Yasuo's hand instinctively reached for a sword that wasn't there, his body coiled tight as a drawn bowstring. The figure in red and blue remained perched on the ledge with impossible balance, as casual as if he were standing on solid ground rather than a narrow concrete edge seven stories above the street.
"Whoa, easy there, glowy-eyes." The masked figure held up both hands in a placating gesture. "I'm one of the good guys. Well, the good guy in this neighborhood, actually. Spider-Man. Maybe you've heard of me?" He paused, tilting his head. "No? Nothing? Not even a 'hey, aren't you that guy who saved that bus full of nuns'? Tough crowd."
"Spider-Man," Yasuo repeated slowly, his Sharingan still active, analyzing every detail of this strange warrior. The costume wasn't just fabric it was something more sophisticated, with web patterns that seemed to serve a structural purpose. And the way he moved, the effortless balance, suggested abilities far beyond normal human limitations.
"Yep, that's me. Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man." He shifted his weight, and Yasuo's enhanced vision caught the minute adjustments in his stance that defied physics. "Now, I've got questions. Lots of questions. Starting with: who are you, why do your eyes do that freaky glowing thing, and should I be worried that you just took down three armed guys without breaking a sweat?"
"I could ask you the same." Yasuo straightened slightly, though he remained ready to move. "You wear a mask and lurk on rooftops. In my experience, such people are either assassins or thieves."
"Ouch. Profiling much?" Spider-Man's voice carried a wounded tone, though Yasuo suspected it was exaggerated. "I'm a hero, thank you very much. I stop bad guys, save civilians, occasionally rescue cats from trees though that's more of a cliché than people think." He took a step forward along the ledge, his movements fluid and precise. "But you you're new. And that whole glowing-red-eyes thing combined with the way you move? That's setting off my spider-sense something fierce."
"Your what?"
"Spider-sense. Danger sense. Tingle-alert. It tells me when something's wrong, and right now it's basically screaming that you're "
Spider-Man cut off mid-sentence, his head snapping toward the street below. His entire body language changed, tension replacing casual banter in an instant.
Yasuo heard it too the sharp crack of gunfire, followed by screams and the screech of tires. His Sharingan automatically tracked toward the sound, finding the source three blocks away. A bank, its glass doors shattered, people fleeing in panic while men in dark clothes emerged carrying large bags.
"Bank robbery. Classic." Spider-Man was already moving, launching himself from the rooftop with a flick of his wrist. Something white shot from his hand webbing, Yasuo realized that caught on a nearby building. The masked hero swung through the air with practiced grace, calling back over his shoulder. "Stay here, mysterious stranger. Let the professional handle this!"
Yasuo watched him arc through the night sky for exactly two seconds before leaping from the rooftop himself.
The fall should have killed him. Seven stories of empty air, the street rushing up with lethal speed. But his body was different now younger, stronger, enhanced in ways he was only beginning to understand. Yasuo twisted mid-fall, spotting a fire escape three stories down. His feet hit the metal platform with a clang that reverberated through the structure, absorbing the impact with bent knees before immediately leaping again. Platform to platform, descending in controlled drops that would have shattered the bones of any normal man.
He hit the street running.
"Oh, come on!" Spider-Man's voice carried from somewhere ahead. "I literally just said stay there!"
Yasuo ignored him, his Sharingan picking out the robbery in crystalline detail even from a block away. Four men with assault rifles, two loading money into a white van while the others covered their retreat. Professional. Organized. Not desperate criminals but trained operatives.
Spider-Man reached them first, his webs catching one gunman's rifle and yanking it from his hands with casual strength. "Hey guys, I hate to be that guy, but armed robbery is super illegal. Also, that's not your money. So how about we "
Gunfire erupted. Spider-Man dodged with inhuman reflexes, his body contorting in ways that shouldn't be possible as bullets passed through spaces where he'd been milliseconds before. His webs shot out in rapid succession, catching weapons, binding hands, creating a sticky net that the criminals struggled against.
Then Yasuo arrived.
