I would like you to help me with some power stones!
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The Stark Industries facility in Queens loomed ahead, a sleek complex of glass and steel that reflected the city lights like a dark mirror. Even from three blocks away, Yasuo could see something was catastrophically wrong. The western wall had been blown open, debris scattered across the parking lot in a radius that suggested explosive force. Emergency lights strobed red and blue as police vehicles formed a perimeter, their sirens wailing into the night.
Spider-Man released his web-line, and they dropped together onto a rooftop adjacent to the facility. The masked hero immediately moved to the edge, his body language radiating tension as he surveyed the damage below.
"They went through the outer wall," Spider-Man muttered, his hands clenching into fists. "That's reinforced concrete and steel. Whatever they used to breach it " He cut himself off, shaking his head. "We need to get inside before the cops lock down the whole area."
Yasuo's Sharingan was already active, scanning the facility with supernatural precision. The building's energy signature was chaotic, power fluctuating wildly through damaged systems. But there was something else, something that made his enhanced vision strain to comprehend. Deep within the structure, in what appeared to be a sub-level, residual energy patterns swirled like disturbed water not electrical, not mechanical, but something that resonated with a frequency that felt almost familiar.
Almost like chakra, but fundamentally different.
"The basement," Yasuo said. "Whatever they came for, that's where it was."
Spider-Man glanced at him. "Your eyes can see that? Through solid walls?"
"I can see energy. Patterns. The flow of power through systems." Yasuo deactivated his Sharingan, the drain on his stamina already noticeable. "The building's heart has been torn out. Everything else is just wreckage."
"Okay, that's terrifying and awesome in equal measure." Spider-Man shot a web-line toward the facility. "Stay close and try not to touch anything that looks science-y. Tony Stark doesn't take kindly to people messing with his stuff, even when they're helping."
They swung across the gap, landing on a section of intact rooftop. Spider-Man found a ventilation shaft and pulled the cover free with casual strength that belied his lean frame. "After you, glowy-eyes. Try not to judge my duct-work etiquette."
The shaft was narrow and dark, but Yasuo's enhanced senses guided him downward. Behind him, Spider-Man moved with surprising grace for someone navigating a confined space. They emerged into a corridor filled with emergency lighting, the acrid smell of burnt electronics hanging in the air.
"Security's offline," Spider-Man observed, tapping a darkened panel on the wall. "Either they knew exactly what they were doing, or they had inside help. Neither option makes me feel warm and fuzzy."
They moved deeper into the facility, following the path of destruction. Doors had been blown off hinges. Security barriers lay twisted and useless. The criminals had carved a direct route to their objective with brutal efficiency, not bothering to cover their tracks.
Yasuo's mind drifted as they walked, the flickering emergency lights triggering something deep in his memory. Another corridor. Another moment of violence and certainty. His hand unconsciously moved to his chest, to where Yone's blade had pierced his heart.
"You have dishonored everything our master stood for."
Yone's voice echoed across time, filled with righteous fury and bitter betrayal. His brother no, his executioner had found him at last. The wind had been howling that day, as if nature itself mourned what was about to happen.
"I did not kill Elder Souma."
"Liar!"
The memory hit Yasuo like a physical blow. He stumbled, his hand catching against the wall for support. The corridor around him blurred, overlapping with that windswept clearing where his past had finally caught up to him. Yone's demon mask. The crackling energy of his cursed blade. The absolute certainty in his stance that this fight would end with death.
And Yasuo, so tired of running, had accepted it.
"Hey, you okay?" Spider-Man's concerned voice cut through the vision. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Or, you know, another ghost. The ghost of ghosts. Ghost squared."
"I'm fine." Yasuo forced himself upright, but his hands trembled. The emotions were too fresh, too raw. Guilt. Regret. The crushing weight of innocence that no one believed, accusations he couldn't disprove. He'd spent years running from justice, and when it finally found him, all he'd felt was relief.
The relief of ending.
But he hadn't ended. He was here, in this impossible world, still carrying the same burden.
"I had a brother," Yasuo heard himself say, the words coming unbidden. "He believed I murdered our master. Hunted me for years. When he finally found me " His voice caught. "I let him kill me. Because I was tired. Tired of running. Tired of trying to prove my innocence."
Spider-Man had stopped walking, his masked face turned toward Yasuo. The casual banter was gone, replaced by something heavier. "But you didn't do it. Did you?"
