A/N: I own neither X men nor Naruto.

Summary:

Chapter One

8:21 AM. Xavier's Mansion, New York, January 03

Had someone been looking for him, Xavier would have been found in his office, sitting on the metallic colored wheelchair he'd been confined to for many years now; appropriate appendages laying on the arm rests and head forwards. The TV at the far end of the room currently featured a live broadcast from Washington. It seemed with another year came the new intolerance against his beliefs.

"It is due to recent, violent outbreaks from mutant formations amongst students in schools that we are introducing the Student's Privacy Rights Act, which allows all schools to have a copy of mutant registration in their area, giving them knowledge of any threatening mutant activity that might happen within their walls. This is not a way to expose the privacy of the students and their personal lives, but a way to inform educators of any possible problems that may occur in accordance to the schools mutant activity. The education of America's youth-"

An audible click sounded through the room as the TV switched off,darkness filling the screen that was just before bouncing with color and life. Xavier could only place his head in his hand, a sigh escaping from between his thin, near colorless lips. It was beyond him how the government had the nerve to name such an act in the rights of the students. It did nothing but take away and exploit the rights of both the children and the family. He'd fought long and hard for mutant freedom for years, and yet everyday the situation only seemed to worsen for them. Maybe one day such trifles as genetics wouldn't be such a cause for discrimination, but that day certainly wasn't today.

8: 21 AM. Apartment room 21, New York, January 03

Naruto wasn't sure why he awoke so early. It was still gray outside, the sun just beginning to peek over the eastern sky. An uneasy feeling sat in the bottom of his stomach, making his attempts at falling back asleep futile. He got up and, after a quick stop in the bathroom, made his way from the tiny bedroom of the apartment. The kitchen was even smaller, sporting only a sink, fridge, and single counter, above which lay a trio of cupboards, cream paint peeling off their wooden surfaces. The window on the southern side was still dark, giving a dim view of the parking lot, and, by extension, the bum who'd yet to cease urinating on the fire escape stairs running down the side of the building. An act Naruto was sure he recalled witnessing just before heading to bed the previous night.

One of his two roommates sat at the small table located just outside the kitchen in the small cubby that served as a passage from said location to the living room. Small as said structure was, it didn't leave much room for the actual act of passing, which lead Naruto to emit a small grunt as he slid through, awkwardly sidestepping past before stumbling slightly. Catching his balance in time to shoot the person sitting there a glance, to see if he'd noticed. He had. The raven-haired occupant's obsidian colored eyes were trained on him, absolutely emotionless. His lips parted slightly for a moment, just enough for the words to escape, lathered in a deep richness that could only be produced from one such mouth,

"Put on a shirt."

Without another word he turned back to the paper he read, not even trying to feign interest. Naruto huffed at the lack of attention from the other, not seeming to register the words themselves, just the number of them. Suddenly, a sly smile crept along the fox-like features of the blonde, scar-like whiskers riding up on his cheeks with the expression.

"You know you like it, teme."

The silent male's eye flickered up once more from behind the black, rectangular-rimmed glasses he wore, offering only the raise of a perfectly-sculpted brow. Sasuke had needed glasses ever since his early teenage years as apparently bad eyesight and even blindness had run in his family. Even with this additional aid, a thin, light pink trace of color ran along his eyes like eyeliner, thickening slightly in the inner corners, illustrating the irritation of the skin there. Reaching up, he drew the glasses off his face and folded them neatly, hooking the pair onto the crisp, white collar of his shirt.

The stoic male easily made his way around both the table and the blonde male, continuing on his way to set the mug he'd previously been drinking from in the sink, tap water turned on only briefly to clear the ring of dark coffee left on the bottom. This was when Naruto reentered the scene, having disappeared briefly to grab a shirt that had been deposited on the floor of the one bedroom of the apartment days before. He pulled it over his head as he walked into the room again. Unfortunately, dividing his attention on two such trying tasks proved a mistake moments later when he tumbled to the ground.

A loud crash ensued, as he managed to stagger into the table before pulling the whole thing down on top of him. The cat that had been peacefully sleeping underneath it let out a loud shriek before diving from it's place of haven, just hardly missing being smushed beneath it. The fluffy, white feline stopped and turned to offer a final hiss before disappearing. His thick coat brushed the leg of a certain female emerging into the picture, leaving a thick sheet of shed fur behind on the wet skin. She looked down briefly at the streak of white darting from the room before looking back up at the two of them.

