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As she grips Shiro’s hand, his atomic flames preventing her touch from incapacitating him, as they fly over the streets of Tokyo, Rogue’s brain is still dizzy.
Her and Shiro’s memories knock around in her head, like balls on a pool table. Flying every which way, a blurry undiscernible mess, as she tries to keep track of them all.
“Do not make me choose…”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I ever saw…”
“You have done well Shiro…”
“You’re one of the only people I ever truly loved…”
“Then Sunfire bids you farewell....”
“No, you need that to save yourself…”
“You are a threat to everyone you come in contact with!”
“You took my life!”
“Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!”
“If you truly love me—you’ll want what’s best for me…”
Absorbing memories is like being lost in a drunken and induced haze. The swamps of Mississippi and Shiro’s childhood home merge together. Mystique shifts between Irene, Shiro’s Uncle Tomo, and his father. Like a pack of playing cards being shuffled around on the table.
Rogue looks down at her father—no Shiro’s father—who is suddenly Carol Danvers cooped up in her hospital bed. Her cousin Shiro’s cousin is sitting across from her at a high-end restaurant. Quickly replaced by Kurt giving her a devilish smile in the X-Men’s kitchen. Her arms are wrapped tightly around Remy and seconds later she’s pointing a sharp knife to her stomach.
Their guilt, their joy, their pain, it merges into one heavy emotional cocktail. Seeping through Rogue’s blood and powering through her brain.
“Don’t take another step, Ma’am.”
Those were the first words Rogue said to Mystique.
She had her gun pointed at her, screaming that she’d blow her away if she so much as moved an inch.
It didn’t matter to Rogue that she had never held a gun before and that looking back she was more likely to blow off her own fingers than cause any harm to Mystique. Her eyes were trained on the bracelet that was wrapped around the dark-haired woman’s arm.
Instead of backing away in terror or calling for help, Mystique just laughed.
“They call you “Rogue” don’t they?”
“That’s the nicest thing folks these parts say about me…” Rogue spat, not lowering her weapon. “What about it?”
“Well Rogue, I don’t think you want to hurt me.” Mystique says. “I don’t think you want to hurt anybody.”
Rogue stared back at the woman, her eyes unblinking. How could this complete stranger know her so well?
They continued to talk, Mystique lowering down her mask. Her dark locks, pale skin, and bright blue eyes giving way to rusty red hair, sky blue scales, and fiery yellow pupils.
She wraps her arms around the frightened girl and Rogue does not pull back, rather, she leans in and soaks up Mystique’s words.
She’s going to take her home to live with her and another nice lady. That she’s always wanted a daughter and she’s the luckiest person in the world to have met Rogue. Wasn’t Rogue tired of spending her nights lurking around the backwoods and wouldn’t she like to come home with her and sleep in a nice warm bed.
Rogue’s so overwhelmed that she almost misses the part where Mystique says that she’s a mutant and that Rogue is destined to be one too.
Rogue stares back at her.
At the time she couldn’t think of anything much better than growing up to become the woman standing above her.
A stick slams against Rogue’s shoulder, bruising it.
She yelps and nearly falls over but is held in place by a strong hand.
“Straighten up, Shiro!” A deep voice commands. “I have no use for weaklings.”
“I am sorry!” She tells him.
The words spilling out of Rogue’s mouth are not her own, they’re in perfect Japanese and yet she can understand them perfectly.
This was definitely something that happened to Shiro.
“No!” The stick slams back into Rogue’s Shiro’s back once again. “Never apologize, never show weakness!”
This quickly turns into a rant about the Americans. Their Western oppressors who had destroyed everything Japan had built. Desecrating their nation’s very soil.
Shiro nods along.
This is true he knows it for a fact.
It’s in the books his uncle gives him. The films he plays on the projector. The thing he reminds Shiro of every waking hour, of every single second, of every day.
“Doesn’t father work with the Americans?” Shiro asked once when he was little more than six years old.
It’s not something he remembers his father every explaining to him, but something he saw in a newspaper his uncle had left on the table. Saburo Yoshida, Diplomat to United States, Makes First Visit to UN, the headline read.
“Your father is a traitor!” Uncle Tomo spat.
Shiro didn’t question this at the time. He could count on one hand the number of times he met his father. He made a quick stop to Tomo’s home after one of his trips. It lasted thirty minutes, he said a few niceties to his son, before giving him a piece of candy. Which Tomo threw out the moment his brother walked out the door.
Shiro brought this up again once when he was older, he barely flinched at the sting of his uncle’s hand against his cheek.
“The Americans killed your mother, something he seems all too eager to forget, considering he married that social climber.”
“Father got remarried?” Shiro’s hands ache to rub the side of his face, but he doesn’t move. “When?”
“Three months ago.” Tomo says.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
There’s another slap and Shiro’s vision goes white. He blinks his eyes trying to regain his vision as Tomo continues his rant.
“He didn’t want you to know, Shiro!” Tomo snaps. “Why do you think he didn’t invite you to the wedding!”
He tosses a something at Shiro who grasps the blur with his hands before dropping the sword into the soil. His uncle Tomo rushes towards him with his own blade, causing Shiro to run while diving for his own. Snatching it up and using it to block Tomo’s before his uncle can stab him.
Using all his force Shiro pushes Tomo off of him, causing the older man to slid backwards, nearly falling onto the grass.
“You’re getting better.” Tomo remarks. “Though you’re still holding that thing wrong. Straighten up!”
Shiro moves his hands along the hilt of the blade and bits his bottom lip, so Tomo doesn’t see the grin slitting across his face.
Have you ever felt that thrill of first love?
The feeling you get when that cute girl in biology asks you for a pencil?
When your best friend holds your hand just as they have a million times before, but today it feels different?
When you’re at a party dancing with friends, you spin and knock yourself into the table, but someone grabs you before you hit the floor, you laugh it off, but you know you’ll never be the same again?
That happened to Rogue the morning Irene placed her pancakes in front of her and Mystique glanced up from her newspaper, a headline about the Mutant Meance, gracing their local gazette.
“We’re still on for training this morning, right Rogue?” She gives Irene a kiss on the cheek as the younger woman (although if you saw the two you’d think it was the other way around) places a mug of coffee in her hands.
“Raven, my pancakes are burning…” Irene sighs but doesn’t attempt to move.
“You’ll live!” Mystique says between kisses.
“Gross!” Rogue giggles.
“You live in my house for free, you don’t get to complain.” Mystique turns back to her as Irene walks over to the kitchen. “So training, after breakfast?”
