Ladies and gentlemen...THIS is the moment you all have been waiting for! The beginning, the prologue, the epic start of the Naruto-Spiderman crossover Part 2!

Okay, that is kind of out of character, even for me. Maybe I was just caught up in the moment._. But honestly, who cares? (Insert "bitch please" face from 9Gag here) if I'm lucky, you guys are just as excited as I am in starting this story. High school is an inconvenient bastard which likes to smack kids' heads and turn them into mindless drones; me included!

Forgive me for posting later than an utter retard. Really, this might be the greatest epic flaw I've ever had in my entire life! (In , by the way) Once I started listening to my inner plot bunnies (though I think mine's are some kangaroos), I can't help but write more than one fic instead of concentrating on this crossover series. I…I HAVE NOTHING TO EXCUSE MYSELF WITH, READERS! BRING ON THE FLAAAAAMES!

(And then came the Goukakyuu no Flamers)

GYAAA!

On another note, my apologies for my postpone note I posted in my fic Santa of the Leaf (for those who read it). I have no excuse for that; it was simply a trying time for me back then. But, never fear, I'M BACK AND STILL SPINNIN'!

Naruto: Took you a damn long time.

Me: Zip it, Fishcake.

Well anyway, let's get this story started! Oh, before that, DISCLAIMEEEER TIME!

Disc,: I own Naruto? And Spiderman as well? Let's see…(picks up cellphone) Hello, operator? Can you give me the number for the nearest psycho hospital? Yeah, I have these guys who thought that I own Naruto and Spiderman…I know! Weird, right?

Extra Note: Originally, I intended to make a single prologue. When I re-read this chapter though, I realize the word count might be too much for a single chapter. Thus, midway through me writing the chapter, I decided to split the prologue in two. I know that you all are seething with anger waiting for me to post this, so I hope it's for the best.

"English speech"
'English thoughts'
"Japanese speech"
'Japanese thoughts'

-xo-

Arise, o author of this story…
Arise, from that swamp of schoolwork…
Arise! And start this epic story already!
SpinLord presents

Unity of Two Worlds

Continuation of Arachnid Hero and the Fox Host

-xo-

-Prologue-(Part 1)

Home

"Captain Stacy, sir?"

A police officer, garbed in his full uniform with the logo of NYPD imprinted on his back, called out to his senior. His senior—an old man with graying hair, but still looking badass in his police uniform under his light brown jacket—didn't pay him any heed. Instead, he kept looking to the destructive scene in front of him—a hole that lead into a building with rubbles everywhere. The earlier police officer called him once again, but the captain merely sighed and closed his eyes tiredly, "I heard you the first time, Nelson."

Captain George Stacy; commanding officer of the NYPD and a veteran policeman, assigned to probably the most intriguing case he has ever been assigned to.

"R-right." the officer stammered.

"What is it boy? You seemed to be in a hurry for something."

"Huh? Oh, nothing, sir. It's just that Fred found more info from nearby witnesses. And, from what they were saying, I guess your instinct is correct."

"So it seems…" the senior officer muttered. Finally, he turned his head and faced his subordinate, "But I have a feeling that you're excited over something else." He said with a grin on his wrinkled face. The young officer flinched and looked flustered under his commander's piercing gaze. Several awkward seconds later, he finally steeled himself and returns the grin with his own, "Yes, sir. I just found out that my girlfriend is safe and sound. She was a bit shaken, but looks unharmed otherwise."

"I see…congrats, it seems that luck is on your side this time. That blood-sucker would've taken her away if it weren't for…" Captain Stacy trailed off, suddenly out of words regarding that detail. The young officer noticed this and nodded affirmatively without saying anything. He himself didn't believe it at the first time, but when the news of his lover's condition came he immediately rushed towards the scene. He was relieved, but at the same time he was genuinely surprised. Relief came over him because his girlfriend was safe. Surprise…well, the surprise wasn't only for him.

"So he's finally back, I take it?" his commander suddenly asked.

"That's right, sir. That reporter I interviewed before said that their savior swung with web lines."

Captain Stacy turned his head away from his subordinate and back to the hole. Inside the hole in the building, a figure laid unmoving under the rubbles. That figure, discernable because of his wide wings and shredded dark clothing, as well as the paleness of his skin…looked as if in near-death state. Judging by the opened mouth and the lack of movement on the chest area, though, that might be so. "I can't believe that Morbius was put in this kind of state…..just how did he do it?"

Yes, the figure was Morbius the Vampire. His body was ravaged; the front part of his body had a big spiral mark imprinted on it, which looked like lacerations to the police investigators. Broken bones were also identified, but the most shocking finding was the heavy damage to the area. The hole where Morbius rested wasn't the only hole that counted as a collateral damage. Across the street, there was another tall building which was mainly covered with glass. That building…had a hole on what seemed to be the twentieth floor. Judging by the angle that was created by the first and second hole, the police deducted that something must've punched Morbius so hard that he fell from the sky crashing the buildings.

"To think he could make such damage…"

"You mean Morbius?" his subordinate asked curiously.

Captain Stacy shook his head. He sighed and turned to walk away with a frown marring his face. Unlike his subordinates, he didn't know what to think about the return of the city's hero. Truthfully, it was just unexpected for him. "You never fail to surprise me..."

xoxoxo

Superheroes are not millionaires.

Well, with the exception of some, of course. Tony Stark—Iron Man—was a millionaire, genius, ladies man, and a player in one serving. Some people just had that luck…lucky bastards. Well, anyway, the point is not all superheroes are madly rich; Matt Murdock—Daredevil—lived a simple life in a simple apartment. Even if he IS an attorney (and an unknown law enforcer) his payroll wasn't something to flaunt about.

Of course, Peter Parker—Spiderman—was not so different. On the contrary, HIS payroll wouldn't be worth to be flaunted, at all. And, in turn, his bachelor pad was not very impressing either. All he had was one apartment room in the city—one, rickety broken old room—and even then he had problems paying for his room. The landlord was such a greedy bloodsucker—literally—that Peter was surprised the guy's not a vampire. Though, when you compare that old man to Morbius, then Morbius was just a puny little bat.

Poor Morby.

But, nevertheless, that blood-sucker had gave Peter a place to live in and a roof to take shelter under. Plus, their daughter had been really nice to him; like that one time when he lost his powers and got lost in life's ambiguity. Really, those were enough of a reason for New York's web-slinger to be grateful. As a sign of gratitude, the apartment owner and his family would wake up tomorrow and come across a thick envelope with a note strapped onto it. The envelope wouldn't be as heavy as anything expensive, nor would it as thick as a dictionary. Still...it would worth something. The note—written on a piece of torn and folded paper—would be like this:

-Hey, old man! Sorry about the late rent money; I know you were probably preparing to kill me right now. But don't worry; consider the contents of the envelope as payment in cash for all that accumulated paycheck. This might be my last payment since I'm gonna move out after this. Thanks for everything!

P.S: Try and use the money to fix the rooms, not on pizzas.

Your friendly room renter,
Peter Parker.-

Okay, I take it back. Superheroes ARE millionaires.

xoxoxo

A familiar screeching sound filled the air around the Parker's Residence. If you were someone who lived there, you wouldn't be that much annoyed by that noise. At that moment, you'd know that the sound came from a teapot that old women would use to boil water and probably make herself some afternoon tea. Old women liked tea; the brownish-red (or is it reddish-brown? Meh,) liquid always calmed them down for some reason.

May Parker isn't any different, being an old woman herself. Being at her age, you could get pretty cranky when the time comes. Not to mention the fact that she lives alone in a quite-big-but-not-so-big house. Sometimes, implanted images of the horror movies that her nephew rented years ago would show up in her mind and make her skin crawl. At other times, because of the same reason, she'd find herself unable to go to the bathroom in the night.

Hey, she might've smacked Doctor Octopus's head with an umbrella, but she has the right to fear the darkness and the *cough*imaginary*cough* creatures within. Not to mention that that 'Insidious' movie WAS pretty scary.

Therefore, May nearly had a heart-attack when she—midway to her kitchen—heard a series of sudden knocks on her front door. She held her chest and slowly calmed her heart down, wondering who it was knocking on her door this late in the afternoon. "Is it the mailman again? I was pretty sure he had delivered this month's bills already..." she mused. She then walked to the door, which was still making those many knocking sound that echoed throughout her house. She sighs; whoever it was visiting her was really eager to be let in immediately, "Yes, yes, you wait there for a moment!" she exclaimed as she grabbed onto the doorknob and turned it. With a light pull, the door opened.

And thus, it revealed...

"Hi, Aunt May." The voice was familiar; TOO familiar, for her liking. Although, it doesn't mean that she dislike that voice. On the contrary, of course, because there was no way she could bring herself to dislike that voice. She missed that voice, she truly did. It was hurting her conscience the first days that he just...disappeared. Now that he was back (granted, of course, he looked very different. His sense of clothing changed much; what with that green coat he was wearing), she finally let a wrinkly smile and, out of relief, stepped forward to give the person a hug.

"Welcome home, Peter." She said.

Peter returned the hug fondly, grinning widely as he did so. He missed her aunt; that is the fact. He was still cursing the fact that the timing that Madam Web had when she transported him to Konoha was so flawed that he didn't even get to say tell his departure to his aunt. However, that didn't really matter in the moment. What matters is that his aunt was alright and she didn't seem angry, at all. Although…he still needed to explain the whole thing to her.

"I'm sorry I left so suddenly, Aunt May." Peter finally spoke sullenly, "I can explain it, I promise."

May chuckled; her voice slightly hoarse because of her age, but it was a definitely a chuckle, "You came right on time, if that is the case." She pulled away from the hug and smiled warmly at her nephew, "It is tea time."

Nearly an hour later…

As detailed as explanation could go, Peter's explanation certainly beat the record. He didn't leave a single bit of information past May, because if he did then the white-haired woman would know instantly. It's a motherly intuition, perhaps.

"Hm, hm…I see you've made your own adventure, Peter. Perhaps next time you would write a book about it?" Of course, May's reaction was a bit surprising for Peter since he expected to be scolded, at the very least. He shrugged, thinking that this might just be a testament to how far May trusted him. The woman sipped a bit of her tea before continuing, "Although…I have to admit that I still find it surprising that you went to such a place."

"Well, nobody would believe it in the first place. Even I am still trying to believe that it was all real." Peter admitted. Yes, ninjas were not more of a fantasy here in New York, so they weren't really all that popular. In regards to that, however, the idea of Peter being Spiderman was also a fantasy in the eyes of normal people. And…

Well, like he thought before, the fact that May believed that he was Spiderman is just a testament of how far she trusted him.

"…Putting that aside, what exactly did Madam Web said to you? I'm half-expecting you to think she was delusional; which is normal since that's what every people would think considering her gothic robe and goggles and flying chair-thingy." He wasn't trying to be rude, but that is his opinion. After all, not all old women had flying-chair thingies; and let's not forget how impossible it is for an old woman to have a nine-tailed wolf in her arsenal.

However, as usual, a simple smile was May's answer. She chuckled, "Yes...Cynthia is quite the oddly-dressed person, but she is friendly at least."

"Wait, she told you her real name?" Peter asked incredulously, "How come? It took me half the year training under her for her to give in and tell me that."

"Hospitality is a sign of well-mannerism, Peter. In my case, all I had to do was to invite her in and serve her a cup of tea or two." The elder Parker said, amusement twinkling in her beady eyes, "That's not to say that I'm using it as a...a weapon, if you would, to make her give me her name." In response, Peter laughed aloud at May's metaphorical statement. "Even if you did, I still doubt she'd give you her name." he said.

