Chapter 11: "Breakfast for Champions... and Slightly Flustered Supergirls"
(In which coffee is served, feelings sneak in like ninjas, and someone may or may not be catching feelings over scrambled eggs.)
The rooftop was quiet now.
The city lights shimmered below like fireflies trapped in glass. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed—classic New York ambiance—but up here, it felt like the world had pressed pause.
Peter sat cross-legged near the edge of the roof, a bruise blooming on his cheek, a cut healing just above his eyebrow. His mask lay beside him, webbed up like a used tissue.
He didn't speak. He was too busy processing the fight.
The fact that he had almost—almost—beaten an older version of himself? That was a trip.
A familiar figure walked over, hands in his pockets, blonde hair catching the moonlight like a mini supernova.
Naruto plopped down beside him with a flop that somehow felt like a victory pose.
"So…" Naruto said, glancing sideways at him. "How do you feel?"
Peter exhaled slowly. "Like someone used me to play baseball against a freight train. Emotionally and physically."
Naruto laughed. "Fair."
There was a moment of silence. Peaceful. Comfortable.
Then Naruto added, "But seriously. I'm proud of you, Peter."
Peter blinked. "Wait, really? Like, actual proud? Not the 'I-survived-your-pain-gauntlet' kind of proud?"
Naruto looked at him seriously now. "No jokes. I mean it. You've come farther in one month than some ninja do in years."
Peter shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I had a good teacher."
Naruto smirked. "Darn right you did. But teaching only works if the student shows up every day, pushes through the pain, and keeps their heart in the right place."
Peter tilted his head. "So… you're saying I'm officially not a rookie anymore?"
Naruto held out a fist.
Peter stared at it like it might explode.
"You're more than that," Naruto said, his voice softer now. "You're a warrior. You're a protector. You're my student. And you've earned every bit of it."
Peter hesitated—then bumped his fist against Naruto's.
It glowed faintly. A pulse of chakra. A silent acknowledgment.
"…Thanks, Naruto," Peter said quietly.
"You were never weak, Peter," Naruto added. "But now you're strong—and you still haven't lost your kindness. That's rare."
Peter looked back up at the stars.
He felt different now. Not just stronger. Lighter.
"Y'know," he said, "a month ago, I was scared of accidentally breaking a vending machine with my webbing. Now I can swingkick a demon through a billboard and land on my feet."
Naruto laughed. "Yeah. But don't break vending machines. That's where the snacks live."
Peter snorted.
They sat in silence again, just two warriors looking out at the city they both wanted to protect.
And for the first time in a long time, Peter didn't feel like a kid pretending to be a hero.
He was one.
And his sensei—his friend—was proud of him.
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Peter had faced a lot of terrifying things in the last month:
A talking fox made of nuclear rage.
A clone army of Naruto punching him into geological formations.
And that one time Naruto made him eat wasabi ramen while upside down during agility training.
But this?
This was worse.
"Now comes the real test," Naruto said with a grin that made Peter's stomach do a backflip.
Peter's Spidey-Sense pinged so hard it might've triggered an earthquake warning.
"You have two choices," Naruto continued, holding up two fingers like a game show host from hell. "You can fight Curse Mark Sasuke…"
Peter flinched.
"…or One-Tail Naruto."
Peter's soul physically left his body.
He had fought Curse Mark Sasuke before. The dude had eyes that could hypnotize you, a demon tattoo that screamed "I listen to screamo at 4 AM," and a fighting style that made nuclear warfare look polite.
One-Tail Naruto? That was Naruto on Monster Energy, pain, and fox steroids. He once backhanded a mountain. Accidentally.
Peter did a quick mental math check.
Speed: They both move at Mach 30+.
Power: Skyscraper-obliterating.
Durability: Laughs at missiles.
Peter's Speed: Maybe Mach 3 on a good day with all the chakra-enhancing hacks.
Peter's Brain: Fully aware that he'd be vaporized in frame one.