“Actually,” Rogue says as she scraps the rest of her pancakes off her plate and into her mouth. “Cody asked if I could come over and join him by the river.”
“Cody?” Mystique asks. “Who’s Cody?”
“He’s a friend.” Rogue says as she picks up her plate and takes it to the sink.
“I don’t know by the way you talk about him,” Irene says. “He sounds more like a boyfriend.”
“Gross.” Rogue scrunches up her nose and runs to the door. She grabs her shoes which sit at their place by the mat.
“I don’t like this boy.” Mystique declares.
“How could you if you never even met him?” Rogue shoves her foot into the sneaker.
“I don’t need to have met him.” Mystique says. “Not when I have mother’s intuition.”
Rogue’s heart skips a beat.
She’s never called Mystique mom to her face, but in the time she’s lived with her and Destiny, she’s come to consider them as such. The fact that Mystique considers Rogue her daughter floods the young girl with joy.
She briefly considers staying and taking up Mystique on training, but she doesn’t.
Gotta play it cool.
“I’ll be back at eight!” Rogue calls as she finishes lacing up her shoes and rushes at the door.
“You’ll be back at six!” Irene calls.
Rogue runs through the forest, her heart soaring in her chest as if it had grown wings.
She meets up with Cody and things are like they always are.
He doesn’t look any different.
Same scruffy blond hair, same dark eyes, same zits forming constellations across his forehead.
He teases Rogue, claims she can’t swing across the pond because she’s a girl.
She proves him wrong.
“Oof!” They cry in unison as Rogue falls back into him, her toes teetering on the edge of the cliff.
“Alright, you win.” Cody declares. “I was wrong.”
Rogue smiles. “That’s the first time you ever heard you say that.”
“And the only time.” Cody laughs.
Rogue lets out a sarcastic yawn. “Sure…ah!”
She almost falls forward, but Cody grabs her by the waist pulling her back.
“Watch out!”
Rogue sighs and leans back into Cody as he walks her away from the ledge, as he leans against the tree she’s expecting him to let go of her waist, but to her surprise he doesn’t.
She’s more surprised that she doesn’t want him to.
Cody leans forward and Rogue can feel the heat of his cheek press against hers. Her face goes red and she tries to focus on the lake.
Not on Cody’s adorable freckles, or his soft blond hair, or his brown eyes…
“What you looking at?” Cody turns his head in the direction Rogue’s staring at.
She turns back at him her eyes glancing back at his lips. Soft, sweet, and pink.
She leans forward without thinking and hears Cody gasp.
For a few seconds Rogue feels like she’s in heaven and then…
“Ro-gu-ah!”
Cody stops breathing, he falls backwards, his face flattening as he leans back into the tree.
“Cody!” Rogue cries, she rushes towards him but freezes.
Her mind is suddenly flooded with voices. As if she’s standing in the middle of a farmer’s market and not a quiet river by the woods.
“It’s a boy!”
“Happy birthday!”
“Cody, how you liking middle school?”
“Let’s play ball!”
“Why do you hang around that girl again?”
“She has such a funny name.”
“I hear her mom’s a…lesbian.”
“And that she’s one too.”
“Pfft…no way.”
“What you looking at?”
Rogue’s head clear’s through the brain fog as she falls to the ground, scraping her knees on tree roots, fire ants biting at her ankles, the sound of bird caws awakening her.
She stares at Cody who hasn’t moved an inch and she runs back home.
She burst through the door to see Mystique with her book open and Irene listening to the tv in the corners of her vision as she runs upstairs.
“You’re home early.” Mystique gets up and notices the panicked expression on Rogue’s face. “Is everything alright?”
She inches towards Rogue arm raised out, only to be startled back at the girl’s scream.
“Don’t touch me!” Rogue shouts as she turns and runs up the stairs. “Don’t touch me!”
She slams her bed room door shut and leans against it. Heavy breaths mixing with week sobs.
“Rogue…” Mystique knocks on the door which Rogue is quick to lock as the shapeshifter tries to open it. “You’re scaring me, what’s wrong?”
“Go away!” Rogue screams. “I’m a monster, a monster!”
Rogue’s not sure how long she sits there, head buried in her knees, jeans soaked with sobs.
Eventually she crawls onto her bed, the hot afternoon cooling as the sun lowers in the sky.
As her window darkens, she watches as the knob shifts around and in enters Mystique clutching a bobby pin in her free hand.
“I know you think this is scary, and I’m not going to tell you it isn’t.” Mystique said. “But I’ve been where you are before.”
‘No, you haven’t.’ Rogue thinks as she clutches her knees to her chest. ‘You might be a freak, but I’m a monster. I killed Cody and I’ll kill you next.’
She shoves herself towards the wall as Mystique takes a seat on the edge of Rogue’s bed.
“We’re going to get through this together, alright?”
Rogue’s body relaxes at those words.
It could be worse, she supposes. She has two older mutants willing to show her the way, most folks don’t have anybody.
Mystique then does something Rogue previously thought unthinkable.
She makes a mistake.
She places a blue hand on Rogue’s bitten up ankle.
Her eyes roll back in her head, red hair slamming against Rogue’s wall as she falls backwards, the rest of her body slopping across the back.
“Ah!” Rogue screams again. “Irene, Irene, Mystique—she needs…help…”
In the corner of her eye Rogue see’s Mystique standing tall against her mirror, but when she turns around it’s not Mystique standing there.
It’s Rogue’s own reflection.
She glances down at her own hands, blue as all get with nails as sharp as talons. She reaches up and touches her hair which is now red and several inches shorter.
Her golden eyes blink back at her.
Looking back Rogue wonders if Mystique really made a mistake at all.
Maybe she was just pushing her in the right direction.
The noise of traffic grates against her ears as she follows Uncle Tomo through the dark streets of Hiroshima.
In the decades since the war the city has been rebuilt. Streetlights glow softly, as Tomo leads Rogue down the roads towards a park where in front of a pond a stone archway sits and across from it a domed building, which stands apart compared to the rest of the city.
“These are all that remains of the ruins, Shiro.”
“Yes…I know…” She groans, her entire body feels like it’s going to collapse at any second. “But I don’t know why you want me to take this burnt soil into my hands.”
Uncle Tomo worked her to the bone that day. Chasing her through the grace, knocking her around with a sword, the stick leaving welts on her backside.
Her hands still sting from the blade of Tomo’s sword, and she shoves them in her pockets.
“You shall see.”
Tomo pushes her down and Rogue throws her palms out to stop her face from colliding with the dirt. She lets out a hiss as the dirt mixes with the blood of her still clotting cuts.
