Chapter One
-Two Motorcycles-
The New York skyline was a beautiful sight, be it day or night. Thousands of buildings and bridges dotting it's picturesque view, many of them quite famous throughout the country and world. There was the Empire State Building in Manhattan, the brand New World Trade Center, the Chrysler Building, the American International Building, the Citigroup Center, the Trump Building, Rockfeller Center, Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, and so many others—including the new, recently repaired Stark Tower; widely acknowledged as the headquarters for the famous group of heroes that had saved New York(and the world) around three years before.
The Avengers.
However, New York—as beautiful as it can be, being the subject to millions of tourists every day—it, like every human establishment, had a dark side.
An ugly side.
As just recently announced, world wide, humans had a rarely activated gene, now labeled the X-gene. Very few would ever have this gene actually show itself in the body's development—or mental growth. The gene allowed these rare teens to gain some sort of powers, like out of a fantasy series.
But humanity is known for it's more negative traits. Greed, jealousy and for hating anything different from themselves. The majority of those who do not have the new powers sought to put those who did in a negative light, and the public soon out-casted all 'mutants,' as if they were of a separate, lower race—despite them putting their own heroes up on pedestals for saving them daily with similar powers. Since these heroes were not 'mutants,' as their own X-genes never showed itself or their not even of the planet Earth, they were not seen as mutated humans. It was a hypocritical belief, but that is how the thoughts of most went. Any mutant trying to help or save someone, still—their attempts or successions were never seen as helpful in any matter. If the person saved or trying to be aided was a hater of mutants, the offered hand or ability was venomously rejected.
Overall, mutants lived quite the sad life, if their powers were ever found out. Which they were, usually—it's a bit hard to hide a power you cannot control, and all those who have control or are learning have to seek aid form another mutant—in which case their mutant status would then be recorded by the human government.
It was this world that our two protagonists found themselves in, waking up from a short but deep sleep. It was odd—they'd both lost consciousness in their homeland, a world of warriors and honor, only to awaken in this messed up land's sense of misguided honor and prejudices and hypocrisy. It turned their own views upside down for a while, but they eventually righted themselves after learning the languages of the land—English, German, Spanish, and Russian—to go along with their own tongue of Japanese. They took scouting missions in the shelter of the night to delve into the inhabitants' minds to get a better knowledge of the culture, and only when they felt adequate did they truly enter the world incognito.
And they were not amused by what they saw.
These mutants tried their best to protect those who spat at them and degraded them—well, those that were not pushed off the edge due to such treatment, as rightfully so!—and gave no thanks. And it was these mutants, they both agreed, that needed such protection instead.
So it is here, an entire year after Naruto and Sasuke's arrival into the new dimension, and four years after the battle between Loki and the Avengers, that you find us, reader. The two lost shinobi searched relentlessly for a way to return to their home world, at first, then gave up. The action was quite impossible, even given both their masteries of Fuinjutsu, and it wasn't like they had anything to go back to, in the end. Only a desolate world ravaged by that madman, Madara.
So they turned their shinobi honor and skills toward this new world instead. This new people, these mutants. Naruto changed the wording of his nindo just barely, and Sasuke began to share it as well.
'Never to go back on my word, and never to run away. To protect The Precious People is forever my Ninja Way.'
The Uchiha felt the rhyme was childish, but it fit. And the precious people were now the mutants. As they both made each other a promise. No one in this new world would be allowed in their hearts aside from each other. Both took up the Namikaze name and were ready for a fresh start.
But they had their work cut out for them. Even though these humans were weak-willed most of the time and practically skill-less in the warrior arts, they were absolutely stubborn. Like cockroaches. Like insects, like Madara but less evil.
Yeah, it would take a while to knock them down a collective peg. But they would do it, for The Precious People. They'd made a promise. And it wasn't going to break.