May chuckled slightly at that, "There is always the possibility of it being…a kind of elderly empathetic connection."

"Ah, but of course. As the saying goes, it's age before AND after beauty, right Aunt May?" Peter said, grinning. They exchanged amused chuckles after that, and then the atmosphere shifted towards the more serious part. "Aunt May…are you really okay with this?"

"Whatever do you mean, Peter?"

"I mean…..are you okay with…you know, me being Spiderman and never telling you before?" Peter said, stammering his words out bit by bit. He stopped right there and looked down in shame; his throat suddenly felt tighter each passing second, and his lungs heavier than he ever felt, "I-I know I should've told you a long time ago. But part of me felt that I shouldn't tell you yet, because this isn't something that I can tell anyone easily. Regardless, though, I know that I should've told you so that you wouldn't worry about me…..it's just that I didn't, and I'm sorry." It wasn't a straightforward apology. Peter was obviously beating around the bush a bit, but that is just his way to speak.

Being his aunt and surrogate mother for such a long time, May understood that. That was part of the reason why a smile came up to her lips as she spoke, "Peter, that's enough. You don't have to apologize over something like that. I thought you knew better to follow what your heart says, rather than worrying about an old woman like me."

"Still…" Peter trailed off.

Sighing, May put down her nearly empty cup on the wooden table in front of her. Her face looked worn, tired…probably of the life she was leading herself on. But even so, that wrinkly face seemed rejuvenated by that original smile of hers that crawled onto her face once again, "You are so similar…"

"Eh?"

"…to your Uncle Ben." May stated. Her smile lingered, but her eyes turned a bit misty as she glanced towards the row of photo frames on the cupboard near the entrance to the dining room they were in; her eyes focusing particularly on a photo of her, Ben and Peter back in the early years. She was wearing an old wife-beater in contrast to Ben's getup consisting of a brown jacket and broken-blue jeans. Peter was in his senior high school clothing as he had just graduated from junior high. It was quite the memory; trivial, but a crucial part in their lives.

"He was such a stubborn man. When I met him, and eventually fell in love with him, that was one of the attitudes that I find…annoying, for a lack of a better word." She closed her eyes, fondly remembering her late husband's face, "But in time, I find it quite charming in a way."

"So…I guess I'm that charming as well?" Peter grinned coyly. Part of him was flattered, if anything, to hear him being put on the same level as his late uncle; he didn't care if it came from her aunt, it was still a compliment to him. After all, for the most part of his life he looked up to Ben as a superhero of his own. Contrary to the society's belief, being a superhero doesn't require you having super-strength or gravity-defying ability. All you need is the ability to do things that normal people can't. In Ben Parker's case, his superpowers included being able to work on blocked pipes, changing old light bulbs with new ones, eating a piece of toast while still looking utterly-badass (in Peter's point of view).

"You may need to look at yourself in a mirror frequently if you can't tell for yourself, Peter." May said.

"Yeah, perhaps…or all I need is to unmask Nega-me's face and take a look at my inverted-form's face." The last part came out as an incoherent muttering, fortunately. Of course, on the off-chance that it was heard, May wouldn't understand the concept of Nega-Spiderman's presence.

After a while, Peter rose up to his feet with a grunt. He didn't realize how long he had been sitting down chatting with his aunt; his backside had even developed a slight cramp as an effect. May looked at him; a smile accompanied with a knowing look carved on her face, "You're leaving already?"

"It's not as if I wanted to." he responded begrudgingly, "But I have to report to my comrades in the Avengers. They might be looking for me as well, though I doubt they'd turn into an elderly worrywart like you have been." He shrugged when May gave him an inquisitive look, "I'm not thrilled about it, either. It's a drag, but my seniors might be looking for me and wonder about my absence. After all, I did let a super-powered vampire loose wreak havoc in my territory." He paused for a while, wondering how the way he talked sounded familiar to a certain pineapple-head from the Nara clan.

"I see." May said. She then smiled warmly at him before getting up herself and walked towards Peter intending to walk him off to the door, "All I'm asking is for you to be back for dinner. You can do that, can't you?"

"Depends on what you'll make for dinner. Is ramen on the menu?" Peter asked giddily. He knew it wasn't fair to ask ramen from May, who obviously shouldn't even know what ramen is. After all, Aunt May was known for her macaroni and cheese, not miso ramen and the likes.

However… "Ramen? Why, I haven't thought about it, but I'm sure that can be arranged."

Silence ensued, and Peter had a literal "dafuq" expression after the unexpected statement. "…..you're kidding, right?"

"You are VERY lucky that Cynthia passed me a recipe or two on ramen when she dropped by. I was surprised that it didn't sound so hard to make." May said nonchalantly. She never did get to see Peter's gleaming eyes as he silently screamed out, "SO MUCH WIN!" After all, she had her back towards him. It would be quite the humorous scene if she DID see him, though, since it would involve her creating her very first sweat-drop.

"If that's the case, then I'll be here a minute earlier than dinner time!" Peter grinned widely as May opened the door for him. But before he could step out of the house, he paused all of the sudden. May looked curiously at Peter's face, wondering what made him literally freeze in his steps. It wasn't as if she could deduct what he was thinking, but she could discern the emotion behind his face. Peter looked down to his feet, frowning while his eyebrows nearly knitted themselves together in visible frustration.

"Ne, Aunt May?"

May quirked a curious eyebrow as she thought, 'Ne? Is that a new catchphrase which is popular in this generation?' She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and put up a smile as she answered Peter's call, "Yes, Peter?"

"I…I was wondering…you know, only if you know about it and all, and I'm not forcing you to answer it if you don't know—"

"Peter?"

Peter stopped his stammering as he caught the sight of May's commanding expression, and the sight made almost froze him in place. Finally, he sighed tiredly before taking in a deep breath and spoke up again, "I was just wondering…have you heard about Mary Jane these past few days?"

"Mary Jane?" May asked back. She obviously wasn't expecting the question.

"Yeah. I…didn't actually get to say goodbye the last time I left for Konoha. The last time I saw her was in that bar she was working at, and even then I didn't talk much to her." The younger Parker admitted. Truthfully, he hasn't thought about his beloved redhead for quite some time; he was so focused on his activities in Konoha that she had just slipped from his mind. That is the scary thing; MJ is always the first and foremost thought in his mind, and the fact that he had forgotten about her was really unreasonable.

"Hm…..well, the last time I saw her was when Anna invited me over to her house. Coincidentally, Mary Jane was also there. She looked like she had just gotten home from work, wearing that waitress dress and all." May told him. Peter turned his face away in regret and looked angry for a little bit. After all this time, she was still…

"How was she? When you met her, I mean."

"She's fine, I suppose. She told me that she was struggling with her work, but she said that it wasn't something that she couldn't handle."

Peter smiled at that. He chuckled inwardly as he thought of one thing, 'Still the stubborn girl I know, huh?'

"I wonder why you asked that all of the sudden, Peter." May said as her face turned to her nephew curiously, "But I suppose I can't hold you here too long, can I? You STILL have that meeting with your friends."

"AH, that's right! I almost forgot about that." Peter exclaimed, surprised by how he could forget such a thing. He sighed; he wasn't even that far in the aging process, yet his brain was starting to literally run out of its fuel. "So…I better get going." He walked towards the door, chancing himself to look to an old photograph hanging on the wall near it. He smiled a bit before he took off. At that point, he didn't have to worry about giving May a heart-attack when he jumped ten feet into the air and web-swing to his destination.

And he did just that.

xoxoxo

X-Mansion, 20 minutes later…

Peter actually owned a personal list of stuff that he dislikes.

No, seriously, he did. Not that it was grand or official or anything, but it was well-organized. If he remembered correctly, the entity known as J. Jonah Jameson sat on the top five, although Peter still had trouble deciding whether Jonah is worse than having your chest Repulsor-ray'ed by a drunken Iron Man or not. The third thing he dislikes involved having to be subjected to the Avengers' 'Penalty for the Misbehaving', which involved having to repair broken roofs with Thor's hammer. Now, while he was delighted by the thought of having to use the Mjolnir to fix roofs sounded too bad-ass to be true, the fact that Peter couldn't even lift it posed a problem. Not only that; the stupid trolling faces that the other members had as they indirectly asked, "Problem?" more of a punishment than he could take.

The second…ironically, this one formerly sat on the top five of the list of stuff he LIKES. What else could it be other than seafood? (Preferably sashimi, in that regard) Well, he already got used to that one from time to time, so it was pretty much an empty slot (and he was happy to keep it that way). The one that wins the cake however…..yeah, people considered it brutal, he considered it annoying, while other members considered it amusing as he was forced to hold three Adamantium-coated claws away from his gut.

He didn't like Logan's claws then, and he definitely hate it now. I mean, seriously, a lunge-attack as a greeting? No normal handshakes or the kind? Meh, he should've known better.

"Nice to see you too, Logan." His unwavering voice may sound cool, but his trembling arms said otherwise. Human-spider or not, he couldn't just hold off an arm that weighed more or less the same as a car because of the metallic alloy covering its bone. Not to mention those claws...oh, he just HATE those claws!

"Skip the pep talk, bub, and let's get down to business." Logan said as he sounded utterly pissed off. And it wasn't just his normal piss-off mode, either; judging by the tick on his temple and the sound of teeth grinding against each other, he was ROYALLY pissed. "You know what I found when the X-jet first touched down after being your personal taxi? Busted cloaking system, that's what! See, this is why I was reluctant on giving away the big bird to you for your personal uses. I trust you to take care of it, then BAM! one application shuts down!"

"In my defense, you should've installed an entertainment center on the jet. Ya know, since it has a super-computer and all, why not install 'osu!'? I would've been satisfied if you installed a simple Pinball machine or something." Peter said nonchalantly. It was amazing how a man could keep up a poker face when he had six blades—three for each knuckles—just inches away from gutting him out.

"Why you little…!" Logan was readying himself to push himself forward before another voice more commanding in nature stopped his plan.

"Logan. That's enough." said the voice. Logan growled before slowly retracting his claws back to the slots between his knuckles. He turned away after shooting Peter a threatening glare, which the brunette waved off with a shrug. Eventually, the feral-looking man walked up to the owner of the voice that stopped him before and said, "You know damn well that that cloaking device costs enough to earn me an early pension, don't you?"

"As much as I like to hear about the broken cloaking device, I know that Peter here has some story to tell." The voice said.

"Then you know that this would come to his tab, or even yours." The Wolverine said, finalizing his statement as he walked past the voice owner, "You DID fund it after all, Chuck."

'Chuck' sighed, "Yes, I'm aware of that." A whirring voice then resounded as the figure came forward. There wasn't any apparent footstep as the male did that, though; because frankly, no footsteps could be made when you're wheeling yourself around on a wheelchair. The wheelchair itself is, in Peter's opinion, cool enough to be used by the owner and founder of the Xavier's School for the Uniquely Talented.

"Hm. It seems that you still have that 'authority' aura towards Logan, don't you, Professor X?" Peter said; grinning as his eyes were still kept staring at the retreating back of his feral comrade. The professor sighed again, "It tends to happen, yes. Partially because Logan behaves like a delinquent every time you came." Charles Xavier; shortly known as Professor X for those around him, widely known as the strongest mentalist in the world by the people who works in that kind of department. But, to Peter right now, he's just a friendly elder and a friend. Granted, having a friend who is handicapped and spends most of his time on a wheelchair sounded too much out of Glee than he wanted, but really, Xavier is a friend to most—if not all—the super-heroes that existed. After all, more than half of them had been contacted by the bald mentalist more often than not through the advanced neuro-computer known as the Cerebro.