Then she feels it…
A soft burning stirring in her chest, blooming brighter, sweat running down her face, as she coughs out:
“Argh!”
It runs through her body, striking hot against her veins. Up her arms into her fingers, down her legs and spiking against her toes.
There’s the smell of smoke and the next thing Rogue notices is the glow of red-hot sparks running up her arms.
She’s on fire.
“I was right!” Tomo gasps. “You are a mutant…as I always suspected!”
Rogue’s brain freezes, like the scratch of a record slowing to a halt and she realizes that this is not one of her memories.
This is Shiro’s.
Shiro stares at his uncle in shock. How is Tomo not panicking?
He’s on fire!
Except as the shock begins to thaw, Shiro realizes that the fire doesn’t burn or hurt. That if anything, the flames running up his arms and fanning through his fingers, tickle.
His uncle is right, he’s a mutant. A creature born with at first dormant but later turned deadly powers.
Tomo grabs him off the ground by the shirt and Shiro can feel the flames vanish around him.
“Now speak…” Tomo commands. “Speak the sacred oath which I have taught you since childhood.”
He leans his head back, exhaustion leaving his body, as he loudly promises that he will seek revenge on the people who wronged his country, his people. That he will smite any enemy that stands in his way.
“Well said!” Shiro flinches as Uncle Tomo pats him on the back. “I always sensed such power would be yours, when you come of age.”
Tomo grabs Shiro by the shoulder and Shiro braces himself for what’s coming next…
But nothing could have prepared him for this.
Uncle Tomo spins him around, Shiro’s chest colliding with his and he wraps his arms around him. Shiro’s chin smooshes against his Uncle’s wide shoulder as his Uncle’s arms clasp around Shiro’s torso.
“Soon, you shall wield it in a way the world shall never soon forget.”
Shiro leans into his uncle’s grasp, hesitant at first, but when Tomo doesn’t move he takes it that it’s safe for him to toss his arms over his shoulders.
“Thank you.” He mutters.
Have you ever done something bad?
Unforgivably bad.
Something so awful, that no matter what you say or what you do there’s no undoing it?
Rogue remembers the look the way Carol looked at her, face red with rage, hair glowing as bright as the sun, Rogue stared back at her sharply breath hitched in her throat, body still sore from the way Carol tossed her through the front yard at the X-Men’s school.
Rogue has never met Carol before today, but searing sneer the other woman gives her, makes her stomach lurch.
The rest of the X-Men rush out of the school. Ororo, Kitty, Illyana, Charles Lilandra, Piotr and Kurt, all rushing to Rogue’s aid.
Even after all the terrible things she did to them, they still want to help her.
Rogue shakes her head.
‘Idiot, they’re heroes, that’s their job.’
“So long as Rogue, remains under my roof Binary, she has my protection!” Charles announces as Lilandra rolls his chair up to her.
“How can you say that Charles!” Binary shouts. “After what she did to me!”
Ororo marches up to Binary, the leader of the X-Men marches onto the lawn. “The child repents my friend and has been forgiven!” She announces voice smeared with sarcasm. “Behold our newest X-Man.”
Rogue’s brain swirls.
X-Man.
She’s part of the X-Men now.
How quickly things change.
“Is this true?” Binary scoffs. “I wouldn’t have thought you capable of such cruelty.”
“What are you going on about?” Rogue raises her voice at her attacker. “What’s my life got to do with you, huh? We never met before today?”
Her fist itches, waiting for the perfect moment to jam it into Binary’s jaw.
“Perhaps this will help!”
In an instant Binary’s flesh cools, no longer orange, she has pale skin, with shining blond locks. Her blue eyes bore down into road and the mutant’s tongue goes dry as her fingers uncurl.
“Carol Danvers.” Rogue mutters.
“The woman whose life you destroyed.” She barks bitterly.
And Rogue can’t imagine any better way of delivering it.
She stares at her feet.
She doesn’t know what to say.
She doesn’t think there is anything to say.
“I’m sorry for ruining your life?” “I’m sorry I took your powers and left you in a coma for god knowns how long.” “I’m sorry you have to pick up the pieces and there’s nothing I can do to help.”
She doesn’t imagine that going over well.
“I now possesses the power to do the same to you.” Carol says.
Rogue glances up at her before moving her eyes back down.
If Carol wants to kill her she can.
Rogue will let her rip her to shreds. Burn out her heart. Sear her until there’s nothing left.
It’s what she deserves, after all.
“Professor if Rogue stays, I go.” Ororo tells him.
“My apologies herr professor,” Kurt adds. “But we all go.”
The professor launches into one of his speeches, listing how not so long ago many of them were in a similar place to the girl that stood before them. “The same argument holds true for Rogue, does it not?” He states. “Of course, there’s a risk in accepting her—but consider the alternative. At least she has the chance for a better life. Deny her and we condemn her outright…and that I will never do.”
Each of the X-Men slowly concede, all giving their own begrudging statement. Carol Danvers converts back to Binary and blasts off, declaring the X-Men enemies of hers.
Everyone heads back inside, leaving Rogue out in the cold.
She stares back at the mansion, which looms above her casting a dark shadow in the sun’s heat.
She could still go back to Mystique.
She hasn’t been gone for even a full day, if she turns back now, there’s still the hope she’ll take her back.
For all her faults, at least she pretends to care about Rogue.
And isn’t false love better than no love at all?
The last of the meddlesome X-Men lower themselves down to the Earth below and Rogue gives a tired sigh.
“The Capitol building shall yet go up in sun spawned flames!” She cries.
“Then cosign it to flames, you who you once were, my son?”
Rogue spins around.
Although the rest of the Capitol with its politicians, esteemed guests, and interns have vacated the premises, her father has chosen to remain. Saburo Yoshida stands on the balcony first raised.
“But only if you dare murder the one who stands upon it.”
Rogue freezes in midair and stares at the man standing below her.
“Leave this place!” She demands. “I do not wish to harm you! But Uncle Tomo has shown me the Americans are our foes!”
“Tomo is a sick man, Shiro. Feeding the fire of his hatred with the embers of a long dead war!” Saburo claims. “Renounce him… less this glory becomes a waking nightmare for two nations!”
Her head spins the years spent with her uncle, his daily speeches, all the training reels against the sight of her father standing boldly on the balcony.
She can’t kill him, he’s her father, she can’t.
But Tomo, the man who raised her since she was a toddler. Taught her the way of the world while her father was traveling it. She can’t let him down.
Not after everything he’s done for her.