"I… I'll take the test later," Peter said, forcing out the words like someone politely declining a challenge from a kaiju.
Naruto's grin softened into something more approving. "Good choice. Sometimes, the smartest move is knowing when not to fight. That's called wisdom."
Peter blinked. "Wait, I passed by chickening out?"
"Wisdom isn't cowardice," Naruto said. "It's knowing when the odds are so bad you'd be better off juggling hand grenades in traffic."
Peter felt mildly attacked but also incredibly relieved.
Then Naruto reached behind him and pulled out a sleek, black package wrapped in leather and sealed with a small chakra symbol. He handed it to Peter with all the dramatic flair of someone passing down Excalibur.
"This is your graduation gift. Everything you'll need for the road ahead."
Peter opened it.
His jaw dropped.
Inside was a ninja's version of a high-tech Batcave starter kit:
A brand-new black Spider-suit, reinforced with chakra-conductive fibers
A pair of custom web-shooters with adjustable nozzles
A dozen smoke bombs labeled "Escape Plan A"
A belt full of kunai and a tanto (Peter immediately tried to pull a cool ninja pose and poked himself)
10 healing pills that smelled like minty doom
10 chakra pills that buzzed in his palm
10 spider-tracers (with a tiny Uzumaki swirl engraved on them, naturally)
And a full week's worth of web fluid—which Peter internally calculated as "two days if it's a weird week"
He whistled. "You really went all out, huh?"
Naruto shrugged, casually epic. "Nothing fancy. Just the essentials. You'll have to upgrade them yourself. That's part of the journey."
Peter nodded, already imagining himself webbing together a custom chakra blade or something dumb-cool like that.
But Naruto wasn't done.
"Oh, and one last thing," he added, his tone shifting to supervillain-who's-also-a-dad mode.
Peter raised an eyebrow.
"In your world, there are two rare metals," Naruto said, leaning in like he was about to drop some forbidden ninja stock tips. "Vibranium and Adamantium. Black Panther and Wolverine use them."
Peter blinked. "You want me to pick a fight with Wakanda and Logan?"
Naruto smirked. "Not yet. But if you can get your hands on both—just enough, not a vault—I'll help you forge the ultimate Spider-Man suit. One that's alive with chakra. Stronger than any armor Tony Stark could dream of."
Peter just stared at him, brain fried.
"You're saying… ninja Iron Spider… with adamantium claws and vibranium armor?"
Naruto chuckled, ruffling Peter's hair like he was five. "Yeah. Something like that."
Peter stood in stunned silence, holding the package of future-hero loot in his hands, and for the first time since he got bitten by a radioactive spider, he felt like the journey finally made sense.
This was real.
The pain, the progress, the training.
He had earned it.
"Thanks, Naruto," he said quietly, voice tinged with resolve.
Naruto grinned. "No problem, kid. But this is where we part ways. From now on, I won't be stepping in. No more last-minute saves. This is your story now."
Peter nodded slowly. "I understand."
"Oh, don't worry," he said, leaning back like he was about to drop some ancient ninja wisdom mixed with taco recommendations.
"You still get advice. And emotional therapy. And the occasional 'what-the-heck-is-wrong-with-you' lecture—delivered with love."
Peter tilted his head. "So, like… ninja life coaching with optional emotional scolding?"
"Exactly," Naruto said, pointing finger guns at him. "Think of me as your chakra therapist slash battle mentor slash emotionally available big brother. I won't fight your battles anymore, but I'll still help you win them."
Peter nodded slowly. "And the 'good time' part?"
Naruto smirked. "Only if you survive your next mission. Then, ramen's on me."
Peter gave a mock salute. "Then I'll suffer bravely, cry privately, and eat irresponsibly."
"Attaboy."
And with that, the two sat for a moment longer under the unreal stars of the spirit realm—just a ninja and a spider, bonded by bruises, sarcasm, and some of the best therapy sessions the multiverse had to offer.