While not exactly recruited to the X-Men league like Logan and the others, Peter had—at one time or the other—heard voices in his head which existed even before Raibi was inside him. He understood the elder's desperation; after all, he clearly devoted his life to search for mutants such as himself and bring them together to keep them from the society's stupidity. At one point, Peter would've noticed how mutants are treated more or less the same as the Kyuubi's Jinchûriki, Uzumaki Naruto.

Peter shook his head, 'I have time to think about that later. For now, I gotta meet up with the others.' He then tilted his head downwards to face Xavier and opened his mouth to say something, only to have the bald man cut him off, "They're already waiting for you as we speak."

Peter blinked owlishly. He then wondered if the handicapped man just read his mind. Said man chuckled before stating the obvious, again, "Yes, Peter, I read your mind. It's faster that way. Now, if you would follow me…" He spun his wheelchair around and it began to go forth towards a long hallway. Peter just gaped, looking at the man stupidly. Moments later, he grinned widely before following the mentalist's lead.

xoxoxo

Moments later, Xavier's office…

The room was spacious, if anything. If Peter's memory served correctly, the Hokage's office would need to take a leaf out of the X-Mansion's headmaster office and renovate. However, the spacious room didn't really give much space to move in as the room was currently filled with members of Avengers, SHIELD and X-Men alike.

There were more than his fingers could count, but he could name a few. To his far right was the leader of the Avengers, Captain America; Steve Rogers to his friends, and simply Cap to those close enough to know him. There wasn't much that could be discerned from the look on his face because he was wearing his signature mask, but the tension that his jaw was set on told Peter that he wasn't joking around. Not that Cap usually jokes around; granted, he appreciates good humor now and then, but he's more of a serious 'to-the-business' kind of guy. Nevertheless, his face was set to a frown and Peter wouldn't be so surprised if the super-soldier suddenly throws the shield on his back towards him. Thankfully, he didn't.

Not far from there, Thor also stood with the same posture. He was clad in his more formal set of clothing; which includes the long red cape that was placed on the Norwegian thunder god's broad shoulders over his sleeveless armor-plated vest, along with his chain mail armor underneath it. His trusty hammer, the Mjolnir, was placed on his right hip and it looked as intimidating as ever. After all, it was a known fact that the mysterious hammer was no ordinary weapon, and its mere presence can bring wariness to the mightiest of fighters.

To Peter's left was Tony Stark, missing his usual casing of red and yellow suit of armor. Well, that was to be expected, at least. Peter knew Tony enough to realize that he wouldn't be troubling himself by putting on his armor just for a simple meeting. Though, he had to admit, the tux he was wearing still looked damn good. 'Tch, super-heroes ARE millionaires after all.' Peter thought, annoyed. He was grateful that Tony didn't look as tense as the other occupants of the room, if the slight smirk on his bearded face meant anything at all.

However, his attention was immediately brought to the center of the room. If he wasn't intimidated by the presence of the Avengers' Big Three (the three leading members of the Avengers), he was damn sure he felt intimidated by the presence of the Avengers' official founder. Hell, he wondered how he missed the presence when he first entered the room. A figure clad in a black suit, black slacks, black shoes and a black trench coat should've screamed "INTIMIDATING!" to him. Not to mention that one eye-patch on his left eye…

Damn, Nick Fury sure knows how to make a guy piss his pants. Legend has it that he once made Chuck Norris have nightmares for weeks.

"Eh…guys, I don't know who killed your cats, but it sure wasn't me. Honest!" Peter said, hoping his joke could lift the tense atmosphere that the room was filled with. It worked on Tony because he snickered at the joke, but it wasn't all that effective on the others. It did, however, brought a hearty laugh from a cheery Deadpool. "HAHAHA! Ya here that? You DO look like you had your cats gutted and served to you on a silver platter! I told ya!"

So, okay, the horrific implication from what Deadpool was portraying was enough to make Peter cringe, but at least that's another support. After all, the man in red tights was known for his deranged sense of humor, so comments in whatever shape and sizes would come off as harmless talk if it came from him.

The joke seemed to do its job pretty well, judging by the sudden lift of the tense atmosphere that previously covered the entire room. Peter sighed in relief; he couldn't stand that wall-like tension! He was at the brink of activating his Raiken and break down that figurative wall, if possible. Yeah, the tension was that thick.

"I appreciate the peanut from your peanut gallery, Deadpool, but I prefer to get down to business ASAP." Nick said, though he couldn't help but actually feel grateful for the uplifting. He gestured his hand to a red couch beside him, "Peter, if you would?"

Half of the brunette's mind tempted him to say "I would not", but to say such a thing to the pirate-looking man in front of him would be like a go-ahead for the bald man to put a bullet through his head. Not that he couldn't dodge it, but Fury also had the tendency to throw a frag grenade to the face of people that pisses him off as an explosive plan B. Now that is something he wouldn't be able to dodge. So instead, he complied and sat down on the couch. The couch was comfy, but it didn't help in consoling Peter's nervousness caused by the suspicion that he would be interrogated.

Surprisingly, he WAS getting interrogated. Damn spider-sense, sensing incoming danger and all…

"So, Peter, mind telling us what you've been up to these past few weeks?"

xoxoxo

Time skip(because I'm a lazy-ass author)…

After a long, hearty and honest explanation (because doing otherwise would be extremely daring), Peter found himself on the receiving end of a pointed glare and several curious looks. To say he wasn't sweating was like saying that Peter had yellow hair.

"So let me get this straight. You meant to say that this whole time we had a whole continent of ninjas spying on our world?" Nick asked, sounding almost accusing. Peter sighed; knowing Fury, this bit of information would be more then unsettling for him. After all, it was almost like telling your best friend that you have a yandere stalker stalking you G.I Joe-style. "I can't really say that they are spying on us. I think it's more of 'observing' us."

"That doesn't change the fact that we have eyes watching our backs since God-knows-when. If this is really the deal here, then we have to think of the chances of them attacking us." Fury stated. Peter gritted his teeth frustratingly, eyeing the one-eyed man pointedly. "They're not like that. Attacking us isn't an option for them. They're not the kind of people with such an Al-Qaeda background, Fury."

"Still doesn't convince me. What makes you think that they won't attack us?"

Peter sighed. He hated to admit it, but a stubborn Nick Fury could be more of a blockhead than him. "If they were ACTUALLY that hostile towards someone from outside their continent, then they would've attacked me when I was there. The fact that they didn't says it all." The others nodded in understanding, finding Peter's logic to be sound. Nick, however, didn't look too convinced. Peter stared at the bald man before speaking up again, "Look, they have already let two people into their lands with no ill intent, so I can't see how that could be counted as a hostile attitude. If anything, YOU sounded hostile to me."

Nick narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Peter. If one were to look closely, a tick mark had grown on his temple. He was definitely annoyed. "How can I NOT sound hostile when we have more than a hundred super-powered humans observing our every move? It's bad enough with Doom's alliance and Magneto's brotherhood, but now we have the addition of ninjas with mysterious powers!"

Peter growled, feeling more than annoyed of Nick's suspicion towards the ninjas. A tingling sensation went through his body as he realized he was close to activating his black suit. In a matter of seconds, he calmed himself down. It wouldn't do for him to get angry for what was happening right at the moment. If he really wished to get Fury's trust, then he had to do it with the righteous weapons of facts and conclusion. He exhaled slowly before looking hard at Nick, "The reason they are watching us is because of our own acts. Seeing how our history was made, though, I guess they have the right to do so."

"What do you mean by that?" Nick asked; curiosity began to replace his annoyance.

"Urgh, don't tell me you didn't learn History in high school. You know what I mean, Fury." Peter leant back to the couch as he prepared to give a long explanation, "They're afraid. Not of us specifically, but maybe they're afraid of the outside world. I mean, we were involved in all kinds of war. The fact that we let ourselves get tangled in two World Wars is bad enough; not to mention that we have even more threats following it in the later times."

"The World War? Just how long have they been observing us?" Captain America suddenly piped in, his interest obviously showing. Having fought the World War himself, he knew how destructive a war can be. If a group of people—in this case, a whole continent—would prefer to live in peace, he could sympathize with that.

"I don't know myself. What I know, though, that during that period there's this…sage that have been watching how the war progressed." Peter answered. His memory of Tsunade's explanation about the sage was hazy, at best. The only things he remembered were the sage's title and deeds. "He was called the Rikudô Sennin."

"Riku-what?" a confused Tony Stark asked. Peter blinked owlishly, a dumbfounded expression on his face. There was approximately a seven-second interval before he realized that he was partly talking in Japanese. And when he did realize it, he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Ah, it's the Japanese for the Sage of Six Paths. Sorry, got a bit of a tongue-slip there."

Tony raised an inquisitive eyebrow as he eyed Peter curiously, "You mean you learned Japanese and can speak it fluently in the span of a few weeks?"

The brunette sheepishly scratched his head, "Heheh… Yeah well, let's just say I have an innate talent." He didn't know if having a Tailed Beast inside him could be considered a talent, but he couldn't just outright tell his comrades that he had such a thing inside him. Heck, worst case scenario they'd probably bring in Stephen Strange to pull Raibi out. That, he couldn't risk.

Tony hummed in partial understanding. As he did, Nick decided to bring them back to the main topic, "So who's this 'Sage of Six Paths'?"

"To be frank, I don't know much about the guy as well. All I know that the sage is the reason why ninjas exist. The one who told me this also told me that the sage taught humans how to utilize the innate energy in them known as chakra."

"Chakra?" Nick asked again.

"I suspect that it's some kind of inner energy that they can summon out to do things only meta-humans and mutant can do." Peter elaborated. Suddenly, he paused and blinked as he mouthed the words he just said again. "Only meta-humans and mutants…?"

Nick looked at Peter, confused as to why the brunette looked confused. "What is it?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing, just something that suddenly crossed my mind. Anyway, the point is, the sage saw how the war went about, and concluded that the people of the outside world were too dangerous and violent. So he went back to his continent and put up an EMP barrier around it to hide it. So far, we don't even know the exact location of that continent."

"An EMP barrier? They have the equipment that could project a barrier that covers a whole continent?" Tony asked, his interest piqued by the idea of someone having such an advanced equipment. He didn't expect that; if anything, the only equipment he knew that could make such a thing was already installed in his Mark 6 armor. And even then, it wasn't actually powerful enough to hide an entire continent.

"Not equipment per se. It was more of…a technique, actually."

"A technique? How in the blazes can someone do that with a simple technique?" Captain America cut in.

"As I said before, this is the same guy that created the very idea of ninja itself that we're talking about. Projecting a lightning-based technique that was powerful enough to disrupt the most accurate signals was probably one of his ability." Peter left the part about Raibi out on purpose, since he didn't know how to explain to his comrades that he housed a literal creature of pure power in his body.

Thor, who had been keeping his mouth shut the whole time, stepped forward. "But that should be impossible. We have all but known that such a power and control over lightning is not possible to be done by man. If thou are sure about this theory, then the Sage of Six Paths is just as mighty as this God of Thunder. My fears lay on the possibility that he may be more powerful than Odin Allfather himself."

"Apparently, it wasn't that impossible at all. Not that I'm questioning your powers, Thor, but this guy isn't your normal Joe. The part about Odin, though...I'm not pretty sure where the sage's power level was at. It's not that you'll have to worry, though. After all, the sage has been dead a long time ago." Thor wasn't reassured by Peter's statement, but it was satisfying enough to keep him silent for a while longer. Shortly after that, Nick cleared his throat and brought the attention back to him. His lone eye observed Peter before he spoke up, "Well, I don't know about this whole sage thing, and I'm not particularly interested in dead people either, so I'll get to my point. Is there anything else that can tell us, Peter?"