She pleads with him, but Saburo shakes his head.
“Yes choose, my son…” He tells him. “And choose now.”
“You need not choose, Shiro!” Tomo leaps onto the balcony, his gun glints against the sun as he points it at his brother.
Rogue starts to move towards him when…
KRAK!
Saburo falls forward, flipping off the balcony down to the grass below.
“Father!” She screams, her eyes blazing as she glances up at Tomo.
“Shiro…” He starts as he watches the fire emit out of his nephew’s palms.
The blast hits Tomo, searing his chest, and knocking him onto the balcony.
She dives downwards after her father, who is sprawling on the blood-soaked grass.
“Father…father…” She tosses her mask off. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I know.” Saburo mutters weakly.
Rogue’s blubbering heavily, her lips trembles, mixing her words as the fly out of her mouth, tears running down her face. Blood runs from Saburo’s onto her Shiro’s—she realizes with relief—hands.
With his last words, Shiro’s father goes limp in his arms. Pulse stopping, his eyes gazing deadly through his glasses at the sun above him.
Shiro doesn’t move nor say anything as his hands are cuffed behind his back, a large piece of metal clicked on his neck, his blood running cold as it powers on.
The police officers read him his rights, say he’s being charged with terrorism, third degree murder, second degree murder, amongst several other things.
He’s not really paying attention as he watches paramedics place his father’s body in a bag, from the window of the car.
A few hours after being booked and placed in a holding cell of a secure government facility, he’s told that his cousin is sending a lawyer to represent him.
“She says her name is Mariko Yashida.” The officer says. “Do you want to speak with her?”
Shiro shakes his head.
He’s never heard of his cousin, let alone met her. Based on the way Uncle Tomo acted as he got ready for family functions Shiro assumed that the rest of his family wanted nothing to do with him.
Apparently Tomo misled him about a lot of things.
But Shiro doesn’t want to think about that right now.
He just stares at the walls of the prison cell and tries to let his mind go blank.
Rogue has been working with Kurt for years before she learns he’s her brother.
She liked the fuzzy little elf, but they weren’t close by any means. Rogue would be lying that every time Kurt spoke of his brothers and sister back home, his adoptive loving mother, and his youth spent in the German circus her heart tightened with jealousy.
So unless they were on a mission, she tried to keep away from him.
BAMF!
Not that it always worked.
Rogue froze to a halt as she glances up at the teleporter, who was hanging from the ceiling by his feet.
“I got chocolates in the mail from my mother?” Kurt plops one in his mouth. “Want some?”
His fuzzy tale wrapped around one of the sweets and holds it out to her.
“No thanks.” Rogue brushes past Kurt and makes her way down the hall, hoping he gets the message.
BAMF!
He does not.
“Rogue, if this is about how I treated you, I am most sorry.” Kurt’s nails dig into the celling. “I really do want to make it up to you.”
Rogue takes the chocolate and tosses the heart shaped candy at the wall.
“I’m not mad about that.” She snaps.
As nice as Kurt is, she doesn’t want to be friends with him.
Being friends with Kurt would mean having to deal with him telling stories about his doting family back home. Hanging around his large group of close friends as Rogue faded in the background. Considering how many times someone on this team died being friends with Kurt would likely mean having to lose him.
And Rogue was done having to say goodbye.
Kurt sighs and drops from the ceiling, landing right in front of her.
“Tell me what you’re mad about and I’ll fix it.”
Rogue bits her lip and considers turning down the hallway.
“Please, Rogue, I feel terrible about how I’ve treated you.” Kurt pleads. “If you don’t want to be friends, I understand, but I hope you will give me a chance.”
“Like you gave me a chance?” Rogue snaps.
Kurt sighs. “You know what, that is fair.” He begins to walk away. “I’ll leave yo alone now, if that is what you want.”
Rogue glances out the corner of her eye at the elf. His sad eyes and sharp frown, tug at the heart she didn’t think she still had.
“Do you think it’s easy for me!” She shouts, spinning on her heels.
Kurt turns to her, eyebrow raised in confusion.
“Hearing about your perfect family all the time. How much your mother loves you, when I haven’t seen my own Daddy or Mama since I was a toddler!” She shouts. “My Aunt Carrie was meaner than a snake.”
Rogue’s body tingles at the thought of her. despite not having crossed paths with Carrie in nearly two decades, she could still feel the pain of her aunt’s brush tingle up her spine.
“The only person who ever cared about me was Mystique and now I’m questioning if that was even true!”
Since the incident with Carol, Rogue was aware that the only part of Rogue’s Mystique ever loved was her powers. How those powers could be of service to her and her cause.
Not the lonely girl they belonged to.
All Rogue ever wanted was love. The occasional hug and kiss. Somebody to belong to.
She was starting to doubt she was ever going to get that.
Kurt walks over to her, one hand in his pocket he digs around and pulls out another piece of chocolate. “If it makes you feel any better, I accidently killed my brother?”
He glances over at the window, that same sad look still in his eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Kurt.” Rogue says.
She wants to place her hand on his shoulder. Ask him about what happened and assure him that everything was going to be okay.
But she can’t.
So instead Rogue takes the candy and bites into it with ease.
Rogue finds out that Kurt is her brother, while on a mission to protect Graydon Creed from the hands of Mystique.
Which is also the same mission that she finds out Graydon Creed is her brother.
What a wonderful family: Two terrorist mom’s, two half-brothers: one a fuzzy blue Catholic priest and the other a maniac hell bent on wiping his family off the face of the earth.
Rogue confronts Mystique about this when she corners her alone.
“Kurt and Creed, I can’t believe you took me in when they were out there.” She huffs. “You didn’t love me you just needed someone useful.”
“How could you say that!” Mystique snaps.
Rogue’s tongue curls back in silence.
“I love you Rogue, always have and always will.” She says. “You and Irene, you’re the loves of my life, and I can’t believe you would—” Her voice begins to falter.
Rogue wishes the tears falling down Mystique’s face were just a trick. Something to get her to lower her guard down. That this woman was an unfeeling monster, incapable of loving anyone but herself.
Rogue knows it to be true though and the worst part is that she wants it to be.
She can feel her heart soar.
She controls the impulse to run into Mystique’s arms, to cry out “Mama!”, and beg her to take her back.
This was all she ever wanted.
To be the love of someone’s life.
Even if it was battered, bruised, and bloodied.
“How sweet!”
She doesn’t, because out of the woods stumbles Creeds.
“Shame you never could afford your sons the same luxury.”
Rogue jumps in front of Mystique.
