IV - Somewhere, Over the Rainbow...

Warning: Blegh, still crawling my way through the introductory chapters. Also please read Author's Note.

Disclaimer: Y'know stating that I don't own anything seems pointless to me. It's kind of obvious, if I WERE Kohei Horikoshi or Stan Lee or some horrific amalgamation of both, this would be canon. And better.

He was Peter Parker, ersatz Spider-Man. That's what he told Present Mic. He also told him everything else. Where he came from, where he got his powers, some of the things he's seen and people he's met. For the first time since arriving in Japan, he's opened himself up to someone. Shown his weakness, and shared his dreams… Is what Present Mic thought. Because really, if Peter told someone the FULL truth, would anyone believe him. I mean, I know I wouldn't.

He considered it, though. Spinning his tale of adventure and sorrow, of trials and tribulations and his eventual demise, and his sudden, unexpected transportation to an all new world.

But no, at the last moment he decided to tell an entirely different story. He was an orphan now, born and raised in New York City. He lived a 'rough and tough' life trying to be a hero in a city so densely populated will heroes and villains alike, while trying to balance that with school. All before hitching a ride on a plane and flying his way to Japan, for...reasons, where he felt he could truly make a difference.

Of course, the story had many holes in it. Inconsistencies, a lot of questions to be asked. But were they?

Nope. Not one. Not even the simplest questions were considered that he knew of.

Meanwhile, One Week Earlier with Present Mic…

"So he's lying right?" The blonde man spoke into the communicator on his ear as he stepped out of the hospital room.

"Yep." He heard the voice of Nedzu on the other side of the communicator say.

"Any chance the kid'll tell us the truth?"

"Perhaps in the future. Best not to harass him about it for now, he seems to have been through quite a lot… For now, we keep him under strict surveillance. Putting him somewhere we can watch him is the best way to do it." Nedzu spoke, eliciting a nod from Mic. They couldn't fully trust the boy just yet, but for now, it was best to take advantage of the his talent and ambition. Perhaps he could be a great hero one day after all.

Now…

Despite the situation being as insane and honestly bleak as it was, Peter had to admit, he's lucked out lately. More than he has ever before. He's alive, kept his limbs, and has a chance back home, speaking of…

Because of his apparent lack of any known living relatives, as well as the sheer distance from home coupled with his recent acts of heroism, the boy was offered housing. A small apartment in Musutafu, fifth floor. He'd be living there until further notice as an effectively emancipated teenager living in Japan with not a clue of how to really live. He didn't have to worry about money, he was to receive minor financial assistance each month whereas most of his basic amenities were paid, food, clothes and other essentials were up to him entirely.

Then, there was that offer that Present Mic spoke of, one that intrigued Peter to no end. This world was simply full of surprises and this one didn't fall short. He remembers it like it was last week, which it was...

Last Week…

"Super… hero school?" Peter spoke slowly, leaning forward on the hospital bed, both hands folded together in his lap.

"Not just a superhero school kid! THE superhero school! I'm offerin' you a full scholarship to attend at the one, the only, U.A.!" He yelled the introduction for the second time so far, spreading his hands in the air to emphasize just how grand this was. "There you'll be gettin' some of the best hero and general education there is, from some of the best pro heroes in Japan!" He continued showboating, the room darkening as a spotlight appeared over him and Peter, shining upon both. The young vigilante had no idea where they came from. And was that an orchestra in the background? "So whaddya' say kid, you up for the challenge of a lifetime?!" He pointed a finger at the confused looking teen, who kept one eyebrow raised incredulously throughout the ordeal.

"...Sure?"

"NICE!"

Now...

And that's what happened. Peter would take the entrance exam in a few weeks, just before the school year begins, for now he had little to worry about other than learning the native language and finding a way back home.

"Alright Pete, gotten this far. Now what?" He paced across his ceiling, dressed in a black T-shirt and boxers. He had a hand on his chin, his dark brown hair flapping down like short vines hanging from a tree. The apartment was plain, with crime colored, dull walls and minimal amount of furnishing, including a bed, drawer, closet, television, kitchen, etcetera.

On his bed were several books provided to him, one on learning Japanese, a tour guide, a fresh jar of newly made web fluid courtesy of himself, a sewing machine, and numerous other books for studying whatever was going to be on the U.A. entrance exam, which, from what little he could gather, he was pretty much set for. A+ student after all. Though his comprehension of the language may hamper his grades overall, but he was working on that.