"Hrm..." The brunette assumed thinking position and put his chin between his thumb and index finger, his eyes squinted in thought. "Well, there's another thing. It's...more of a request, actually."

"Of what kind are we talking about?" Nick pushed on.

Peter scratched the back of his head nervously. Nick's stare wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world; add to the fact that his lone eye was hard and piercing—unlike Kakashi's single, bored-looking eye—it was enough to make the spider-bitten teenager fidget in the couch. Eventually steeling himself, Peter then reached into his pocket and pulled out some sort of long, red cloth while a metal plate was stitched to the middle of the cloth. Peter was holding the metal plate with his right hand, and was looking at it with a small smile on his face. "What is that?" Nick asked.

"This is..." Peter began. He didn't really know how to describe that cloth in his hand; other than the fact that it was supposed to protect his forehead, and that it looked uber-cool (for him) when he wore it. Thus—not knowing what kind of words he should use to explain the cloth—he simply smiled wider and separated the fingers holding the metal plate, revealing an insignia of leaf calligraphy carved onto it, "a symbol of trust." He knew that the Konoha hitai-ate couldn't be explained with those plain words, but those were the only words that came to his mind at the moment.

The others just stared at the metal plate curiously and silently. The silence was once again broken by Peter's voice, "This is a symbol that meant they trust me enough to let me join their ranks. Although, it also works the other way around as I had swore allegiance to the village that took me in when I was there."

"Your point being?" Nick pushed on, anxious to hear Peter's request. He had a feeling that he knew what it was, and that same feeling was a bad feeling.

Peter regarded all of the people seriously, "I want to stay in that village."

Once again, silence took over the room. However, if one were to look closely, Nick was obviously frowning unhappily. Granted, the man rarely looked happy at all, but that wasn't the point. "So, in short, you're asking for some kind of 'reassignment' from the team?" he asked coldly. Peter had the decency to look flustered under the one-eyed man's powerful stare, but that decency didn't last long. He quickly gained some courage to answer the question, "Um…not 'reassignment' per se. It's just that…I was wondering if I can stay there while still retaining my place in the Avengers."

Peter's answer must've sounded pretty satisfactory, if Fury's fall into silence meant anything at all. Completing his pose with his thumb and index finger cupping his chin, he was obviously pondering on Peter's words. After what felt like an eternity, the trench coat-wearing man raised his voice, "Alright, then. If that is what you really want, then I don't have any qualms with it."

Peter's eyes widened in surprise, 'Well, that was easy.' he thought. A grin formed on his face and he was ready to laugh had Nick's raised palm didn't stop him from doing so. Peter eyed the outstretched hand with a curious look on his face; the curious look which fell when Nick talked again. "However, one condition," he said, "You will report to us on anything regarding this ninja continent while you're there. If anything strange happens, you contact us. If they're planning something strange, you contact us. If they're planning to launch a full-scale attack on us and you caught a whiff of it, you contact us and we'll rain their place with bullets."

The next thing that happened happens almost a nano-second later.

Heck, it was probably shorter than that. One moment, Nick was mouthing out his last words, which coincidentally happened to be "bullets". The next moment—perhaps HALF a nano-second later—a beautifully-crafted wooden coffee table had a sizeable hole on it which had flying wood pieces around it, and said coffee table was the one in front of the couch Peter was sitting. Then, for a brief moment of unguarded shock, Nick Fury was forced to flinch as his one right eye's vision concentrated on Peter's lightning-clad fists.

"Say it one more time." Peter said, his tone deathly cold, "Come on, I DARE you. Say it one more time, and these fists are going through your head."

The reaction time that the other members took was just as quick as Peter expected. Even before he said his words, the brunette already found a pair of katana held dangerously close to his neck. He noted that it was probably Deadpool, judging by the swords and how silently he did his short teleportation. As if that wasn't enough, he also noticed that two Berettas were pointed to his head not a foot away from him. Judging by how they were held and the unshakeable hands holding them, he knew that Natasha Romanov aka the Black Widow was currently holding him at gunpoint.

A gunpoint that he could get away from anytime, of course, but considering that fact that Tony had also aimed his gauntlet-covered hand towards his chest held Peter in his place. He smirked, 'So he WASN'T just wearing tux.'

"You do realize that a threat like that will only hurt yourself, don't you?" Nick asked, already knowing the obvious answer (obvious to him).

"Maybe," Peter said ambiguously, looking oddly relaxed even under the threats of multiple weapons pointed at him and aimed to kill (or at least damage seriously). "But considering the fact that you're accusing my second home of something that they won't even do, and threatening my friends with your guns, I don't think I'll get hurt ALONE."

"All I'm saying is that we'll have to take precautions—"

"Damn your precautions to hell, Fury! The time they would attack us is the time when we drop another Little Boy on their asses. Heh, and trust me, if that time ever comes, don't expect me to fight on your side." Peter finally deactivated his lightning fists and stepped back, making the group of people that were holding their weapons towards him back away in accord. "That is just how much I trust them right now." He added.

He would care less if he'd have to fight his current allies in the Avengers in order to protect Konoha and their allies. He'd take on his fellow meta-humans and mutants any day; his daily lunge-attack greeting with Wolverine is a testament to that.

At that moment, Captain America raised his voice with enough authority that Peter turned around to face him, "You would fight us for their sake?" The blue-clad hero's face was hard and serious, and his jaw never looked so tense before. The brown-haired Parker knew what the Captain was implying. What he had said was, in a sense, an indirect declaration of war. Directly, however, it was only a warning for them. Still, it brought a feeling of mistrust on Peter just by him giving out that warning. And the Captain, being the understanding person he is, wanted to clear that mistrust while he still could. His efforts were for naught, though, when Peter nodded his head affirmatively.

"If it's to protect them from us…then I would." He said.

The eyes that stared at Peter were now staring at him in disbelief. They never thought that their ally would commit an act of betrayal for the sake of some people who he had just met. Some of them already felt betrayed; they were his allies, damn it! Weren't all of their fights together enough of a reason to call him as such? Is their comradeship such a light weight to him?

"Please, if you think I would want to choose sides, then you all know me better than that." Peter stated when he felt eyes boring into his head, "All I'm asking is for you guys to at least have a peaceful perspective on the ninjas. They don't want to harm us. Well, okay, they do spy on us every now and then, but they're just cautious of us. They just don't want to have war against us like the Sage of Six Paths had seen." Peter looked down at his feet. He looked like he was trying his hardest to convince his teammates on this matter. "So, please…give them a chance, at least."

After that, the room muted. Or, rather, the room's inhabitants were muted. Each of them exchanged exasperated glances with the people next to them, while those who didn't narrowed their eyes in thought. Peter's statement really shook their minds. It seemed that the brunette was really serious on this whole protecting-the-shinobi-continent matter, though they didn't really get why.

Nick crossed his arms in front of his chest, closing his one eye and groaned inaudibly. If there is something that he couldn't handle, it is teenagers. If there is anything he WOULDN'T handle, it is hot-headed smartasses. 'Considering the fact that I am confronting both at the same time, this is beyond me.' He thought sullenly. However, despite his earlier statement, he actually despised unnecessary conflict.

"*sigh*…you're more trouble than I have ever asked for, Peter." The one-eyed man said in a tired tone. Peter raised an eyebrow at how Nick sounded; it was a curious thing as to why he suddenly sounded like a washed-up father. Knowing that he would get frag-grenaded by the man if he said anything, though, the brunette kept silent as Nick talked again, "Eh, but whatever. Arguing with you seems to stress me out."

"Anyone who argues with me gets a decent nausea from time to time." Peter deadpanned.

Nick chuckled, "True, that." He sat down on what supposedly is the headmaster's comfy chair. Strange thing was, the headmaster (Professor Charles Xavier) was a cripple who sits on a wheelchair. Whoever ordered that extra furniture must be a freaking genius…or maybe a scumbag genius? Then, it would be like, "Knows your employer is a cripple. Buys him a comfy boss chair."

"Well, I guess you've made your point. I don't want to be careless, but I don't want us to fight against each other either. So here's what I have in mind…" Nick reached into his inner coat pocket with his right hand, taking out an object that Peter couldn't see properly. Peter raised an eyebrow, but before he could word out his curiosity his body responded to catch a speeding object flying towards him. He glared at Nick, "Oi, was that really necessary?" He glared some more when all he received was a shrug. He turned his wrist and made his palm faced him. What he saw in his right hand surprised him.

"What is this supposed to be?"

In his hand was a strange looking device. It was a communication device, if the retractable antenna attached to it meant anything, but it looked more like an old phone like the one back in the late 80's or something. The device was, to be described bluntly, a rectangular stuff with a screen on the top half of it and several buttons on the sides while a SHIELD emblem was emblazoned on the bottom half of the device's front. "This looks like a dinosaur radio, or something."

"What you're holding is an upgraded version of your old transmitter." Nick answered, "There's not much difference with the old one. However, there are some quirks in that gizmo. Stark?"

Tony stepped forward. He pulled up his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat, "Ahem. Well, it's not JUST an upgraded version, to give the thing some credit. Its power source is repulsor-generated, so it should be able to hold out longer than any batteries in the world. Work it well and you might as well power up your computer with it."

"Gotta love the Stark Industries…" Peter said, letting out a whistle in awe. Tony just laughed at the comment before continuing, "Oh, you're gonna love it even more after this. You see the buttons on the sides? There are several uses for each of them. For instance, the blue button on the right will activate the teleportation feature in that device and teleport you to the location of whoever you are talking to through that communicator."

"A teleporting device?" Peter wondered aloud, "Guess you've really brought the future to us today."

"And I'm proud of that, thank you. Continuing where we left off, the red button on the left will activate a strong signal which will act as a beacon of such." When Peter gave him a pair of narrowed eyes, Tony just shrugged, "Just in case you need us. The signal's frequency was set so it wouldn't be traceable to just ANYONE; just us, and maybe several SHIELD top members like Fury."

Peter stared at the device intently for a moment, and when he looked back up from it he sighed, "I thought I made it clear that I won't be getting any trouble with anyone back there."

"And that's all good, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"You don't get it do you? I'm safe there. Even if by some chance it goes down to the worst, I can take care of myself just fine." Peter said intensely as he tried to make a point. Moments later, he groaned and face-palmed, "Ugh, great, now it sounds like a family squabble…"

Tony clicked his tongue distastefully, but was otherwise silent. That wasn't the point, he told himself. But he couldn't get Peter to understand the magnitude of the problem. He was sure the others were also upset about it, and while he had been confident that his position could get Peter to hear him out, he didn't expect himself to fail to tell the brunette what he had in mind. Frankly, it was really disconcerting.

That was why everyone was surprised when another man raised his voice just a minute later, "Maybe you're the one who doesn't get it, Peter." Said the voice, prompting everyone to look at the voice owner's direction. Peter blinked in surprise before doing so himself. And when he did, he almost gave up then and there. He was certain that he already lost the argument the moment that person made a statement, "And what exactly do I have to get, double D?"

Now everyone's attention was on the man, who was leaning back to a wall and folding his arms to his chest. He had a neutral frown on his masked face; the mask itself was uniquely designed to have two tiny horns ornamenting the forehead part of the red mask. His eyes was covered with a red screening that came together with the mask, but that wouldn't cause a problem for him since he was, in fact, blind. Now, although he was blind, he wasn't a normal blind man. No normal blind would wear a tight red spandex which had two D's emblazoned on the chest area, set diagonally against each other, which carrying a red-hilted skipping rope on his hip. Contrary to popular belief, this blind man could use that skipping rope as a weapon and could effectively hurt people with it.