"No. But the truth didn't matter. Not to him. Not to anyone." Yasuo's chest tightened, phantom pain blooming where steel had pierced flesh. "The wind abandoned me. My clan condemned me. Even my own blood thought me capable of "
The emotion surged through him like a tidal wave rage, grief, betrayal, all the pain he'd buried beneath layers of survival instinct. His chakra pathways, dormant since his arrival in this world, suddenly flared to life in response. Energy coursed through his body, seeking an outlet, demanding release.
Yasuo's hands moved in patterns burned into muscle memory, the familiar gestures of wind manipulation. He didn't consciously think about it, didn't plan or calculate. His body simply acted, channeling fury into form.
"Sorye ge ton!"
The air around them exploded into motion.
A whirlwind materialized in the corridor, spinning with sudden violence. Papers scattered, loose debris lifted and swirled, the wind howling with a fraction of the power Yasuo had once commanded. It was weak pathetically weak compared to the tornadoes he'd conjured in his prime but it was real. His techniques were responding. Finally, finally, something beyond his Sharingan acknowledged his will.
Then, just as quickly, it collapsed. The wind died to nothing, leaving only scattered papers drifting to the floor.
Yasuo stood there panting, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort. That small whirlwind had drained him more than a dozen major techniques would have in his old life. His connection to the wind was still there, but it was like trying to draw water from a dried well possible, but requiring immense effort for meager results.
"Okay, so, quick question," Spider-Man said carefully, his hands still raised from when he'd braced against the wind. "Did you just make a tornado in an enclosed hallway? Because that happened, right? I didn't hallucinate that?"
"I am a Wind Technique user," Yasuo said through gritted teeth, frustration making his voice harsh. "In my world, I could summon gales strong enough to level buildings. I could fly on currents of air, cut through steel with compressed wind blades. That " He gestured at the scattered papers. "That is nothing. A child's breeze."
"A child's breeze that almost took my head off, but sure, let's call it nothing." Spider-Man's tone was lighter than his posture suggested. "So you're from another world. With magic wind powers and glowing eyes. And you died and woke up here." He paused. "You know what? That's not even the weirdest Thursday I've had."
Before Yasuo could respond, his Sharingan activated on its own, triggered by something his subconscious mind had detected. The world shifted into enhanced perception, and he saw it a massive signature of energy, so dense and complex it made everything else in the building look like candle flames next to a bonfire.
But it wasn't coming from inside the facility.
"There," Yasuo said sharply, moving toward the blown-out western wall. His enhanced vision tracked the signature to its source, and his breath caught.
A woman stood on a rooftop four blocks away, perfectly still, watching them with what Yasuo somehow knew was equal intensity. Even at this distance, his Sharingan could make out details black leather suit that seemed to absorb light, auburn hair pulled back, and a stance that spoke of lethal competence. But it was the energy signature that captured his attention. It wasn't chakra, not exactly, but it resonated with power that dwarfed anything he'd encountered since arriving in this world.
And she was staring directly at him, as if she could feel his gaze across the distance.
"Spider-Man," Yasuo said quietly. "We're being watched."
The masked hero moved to his side, following his line of sight. For a moment, all three of them were frozen in a strange tableau two heroes at the scene of a crime, one mysterious figure observing from afar.
Then the woman moved. Not to flee, not to attack. She simply raised one hand in acknowledgment, a gesture that somehow conveyed both threat and curiosity. Then she turned and disappeared over the rooftop's edge with fluid grace.
"Did you " Spider-Man started.
"Yes."
"And the crazy energy thing your eyes detected "
"Yes."
"Fantastic. Just fantastic." Spider-Man's shoulders slumped. "So we've got Kingpin stealing dimensional energy tech, mysterious super-powered women watching us from rooftops, and you having magical wind breakdowns in the middle of crime scenes. This is turning into a really complicated night."
Yasuo's Sharingan tracked the lingering traces of the woman's energy signature, trying to understand what he'd sensed. That level of power, in a world that seemed to favor technology over the supernatural, was an anomaly. A dangerous one.
"She wasn't here by accident," Yasuo said. "She was waiting. Watching specifically for "
"For someone like you?" Spider-Man finished. "Yeah, I got that feeling too. Which means whatever Kingpin stole, and whoever that was, they're all connected." He moved toward the basement access, his movements sharp with renewed urgency. "Come on. Let's see what they took before more super-powered people show up to ruin my night."
Yasuo followed, but his mind lingered on that distant rooftop. The woman's energy signature. The way she'd acknowledged his observation without fear or surprise, as if she'd expected to be seen.
As if she'd wanted him to see her.
The weight of death he'd carried from his old life suddenly felt heavier, more complicated. He'd died seeking an end to his burden, but this new existence was weaving its own web of mysteries around him and something told him that woman on the rooftop held at least some of the answers.