He was wary of the school itself, whether or not it'd help really. It would be nice to have some real social interaction with people his age, but he doesn't want to get distracted, though he could get to meet one of the head honcho scientists of this world, that'd be the perfect situation. Perhaps there's a Reed Richards out there, or Tony Stark that still exists even in this world. Perhaps… perhaps he wouldn't even get home? What would he do then? Forget about Aunt May, MJ, Uncle Ben and just...restart? Become a 'pro hero' and live never knowing what happened without him around, with no hope of ever returning home, his real home. Leaving the people he cares about at the mercy of Norman or Eddie, letting them die because he wasn't there to save them? Because he was too weak and too stupid to survive?

He shook the morbid thoughts from his mind, sighing. He dropped down to the floor, the wood creaking slightly under his weight. He looked around his relatively empty apartment, fighting back the loneliness and hopelessness that begun to set in. "Screw this." He grumbled, grabbing ahold of his web shooters and halfway sewn costume. He quickly pulled the spandex around him and placed the silver contraptions over his wrists.

He walked over to the window, looking out into the city at night. Thankfully, the buildings here were just tall enough for web-slinging as well.

He held in his breath as he opened the window, preparing to take the leap. He placed one foot on the edge, peeking his head out and looking at the street below. As much as he's gotten used to it, there was still some vertigo whenever he decided to take leaps like this. A slight fear that he wouldn't fire his webbing in time, or he'd forgotten to fill his web shooters despite the ten or so times he's gone ahead and checked if the cartridges were secured.

He shut his eyes and let gravity work its magic.

Well this wasn't particularly helpful.

He was hunched over the ledge of a building, staring down at the street. It was a familiar feeling at this point, sitting and sulking as he looked over the surreal world of super powered civilians. He'd done it so many times it was getting old at this point.

"Jeeze I miss home." He sighed, firing a webline at the nearby apartment complex, swinging off it. The people below observed him with wide eyes, wondering whether or not he was some new pro hero. "It's like there's no one around to pound when I really need to let out some steam around here. Back home there was some psycho trying to rob a bank every day, and this is a world where EVERYONE has powers!" He swung on a flagpole, building momentum and firing a webline yet again. "You'd figure there'd be more crazies out there to wallop!"

Of course, he knows it's illegal, but he's not really looking to put on a show as much as he is to let out some anger by beating on some muggers. If he could find one he'd be in and out, quick as lightning, and that's a very hard if at this point.

He landed atop a large billboard, perched on it like a spider on a tree branch. He sighed, staring out into the distant cityscape. "I mean, am I crazy for missing the busier nights? The ones where I came back almost dying? It isn't that insane, right-I mean, maybe a bit but…" He skid to a halt on another rooftop, releasing his web.

He realized again, that he was all alone.

With both shoulders slumped, he trudged to the rooftop exit. He put his back to the wall, sliding down the brick and curling his knees against his chest.

"Haven't done this in awhile but uh…" He placed his arms over his knees, staring down at the concrete floor, "hey, God or, Odin or whoever's listening… I know you've made it your day job to screw me over in the worst of ways. You've had me beaten, bashed, poisoned, bonded to a symbiotic alien that was kept in a basement for fifteen years and tried to kill me after it bonded to one of my best friends...but I just...I just think it's gotten too bad this time. The jokes gone too far..."

He looks up to the full moon. It's so very unlike his own in a strange way, much like the rest of this world. The texture, the light and aesthetic of it all just felt...off. It seems so very animated, surreal, but at the same time painfully familiar.

"I just wanna go home."

For the first time in a very long time, Peter felt truly, entirely helpless. There was no shoulder to cry on but his own.

He heard the doorknob of the rooftop exit turning. His head snapped to the side, the eyes of his mask widening. Out stepped an old man, white hair falling out slightly wearing a pair of thinly framed glasses and a wooly jacket, along with a comfy pair of pajama pants and slippers. In his hand was a cigarette, and in the other a lighter. His eyes widened along with the young man's, the two getting into an intense stare-off. Peter could just barely recognize that face, but Noya could recognize that mask anywhere.

"Well-what a small world, huh?" The old man speaks in Japanese. Peter can't understand him at all, the words falling on deaf ears. Noya flashes him a thin, but joyful smile. "I didn't think I'd ever seeya' again kiddo, but here you are! On my roof, while I'm tryin' to get a smoke…"

Something about his demeanor reminds Peter of someone else, someone he held dear to him.