But Peter wasn't afraid of all of the above; no sir, dodging skipping ropes was easy for him. Even though the man who uses it had a sonar-like ability which he coupled with an outstanding reflex which could match his spider-sense, Peter wasn't afraid of it in the slightest. No, that wasn't what made Peter lost the argument. It was because beneath that red spandex, the man was a lawyer.

And damn it, Matt Murdock had won his cases numerous times, even before he took the secret identity of Daredevil.

"You don't understand the reason why we bother doing all this for you." Daredevil answered, still in the same position he was in, "It doesn't matter if you feel safe, or that you feel that you can take care of yourself. It doesn't change the fact that something bad might happen to you, and it could be bigger than what you could usually handle."

"I don't know if I should feel grateful or insulted after hearing your reason." Peter said, snorting in amusement. He raised his right hand and let it ignite in lightning once again, making several people step back in response. "I've gotten stronger before all this has happened. And if anything happens to me, I don't think I can't handle it." Peter's thoughts flashed back to his fight against Sasuke, in which he lost. He sighed and deactivated his Raiken, "Au contraire, I think I'll be expecting it."

"That's not a valid reason for us not to worry about you, is it?" The red-clad hero asked rhetorically.

Peter groaned, 'No, it's not. Damn it…stupid lawyers and idiotic law enforcers…'

Daredevil sighed. Really, it was like arguing with a child; a stubborn little child. "It's naïve of you to think that everything would go your way without having your plan backfire on you. Nothing's impossible, Peter; you getting into trouble too big for yourself isn't, either. That being the case, is it really wrong for your comrades to give a failsafe in case anything happens?"

Peter let out another groan, this time louder in terms of volume. "All right, all right! Damn it, Matt, quit using the facts and logics against me! You know I'm more into decay rate algorithms rather than the law of the states, right?"

Chuckles were emanated throughout the room. Some of the members shook their heads at the impossibly extreme shift of the room's atmosphere. Daredevil did both actions at the same time, walking towards Peter before stopping a few feet away from him. He shot Peter a smile, visible since the mouth part of his mask was nonexistent, "We're comrades, Peter. Don't forget about that. And as long as we are, we'll watch each other's back. Isn't that right?"

"Keh… You can't be more right than a right-handed quarterback." Peter answered, chuckling with amusement with closed eyes. He opened them a moment later and looked around, seeing that his 'comrades' in context were looking at him with various expressions. He shot them all a small smile of gratitude when he finally realized that what Daredevil said was true to all of his friends here, "Thanks guys. And sorry for being an aggressive jerk a moment ago. Really, you didn't have to put an effort and do this for me…" He chuckled again, "I guess I'll try and appreciate what you did for me."

Suddenly, the warm atmosphere in the room became apparent for all of its occupants. When the cold tension left them, some were left unbalanced and had to lean to a wall for support, other were unconsciously quivering at the loss of stress, while the more senior members in the room—Nick Fury to give an example—just sighed and shook their heads again.

Finally, after some more comfortable silence, Nick started talking again, "With that aside, Peter, I actually have a request for you, too."

"Name it, Fury. As your personal lamp genie, I'll try my damndest to get that adult magazine you want." Peter joked; a mad grin nearly split his face when all attention turned to a spluttering Nick Fury, who looked equally shocked as he was insulted. However, he prided himself as a man who can keep his composure; so his composure he kept. Well, not without shooting a remark at the spider-bitten brunette.

"I'm not interested with your perverted tendencies to snatch porn literature when you see one, Peter." This time, attentions shifted to the taken aback Peter who flinched under the scrutiny of the whole Avengers. He growled inwardly, 'Screw you, Fury. Screw you and your perfect counterattack! Heed my warning; I shall return with vengeance!'

"Whatever, one-eye. What's the request, then?" he asked, still peeved by Nick's counter-remark.

The bald man smirked wilily at the question, and answered, "Well, with you wanting to go back to that ninja continent so badly while still being an Avenger, I think I know just the thing to say to the higher-ups to convince them. Of course, I'm waiting for your consent."

"And I'm waiting for that request!" Peter exclaimed, "Seriously, stop beating around the bush. The anxiety is grating my nerves."

"Well…" Nick paused, letting Peter's exasperated look amuse him a little more.

"How would you like to be the Avengers' Otherworld Ambassador?"

xoxoxo

Time skip, half an hour later…

"I. Hate. That guy." Peter muttered.

"Your loathing towards Colonel Fury is amusing." Xavier said as his wheelchair wheeled itself, following Peter's stride.

"I find your sense of humor a bit disturbing, Professor X." Peter said back, a sweat-drop appearing at the back of his head.

The reason for Peter's sudden resentment towards his superior commander was a bit far-fetched; one would find it so if they ask him about that reason. It was connected to Peter's current position as an Otherworld Ambassador, whose job was to represent the Avengers and their presence in the Shinobi Continent; of course, he was situated in the Elemental Nations to be precise. It had nothing to do with the fact that what he was supposed to do was to be a spy—term used loosely—in that place; though being a representative for an unsigned, unofficial peace treaty between SHIELD and the Elemental Nations' politicians was a more appropriate term.

The cause for Peter's current irritation to Nick was, in fact, the fact that he'd never knew that such a position even existed!

He was even more annoyed when the bald pirate-like man told him that there were actually others like him in regard of being an Otherworld Ambassador. For instance, Namor—the shirtless, speedo-wearing ruler of Atlantis—had a request sent to him, asking him to be one as a peace declaration between his kingdom and Avengers; which, in turn, declared peace between Atlantis and the world above. Another example was Black Bolt, the leader of the Kree alien race. Though not many words were exchanged when the request was given—since a simple slip of syllable from Black Bolt's mouth would shake a whole planet—it was clear that he accepted the offer.

Thank God for body language.

Back to Peter, the reason he was irritated was because Nick offered a position to him which he hadn't even heard of. It remained unknown if Nick was just trying to be all mysterious and cool by coming up with an idea that Peter didn't know about or if Nick was just trying to troll him. Regardless, even though Peter was grateful for the Otherworld Ambassador job offer, he was nevertheless annoyed that Nick made him look like an idiot in front of the others (they looked at him funnily when his first reaction to the job offer was a stupid "Huh?").

A simple 'HELP WANTED' poster would've helped, darn it.

"Putting that aside, where do you intend to go now?" Xavier asked. He didn't mind walking Peter around the X-Mansion—giving tours was the headmaster's secondary job, somewhat—but Xavier didn't really think that he would have to do it either. Peter rarely visited the mansion, after all. "If you can, I would prefer that you don't go to the dorms, though. The children are off-limits for you, considering the mischief you all caused last year."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard ya. Still, you gotta admit that they have creative minds as artists. Natural Michelanglo's and Leonardo's, those kids were. Mutants or not, they should've been sent to art school or something."

"I would prefer not to have that kind of episode again in my institute, thank you."

"Aww, and here I thought I'd be able to play with them again." What Peter meant by 'play' was what the society should depict as 'paintball mayhem'; one that would render even the large X-Mansion into something out of 'My Little Pony' cartoon. And for that, Xavier had especially stripped Peter's playtime with the kids studying in his institute; them being mutants meant that the pranks they play were worse than normal children.

Despite himself, Peter chuckled mirthfully, "I'm just kidding, Professor. Actually, I DO have somewhere I want to go; just not now. That is, of course, assuming that you allow me to."

"As long as it is not the dorms, Peter, you're free to go anywhere you wish." Xavier stated, finalizing his restriction of Peter's travel radius. When Peter grinned at him, however, he knew that he just said something wrong along his lines. He didn't have to be the greatest telepath alive to realize what Peter's grin meant; it had 'trouble' written all over it.

"Well then, I suppose that includes the Danger Room?"

For one moment, Xavier eyed the brunette critically while actively trying to read his mind. Even knowing this fact, Peter paid no mind and didn't even bother to put up mental shields; instead, focusing his thoughts into what he wanted the bald man to see. And when the wheelchair-riding professor did see it, he sighed, "I don't know if I have to feel grateful or wary of what you have in mind."

"If you're that confused, why not choose both? Works for me every time." Peter said nonchalantly. They stopped at the mansion's front entrance door; the nicely-crafted wood making Peter whistle in awe.

"Perhaps I might." Xavier replied. He turned his head upwards and faced Peter with a smile, "What date should I be expecting you?"

"I don't have an actual schedule, but…I guess maybe tomorrow or the day after that?"

Xavier chuckled, "I don't have to read your mind to know you didn't." Turning away from Peter and wheeling his wheelchair towards his office again, the professor casted another glance at Peter, "What spurred this, I wonder?"

"Nothing, I suppose." Peter said, grinning, "But when I see a chance, I might as well swing it."

xoxoxo

As Peter went downtown (via web-swinging, because taking taxis were too mainstream), he went through the to-do list he had made up in his mind. Mentally, he checked off the 'kick villain ass', 'visit Aunt May', and the 'fulfill Avenger's call' task. Being the busy person he was, though, there were still other things he had to do and places he had to be.

'What's the next thing in line? I wonder…' Peter mused. Assuming thinking position in mid-air—something that only a man of his caliber of agility could ever hope to achieve—he thought about it further, 'I could always pass by Mr. Aziz's pizza shop and pay him back for all the troubles I gave him…ugh, still feeling guilty about that. Then again, I could always do that later. Dropping by the Bugle and saying 'hi' to Robbie and Betty sounds tempting, but I would hate to see JJ so soon. GAH! Isn't there anything urgent I need to do?'

All things considered, Peter was going to learn to watch what he wished for. And as he was forced to twirl acrobatically to avoid getting sucker-punched by a lamp pole…well, yeah, he DID learn it. Because, as he was upside-down in midair and his dark brown eyes scanned the streets below him, he accidentally caught the sight of a familiar bar. At first—while somersaulting quickly and web-zipping himself into an alley—he wondered what was so familiar about it. Then—as he dropped down, pulling off the makeshift mask made up from his hitai-ate—he saw a poster on the bar's front window.

He smiled.

The poster said clearly (in big, bolded words) "WELCOME TO EAST CORNER'S BAR! DRINKS AND MEALS ALL DAY LONG! Also, a special treat from Friday to Tuesday: A REDHEAD HUMMINGBIRD WITH CRYSTAL VOICE!"

"Hummingbird?" Peter mused aloud; eyebrows rising up to the point it nearly disappeared under his bangs. He chuckled, "Don't know who made that up, but I can't think of a better name." he said to himself. Shaking his head good-naturedly, Peter straightened out his green Chuunin haori before pushing the bar's door open. A grin made its way up to his face when he realized one thing.

It was Sunday.

The poster on the front window seemed to succeed, making a great job in attracting customers. The bar wasn't all that packed, but there were several people strewn about in groups around a circular table. The bar looked like it still retained its fancy outlook from the last time he'd been here, it seemed. The piano was still on that small stage, though sadly the stage lights were turned off in the light of day. Still, the bar looked to be likeable in and of itself; he wouldn't have it any other way. No, he wouldn't dare replace any of the things that completed the bar.

Especially…not her. Not the woman clad in a waitress outfit—it was undoubtedly the bar staff's uniform—standing on the stage. Not that woman, holding the microphone and its tripod with delicate hands; handling the two objects with equal delicacy. Not that beauty, whose long tresses of red hair framed her heart-shaped face and went down to the small of her back. Not that fallen goddess, whose eyes were the brightest of blues he'd ever seen that it seemed to shine transparently, further accentuating her pretty…no, beautiful look.