-switch-
Pleasant Avenue was a busy street on Saturday evenings. Traffic was heavy and it was as if all of New York decided to try and crowd it as much as they possibly could. The sky was always a dull gray, during the fall seasons, and starless. It was never dark in the City That Never Sleeps- the street lamps turned on at 6 pm and the hundreds of blinking neon signs and car lights crowded your sight like a thousand miniature LED penlights, always in your vision wherever you tried to look, aside form the bleak and unknown alley ways that were on every street, shrouded in darkness and all types of illegal activity.
It was just during the seven o'clock rush, when everyone and their grandmother was attempting to get home from when work had let out around two hours before. People dodges their way through the practically parked rows of cars that were caught in the maddening traffic across to the opposite side of the street, taxi horns blared every second and you would never get a moments peace. People ran races down the sidewalks and gave their best taxi-calling whistles or attempted to catch their subway train on time without the pulsing crowds around them accidentally spilling their just bought, still-hot coffee or lattes on pristine white work clothes.
And it was on Pleasant Avenue that a slowly becoming common and eager-awaited sight appeared. Twin black motorcycles threaded their way through the still traffic in mere blurs, accelerating past the speed limit in ways no one could imagine—but you could catch a glimpse of the now famous riders if you squinted and turned your head to just the right angle.
They were both equal and opposite in every way. Their outfits were cloned—stylish motorcycling helmets with the faceplate blacked out, and full-on motorcycling suits, complete with leather jacket, steel-toed combat boots, leather pants, leather gloves and all. Or, it looked like leather. No one had actually been able to verify this fact.
Now came to differences. They were like Ying and Yang. The one on the left, always the left, had a black helmet without any design. His jacket was a dark navy, almost black. His pants, gloves and boots were all black, and it looked like he might have a red shirt underneath it all, but the newspaper photos were always too grainy to see clear enough.
The one on the right—always the right—wore a white motorcycle helmet, and white jacket, boots, pants, and gloves. His shirt was confirmed to be orange, but the jacket was always zipped up, so it wasn't like anyone ever saw it.
One the back of both their jackets, however, was an insignia. It was designed using oriental-looking symbols. Finally, when the matter was taken to a Japanese historical specialist, the public was informed that the kanji was a very old form of Japanese letters, spelling out the word Namikaze. Which meant, however vaguely, Waves and Wind.
So that was what these mysterious riders' media names were. The one in white was called Wind, or Kaze, while the one in black and navy was called Wave, or Nami. The Namikaze Riders(another title the public had given them) were first entitled this in an edition of the Daily Bugle. It just escalated form there.
They were heroes, but it was not confirmed if they had any powers. They never took off their helmets, which was mostly understandable no matter the curiosity of the media—they had identities to keep, after all—and never spoke. They always appeared on their motorcycles and always departed after a battle in the same fashion, before anyone can hope to approach them. They were never caught for an interview and barely ever even glanced at anyone other than their opponents, even when they had a vast crowd of spectators taking pictures and screaming for their attention. Their skills were amazing, and it was widely speculated that they were ninjas in some way, maybe samurai or some type of fantastical warriors. The way they fought was always awe-inspiring and graceful, making it hard not to watch. They'd beaten many a villain and criminal by just their moves alone. The enemy was too stunned to fight back. The duo was never seen associating with anyone and always disappeared off the charts and records until their next appearance. They were never alone, always with each other, and always in motions, barely ever pausing moving.
But that wasn't the strangest thing about them. The Namikaze Riders were famous for one thing above all the rest of their oddities and mysteries.
They helped the mutants.
This confused so many and shocked them into asking questions that were never answered. Why would such skillful heroes support and even protect those monsters, those freaks of nature? However, those who had no qualm with the existence of the mutants, and who viewed them as just as human as they, were relieved the super powered teens and above finally had someone—two someones—to aid them.
It was a large, long-going argument between the two sides, and was almost always in discussion on the tabloids.
Back to Pleasant Avenue, the crowds lurched forwards and eyes were opened wide in order to catch a glimpse of some action. Car doors opened and horns honked—it wasn't like the traffic was moving anyway, anyways, the people reasoned—and the tourists and the like all vied for some photo opportunities.