Because some journeys may be solo…
But you never really leave your sensei behind.
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Peter Parker stood in his room like a dude who had just woken up from a month-long spiritual awakening and remembered he still had algebra homework. Except in his case, it wasn't algebra—it was the fact that his entire body felt like it had been carved by a Greek god… if that god also had spider-sense and chakra-enhanced calves.
He flexed a hand.
No pain. No stiffness. No cracked ribs. No horrifying "CRACK!" sounds that made you doubt if your spine was still in warranty. Just smooth, insane power humming beneath his skin.
He hopped on one foot.
Balanced.
Did a one-handed pushup.
Effortless.
Did a backflip.
Because why not?
He landed like a cat on Red Bull.
His body didn't just feel strong—it felt right. Every nerve felt sharpened, every reflex tuned to perfection. The training with Naruto had paid off big time. He'd been broken, tossed into mountains, electrocuted, dropped from orbit, and apparently healed so many times that his cells were now on first-name basis with trauma.
But now?
Now he felt like a superhero who deserved the title.
'Okay, yeah. This is ridiculous,' Peter thought, rolling his shoulders. 'I could probably punch a tank in half. Not that I would. Probably.'
Then his eyes shifted to the bed.
Jessica Jones, wrapped in his blanket like a crime-fighting burrito, was fast asleep. Her breathing was slow, peaceful—even kinda cute in a grumpy "don't talk to me before coffee" sort of way. She had passed out cold after the Killgrave incident, and Peter had made sure she got proper rest.
But she had been sleeping for hours.
"Alright, Sleeping Beauty," Peter muttered, stepping over. "Time to rejoin the land of sarcasm and caffeine."
He gently nudged her shoulder.
"Jess, wake up."
Nothing.
Just a groggy moan and her turning over, hugging the pillow like it owed her rent money.
"One more minute…" she grumbled.
Peter sighed and lightly tapped her cheek. "Jess. It's me. Peter."
That did it.
She cracked open one bloodshot eye and blinked slowly, like a bear emerging from hibernation.
"…Peter?"
"Yep." He gave a sheepish smile. "You passed out yesterday, so… we brought you back here. You're in my room."
Jessica sat up, stretching like a cat and trying to process what planet she was on. Her gaze flicked down to her outfit.
"…Wait. I'm not in the Jewel suit?"
Peter raised a hand like he was surrendering to the fashion police. "Aunt May changed your clothes. Not me. I swear."
Jessica nodded slowly, yawning like she was powering up her sarcasm core. She ran a hand through her mess of black hair and let out a satisfied grunt as she leaned back.
Then she looked at him.
Not like a friend. Not like a teammate.
Like someone who had just discovered the gym and immediately wanted a protein shake.
She blinked.
Then smirked.
"…Peter, you're looking like a snack."
Peter's brain short-circuited.
"I—I'm sorry, what now?"
She snorted, bursting into laughter at his horrified expression. "Relax, spider-boy. I'm just teasing."
Peter turned on his heel with the precision of a traumatized soldier. "Yeah, okay. I'm gonna… leave the room now. Before this turns into anything else."
Jessica stretched, cracking her knuckles. "Might be too late for that."
"Nope. Still leaving."
As Peter walked out, grumbling something about needing an emotional support breakfast, Jessica swung her legs over the bed, still grinning.
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Peter Parker was still adjusting to post-Naruto life.
Which, to be honest, felt like being teleported from a high-stakes ninja battlefield into the calming aroma of toast and quiet domesticity. It was weird. Like waking up after a dream about fighting elemental gods, only to stub your toe on the kitchen table five minutes later.
Right now, the Parker kitchen was blissfully quiet. No explosions, no clone armies, and—most importantly—no deadly tailed beasts threatening global extinction.
Just sandwiches. Coffee. And the soft hum of the fridge.
Peter stood near the table, watching as Jessica Jones descended the stairs, freshly showered and looking... well, not like someone who had nearly been brain-fried by a psychic terrorist the day before.
