SAN : YESTERDAYS LOST

Honmura An, just off of Mercer Street, had recently been regarded by the New York Times as one of Manhattan’s finest Japanese food restaurants. Incidentally, it also happened to be one of the "family owned" businesses owned by the Foot Clan.

At least, Saki mused, since yesterday.

In his meticulously planned preparations, he had made special arrangements to close the restaurant to only Saki and his guest. The two guards that stood at the double-doored entrance—both of them unsuited Elite Foot, some of the new Elite that ascended from the ranks under the supervision of Pimiko—made sure it remained this way.

Continuing his restless pacing along the richly decorated entry hall of the Mayflower, Saki’s mind was all but flooded with thoughts of the occasion soon to be at hand. It might have been the heat, or perhaps the aesthetics of the restaurant, but Saki couldn’t deny that he felt a sense of nervousness about this evening.

When one of the guards rapped lightly on the glass, he knew his guest was arriving.

Saki’s pacing ceased as he walked to the center of the entry hall. After nodding at the maître d’ to let the man know that company was coming, he ran his hands over the fabric of his suit, entirely black save for the white undershirt, straightening it and smoothing out the wrinkles.

No sooner did he fix his tie than the guards held open the doors for the guest that stepped inside.

It was Yoichi Minya, the woman with whom he had arranged a date.

"Hello, Saki," she plainly spoke in Japanese.

"Minya!" he exclaimed. "How… how good of you to come!"

The woman had dressed for the evening in an expensive-looking blue dress that touched her feet. Her hair was held in a laced bun, though long bangs draped over each cheek. "I wore the dress you had your… business associates send me."

Saki smiled, pleased. "It looks lovely on you, Minya. And you… you look as though you have not aged a day." He ushered to the maître d’, who grabbed two menus and started toward them. "Let us eat now."

The maître d’ held out a hand to direct them as he started for the table Saki had arranged for them, speaking only, "Right this way, please."

Soon the two were settled, had been given their menus, and had selected their meals.

"Will there be anything to drink?"

Saki passed a glance at Minya, then back at the maître d’. "A bottle of your finest champagne."

"Wine instead, please," Minya said, careful to be polite. "Merlot will be fine. I do not drink champagne."

"Very well. I will be right back." Taking his notepad with their orders, the maître d’ left them alone.

"I see you have not lost your beauty, Minya. "

"And I see you have spared no expense on this meeting of ours."

"Is that all you consider this?" There was disappointment to his voice. "If that is all, I can understand, but I merely—"

Minya waved a hand. "I meant you no disrespect. I know how much thought you put into this night, and I want you to know I bear you no ill will."

Saki forced himself to look into her eyes. "You don’t?"

"No," she said decisively. "Nor have I ever, Saki."

Bringing the bottle of wine they had ordered as he returned, the maître d’ poured them two glasses and left again, promising to shortly return with their meals.

Saki took a sip of his, savoring it for a moment. "I have thought much about you in the past years. It has been a long time."

"A very long time. It has been almost twenty years."

"I had been under the impression you were dead for every one of them. My associates told me you died giving birth."

"A mistaken impression Warlord Komodo had them report back to you with at… my request."

"Your request? Why did you wish me to believe you dead?" The hurt of twenty years clinging to the memory of a woman he had loved but thought lost forever crept into his words.

"After our parting, I thought it the best thing for my daughter and I."

Saki nodded, now unwilling to press the matter further. His memory of ranting and raving over his desire to avenge his brother and Minya, seven months pregnant with their child, storming from their condominium was not pleasant. "Have you seen our daughter?" he asked instead.

"Pimiko…" Minya trailed off on the name. "She was always a fiery young woman. I daresay she took after you in many ways, Saki. After Warlord Komodo appointed her the leader of his kunoichi, I never saw her again. I only heard from her once, and that was five years ago. I received a letter from her, telling me she was well and that she was making plans to avenge your death."

"My death…" Saki knew that deserved an explanation, but did not want to trouble her with the awkward details. He decided to bend the truth, "… was greatly exaggerated. I am alive, am I not?"

Minya shrugged, accepting his cryptic answer. "I do miss Pimiko."

"She has recently become one of my close… business partners, you could say."