It wasn't until a rather large crowd of thugs came tumbling out of an alleyway baring metal poles, small guns and makeshift weapons of all kinds that they realized what had brought the Riders there, to this street. The gang paused as they noticed the approaching sound of twin motorcycles; and the one they were chasing—a teen girl wearing ratty jeans, sneakers, a plaid shirt and a Yankee baseball cap—froze in the middle of the avenue she'd stumbled onto in runny away. The crowd around her, she realized, was too caught up in trying to get a glimpse of the infamous Namikaze Riders to acknowledge her presence. So she waited to see what would happen. And she wanted to see them, too. They were here to help her, she thought. She was finally safe.
The ringleader had no time to even gather up courage or decide to run for the hills, due to the two gloved fists that were suddenly implanted in his face. His jaw instantly shattered and his nose made snapping sound. One could mistake him for a rather large bullet of a gun as he went flying back and smashing through a taxi's windshield. Fortunately, all passengers and driver had already exited the vehicle, and were now standing to the side gaping at the show of brute strength form the bikers.
One of the gang members futilely attempted to grab hold of Kaze's jacket and catch the Rider in a choke-hold, but Nami appeared behind him and, in a blur of movements, the young adult was passed out cold on the cement, his metal pole clattering to the ground second later. Kaze didn't even pause once his jacket was free, he hadn't even stopped when the thug had a hold on it. With an expertly executed flip over another opponents head. Two fingers jabbed into the doubled over male's spine, and he was down. As soon as he landed on his feet, the white-clad media-proclaimed 'hero' lunged forward and caught an oncoming attacker in the gut. The six remaining men—large, massive, bears of men, turned tail and tried to run, then, but Nami raced after them and, like lightning had struck, they were sprawled out on the ground, Kaze dealing with the final two.
The street had long since broke into a thousand of excited murmurs, and as soon as the audience noticed the fight was over, they shouted and called out to the Riders, asking for autographs and, in the just arriving new-crew, interviews.
The Namikaze Riders did not pause in strider, however, and made their way swiftly to their bikes. They swung a leg each over their pitch black Suzuki GSX-Rs and kicked the cycles into gear. The roar of engines overcame the screaming of the crowds, somehow, and the Bikers were off.
But not in the direction everyone was expecting.
In fact, it came as almost a surprise. The Riders usually left the rescued-from-angry-mob mutant for the infamous X-Men to come pick. up. Though, that mutant wasn't usually a homeless girl, as this young teen so obviously was.
Because the Riders were heading straight toward the frozen thirteen-year-old, who still stood in the center of the street. She watched them approach with a deer-in-the-headlights look about her, and many watched on with a similar wide-eyed look.
What were the Namikaze Riders doing this time?
-switch-
Jubilation Lee had never been an overly-lucky girl before. In fact, she thought it was quite safe to say that her luck was rotten. She'd only gone into that alley-way because she's assumed it was empty—all the others on this street were full, so it made sense that there had to be one that everyone avoided for some reason or another.
And that reason was made clear to her soon enough. Not even fifteen seconds after making the idiotic decision of entering the dark abyss that was locally-nicknamed 'Irreverent Alley.'
They were called the Othersiders. And they were a gang.
She'd run into tons of gangs before and survived since she could distract them with her small explosions. But these guys were practically gorillas! Tall, muscle-y, shirtless gorillas with nasty hygiene and roughed up jeans and brass knuckles. They took one look at her, and glared. She squeaked and—gods, Jubilee, you're an idiot—brought up her mutant powers, feeling somewhat brave.
Then they all glared harder, going for metal polls and pulling out tiny little drug-store issued pistols, and she turned right around and made a run for it.
Alleys never made good temporary homes anyway.
Maybe Karma had decided she'd gotten enough bad luck for the week, however, since—Oh good mother of the Big Bad Apple, the Riders came! For her! It it hadn't even been three second out of the alley! She was so surprised, she stopped right in the middle of the busy traffic. Thankfully, the crowds of people were too busy watching in anticipation to look in her direction, so she decided to stay and watch.