Hours later she and Kurt are stumbling over grass, having lost Mystique but escaped Creed.
“So, do you want to talk about it?” Kurt starts off.
“Talk about what?” Rogue’s mind is still mulling over the days events, pulling apart Mystique’s words.
“Us.” Kurt says.
Rogue turns her head to face him. “What do you mean us?”
“You and I are siblings Rogue.” Kurt says. “We share a mother.”
“I’m adopted.” Rogue reminds him.
“Doesn’t make a difference to me.” Kurt says.
“I tried to kill you.” Rogue says. “I’m sorry.”
Kurt—the wonderful man he was— should not want her as a sister. Mystique—as terrible as she is—should not want her as a daughter. Remy—for all his declarations of love—should not want her for a girlfriend.
Rogue was a monster.
They should all want her gone.
Kurt laughs. “That doesn’t make me feel any different.”
“Really?” Rogue asks.
“Not at all.” Kurt tells her.
“Sure lucked out in the adoptive sister department.”
Kurt shrugs. “None of my other siblings ever apologized for trying to kill me.”
Rogue lets out her own laugh.
If that day proved anything there she had worse options for a brother.
Rogue’s lawyers are good at their jobs.
Well they’re not actually her lawyers.
They’re employed by her uncle, Shingen Yashida, who sent some of Japan’s top lawyers to argue for her release from the American government.
They get all of her charges dropped.
She wasn’t responsible for the death of Saburo Yoshida, they argue. That was all Tomo’s doing.
She’s not responsible for Tomo’s death either. And if she was, he had a gun, she thought he was going to shoot her, it was self-defense.
As for the terrorism charges, those take a little more work.
She’s confused.
Emotionally disturbed.
Mentally unsound.
Tomo threatened to kill her if she didn’t do it. He beats the child, the doctor’s results prove it.
It doesn’t really matter what they say, the US government agrees to drop all charges against her. They will not pursue legal action against Rogue, her family, or the Japanese government.
She’s free to go.
And she didn’t even have to say a single word.
Rogue and the lawyers are boarded onto the private plane her uncle has set. The lawyers congratulate themselves by drinking, joking, and singing amongst each other.
Rogue tries to tune them out.
The only part of this celebration she enjoys is that after a whole week that infernal collar is finally off.
The touch down in Japan eighteen hours later. The lawyers head off, not bothering to ask Rogue where she plans on going or if she has a ride there.
Their jobs are done.
She could possibly fly back to her uncle’s home on the outskirts of Tokyo, but with the few hours sleep she’s amassed in prison and the several hours she’s spent wide awake on the plane she feels like she’s going to collapse onto the airport floor.
Rogue considers doing just that when a melodic voice rings out.
“Shiro!” It calls. “Shiro Yoshida.”
She turns around.
A woman with long dark hair, wearing clean professional looking clothes walks up to her.
“I’m Mariko Yashida.” She says. “Your cousin.”
Rogue doesn’t say anything as she stares at the woman, eyes not blinking.
“We spoke on the phone after your release.”
More like Mariko spoke on the phone, Rogue didn’t say anything, but even if she doesn’t remember her words, she recognizes her voice. The soft, melodic tone, that’s sweet as sugar.
“I’m taking you home, remember?” She reaches over to grab Rogue’s arm, but she jerks back.
“I’m not a five year old!” She snaps. “I can walk by myself!”
Mariko leans back. “Alright.”
He and Mariko get in a limousine, she gives instructions to the driver, uttering an address Rogue doesn’t recognize.
“I though you were taking me home!” She grumbles.
“Uncle Tomo’s home is still be investigated by the Public Security Intelligence Agency.” Mariko tells him. “I’m taking you back to my home.”
Rogue wants to open the door and jump out of the moving limousine. Wander around the city until she collapses.
Cousin or not she doesn’t want to go anywhere with this woman.
However, she knows she doesn’t have much choice. So she sulks in her seat, pouting as she watches the rest of the city goodbye.
Mariko takes him to a hotel, claiming that her father has rented it out while he does business in the city.
“He won’t be back until tomorrow, but he looks forward to meeting you.” She explains.
Rogue doesn’t say anything.
One of Mariko’s servants hands her a pair of clothes. A plain white pajama shirt with plastic buttons and a pair of matching pants.
It’s too early for her to crawl into bed, but she takes them willingly.
Anything is better than the prison jumpsuit she’d been encased in.
She changes in the bathroom. Showering first, cleaning off the sweat and grime that has accumulated over the past week. Before brushing her hair in the mirror, trying to avoid her own gaze the entire time.
After changing she wanders around the hotel room. Running her fingers against the walls, peaking into doors, chipping at the paint with her fingernails.
“Shiro!” Mariko calls. “Dinner’s ready!”
Rogue wanders around the penthouse some more, until he finds the kitchen. Hotel staff and Mariko’s aids have set out a delectable platter of food. It smells delicious and Rogue can feel the soft noodles, fresh greens, and warm drinks mess around in her mouth as he takes a seat. However she finds herself being unable to eat much more than half a bowl of rice.
Mariko keeps trying to make conversation as they eat.
“Do you want any salad?”
“Do you like that tea, or would you prefer some juice?”
“How old are you?”
“What do you like to do for fun?”
Her words are like knives pointed against Rogue’s skull. Mariko was making conversation as if her cousin whom she never previously met, hadn’t just tried to burn a foreign nation’s capital to the ground a week earlier.
“Do you have any friends you’d like me to call?” Mariko asks. “Anyone you’d like to know where you are?”
“Shut up!”
Mariko’s mouth drops open but she quickly closes it as Rogue Shiro gets up and storms out of the kitchen.
“Friends.” He mutters under his breath.
Shiro doesn’t have any friends.
The only two people he ever cared about are dead. He killed them. He doesn’t need Mariko trying to insert herself in their place.
He walks into the living room as the front door opens, a member of the kitchen staff claiming that he brought the chicken Mariko had requested.
The smell of burning flesh hits Shiro’s nose like a tidal wave and he rushes out of the living room and into the bathroom as fast as he can.
He doesn’t make it to the toilet but does manage to throw up in the sink.
Images flash around his mind. Tomo’s words searing hotter than fire. His father’s eyes gazing up at him. The feel of the metal cuffs…
Shiro spends the next hour or so sitting in the empty tub. Trying very hard not to think.
He eventually forces himself out and back into the living room, where Mariko, dressed in pajamas, is sitting a thick book pressed in her lap. The coffee table covered with highlighters, pencils, loose sheets of paper, and several calculators.