Peter had to admit, he never got tired of that strange impact on his heart every time he looked at that girl/woman. It felt like the first time every time he did it. Yet, he knew it was just one of the magic that the redhead always had on him.

Sighing contentedly, he made his way to an empty seat which was left forgotten by the many patrons that inhabited the bar. It was strange how they would trouble themselves by filling up the front seats, practically making them sit around the same table as strangers they barely knew. But, of course, he wasn't in the position nor did he have the urge to complain. An empty seat was just what he needed, anyway.

Finally, seating himself on that vacant seat became a task well done. He leaned forward; elbow propped on the table for his head to lean on his palm on. Not a moment later, a waitress—dressed in a similar fashion to the one singing up front—came to him and asked what he would have. He thought about for a while, though his attention was still to the singing redhead on the front stage. He smirked and turned to the waitress, "Meh, I'm not feeling picky today. Just give me double of anything you feel like getting me."

The waitress didn't expect such an answer, but she nodded and smiled politely nonetheless. As she left him, Peter once again paid his attention to the singing 'hummingbird', and a smile crossed his face again. Her voice was just as the poster said it to be; crystal clear. It was as if the wind itself was whistling a tune to his eardrums. Yeah, it was that kind of natural voice.

'Keep Holding On by Avril Lavigne? She sure got the right taste. Don't know if I was supposed to expect it or not, but I guess she's still in her league.' Peter thought, his eyes lighting up in amusement. He chuckled when a guy practically swooned under her bright smile. Seriously, guys these days…

Peter's order for two drinks of a kind came shortly after. Apparently, the waitress had enough common sense to give a newbie like him (ordering randomly like that tends to prove you can't hold your drinks) two glasses of fruit cocktail. That was fine for him; he wasn't exactly fond of alchohol, anyway. If he was, he would long since accepted Tsunade's saké bottles. As the nameless waitress placed one glass on his table, Peter halted her from placing the second one. "Wait," he said, jerking a finger towards the red-haired singer on the stage, "that other glass goes for the pretty lady over there."

A look of understanding crossed the waitress' face and she let out a small "Ah" in response. She smirked, placing the other glass back on her silver platter. She turned her head to face her uniquely-dressed customer and gave him a sly look, "Wanna leave her a message, too?"

"I'm not smart enough to leave quirky words." Peter said, smirking back at the waitress, "Just tell her that a tiger is waiting for her at table #31."

The waitress nodded, and then she went off. Peter watched as she skillfully dodged several patrons who seemed a bit too excited, praying that the drink wouldn't be dropped. But by the way that waitress moved swiftly through the waves of the crowd—reminding him of a slower version of the Devil Bat Ghost—he was sure that he could trust her. He turned back to watch the show go on. Eventually, the show ended as the song reached its climax. Series of applause filled the bar, replacing the once melodious tone that the redhead brought with annoying clapping sounds.

'…well, she lives for this kind of claps.'

'Are you sure about that?' a sound boomed in Peter's mind, 'That she lives for these annoying sounds? Her life must be miserable.'

'I admit, it IS annoying. Blame the first caveman who thought up of the idea of hand-claps.' Peter thought, mentally agreeing with the sound. 'Although, I find it kind of funny that you're actually annoyed enough to give a comment yourself, Raibi.' He remarked, a kind-of surprised tone in his voice. Raibi—the Nine-Tailed Lightning Wolf, the Bijuu in Peter—scoffed lightly and went silent once again. Peter shook his head; his tenant was one confusing entity.

As the redhead singer went down the stage, the waitress from before walked up to her with a bright smile; probably greeting her in the manner a fellow co-worker would. The redhead smiled at her with equal cheerfulness; that is, until she noticed the glass that the waitress was holding up.

From Peter's perspective, it seemed that the redhead was asking the waitress who the drink was for. It must came as a surprise for her when the drink was given to her instead of any other patrons, since it was clearly written all over her face. Peter smirked; he knew what was coming next, and he best came prepared. Knowing that, he stood up from his seat and went away.

Not a moment later, the redhead came to his deserted table; her hair flailing about as if she had just broken into a run. Her eyes were wide with anticipation, her breath shallow when a lump suddenly lodged itself in her throat. Her bright blue eyes scanned her surroundings, looking for the supposed 'tiger' that was waiting for her at this very table. Yet, she saw none; tiger nor human alike, there wasn't anyone around the table.

Saddened by the prospect that she might've missed him, she turned away and slowly made her way back to her stations. However, before she could get far, a voice stopped her in her tracks. A familiar voice, she surmised, judging from the way her neck and back tingled at the way the voice sounded. She'd never forgotten that voice. Not once. She had heard this masculine voice too much in her life for her to actually forget about it.

But still…of all times she could've heard it again, why now?

"Hummingbird, huh?" the voice asked aloud, "Not that it's not a good name, but it doesn't do you justice."

'Darn it…' the redhead thought. She turned around once more, facing the voice owner who was leaning to a nearby pillar with his arms crossed. That face…she knew it; recognized it as if it was her very own reflection.

'Darn you, Peter…' she thought again, a sob almost choking her. 'Darn you…and your stupid timing.' Without any time lapse whatsoever, the redhead lunged towards Peter. Peter caught the girl—shamefully admitting to himself that he almost fell from the full-body tackle—and proceeded to let her beat his chest with feeble fist-hammers. Not minding the pain—it was almost nonexistent, after all—he looked down to the mass of red hair and smiled warmly.

"I'm back," he said quietly, "Mary Jane."

xoxoxo

Five agonizingly long minutes later…

It felt longer than five minutes, actually. To be precise, the time that passed as MJ continued to beat Peter's chest to dust—while failing to even come close to doing so—felt more than mere five minutes. Time stopped in respect for them, it seemed; it was a mystery why time stopped just for the sake of their untimely reunion. Peter couldn't care less about it

Then, they were eated on that table—table #31. The manager who ran the place said that MJ had earned herself a break after such an endearing show.

"He's a good guy. Peter commented after the manager left them alone, "Considering the fact that I've slugged him across the face not too long ago."

"If he wasn't, I would've worked in another place." Mary Jane admitted to him. She frowned, "Fortunately for you, he didn't even recall that time you punched him."

Peter remembered that time. It was after he got his first loss of control over his symbiotic black suit. Of course, the results weren't ones he found preferable—putting aside the awesome increase of his powers—since his aggressive nature when he put the suit on tended to make him hurt people around him. If he remembered correctly, he'd hurt Mary Jane as well.

Yeah.

Bad old times.

"So, uh…" Peter began, fingering his glass of fruit cocktail nervously, "How've you been?"

When Peter was nervous, he tended to go back to his old state of 'good old bookworm Pete', whose level of speech might just a notch above Hinata. And that was actually considered bad, considering that the humane level of speech went leaps and bounds above the indigo-haired girl. Peter cursed under his breath; his words barely audible to MJ through the loud sounds of the bar.

If MJ was annoyed by the question…well, she clearly showed it. Her talent as an actress wasn't put in use, in this case. It was as if she was tired of putting that face on. "HOW have I been? Well, I don't know… How'd you think a woman would've been when her fiancé suddenly disappears to heck-I-don't-know?!"

Peter cringed at the sharp question, "Ugh…technically, I can't be called as your fiancé yet. We haven't even got properly engaged yet." Reasoning himself through the daggers flying from Mary Jane's glare, he realized that she had fallen silent sometime between his answer. Taking her silence as a sign to continue, he started talking again (with extra caution that left him as a worse stuttering mess than Hinata was), "Um, ah, I-I mean, for an e-engagement, you'd need to, uh, have our parents or guardians agree to our re-relationship and—"

A loud bang on the table almost made Peter bite his tongue in surprise; instead, he yelped aloud, gaining the attention of several nearby people. Realizing this, Peter quickly made a cover up by letting out a nervous chuckle and saying, "H-Hey, nice work! You got that mosquito that's bugging us just now!"

The people were idiots, it seemed, because they took Peter's words seriously and turned back to where they were facing previously. Noticing the success of his save, Peter sighed and looked back up to MJ. Of course, it was the wrong choice as he was greeted with a set of angry eyes that scared him more than a Kyuubified Naruto. That was a look frightening enough for Peter to avert his gaze back to the glass in his hands.

'Just when I thought I won't have to meet more scary women…' Peter thought miserably, his face set into a nervous grin. Oh, he feared Mary Jane alright. Part of him held a distinctive amount of fear towards angry females, after all. It was plain guy logic; angry women always seem to be 10 times more powerful, like they'd just turned into a Super Saiyan or something. Therefore, Peter had to be careful and keep surfing around MJ's good side if he didn't want to get Kamehameha'd, figuratively speaking.

Doing something like that, he could still manage. Even though he was prone to anger countless people (being the wisecracking web-head he was), anger management was actually his one of his forte. However, he was a complete klutz when dealing with crying girls and women alike. This was what made him freeze up when the pretty redhead sitting across of him suddenly tears invaded her face.

"Idiot…" she said, her eyes closing up as she tried to hold in the river of tears trailing down her face. She choked back a sob by gritting her teeth together; a gesture that Peter mistook as one to hold in her apparent anger. Of course, the misunderstanding made Peter all the more panicked, "Eh? Hey, c-come on, don't be like that, MJ. Don't cry…"

"Don't cry? Don't cry?! How am I supposed to when you…*sob*darn it…" MJ's words were breaking up between her sobs. Those dribbled words were loud enough, however, to attract attention to themselves again. Now, all patrons had their attention on them, not just some of them. Confused and concerned glances were shot at both Peter and MJ; Peter had the majority of the hatred glances, shot by people that he surmised as MJ's fans.

Withering under all the eyes, all Peter could do was gulp nervously. His trusty spider-sense told him trouble was brewing, so he placed a few good dollars on the table and pulled the still sobbing MJ away from the table (soon to be a crime scene) and went through the bar's door swiftly. He sighed tiredly, 'This is...really the worst.'

xoxoxo

Taking MJ out of the bar seemed to be the right choice. Peter didn't want her to attract too much attention; and if he was caught making her cry, people would start beating him into a bloody pulp.

Or ground meat.

He would have trouble if his redheaded somewhat-fiancé would cry along the way as he takes her for a walk, so he chose to do it in a discreet kind of way. Discreet, as in, hoisting MJ up in a piggyback and web-swing their asses out of there. Okay, perhaps not the most discreet kind of action, but it was better this way rather than taking a cab where MJ's crying face and Peter's nervous-grinning face would strike the driver as awkward.

Mary Jane had enough common sense to hold Peter tightly, despite her own feelings at the moment. Actually, if she was really angry, she could've just choked him from that position and be done with it. But no, she didn't. She just held him tightly, letting Peter take her to wherever he had in mind. Right now, she would've accepted if he took her to the top of Empire State Building just to scare her.

'I don't care…' she thought, 'I don't know what to think anymore…'

Despite her thoughts, the redheaded Watson girl was actually grateful of the way they were right now. With the winds caressing their faces, blowing her hair as it waved around, and the occasional loss-and-increase of upward momentum…she would be lying if she said that she didn't miss this feeling.

She missed him in particular.

Eventually, they landed on a grassy field. She heard Peter sigh longingly, as if he was seeing something that he hadn't see for a long time. And, truth to be told, he was. Peter didn't know how long it had been since he last saw Central Park. Ah, no wonder it was called the natural heart of New York. The place was lush with life, even though it was surrounded by concrete jungle.