She was in casual clothes—jeans and a loose hoodie—and her damp hair fell over her shoulders like she was starring in a shampoo commercial with trust issues.
"How are you feeling now?" Peter asked, offering a warm smile as she approached.
Jessica yawned, stretching. "Great, actually. A hot bath was exactly what I needed. Also, pretty sure your Aunt's shampoo has lavender in it. Weirdly calming."
Peter chuckled, motioning toward the table. "Here. Breakfast. It's not gourmet, but it's edible. Probably."
Jess eyed the plate with mock suspicion. "You cook?"
"Sandwich assembly," Peter corrected. "Don't ask me to turn on a stove. I nearly vaporized a Pop-Tart last week."
Jess grinned and took a bite. "Mmm. Crisis averted. These are surprisingly good."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping coffee and listening to the birds outside.
Then Jess leaned forward, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. "You know… you're different than I expected."
Peter raised a brow. "I feel like that's a compliment? But also possibly not."
Jess smirked. "No, it is. You're… kinder. I always thought you were smart but standoffish. Like you had a big sign on your forehead that said, 'Nerd. Keep Out.'"
Peter laughed. "That sounds about right, actually."
She tilted her head. "So what changed? You seem more… confident."
Peter leaned back in his chair, mulling that over. "I guess I've changed. Went through something intense. Got my worldview rearranged."
Jess raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What kind of thing?"
Peter gave her a sly grin. "Why do you wanna know? You haven't exactly spilled your own secret origin either."
Jess huffed. "Fair point."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "We're friends, Jess. I figured… maybe we could work together."
Jess narrowed her eyes. "You looked me up while I was asleep, didn't you?"
Peter didn't even bother denying it. "I did. And I noticed something. You're still human."
"…What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, half-offended.
Peter set his cup down with a quiet clink.
"You play it too safe. You hide. You don't engage with the world like a hero. Even Daredevil gets more press than you—and he fights in a scarf."
Jess crossed her arms. "And you think you can do better?"
"I don't think—I know," Peter said without arrogance. Just certainty. "Because I'm Spider-Man."
Jess blinked. "…I'm sorry, what?"
Peter shrugged like he'd just told her he was part of the chess club. "Alien spider. Bit me. Changed my DNA. Whole thing."
Jess stared.
Peter smiled and stood up, walking to the kitchen drawer and pulling out a small, black parcel. "Which brings me to this. My graduation present from training."
He opened the kit for her to see: a new black suit, upgraded web-shooters, chakra enhancers, ninja tools, and an assortment of pills that would make a pharmacist cry.
Jessica gave a low whistle. "Okay. Fine. That's cool."
Peter met her gaze, serious again. "I want to build a team. You and me. Others, maybe. But right now—it starts with us."
Jess looked away. "But… why tell me this? I haven't done anything impressive. I don't even know if I'm cut out for hero stuff."
Peter knelt next to her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.
"You're not useless, Jess. You're just—untaught. And I can help with that."
Jess's voice dropped. "You really think I have what it takes?"
Peter grinned. "I do. And besides, didn't you once throw a car at a Hydra agent?"
"…Okay, fair."
"I can help train you. Upgrade your suit. Gear, tactics, fighting forms… You've got the strength. I can help you use it."
Jess stared at him for a long moment.
Then sighed.
"You just got back from ninja boot camp yesterday. What makes you think you're qualified to teach anything?"
Peter smirked. "Because I survived being punched into orbit. Multiple times."
Jess groaned and flopped her head dramatically on the table. "That's so unfair."
Peter laughed. "What?"
"You always get the cool upgrades. Me? I get PTSD and a bad attitude."
"Still better than some Avengers I know."
Jess slowly sat up again, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Alright, Spider-Boy. You win. I'm in."
Peter blinked. "Wait, really?"
She gave him a lopsided grin. "Sure. You make it sound like joining a band. Might as well see where this leads."
Peter pumped his fist in victory. "Yes!"