“What are you doing?” Shiro asks.
Mariko’s head shoots up from her text book in surprise.
“Shiro, you startled me.” She says.
“What are you doing?” Shiro asks, glancing at all the papers.
“I’m studying for my final on Friday.” Mariko explains.
“Your final?”
“My final exam.” Mariko reiterates.
Shiro stares at her, still confused.
“I’m a business major.” Mariko explains. “My statistics class has our final exam on Friday and I like to pass.”
“You’re in university?” Shiro takes a seat on the couch.
“My final year.” Mariko says. “Or it will be if I pass.”
Mariko complains that she did not spend twelve years of schooling plus another four at university, just to have to retake a year and nothing is going to stop her from failing.
Shiro can relate or thinks he can.
Uncle Tomo didn’t have him studying books all day, rather the blade.
And after all those years of training he wasn’t going to let them go to waste.
Or at least that’s how Shiro felt a week ago.
Now…
He isn’t sure what he wants to do with his life.
Mariko he finds, when she’s not asking him a billion and one questions, is rather nice.
She talks with him, although Shiro doesn’t have much to say and shares her snacks as she studies.
Shiro’s not sure what to do with people when their not yelling at him, or hitting him, or telling him what to do.
So being with Mariko is strange, but not entirely unpleasant.
He’s not sure how long that’s going to last.
"I’m going to bed!” Shiro declares tossing the wrapper of one of Mariko’s snacks away.
“Ok!” Mariko calls, waving as Shiro rushes down the hall. “Good night.”
Except once Shiro’s in his room, he doesn’t dive right into bed.
Instead he loots around the empty guest room. Digging through empty chest drawers before tearing open the built in closet where he finds it.
His suit.
Cleaned, dried, and ironed.
Shiro tears off his pajamas and tosses on the suit.
‘I can’t stay here.’ He thinks.
He’s a disgrace, a nightmare, something threatening.
He can’t stay with Mariko talking into the long hours of the night.
If he does something bad will surely befall her.
Shiro takes one last glance at the room before opening the window.
He glances at the city skyline as he opens his mask and tosses it on.
This world may have no place for Shiro Yoshida.
But it will for Sunfire.
Rogue does not remember this.
It’s been missing from her memory so long that to restore it would completely change her perception of who she is.
That doesn’t mean she’s not entirely unaware of it.
The kind smiles Jean throws at her. The way her heartbeat increased when Ororo offered to hold her hand for the first time. The way she’d stare at gorgeous actresses on the screen a little too intensely.
She remembers watching Mystique and Destiny dance around the kitchen. Smiling at each other, wrapping their arms around each other’s bodies, plastering kisses on each other’s cheeks, foreheads, and lips.
For all her tweenaged theatrics about how “gross” her moms were being, Rogue’s heart longed for a love like that.
She just thought it would be with one of the boy’s she saw in the park, or one of the nicer ones that waved her from behind the school fence.
Or as she got older she began to long for her and Remy having a love like that.
She couldn’t recall ever longing for it with a woman.
Except there was a time…
Mystique, donning the appearance of a tall man in a bright blue suit, leads Rogue through the airport.
“Hurry up!” She calls as Rogue tries desperately to squeeze through other passengers without touching one of them.
As she makes it through the crowd a man’s baggage hits her in the leg and she falls over.
Rogue lets out a squeak as she braces for the impact of the bright blue carpet.
“Hold on!”
“Don’t!”
Someone grabs Rogue’s shoulders as she calls out. a Woman with dark hair wearing a grey jacket with a camera slung over her neck.
Rogue stares at the woman’s eyes waiting for them to fall back into her head, but they don’t.
“You alright?” The woman asks.
Instead of answering Rogue stares at her quizzically.
“There you are!”
Rogue and the woman detach at the sight of Mystique, the woman flashes her a smile.
“Mystique!” She exclaims. “I was wondering if you were ever going to show up.”
“I never bail on a mission.” Mystique points her finger at Rogue. “This one was busy fussing over her hair and nearly made us late.”
Rogue subconsciously runs her hand through her hair, fingers brushing against the second white streak she added this morning. She stupidly thought she’d have more time.
“Well, I say it was worth it.” The woman flashes a smile at Rogue.
A burst of heat flies up Rogues stomach and into her cheeks. “Thanks.” She mutters.
“Rogue this is Blindspot.” Mystique explains. “She has the power to remove and alter people’s memories.”
“Sounds like that’ll come in handy for our mission.” Rogue says.
“Alright ladies, let’s get this show on the road.” Mystique grumbles as she makes her way to the gate.
Rogue goes to follow her but is stopped by a—
FLASH!
CLICK!
“Hey!” Rogue calls.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
She spins around to see Blindspot holding her camera.
“What’s with the camera?” Rogue asks.
“We’re supposed to be a family on vacation.” Blindspot explains. “Besides you look so nice, I couldn’t resist.”
Rogue blushes again.
“Ladies!” Mystique calls.
“Coming!” The cry and race after her.
They get onto the plane with no issues.
As they board Rogue glances at her ticket and sees that she’s seated in 2B.
Blindspot is sitting in 1B.
Mystique has the seat across the isle from them and is leaning against her chair bordly as the flight attendants give their safety speech.
Rogue glances out the window and her stomach lurches.
They’re about to be in the air.
She’s never flown before, let alone this high.
“You okay?” Blindspot takes Rogue’s hand and gives it a squeeze.
Rogue’s lips part in horror, once again waiting for her powers to zap the woman next to her and knock her unconscious.
To her surprise nothing happens.
Blindspot’s right as rain.
“Yeah.” Rogue mutters. “Just a bit nervous.”
“It’ll be fine.” Blindspot reassures her. “The hard part is after we land.”
“I suppose you’re right about that.” Rogue says.
It doesn’t make her feel any easier.
The sides of the plane tremble, a loud noise sparks from the jet engine, as they roll forward.
Rogue grips Blindspot’s hand and has never been more grateful that she’s there otherwise she would have surly torn off the seats with how tight she’s gripping the arms.
“It’s alright.” Blindspot says, not complaining about how tightly Rogue is gripping her hand as they zoom into the sky.
Soon the plane is in the air flying smoothly, Rogue’s stomach unclenches as she breathes a sigh of relief.
“Feeling better?” Blindspot asks.
Rogue nods and does not let go of her hand.
Rogue spends the rest of the plane ride staring out the window, trying to avoid Blindspot’s gaze, because every time she does her skin feels like it’s going to vibrate off her body.