"MJ? You still there?" Peter asked, noticing the lack of sound from his passenger.

Honestly, MJ didn't know which was more embarrassing; Peter giving her a piggyback ride while she accepted the offer with no complaints (much like a child) or the fact that she almost fell asleep on his back. She blushed slightly and averted her gaze sideways, "Y-Yeah, I'm still here."

"You fell asleep, didn't you?"

"I did NOT fall asleep!"

"You sure? I thought I heard you snoring a bit back there."

Was she snoring? Oh God. "I…I wasn't snoring!"

Peter glanced behind his shoulder, daring MJ to look back; which she did with no remorse. He held the gaze for longer than a little while before he broke out in a laugh, "Keh…Hahahaha! I'm just teasing you, MJ. It's good to see you still have your spunk." He said as his laugh died down to a mirthful grin. Though MJ looked peeved by his joke, she didn't say anything; opting to just throw her look away.

They took a walk along the park. It was slow, but Peter looked like he knew where he was going, so Mary Jane just strutted along with him. Part of her was curious about what Peter was planning, but that curiosity was shoved harshly by an irrepressible anger. 'Don't forget why you're even following him.' She thought, her eyes narrowing, 'He still have something he has to apologize for, and you're not letting him go that easily.' She held on to that thought; an ideal she came up with, a motivation he caused indirectly. It was such a concentrated train of thought that MJ didn't know when did they stopped walking and instead sat on a wooden bench at the sides of the park road.

There was silence that transpired between the two. Well, not an effective silence; there were some kids with their parents or some people walking along the road not far from them, but it was true that between the two there was only silence. MJ slipped some subtle glances towards Peter, anxiety building up inside her. She was careful not to let it show, though, since she didn't want him to have the satisfaction. A childish thinking, that was, but no one would complain.

When Peter inhaled a deep breath all of a sudden, MJ thought that the strenuous wait had finally ended. When he opened his mouth, she almost—ALMOST—cheered. When no words came out and all he did was to stare at the cloudy sky above them and sigh, it took all that she got not to slump back—or worse, face-fault—in disappointment. Peter words came only when she least expected it; that is, when she almost got up and leave then and there.

"You haven't answered my question, you know."

A skeptic scarlet eyebrow was raised, "What question?"

Peter gave her a disbelieving look—one that accused her of saying something stupid—before he cleared his throat and spoke again, "Oh, come on, MJ! You haven't got any wrinkles on your pretty face and you're already forgetting about things? Talk about accelerated aging process…" The resulting bump on his head wasn't as much as a surprise as it was painful.

"ITTAI!"

"Just get to the point!" 'And what the hell is "ittai"?' MJ said, and thought in aftermath.

Peter rubbed his comically swollen head, wincing as he did. A minute later, he gave another sigh. "You know…about how've you been these past few weeks."

MJ's eyes hardened at the upbringing of the topic. Truth to be told, she was particularly annoyed about this one question, just because it sounded utterly stupid for her. How dare he ask something that had such an obvious answer? Was he doing this on purpose; to see if she had anything hurting for these 'past few weeks' as he put it? Was he always this…cruel?

At that point, it was almost as if Peter had telepathic abilities; enabling him to read MJ's thoughts. Though, in reality, all he did was reading her facial features; something that he was unexpectedly good at. Noticing the hardened eyes peering into his own, digging their way through into his very soul, he gave her the equal amount of her hard look. "I'm serious, MJ. I was then, and I am now. I…needed to know how you were when I left."

A dissatisfied look—one bordering with pure annoyance—crossed Mary Jane's face, her eyebrows creasing inwards and brought together a fearsome aura about her. She averted her gaze to another place; her focus falling onto a group of children playing near a tree. An apple tree, she figured, when her vision deepened at said tree. She would've given herself a pat on her back if she could for being able to take her attention off from Peter so easily.

Ah, damn it.

She thought about him again.

"…not much." MJ said; her lips set in a straight line as her eyes found themselves staring at the pavement beneath her feet, "Still working at the same bar, as you can see yourself. There were auditions put up for Broadway, but I can't find that same urge insatiable urge I have back in those days. My dad…well, you remember how he is, don't you? I've moved in with my aunt not too long ago when the bastard struck a nerve or two."

Peter nodded solemnly, "I see. So, it's turning more and more like the old days, huh?"

A crooked smile came over Mary Jane's face, surprising her by its unexpected arrival. No matter what, though, she found herself not wanting to ruin the mood that had finally settled between her and Peter, so she let that crooked smile stay in its place for now. "Yeah, you can say it that way. Anna said the same thing herself when I decided to move in. After that, things just flowed naturally. Nothing is worth mentioning, other than that time when that crazy vampire started making his face on the news."

"Ah, yeah…that guy." Peter thought that Morbius was a lot more famous—or infamous—than the way MJ put it. By the way she put it, it sounded as if the pale bloodsucker was as infamous as your average bank robber. He had to admit, he found it amazing that MJ could dismiss it as something so trivial-sounding like that. "Met him on the wrong end of the train station…ah, never mind that, what happens next?"

"That's why I'm telling you, nothing really happened!" MJ said exasperatedly, rolling her eyes, "It's like living the same old same old with minor adjustments. I have to admit, working at the bar might be the only thing that I do to spend my time." All of the sudden, her face looked downcast when she went back looking at the ground, and her hands were forming unnecessary wrinkles on her waitress dress as they gripped it none-too-gently. "Only…"

Her behavior made Peter tense up. Assuming the worst, Peter then asked her, "What is it?" Her continued silence only served to unnerve him further. Peter frowned deeply; this wasn't right, he thought, MJ acting this way wasn't right at all. He wondered then and there, did something…bad happen? To her in particular? Reaching out to take her right hand into his left, Peter looked at her with brown eyes laced with concern, "Mary Jane?"

She took a sudden intake of breath—a gasp that she valiantly took control of—at the contact. It was as if she was surprised by it; like she didn't expect it nor see it coming. It was like she was caught up in her own world, like a trance. When she turned to face him, it looked like she once again fell into that dream-like state. Her eyes were caught within his; brilliant light blue entrapped—ensnared by the spider he was—by those deep mysterious brown orbs. Concern flooded Peter's eyes, threatening to spill out. At that time, MJ realized something that she felt ashamed of.

She had acted terrible towards Peter. She didn't realize his worry-filled face had been looking at her like he was in paranoia since the moment they met; a paranoia that was meant for her rather than towards her. No…perhaps she just didn't want to notice it, to acknowledge the fact that she wasn't the only one being the victim here; that she wasn't hurting alone. A selfish part of her wanted him to feel sorry, to suffer like she had been during the period of his leave.

She didn't realize that he already had.

Snapping out of said trance, MJ shook her head softly while giving Peter a reassuring smile, "Ah, it's nothing like what you're thinking! It's just that…remember those guys who hired me for my play in Broadway?" Seeing Peter nod his head slowly, Mary Jane continued, "Well, one day, they came to me when I was still working in East Corner's. They said something about hiring me again. I don't remember the details, but apparently the girl who replaced me fell ill just when her show was a day away."

"That's unexpected." Peter commented flatly, "Guess they haven't exactly prepared a plan B, huh?"

"Well, I guess I was their plan B." MJ answered mirthlessly, "But I outright said no to them. I didn't want to sacrifice my steady work for one more possible shot of working with them again; not when they might replace me again when they want to. Unfortunately, things…didn't go as smooth as I thought it would."

"Let me guess. They brought some big-armed mafia-styled bodyguards to threaten you?"

"That and it seemed the whole bar was ready to tear them apart. I still can't put a finger on it, but they seemed like they were ready to fight on my behalf; crazy as it sounds."

"Maybe it's because they already pledged allegiance to you as your undying fans? You know, the manager can't just give titles like the 'Hummingbird' to just anyone; even I know that. So when I think about it, it doesn't sound so crazy at all."

"You made it sound like I'm some kind of celebrity." Mary Jane said, chuckling helplessly to herself.

"Believe it or not, you are." Peter, bless his unconscious-sweet-talk capability, stated confidently with a shrug, "Talent can't be erased or hidden, MJ. Whether it's acting or singing, you'd ought to have a little fan club. It's just the way it works."

With a blessing in the form of sweet talk, Peter had actually caught MJ off-guard. She spluttered in surprise and desperately looked around in an effort to hide her blush. She inwardly groaned at herself for being reduced to a panicky schoolgirl; something that a woman her age shouldn't really do. Deliberately, she tried to change the subject (though she almost epically failed to do so), "A-Ah, so that's how it is! N-No wonder… Um, b-by the way, what about you?"

"What about me?" Peter asked back in confusion.

"Well, I mean, I've told you my side of the story, so you owe me one. You better tell me about what you've been up to if you want us to be even." The redhead proceeded to cross her arms under her breasts. The pout her mouth made only served to make her face look all the more demanding.

Peter hummed in response. He actually thought that MJ's request was reasonable; screw that, she deserved an explanation from him all right. And if he wanted to straighten out the problem between him and her, this was probably the best time to tell her all the things he experienced throughout his vanishing period. Like he thought, she deserved it.

That is, of course, assuming that she would believe in a story about how an arachnid met a fox.

A ninja fox, at that.

One lengthy explanation later…

Peter had a bad feeling just when he was only one minute into his explanation. His suspicion was proven correct when he finished his long talk when Mary Jane looked at him with the gaping mouth of disbelief.

Ah, the familiar expression of disbelief. Pictured like a true Muggle.

"...is that supposed to be a joke?" she finally asked after remembering how to breath.

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"The context of the matter you're talking about highly suggests so."

"*sigh*, I guess even a simple ninja-tale is too much for you, huh? Not that I'd blame you for that."

MJ shot her fiancé an incredulous look. She knew that he could be a little light on the head, but she didn't know that his logic was already that far away from his sanity. "Really, Peter, all I asked was just an explanation for why you left everyone behind for the month, but you gave me something you should've told Pentagon instead. I don't know whether I'm supposed to be happy or baffled…"

"Hey, if that's the case, you should be glad that I'm putting you on equal standing with the Secretary of Defense." Peter said, laughing amusedly at the stupid look MJ was giving him. He thought that she looked disturbingly similar to Mr. Aziz when he told him that he was busy fighting a giant humanoid lizard as an excuse of coming to work late. Needless to say, Mr. Aziz got him suspended from pizza delivery for the third time that week.

"Whether you believe it or not, MJ, it's your choice." Peter stated with a shrug, "I'm not pushing you to believe me, but I am telling the truth."

"So the truth is, as you said it," Mary Jane crossed her arms in front of her breasts, looking strikingly disbelieving, "that ninjas do exist, that they're living in some hidden continent, and that you were sent there for some mission?"

"That's the gist of it." Peter said.

"I find the gist of it hard to believe." MJ said, continuing to be skeptical.

"Yeah, I guess it's really that hard to believe." Peter sighed, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. He knew that making MJ believe in his story was next to impossible without bringing her to the Shinobi Continent. Maybe she just needed some proof? "Say, MJ, if I show you something cool, will you believe in me?"

"I'd believe in you regardless, but…what do you have in store for me?" MJ asked, her eyes regarding Peter curiously. His grin only served to make her more confused and the cross he made with the index and middle fingers of his two hands stupefied her. "Okay, mind telling me what you're doing?"

Peter grinned at her, showing the elongated canines that he had gained from becoming Raibi's Jinchûriki. "How about I show you," he told her, "what I just did?"

Peter's vague statement further confused the red-haired girl. She inwardly sighed; there he goes again, forgoing her request in favor of doing something even more ridiculous instead. Heck, she didn't even ask him to do anything, other than to tell her what he was doing. Surely answering a question like that was sufficient enough rather than troubling himself by showing her, right?

