to Muir Isle about Nina. Maybe they can help her over there, as there is nothing that can be done for her in Japan. Perhaps I'll ask Jean to look at Amiko. There are times I miss Chuck, and this is one of them. "What of you?" she asks.

"Gonna get away and rest for a while, think things over. The X-Men need me they'll call. I just need to heal. Between Apocalypse, this and the people the X-Men have been fighting of late I need time to get my healing factor back to strength."

"Perhaps," says Elektra, her arm in a cast. "Perhaps you'd like to come with me. I'm going home."

"Greece?" It's a tempting offer. The sun's warm, the drink's good and I could use company that wouldn't be as cosy as the X-Men, truth be told. The X-Men don't really get me all the time and they wouldn't understand properly. Elektra would and besides she wouldn't have offered if she didn't want me to come.

"I'd love to."

NEXT ISSUE: Time out in Greece! Logan rests after a long period of action, as even the best need to recharge from time to time.