She'd always wanted to meet the Namikaze Riders, ever since she'd first heard of them in that newspaper she'd dug out of the Starbucks' waist basket. They were so cool, and amazing ,and they saved people—people like her! The kinds of people that most everybody hated and called names! She'd always dreamed about them coming to rescue her and maybe taking her to the X-men. It would have taken care of almost every problem—she'd have a safe place to stay, get to be with others like her who didn't hate her or tried to kill her, and she'd get to learn how to control her stupid powers!
The fight was as amazing as she ever dreamed, and more! Their battle stances were pretty bad ass, and Jubilee was awed, struck speechless at their skills. It was really as if they were real-life ninjas, but in the disguise of bad-ass bikers. So cool.
And when they headed in her direction, she didn't know what to do. This hadn't happened before, in any of the stories she'd heard or read about them. The Riders never approached their rescuee, ever. They always left them for the X-men. What was so different about her? She hoped it wasn't cuz they felt sorry for her—she looked like a bum, in these clothes. And that's what she was. Just another homeless teen girl living in the slums. But that didn't make her special. So why are they—
The bikes pulled to a stop and the crowds hushed just a bit in anticipation. Jubilee was paralyzed, unable to move. She had no idea what to do. The Rider in white, Kaze(her favorite one, though Nami was also really amazing and cool and awesome and—yeah) didn't even dismount, same as the dark-clad Rider. They stared at her for a second, and Jubilee thought that it might be the longest anyone had ever seen them stay still for. Until, Kaze held out a white gloved hand to her and Jubilee's heart pumped so incredibly fast, and—
"Come with us."
The street went silent.
Just Pleasant Avenue, of course, so the fact that the crowd around them was speechless, jubilee too, didn't mean it was quiet at all, as there was all of New York surrounding them to think about. But the level of noise instantly went down a good five levels as everyone stared, eyes practically bulging.
Then, it was like Jubilee's body had a mind of it's own. Not even completely aware of her movement, she grabbed that outstretched hand and clambered onto the infamous black motorcycle, right behind Kaze—butterflies were thundering in her stomach, and her face turned red under the shadows of her baseball cap. She wrapped her arms around him tightly as the motorcycles sped away, eyes shut so tight she didn't see anything.
She didn't even open them when she heard the crowds around her, suddenly above her—above her?—scream, then shout in awe and excitement. Didn't open them when the same crowds that were suddenly behind and, more bewilderingly, beneath her—beneath her!—shouted out and buzzed with amazement.
Too excited she was that, due to her tightly shut eyes, she didn't see the wheels Riders' motorcycles glow a faint blue. She didn't witness the Riders ride those bikes straight up the side a skyscraper.
But she sure felt that gravitation pull of the earth change.
It was exhilarating, for sure. And sitting behind her favorite Namikaze Rider, on his bike, with him taking her for a ride alongside the other Rider, was just a dream come true.
-switch-
Yeah, I know. I have like, a million other stories to update. But I just couldn't not write this down. And then, so excited I was to complete it in two hours(pffft, who needs proofreading anyways? I never do that for any story, ever o-o), as I usually am with all my stories as due to my utter lack of patience—I updated, of course.
Please don't kill me *crawls under bed to cry*
Anyway, Naruto and Sasuke are about sixteen in this, right now, and Jubilee is, obviously, thirteen. No, she and Naruto are not going to be a pairing(I think I'm gonna keep this fic gen), though Jubilee is one of my favorite X-men, right there after my favorite, Scott Summers. This is just Jubilee having a little fangirl crush—and we all know those are no little conditions. I should know. I have tons of them :P
Anyway, read, review. Please tell me how you liked it, what you want to see. I would LOVE your review to be more than two sentences, but I'm not putting any requirements. I jut wanna instill some good reviewing habits in all my lovely readers.
God knows I need them. I'm trying to review every chapter of all the stories I read, but that habit still needs some work. Why don't you guys do that along with me?
Arigato, and thanks for review(*stares* which you will, of course),
~Scylar X