Mystique lets out a chuckle and Rogue turns to her.
The typically blue woman points at her mouth and rolls out her tongue to mimic a gag.
Rogue’s cheeks heat up as Blindspot turns her head to see what the commotion is about, but Mystique—thankfully—has gone back to staring at the isle.
As their plane glides over the Pacific Ocean. Rogue keeps her hand held tightly on Blindspot’s. Memorizing each callous and gent of the woman’s skin.
She hasn’t done something as simple as this in a long time.
She’s missed it so much.
Rogue keeps her grip on Blindspot the entire time, not removing it for a single second for fear it would disappear.
“Don't worry, Rogue.” Blindspot flexes her fingers forcing Rogue to relax her mussels. “I get how scary this, I’m not going to let go.”
Rogue hopes she never does.
Shiro’s memory of the day before the mission is hazy and blurred.
Details of the shop zoom in and out of focus.
The writing on the sign is all jumbled into nonsense scribbles. The face of the baker keeps changing as he argues with Uncle Tomo over the price. Both men’s words are as low and still as a breeze during a heatwave.
It’s clear to Rogue that Shiro’s tried to block out this memory, but considering she can still accesses it, he hasn’t tried hard enough.
Which is odd to Rogue.
Sure, standing around the crowded plaza is boring. Listening to his uncle try and pick up bread for their American visitors that Shiro still can’t understand why he’s invited. The heat is intense, but that’s not like it’s bothering him.
Compared to all his other memories, this isn’t so bad.
So what horrible thing is waiting around the corner that he’s tried this hard to block it out.
Rogue braces herself, glancing back at Tomo who isn’t paying a lick of attention to Shiro, too involved in his argument.
She’s waiting to make a mistake, do something to incur the old man’s wrath, or for him to grab her and drag her down the street, when—
“Argh!”
Rogue falls down to the ground, hitting the cobblestones with a thud.
The rest of the shoppers don’t stop to help her, too busy rushing towards the indoor shopping centers to escape the heat.
“Shit!” Someone next to her groans as Rogue peels herself off the ground. “Sorry about that!”
She twitches as someone grabs her by the elbow, lifting her up, as she steadies to her feet she yanks out of the stranger’s reach.
“Watch where you’re go…ing…” She snaps but her words quickly falter at the sight of the person in front of her.
A teenage boy, about Shiro’s age, with long dark hair leans over to pick up his skateboard. “I am so sorry,” He says turning back to Rogue. “Are you hurt?”
This boy is the clearest image in the entire plaza, Rogue notes. The sun beams down onto his hair giving it an ethereal shine. She can note every detail of his face from his deep brown eyes to the small bandages on his face where whisps of hair are growing. The writing on his chest is clear, which has the logo of an American brand printed on it.
“You’re bleeding…fuck…” He reaches forward, his thumb pressing on Shiro’s cheek.
Rogue hisses but doesn’t move to push the boy off her.
His hand is warm, a warm feeling flushes through her chest up to her cheeks, painting them bright red. It’s a softer warm, unlike the kind Shiro challenges to use his powers.
“Again, I am so sorry.” The boy continues to ramble. “Here I think I have a bandage in my pocket.”
The boy reaches down to his pants and starts flipping through his myriad of pockets before pulling out a square bandage.
“It’s fine…” Rogue mutters, despite the tumble her face doesn’t hurt at all. She can still feel the ghost of the boy’s fingerprints and kind of wishes that he would place them there again.
“I am typically much more careful than this, I can assure you.” The boy rips the sticker off the side of the bandage and carefully places it on Rogue’s cheek.
The warmth in her chest returns with the boy’s fingers.
“I know I keep saying this but, I’m really sorry.” He says, as he removes his hand, robbing Rogue of its warmth. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Rogue mumbles, in the softest tone she thinks she’s ever heard Shiro use.
“Great!” The boy jumps on his skateboard and jets off.
She watches as he darts around strangers, taking more care in his skill, to avoid a repeat incident.
Rogue’s mind replays the scene trying to figure out exactly what was so bad about that encounter that would make Shiro try to repress it.
Sure, it was a little awkward, for the first time in his life Shiro was stunned into silence but that’s how must teenagers act when they stumble into a cute boy...ohhh!
“Shiro,” Rogue’s right arm still hurting from the fall aches when Tomo grips onto it. “What are you doing?” He asks as he pulls her towards the exit. “Let’s go!”
Rogue can feel her emotions mingle with Shiro’s as she stumbles into the next memory.
Rogue glances at a bartender in a low-cut shirt longingly from across the room. As the rest of the X-Men party she stays seated in her lonely corner nursing a beer.
She can’t join them less she run the risk of hurting someone.
The bartender notices her staring, but instead of being offended, she gives Rogue an inviting smile and waves for her to come over.
Something similar to her unrequited crush on Blindspot surfaces in Rogue’s chest, but she quickly turns away.
No, it can’t happen.
It won’t happen.
No matter how bad she wants it to.
A similar scene plays out with Shiro, older than he was in the previous flashback, he takes slow sips out of a whiskey glance.
A man walks over and begins talking to him. Shiro gestures to the bartender asking for another drink, trying to ignore the man.
The man doesn’t notice this and instead continues talking. Making comments about Shiro’s appearance, a bit blunt but not unkind.
Shiro turns to him ready to tell him to buzz off, but the other patron gently places a hand on his arm.
Shiro lets it sit there, enjoying the warmth that flows through him at the feeling.
However those feelings are immediately replaced with guilt and shame as he gazes around the room.
“Don’t touch me!” He snaps as he pulls away.
The man throws his arms up defensively, apologizing, as he walks away.
Shiro takes his new drink from the bartender and downs it in a gulp.
The next memory is blurry, but it blends together seamlessly with the previous one.
It’s hazier than the memory Shiro tried to block out, but Rogue gets the just of it.
She, Mystique, Blindspot, and Shiro they’re…on a mission…to get something for Shiro’s uncle.
For some reason there are ninjas.
Ninjas that are attacking them and Rogue is calling upon the years of Mystique’s training to try and fight her way out of this.
Shiro who’s powers are brand new to him, is casting fireballs and soaring through the air without a care.
Rogue watches him in envy, at how easier this is for him than it is her.
Knocking aside a ninja, who falls to the ground at her touch, Rogue calls upon her own powers to give them a taste of their own medicine. Taking them down with the ease of a skilled warrior.
Shiro floats to the ground to join her, but he doesn’t have the skill Rogue amassed in those short seconds.
One of their assailants knocks Shiro out cold with his blade, he moves into strike.
