Chapter 3: In Which We Become Ninjas Again, But Also Kind of Spies
After the rooftop jacuzzi incident (which I still say was sabotage), Sasuke and I finally got back to what we do best: sneaking around and gathering intel like a pair of socially awkward, chakra-powered private investigators.
Our mission: Figure out how the heck to get home before we accidentally triggered a superhero civil war… or worse, found a world without ramen.
We stayed low-key. Invisibility jutsu. Henge transformations. Sasuke called it "tactical reconnaissance." I called it "the world's weirdest field trip."
By the end of the week, we'd copied memories from baristas, cashiers, drunk businessmen, and a very confused subway saxophone guy who may or may not have been an ex-mutant. Thanks to Sasuke's Sharingan and my ninshu, we now had enough mental downloads to start our own superhero wiki.
That's when we heard about him.
Doctor Strange.
Sorcerer Supreme. Magic ninja. Wizard doctor guy. Wore a cape with a personality and lived in a house that definitely failed every chakra flow test I could sense.
"Apparently, he can open portals to other worlds," I said one night while slurping some suspiciously good spicy noodles from a food truck. "Sounds like our best shot."
Sasuke didn't answer. Which I assumed meant he disagreed with literally everything I just said.
Sure enough, a moment later, he sighed like I'd just offered to let Kakashi read his fan mail. "We're not trusting someone with a goatee and a haunted house to mess with our dimensional tether."
"That's not fair. I met a guy with a goatee once. He gave me free dumplings."
Sasuke gave me a look. "You want to invite these people to our world? Mutants with identity issues? Gods with sibling problems? Scientists who keep accidentally inventing murder bots?"
"Okay, yes, they have issues," I admitted, "but they're heroes too. And this Strange guy? He guards the universe. That's a decent résumé."
Sasuke turned away, cloak fluttering in the wind. "It's not about strength. It's about chaos. You saw what happened with that Sentry guy. They don't have control. We let them get near our world, and it might not survive the encounter."
That hit different.
He wasn't wrong. My Sage Mode had felt it too—power in this world was raw and loud, like Kurama with a sugar high. Not refined. Not balanced. If we opened a gate and even one of these problems followed us back, it could tip the scale.
"We'll find another way," he said, voice cold. "A safer way. One we control."
I sighed and put down my noodles. They were actually really good. "Alright, Sasuke. We do it your way. For now."
But inside, I wasn't convinced.
Because somewhere deep in my gut—probably below the spicy ramen—I had a feeling we'd be needing a certain cape-wearing wizard before this was all over.
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You'd think that two ninja from another dimension—with chakra, invisibility, and a tendency to blow things up with glowing energy balls—would try to avoid government buildings. You'd be right. Normally.
But apparently, "moving around safely" meant having IDs, documents, and bank accounts. Sasuke had this whole plan that required social security numbers. I didn't even know what that was, but he said it was like a ninja registration form that let you buy houses, travel freely, and pay something called "taxes," which sounded evil.
The plan was simple.
Step one: walk into a government office like we belonged.
Step two: use Sharingan to mind-whammy every official into thinking we were born in Wisconsin or something.
Step three: walk out with shiny new documents and very American names.
"I'm going with Nathan Steele," Sasuke said, adjusting the collar of his stolen blazer. "Sounds efficient."
"Okay but—Steele? Really? That sounds like you belong in a sci-fi movie," I said, tugging at the sleeves of my hoodie. "I'm gonna be… Jason Uzumaki."
He raised an eyebrow. "That's barely different."
"Yeah, well, I didn't want to lie too hard."
We waited in line. There was a crying baby. An old man arguing about the DMV. A kid playing Pokémon on his mom's phone.
Sasuke looked like he was seconds from activating his curse mark just to skip ahead.
Finally, we got to the counter. A woman with thick glasses looked up and said, "Name and birth certificate?"
Sasuke's eyes spun red for exactly 0.3 seconds. "Done."
Five minutes later, we had passports, state IDs, social security numbers, and a bank account under "Steele & Uzumaki Imports, LLC." I don't even know what we were importing, but Sasuke insisted it was "for cover."
"We're officially Americans," I muttered as we walked out, "complete with fake lives, fake jobs, and the need to file taxes."
"Now we can get on a plane or rent a car without suspicion," Sasuke said, satisfied.
"And we can go to high school if we ever feel like suffering again."
He didn't laugh, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Progress.
As we disappeared into the crowd, I realized something weird.
We weren't just tourists here anymore.
We were ghosts with paperwork.