Unlikely.

With a reaction time that far surpassed normal people, MJ turned around as a hand clamped down on her shoulder. If the sudden turn wasn't enough to make her jaw go slack, the sight of another Peter sitting on the bench's armrest by her side was.

No, she wasn't using the term 'another' so loosely. The Peter sitting on the armrest with his arms crossed had all the same physical appearance as the one sitting on her right with an impish grin. "I…didn't know you were a cloner." MJ said.

"I wasn't, actually. At least, not 'til these few last weeks." Peter—the real one—said, "It's a trick I picked up from a ninja friend. In a sense, I can make clones like this ranging from two to a hundred with a simple hand gesture." He chuckled mirthfully when his thoughts came upon Naruto, "The guy who taught me this technique can make more than I ever could, though."

"That's…that's amazing." MJ reached out to touch the clone, and she was slightly startled to find it tangible.

"The best thing about this is that I can play poker with myself!" Peter said enthusiastically, "That way I won't need to pay up anything because I'm literally losing to my own self!"

The redhead sweat-dropped at the image, saying, "That's a pretty stupid use of it. And here I thought you'd do something productive with it."

"Aw, I'm hurt MJ. Do you think that it's the only thing I do with a clone?" Peter asked with a slightly-forced wincing expression.

His words contained some drops of innuendo, it seemed. He himself didn't realize it, but Mary Jane certainly did, and her face turned a dark red that was nearly the same color as her hair was. "D-Do I, now? Uh, um, w-what other things do you do, then? Y-You know, with…your…clone…together…the two of you?"

"MJ, you okay? You look a little red." Peter touched her forehead with his left palm, sighing as he did so, "Don't tell me you're already running down a cold now, are you now? I've only been here for a day, at least…oh shit, you have a nosebleed. *sigh* Honestly, MJ…" He pulled out a tissue from his pocket, having picked it unbeknownst by anyone back in the bar. He dabbed MJ's nose, trying to contain the blood running from her nose.

"I-I'm fine." MJ answered, pouting slightly at being treated like a little girl.

"Yeah, yeah, you probably are. So, do you believe me yet or do I have to make another clone to make you believe me?"

*spurt*

"Oi, what's with your nose? It's bleeding even more." Peter asked, completely oblivious to the images he had imprinted in her mind.

"N-Nothing! Just give some more tissue, I'll do it myself!" MJ all but exclaimed, desperately taking another piece of tissue from Peter's hand. Peter gave it willingly and opted to be silent as he watched MJ pile in more and more tissue under her nose with an amused look on his face. It was pretty funny, actually, seeing his favorite person replacing pieces after pieces of tissue under her nose as they turn red from blood periodically.

Finally, MJ regained enough composure (as much composure as one would have with a piece of tissue stuck up in one of their nose holes) to give Peter her answer. "Yeah, okay, I believe you and your whole ninja story. Though, like I said, I'd believe you regardless." She folded her arms in front of her, "It's not like you have any reason to lie to me about something like this."

Peter grinned at her before cancelling the clone, watching as it went off in a burst of smoke. "Thanks, MJ."

"Still…" The redheaded Watson interjected, "You also told me that you'll need to go back there again soon." The way she pointed that out, the tone she used, it was as if she was accusing him of something. It gained Peter's attention; enough for him to drop his cheery grin and look at her seriously.

"And?"

Mary Jane looked hesitant. She was fidgeting in her place and the grip she had on the hem of her waitress skirt looked to tight to be normal.

"Well…does that mean you'll leave me again?"

Peter gave no response. He had expected this question from the beginning of his explanation. After all, he deliberately told her that he would leave again because he practically wanted her to ask that question; cruel as it may be. He wanted to answer that question, to make clear of what he exactly wanted.

And he did.

His head moved forward, towards MJ. On purpose, he closed his eyes and shut out his connection to the world outside; instead, focusing solely on the person in front of him. At the moment, nothing else mattered to him; nothing would divert his attention as his lips came to hers, touching softly in a chaste kiss that took her breath away. He pressed forward not a moment later, practically making MJ limp in his arms. Then, it ended when he pulled away. That short connection between their lips ended just as MJ herself tried to push forward to meet him in the kiss.

"…I don't want that." Peter said with a disheartened look. "Leaving you is the last thing on my mind now. I know that I've hurt you by leaving you here without telling you…" He rounded his arms around her smaller frame, pulling her into a hug, "It hurts me too, you know?"

"…yeah. I know." MJ murmured into his chest. She snuggled into his shirt, grateful that he didn't mind her getting his clothes messed up. "So? What kind of plan do you have?"

Peter didn't answer her directly. She heard him inhale a deep breath near her head before letting out a drawn out sigh, and then he pulled away from the hug. His dark brown eyes peered upon her with no trace of joke or mischief. He was dead serious.

"Come with me."

"Eh?" MJ let out confusedly.

"I want you to come with me…to Konoha." Peter said again, "I don't want to leave you behind again, MJ. But the people I left behind there are just as important to me. I have…I've became part of them." He took out his hitai-ate from his pocket, showing it to Mary Jane. She looked at it curiously, but no comment was given.

"It's not just you, either. I'm planning to take my Aunt May as well since I obviously can't leave her by herself." Peter continued. At MJ's inquiring look, he shrugged his shoulders, "She believed in my story without any protests, so she shouldn't be that hard to bring along."

"I…I don't know, Peter." MJ stated.

"Come on... You got nothing to lose! We'll be together, and you can really get away from your dad if you come with me." Peter urged enthusiastically.

"But…!" the redhead interjected loudly, stopping Peter from saying more. "I…I still have my job and my aunt to worry about. I can't…I can't just go up and about leaving them behind like that!"

She got a point, Peter then thought. Of course she couldn't do that easily; she had too many things to worry about here in New York. Her aunt…he vaguely remembered her, and he regretted that he had forgotten how she looked exactly. And then there was MJ's job…which she had only got a permanent payroll out of. Peter gritted his teeth, wondering what had gotten into him. 'Why did I think that it'd so easy?' he thought pitifully, 'She got more here than I could ever guarantee her to have there.'

The brunette sighed. Already he could feel his plan failing on him, and he was surprised that he didn't see it coming before.

"…that's okay, I guess." He finally said, "I don't want you to push yourself to do something you can't. Either way, I still have a lot of time to wait on you, so I'll be there if you change your mind."

"Yeah…" MJ said quietly. She looked down to her lap in guilt, "Sorry, Peter."

Peter laughed slightly at her crestfallen look. He pulled her towards him again and planted a kiss on her forehead, forgoing that his lips accidentally smacked bits of her hair in the process. "I'm the one who's supposed to apologize to you, not the other way around." He looked down at her and grinned widely at her, "Sometimes the tiger just have to wait for something it wants."

Unable to resist the boyish grin that Peter gave her, she grinned back in response, "That it has."

xoxoxo

Moments later, Peter dropped MJ off at her aunt's house. She asked him if he wanted to come in, but he politely rejected saying that he had some other errands he had to run. With a semi-apologetic smile, she disappeared into the house and closed the door with a slight slam.

Peter dropped the hand that he was waving at his fiancé with. Yet again, another drawn out sigh escaped his mouth. "Damn, I'm turning into Shikamaru."

He didn't expect a voice inside his mind to actually voice its comment on his whining, "Agreed."

'Ah, Raibi! It's been a while since I last heard your sarcastic voice.' Peter mentally called out to the Bijuu.

"Oh, shut up and drop the nutcase act." Raibi growled lightly at the jab. Even so, a toothy smirk was on his scruffy face as he said so. The smirk dropped immediately when he tried to speak again, "That aside, joker…do you think this is the best choice? Trying to bring someone from outside the Elemental Countries, not to mention the Shinobi Continent itself, is practically the same as bringing in the eye of a storm to them."

'And…is that a good thing or a bad thing?' Peter asked, dropping a sweat behind his head. Raibi's riddles were still as confusing as ever, he had to give him that.

"It could be either of the two." Raibi answered, "At one point, a gaijin in the Elemental Countries could bring about calamities unlike any other. However, it could also instead be a protection from said calamities."

'All that trouble just by bringing MJ along with me?'

"No one knows for sure what'll happen if you DO bring her along, kid."

Peter stared at empty air for another second before turning away and began trudging along the pavement. A smirk was on his face; an almost daring, wolfish smirk. "I guess we'll see when it happens, then."

"I had an inkling that's what you're going to say." Raibi said, smirking behind the bars of his cage.

-End of Prologue- (Part 1)

-xo-

Before I start my ranting, I'll point out something that I didn't have the space for in the top AN.

I received a guest review for my story "Arachnid Hero and the Fox Host", whose pen name is Michael. Don't know whether that's his real name or anything :S might be his guest name since I couldn't answer it through the PM messenger, but anyway…

He seems to mistake that I put Kyuubi inside Spiderman, rather than Raibi the Lightning-Tailed Wolf as I did in the story. Thus, this was his review:

Helllllllllllllllooooooooooo ooooooooooooooo! Did you ever watch or read Naruto!? Nine-Tails is Kyubi! Which is sealed in Naruto and is a fox. Not a wolf! The rest of it is ok except for a few grammatical errors.

Now, Michael, I'm sure that I made myself clear that I referred to the Bijuu inside Spiderman as Raibi, not Kyuubi. It seems that you missed little detail. In later chapters, I've explained that Raibiis somewhat a clone of Kyuubi, accidentally created when the Rikudô Sennin separated Juubi's tails. Yes, I've watched and read Naruto. In fact, Naruto might be the first manga that I ever got serious at reading on. The fact that you questioned that kinda offends me, but I understand your confusion; considering the human-error you made.

Of course, I'll also answer Michael's second review:

Since when can Spiderman instantly know how to use chakra?

In my defense, Arachnid Hero and the Fox Host is my first story, so perhaps I didn't really put much of an effort to make it realistic and I admit that I kind of rushed it. However, if I remember correctly, the first time he used chakra was way into the second part of the Chuunin Exams. Not only that, but considering that he already got a basic knowledge of chakra from Sakura's explanation, coupled with the fact that Naruto had shown him the cross-fingered hand seal of Shadow Clone Jutsu, I think it was already high time Spiderman used a jutsu. As for his growth rate later on, I think it's obvious that he had Raibi's guidance in using his chakra. What, you didn't notice that MOST of his jutsu were lightning-based?

As for other readers that share Michael's sentiments, I admit to you all that I may not be an experienced author. But I assure you, I have the feeling that I'm getting better at writing these fanfics. If you all can bear with me throughout the process, then I'll be very grateful to you. And feel free to criticize me like Michael did, since I know that my writing might be confusing to other people too.

Okay, back to the story...how did it go? Good? Bad? Honestly, I don't know myself. Parts of this prologue was rushed in creation, so there may be a slight flaw here and there. Personally, I had trouble with the part where Peter first reunited with MJ. While writing about the reunion itself wasn't too much of a problem, I tripped when I remembered that I have been intending to put in Kirsten Dunst's type of Mary Jane Watson. Meaning, her appearance and personality MIGHT deviate slightly from the comic book's Mary Jane. Heck, when I first want to write about MJ's eyes, I was torn between making it film-canon (Kirsten Dunst had bright blue eyes when she played MJ) or comic-canon (MJ's eyes are green in the comics). In the end, the movie wins.

The fact that I watched the movie first before reading the comic might have an effect in it.

Oh, oh…guess I ranted too much. I better stop here, lest I'll use up too much space. Oh, well, as always: Read and Review, people!