Rogue notices this and dives toward the ninja, but she slips and her hand ends up brushing against Shiro’s back.
The few seconds of touch is enough to send her soaring into the air, flames brushing out her fists.
She loves it.
The way her former attackers stare up at her in terror and scream as the center burns down around them.
She lets out a laugh; she could keep these powers forever.
From his spot on the ground Shiro looks up.
His stomach lurches and his face burns as he watches Rogue master the powers he got a few weeks ago in just a few seconds.
He’s grateful his uncle isn’t there.
If he saw Rogue, he’d replace Shiro with her in a heartbeat.
A heartbeat that would be Shiro’s last.
Rogue is careful as she helps Remy down the steps, she’s wearing gloves so their shouldn’t be an issues.
“You don’t have to be so careful, cher.” He says. “I’m not made of glass.”
“You’re blind Remy.” She says. “Do you have any idea how many steps there are?”
“Three.” Remy answers confidently as he stumbles over the final step. “Oof.”
“Four.” Rogue corrects him.
She sighs, as she goes to lift Remy up from the ground.
“Cher, it’s okay I got it.” He moves his hand up and it instantly collides with Rogue’s face.
And she’s pulled into the darkest corners of Remy’s mind.
She can feel it all his panic, his worry, his longing.
His fear that this will be forever.
His worries about going back into battle.
How much he wishes to see Rogue’s face again.
Tears fall down her eyes and Rogue tries not to scream.
‘Oh god...’ She thinks as she listens to Remy’s thoughts.
He hates having to depend on her.
He hates her.
He doesn’t have to say it because she knows it.
‘Because I hate me too.’ She thinks.
Her hands shake as she comes too and Rogue wants to sigh as she see’s Remy’s body cold and curled up on the pavement. His chest is rising, so she knows he’s not dead.
One wrong touch, however, and he could be.
In her hands she holds a knife.
Shiro holds a knife.
It’s pressed against his torso, a small piece of paper, that’s supposed to have a haiku written on it, but he couldn’t think of one.
He just wants this to be over.
Everyone is gone.
His parents.
His uncle.
Mariko.
Leyu.
They’re all dead.
With the surfacing of some rather damning photos of him as a teenager posing alongside Rogue and Mystique. A destroyed commerce center burning behind them, as they sale away on a boat.
It doesn’t matter if he can’t remember the incident for the life of him.
His career is over.
There’s no one left in his life who cares.
So why not end it all?
He can hear the tinkering of the blade as his cousin removes it from his scabbard.
Shiro let’s out a shaky sigh.
That’s going to make things so much easier.
RING!
RING!
RING!
“Cursed things been ringing off the hook.” He mutters.
He can’t believe those are going to be his last words.
He tightens his grip on the knife, as the phone goes to his answering machine. Getting ready to move the blade forward.
“You have reached the private line of Shiro Yoshida.” His voice beeps. “This had better be important!”
“Sunfire?” A thick Southern American accent rings out. “It’s Rogue! You mind telling me where that snapshot on the news came from!”
And Shiro drops the knife and runs over to the phone.
Because the only thing more powerful than despair is anger.
And Shiro has that last trait in spades.
The next thing he knows he’s screaming at Rogue on the top of his lungs. Cursing, spitting, and screaming some more.
Rogue shuts him down quickly, cutting to the heart to the matter.
“Now you wanna drop the attitude or should I call back once you’re in jail?” She asks.
“You and the police can spare yourselves the effort!” Shiro screams. “I will carry out my own sentence.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rogue’s voice drops from snarky to serious.
“What do you think?” He snaps.
Out of the corner of his eye he watches Kenuichio slide his katana back into its saya.
“Um…look, Shiro, I know you’ve had a rough few days and maybe this all hit a raw nerve with you but, that’s what Remy calls a “permeant solution for a temporary problem!”
“What do you know about my problems!” Shiro snaps.
He’s ready to hang up on Rogue and go back to finishing the ritual. However as his thumb hovers above the end call button Shiro can’t bring himself to do it.
“I don’t remember that photograph ever being taken…” Rogue tells him.
“Neither do I.” Says Shiro.
Rogue offers to come and help him out. She just needed to find a way to get from New York to Tokyo without any interference.
“Let me see what I can do.” Shiro looks over at his cousin.
Kenuichio offers to arrange transportation for Rogue and Shiro sighs with relief.
At least he has one family member left.
That counts for something, right?
Little did he know what Kenuichio had in store for them.
“Is there something wrong?” Shiro asks.
The memories filter out of Rogue’s head, giving her own brain back as she and Shiro near their destination.
“Huh?” Rogue asks.
“I said are you sick or something?” Shiro asks. “You’re less chatty, than usual, not that I’m complaining.”
Rogue rolls her eyes. “Nothing just residual memory stuff from taking your powers.”
“I should drop you for that!” Shiro shouts.
“Yeah, but you won’t.” Rogue remarks. “You need me.”
Shiro doesn’t retort to that, which proves her point.
They near a set of gorgeous skyscrapers, as the sun sets over the city sky.
“You sure I’m not underdressed?” Rogue asks as she notices a group of men in expensive looking suits head into the building.
“The men we seek will be too busy trying to kill you not to notice your hideous costume.” Shiro tells her as they make their landing.
Rogue smirks. “The world is uniform, Sunfire. A costume is something you wear for Halloween, usually with a mask.”
“Be sure to say trick or treat once we get there.”
“My cousin may be in mortal danger and you’re making jokes.”
‘Your cousin is the moral danger.’ Rogue thinks but decides not to voice.
She wants to pick her battles wisely tonight.
“You ready for this?” She asks as they make their way to the back gate.
It’s a useless question, but she knows the answer.
She’s seen first hand what Shiro’s been through and what he’s capable of.
The question is was she ready for this?
“Stop worrying.” Shiro remarks.
“I’m not worrying.”
“You’re biting your cheek and making annoying popping sounds.” He tells her. “You’re worrying.”
Rogue sighs. “Sorry, it’s been one hell of a day.”
“Look at this way,” Shiro says. “Just this morning you took down Japan’s greatest warrior…”
“You’re right I did give Lady Deathstrike a run for her money.” Rogue muses.
Shiro scoffs. “I was talking about me.”
Rogue rolls her eyes. “I’m glad you think you’re a challenge, sugar.”
Shiro grunts. “Last time I try to be nice to you "
Rogue snickers as Shiro walks in front of her.
She’s stared down tougher foes than these guys.
From her own family members to world ending Gods.
She just needs to get out her own head.