"You almost crushed Kitty Meow-meow," she said, a whining concern clear in her voice. A soft snort sounded from the dark-haired male accompanied with the comment of a, 'should we be so lucky.' It was true the Uchiha prodigy, their roommate, had no liking whatsoever for the little fur ball, and, as accused by Naruto, had already made several unsuccessful attempts on it's life. He turned towards her, leaning against the counter. Their female companion, Sakura, had apparently just stepped from the shower as she sported a white towel wrapped around her head and wore only her exotically decorated undergarments.

As both the males in front of her were very much so homosexual, she felt no need to cover herself as she walked through. At one point, many years ago, she'd been naïve enough to be interested in Sasuke. Naruto had been feigning interest in Sakura in an attempt to avoid his own sexuality and disguise his feelings toward Sasuke, who, at the time, could care less about both of them. So, needless to say, their relationship had been complicated for a long time. But as the years past old feelings died down, Sakura had been reluctant to give up on her childhood love, but found happiness in the happiness of the other two. Over the years the pain faded, and she no longer harbored such feelings for either of them. Though she'd never gotten a chance with the one she loved, she'd gained two brothers.

"Hey, Sakura," chirped the friendlier of the two, his grogginess forgotten upon her presence. The other offering only a nod. She waved her greetings before continuing through. Sakura was only gone a moment or so before the sound of the TV sounded in the room adjacent. Her original intention was to leave it on only as background noise, unaware of the news currently being shown. This intention was forgotten as the words caught her attention, spoken by an older man in a neat, dark suit.

"...violent outbreaks from mutant formations amongst students in schools that we are introducing the Student's Privacy Rights Act, which allows all schools to have a copy of mutant registration in their area, giving them knowledge of any threatening mutant activity that might happen within their walls..."

"Guys, come in here..." she called, eyes glued to the screen. Both males entered a short time later.

"What's up, Sakura-chan?" All eyes focused on the same picture, and ears on the same words.

"...This is not a way to expose the privacy of the students and their personal lives, but a way to inform educators of any possible problems that may occur in accordance to the schools mutant activity. The education of America's youth is and always has been our top priority and we can only hope this act with further serve the nation." Cheering erupted from the crowd below him, showing their support for his words. The trio stood in silence for many more seconds before the breathless words of Sakura caught the air, hardly filling the quiet.

"I don't fucking believe it...they can't just do that, can they?"

"It appears that they have," Sasuke said. He was staring intently at the screen, willing it to catch fire right before his eyes. No such luck.

"But that's—that's not fair!" Exclaimed Naruto, his eyes wide. "We're not any different than they are!" Another silence filled the air, one that went on longer than ever before being broken.

10:45 PM. Grinn & Barrett Bar, Canada, January 17

With a final punch Logan finished up the last of his drunken opponent, the man falling to the floor with an audible thud. He returned to his designated corner, leaning against the metal bars of the cage as he threw back the remainder of his drink that was faithfully there waiting for him. The bell struck in a short series, signaling the end of the match. He didn't look up, or even so much as acknowledge the sound.

"Six rounds in a row!" blared the announcers voice, putting the bells to shame, his voice boring into Logan's sensitive ears.

"I've never seen anything like it! Un-killable! The Wolverine!" The said man couldn't help but feel a smirk tugging at the edges of his features. If they only knew. The crowd shouted both their approval and lack there of, filling the bar.

"Are there any challengers?" There was chatting amongst the crowd but no one stepped up to the plate.

"Come on, folks, are you going to let him walk away?" Several men near the front laughed, nudging the biggest of the group forwards and giving him encouraging slaps on the back. The muscle-head eventually gave in, taking off his shirt and stepping up to the cage. The door clanged shut behind him, locking into place. Logan set the now empty bottle down as the bell rang the start of the match. But before he could turn to face his opposer, the less-than-sober man grabbed him from behind and forcefully shoved him against the side of the cage. He hit the bars head on, feeling the other man release his shoulders and step back. He stood there a moment, shaking his head slightly to clear it before turning. And, in one swift lunge, plowed his fist into the gut of the opposer. He stumbled back, doubling over, eyes wide. With that Logan hit the other with a ruthless one-two punch to the face, knocking him flat to the ground.