Minya’s misty gaze became a glower. "You do not need to mince words. I know full well what your ‘business’ is, and just what it is your ‘business associates’ do. Or have you forgotten why I left you?"

"You left me with pain eternal." Saki bit his tongue, realizing the clumsiness of the words he had spoken. He had to warm up to her, not start an argument. "We were engaged, you were pregnant, and… and I had such hopes for us."

"The marriage our parents had arranged from our birth in Japan was something I wanted as well, Saki," she said. There was nothing malicious about her voice. "You must have known that. I never wanted to hurt you."

"Then why did you leave?"

"Your need for vengeance, your need for bloodlust, the death of Hamato Yoshi and his wife—all the hatred and anger, it consumed you. There was no room in your heart for me." She took a drink of her wine, averting her gaze for a moment. "I would not have our daughter growing up with such a father."

"But that is all in the past," assured Saki. "Hamato Yoshi and Tang Sheng both died by my hand long ago. Vengeance has been absolved; my brother has been avenged. Can we not have a second chance?"

"It was vengeance that drove you all of your life, Saki. It was all you knew. Tell me honestly, what is it that drives you now?

Saki finished his glass in one gulp. He could not lie now. "I have new enemies—four of them, all from Yoshi’s clan. Twice they have disgraced me. Now I m—"

"Now you must have your revenge," Minya finished for him. "I see you have not changed at all, Saki."

"But I was onl—"

"You do not fool me, Saki. You have not changed. It is vengeance that still drives you, and it is vengeance that still consumes your soul." Minya tossed her napkin on the table and stood. "I thank you for your trouble and bid you goodnight."

Saki rose from his seat and flailed his arm at her. "Minya, wait!"

As he watched in frustration while the woman ran through the restaurant, the maître d’ returned with two steaming plates. He stared perplexedly at the woman, then looked to Saki. "Where is that lady of yours off to, sir? Is dinner still on?"

Saki’s hand flashed out, catching the maître d’ square in the throat. The man clutched his neck, unable to even cry out as he fell to his knees in instant, utter anguish.

The doors slammed behind Minya as she stormed out. The two guards looked through the glass at him, as if to inquire whether or not they should chase her. A slow, steady shake of his head gave them a clear "No."

His mother, Heitchi, Minya—there was nothing left to stand between him and his vengeance anymore. Oroku Saki was just a name now, a mask for his true self, a self he had been hesitating to embrace for far too long in the time since his resurrection.

He was the Shredder.

No more distractions. It was time for vengeance.

The Shredder strode into the cloning laboratory beneath a Manhattan watertower, a quintet of his Elite following him. The last time he had set foot in the labs he now entered, he had been resurrected.

After tomorrow night, Shredder had vowed, there would be no more resurrections. He had to see to the matter personally.

"Master Shredder!" a familiar voice rang. As the enthusiastic scientist that spoke poked his head up from a console, Shredder remembered him. It was Dr. Tachi, the man that had restored his then-empty mind with the memories of Oroku Saki a year ago. "Have you come to complete a brain pattern upload? It has been a very long time since your last, and you can never be too sure when death will claim you ag—"

"Take me to my clones."

Tachi shrugged, then motioned for his master to follow him.

A row of four clear tubes, a bald, unconscious body in each. Though hairless, every one was the perfect likeness of Shredder.

"Your funding for our work here is well spent, sir. All we have to do is complete a synaptic pattern download into one of their still-forming brains, stimulating their synapses to grow in the pattern of your own and we can create a new Oroku Saki."

"I know. I want them destroyed."

Tachi turned, startled at the order. "Master Shredder, is that wise?"

"I want them destroyed!" Shredder roared.

"But, sir, should you die in the forthcoming battle with the Turtles, you could be lost to us forever!"

Under his mask the Shredder’s face contorted in anger. "Do you think I am not aware of my own mortality?"

"No, sir, I was only thinking of your best intere—"

"You know nothing of my best interests. No one does, for no one can." He turned away from the clones and Tachi. "I want my duel with the Turtles to be honorable and final. My ability to transcend death is a crutch that I do not need."

"Sir...?"

Shredder started back for the ladder out, leaving his Elite to complete the task of terminating the clones. "No more flukes, no more cheating death. I will have my retribution or I will be struck down fighting for it!"

Revenge was all he had left.

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