His Sharingan read the battlefield in an instant sight lines, movement patterns, the exact angle of each gunman's aim. The one on the left would turn toward Spider-Man in 1.3 seconds. The one by the van was reaching for a backup weapon. The third was already tracking toward civilians still fleeing down the sidewalk.
Yasuo moved like water through their formation. His hand chopped into the first gunman's wrist, and the rifle clattered to the pavement. A spinning kick caught the second in the temple, precise and controlled enough force to drop him, not kill him. The third turned, weapon rising, but Yasuo's enhanced perception had already plotted the trajectory. He ducked under the barrel, his palm striking the man's sternum. The gunman collapsed, gasping.
"Okay, that was actually pretty cool," Spider-Man admitted, webbing up the criminals Yasuo had disabled. "But seriously, who are you? And can you give a guy a heads-up before stealing his heroic entrance?"
Yasuo didn't answer. Something felt wrong. Four armed men for a simple bank robbery felt excessive, but their equipment was professional-grade, their tactics military-precise. This wasn't opportunistic crime. This was
"A distraction," he said quietly.
"What?"
The last criminal still conscious laughed, blood trickling from his split lip. "You idiots. You think this was about the money? We already got what we came for. The boss'll be pleased."
Spider-Man webbed the man's mouth shut, but not before Yasuo caught the cruel satisfaction in his eyes. "Talk. Now," Spider-Man demanded, ripping the web away. "What distraction? What's really going on?"
"The Kingpin sends his regards," the criminal wheezed. "While you two were playing hero, his real crew just hit the Stark Industries facility in Queens. Taking something valuable. Something that's gonna make him the most powerful man in New York."
The color drained from what little of Spider-Man's face was visible beneath his mask. His entire body went rigid. "No. No no no. When? How long ago?"
"Twenty minutes." The criminal grinned. "You're too late, Spider-Boy. Way too late."
Spider-Man shot webbing that stuck the criminal to the van's side, then turned to Yasuo. Even through the mask, the urgency in his body language was palpable. "I have to go. Right now. If Kingpin's people got into Stark's facility if they took what I think they took " He cut himself off, already raising his wrist to shoot another web-line.
"I'll come with you," Yasuo said.
"What? No. I don't even know who you are!"
"Then we'll be even, because I don't know who you are either." Yasuo's Sharingan tracked Spider-Man's movements, reading his hesitation, his fear, his desperate need to act. "You need help. I can fight. The choice is simple."
Spider-Man stared at him for a long moment, those white eye-pieces somehow conveying an intense internal debate. Then he reached out his hand. "Grab on. And if you're a villain, I'm webbing you to a wall and leaving you for the cops."
"Fair enough."
Yasuo gripped Spider-Man's outstretched arm. The webbing shot upward, catching on a building, and suddenly they were airborne. The sensation of swinging through the city was unlike anything Yasuo had experienced a controlled fall combined with momentum that made his stomach drop. Buildings blurred past as Spider-Man navigated the urban landscape with practiced expertise, each swing launching them forward with increasing speed.
"Stark Industries," Spider-Man said between swings, his voice tight with worry. "They have experimental tech there. Weapons. Power sources. If Kingpin gets his hands on the wrong thing " He swung harder, faster. "This is bad. This is really, really bad."
Yasuo said nothing, merely tightening his grip and letting his Sharingan track their trajectory. The wind whipped past his face, and instinctively he reached for his techniques, tried to manipulate the air currents to aid their movement.
Nothing happened. Not even a breeze. Just the faintest stirring of air, barely enough to flutter his stolen hospital scrubs.
His jaw clenched in frustration. In his world, he could have flown through the air on currents of his own making, could have reached their destination in seconds. Here, he was reduced to clinging to a stranger in a spider costume, his legendary powers diminished to parlor tricks.
"You okay back there?" Spider-Man called.
"Fine," Yasuo lied, watching the city race past beneath them. "Just wondering what we're flying into."
"Me too," Spider-Man muttered, and the fear in his voice made Yasuo's grip tighten. "Me too."