The audience was silent for a moment before erupting into shouts of opinion. Logan wiped a hand across his chin, wiping away the trickle of blood that managed to escape. The scent akin to that of rain wafted over the room of sweat and beer, tickling his nose. He looked up to see a familiar figure standing behind the crowd yet clearly viable, leaning against the bar with her arms crossed securely over her chest. Her long, white hair flowed in light waves over her shoulders to her mid-back, pale blue eyes strikingly contrasting to her chocolate-colored skin. Ororo Monroe, commonplace referred to as Storm, stood tight-lipped and disapproving. Logan exhaled.

Aw, hell.

He made his way from the cage, pulling his t-shirt, white, over his head and slinging his jacket over his shoulder. He walked right past her.

"Beer," was the curt instruction to the bartender, who gave a nod.

"Logan!" called Storm, walking at a quick pace to catch up with his long strides, stopping next to him as he sat down, jacket tossed over the back of his chair. He pulled out a cigar, placing it between his teeth and lighting. Smoke billowed out the tip as he took a long, well-deserved drag. A glass slid over to him, which he caught with one hand, cigar moving down so as to take a gulp of the alcoholic contents.

"We need you back at the mansion, Logan." This statement roused a gritty chuckle from the male, setting his glass down on the bar.

"Well, isn't that flattering?"

"I'm serious. You heard about the Lincoln Memorial?" He had. Just over a week after the Mutant Registration Act was instated, followed by the Student's Privacy Rights Act, an unknown group of mutants retaliated by blowing up the Lincoln Memorial. How they accomplished this wasn't being released, but the act seemed to do the mutants more harm than good, only reinforcing the publics view of them being dangerous.

"Yeah. So?"

"So it's even more dangerous at the school. We need you there in case something happens. We know we can trust you."

"Can you?"

"Yes." Logan fell silent for a moment after her confident reply. He then stood, pulling his jacket over his arms and sticking his cigar between his teeth again.

"You'll learn," He said before turning and taking off, striding across the barroom to the door. He stopped a moment when she called out his name, hand on the door. He turned his head slightly in her direction, but she said nothing. So he pushed open the door, departing unto the outside as she stared after him. Pausing a moment he took another long drag before continuing on his way.

7:45 PM. C. Lab, New York, January 18

The room was large, metal sheets lining the walls. About fifty feet from the ground a path formed from the door on the wall, leading out into a circular platform erected in the center of the room. Charles Xavier wheeled along this path until reaching this platform, sitting in front of a metal desk of sorts. He reached for a certain headgear that he then placed upon his bare head. The metal arms of the gear reached across his forehead, hugging it tightly. He closed his eyes, the red hologram outlining the spherical form of planet Earth formed above the desk, continents littered with millions of tiny, red dots, each one symbolizing a mutant. Should one look close enough, they'd see these dots were actually in the form of tiny people, walking and talking and doing all the things the person they represented were presently doing as well.

This life-like projection of his mentality shone above him, his thoughts narrowing on a trail left by three certain mutants he'd spent the last several days tracking in a series of sessions. These sessions could only last a couple of hours at a time, though, for fear the mental strain would be projected one hundred fold on the sources of his concentration and kill them. Each mutant left a sort of trail by using their powers that he could use to track them, but this particular group had been hard to locate, their trail continually flickering in and out, floating evanescent on the borderline of existence. His eyes flickered open as the signal from the three suddenly strengthened, captured in a stand-still in his mind. He handled it carefully, knowing if he gripped such a presence to lightly it would disappear, but if he held on to harshly he would crush it all together at the promise of devastating reactions to the people of whom it belonged.

So, he delicately maneuvered around his new find and opened up another channel of his mind, one of communication. Contacting people through telepathy was essentially like contacting them on a phone. Everyone's mind had a unique signature through which they could be contacted. One simply had to remember these mental signatures and recall them to tap into that persons mind before relaying the message. It wasn't complicated, and was more akin to remembering a name or a birthday. Once this channel of communication was opened in his students mind, he called out to her.

'Storm.'