And somewhere out there, Doctor Strange, Wolverine, and maybe a mutant telepath or two were going to find out that two very powerful ninja were walking around New York pretending to be normal.
Spoiler: We're terrible at being normal.
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It was one of those crisp New York mornings that smells like hot dog water and ambition. The kind where everyone's in a rush, horns are honking, and nobody looks up—even when two ninja are casually walking down the street with stolen identities and a ridiculous amount of chakra.
We had just picked up our IDs from a very mind-controlled government clerk. Fast track, of course. Sasuke didn't do lines unless they were battle formations or fashion statements.
"I've placed mental impressions on several high-ranking officials," Sasuke said like he was telling me the weather. "Could be useful later. Might do the same to the president."
"Wait—what?"
"Also Congress. You know, just in case."
"Are you serious, or are we joking in a very disturbing way right now?"
He didn't answer. Just kept walking with that classic Uchiha face: 10% brooding, 90% smug glacier.
But I didn't push it. Because honestly, I was just happy to hang out with him again. No Orochimaru, no wars, no betrayal swords through the chest. Just us. In America. Probably committing several international crimes. Team bonding!
We were turning a corner near Central Park when—
BOOM.
A glider zipped overhead, green smoke trailing behind it. Cackling followed.
"WOOOHOOO! Come get me, Web-head!"
"Green Goblin," Sasuke said flatly, as if he was identifying a poorly dressed bird.
Spiderman swung into view like it was totally normal to acrobat through traffic at mach speed. "You picked the wrong borough, Gobby!"
I was halfway into a battle stance before Sasuke's voice slid in cool and sharp like a kunai to the ear.
"Don't intervene."
"What? He's throwing pumpkin bombs at people!"
"Too much attention," he said, crossing his arms. "Let the local hero handle it."
I groaned. "Fine."
But I'm not Naruto Uzumaki, Son of the Fourth Hokage, Jinchūriki of the Nine Tails, Totally-Not-a-Spy Jason Uzumaki for nothing. I wasn't going to fight, but that didn't mean I couldn't help... subtly.
So I whispered to the wind. Not too much—just enough.
A well-timed gust hit Green Goblin mid-maniacal-laugh and sent him spiraling off his glider into a massive tree in Central Park. Branches snapped. Squirrels panicked. He screamed something about "ungrateful fruitcakes."
Spiderman stuck the landing right next to him, webbed him to the trunk, and muttered, "Guess Mother Nature's on my side today."
Sasuke didn't even blink. "You're about as subtle as a tailed beast in a tea shop."
"I was subtle," I said, grinning.
"Try less tree-crashing next time."
We walked on, blending back into the crowd like nothing happened. Nobody noticed us. Just two teens in hoodies and stolen lives, watching the world of heroes from the shadows.
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We kept walking, blending in like professionals. Except, well, we were in a new world with no chakra signatures to detect us, so it was less blending and more like walking ghosts. Ghosts with fake IDs, a five-star hotel room, and plans to possibly take over the U.S. government for "just in case" reasons.
Still, the thought was bothering me.
"You know," I started, hands behind my head, "we can't stay invisible forever."
Sasuke didn't even turn his head. "Obviously."
"I mean, what if we put on disguises? Costumes. Hide in plain sight. Be part of this world's action. Fight heroes, villains—whoever we need—to get info."
His Sharingan didn't activate, but I swear I felt him looking at me sideways. "That's just common sense."
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I don't care about hero work," he said, flicking a glance toward where Goblin had gone down. "Those two were weak. Not worth our attention."
"Maybe weak, yeah," I said, "but we can't judge people by power alone. They're part of this world's system. And they're not using chakra—so what are they using? Those weapons, that tech... it's not normal. It's not just strength. It's knowledge."
Sasuke stopped walking. That got him.
"Hmm." He looked at me like I'd just passed a quiz he didn't think I'd studied for. "So you are thinking like a Hokage now. Not just a loud idiot."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It wasn't one," he said, but there was the faintest twitch at the edge of his mouth.
Then he nodded. "You're right. If anyone in this world has knowledge useful to us—especially knowledge that can replace or mimic chakra—it's the ones fighting. Not the normal people."
I couldn't help but grin. "So what do we do?"
"We meet with Spiderman. Talk to him. Learn."
"Talk to him," I reminded him with a grin. "Not punch him. Be nice. He might be the Naruto of this world."
Sasuke sighed. "Fine. No punching. But if he's annoying, you're the one talking."
"Deal!" I said, way too quickly.
This world wasn't ready for us. But I had a feeling it would like us.
Especially Spiderman.