"Thank you again for stopping those hooligans from raiding my shop, don't know what I'd do if they'd taken everything I had. But you were there, and you took a helluva hit for it...thank you, Spider-Man was it?" He leaned against the wall over the quiet boy, sighing. "Mind if I smoke? Wife doesn't let me use these inside…" He held up the cigar and the lighter, nudging his head to the side. Peter got the message and nodded, showing that he had no problem with it.

Noya noticed the boy's sluggishness, the aura of sadness that permeated around him. The way he's curled into himself, as if he's afraid of something coming for him. The old man knows he can't really understand him, he could tell from the way he spoke back in his store, but he speaks anyways. "You alright, kid?"

Peter understands it as a question, just not what he's asking. In response, he simply shrugs one shoulder.

The old man slides down the concrete wall slowly, trying not to bust a hip in the process. He sits down a safe distance from the teen, still smoking. He doesn't speak a word, knowing it'd be pointless.

It was then that Peter learned that even the presence of a stranger could help ease his nerves.

Peter spends the next few days studying.

He's learned the very basics of Japanese at this point. He knows his greetings, short conversation and the occasional insult if he ever needed to get quippy. It's going very well in that department. Studying for the exam has been a bit of an ordeal however, as he also needed to educate himself in the basics of Quirk laws as well as the profession of a hero and the ethics they had to uphold.

It was like reading Captain America's memoirs. With significantly less patriotism.

Occasionally he can't help himself. It's become too much of a habit to slip on his costume and leap out into the city. But rather than his usual routine and beating up hooligans willing to rob old men blind, he's become something of a community service member. Peter needed some human interaction, as well as language practice. It really was a win-win-win situation for everyone involved, and the people of Musutafu were greeted to a more friendly neighborhood Spider-Man than an amazing, sensational and/of spectacular version of him.

"Thank you so much young man!" The middle-aged woman grasped the spandex-clad boy's hand in both her own, giving it a steady shake. They were at the door of her apartment, dozens of grocery bags piled up next to them. Peter had seen her struggling quite a bit with them, and dropped down to help from his place on high. His costume had been fully repaired too, though it has its fair share of visible patches and loose strings.

"Y-Youu are very welcahm!" He's still working on it. His speech is broken and abnormal, constantly tripping over words and mispronouncing things. He sounded a bit funny to most, but no one bothered to say anything about it. They just appreciated his help from time to time.

Peter felt fulfilled every time he did these things. He felt better about himself.

It wasn't like there wasn't the occasional mishap…

"I-ow- I am so very apologehtack miss! Puh-Lisa fahgive my-"

"Stop talking like that you hooligan! And put my damn groceries down!" An old woman, roughly a foot or so shorter than him was whacking him all over, not with a cane, but a bony protrusion that extended from her forearm. Peter had tried his hardest to help the woman cross the street whilst carrying such a problematic amount of grocery bags.

"I weell if youuu shtop striking me!"

Of course it wasn't like he didn't have his fun from time to time, albeit being very discreet about it…

A young man ran through a dimly lit alleyway, another behind him with sharp, horrific teeth following close behind. He'd been walking in a not-so-popular area far too late at night, late enough for no one to hear him scream.

The man chasing behind him had claws extending from his toes and fingernails, and an eery, inhuman smile on his face. "Why run?! I just wanna have some fun kiddo! Hehe!"

Suddenly, a glob of webbing had found itself firmly attached to his face. The young victim turned to see the criminal clawing and pulling at the white substance, screaming profanities from under it.

"You luk leeike a...pineapple." The Spider-Man said slowly, scrolling through a small, but thick book on the Japanese language.

The young man felt relief run through his body as he watched the man previously chasing him get curbstomped. Yes, Peter couldn't resist these kinds of things. It was practically in his genes as much as his powers were…

It wasn't like there wasn't the occasional sticky situation, so to speak…

"I aym sho, sho sohrree." Peter spoke, voice muddled by the 'scarf' he was wrapped. Around him and his captor some contained, albeit wild chaos. There were people getting up after a harsh explosion, caused by the villain's less than subtle reaction to a sudden glob of webbing hitting his face. The same villain who was passed out on the ground after a short-lived fight with Eraserhead.

His hair was levitating as he stared at the young man in spandex, recognizing him immediately. He's read the files and spoken to Mic, and knew that there was a chance this boy would be his student in the coming weeks.

"That was most. Illogical."

Spider-Man was getting some reeeeal Daredevil flashbacks here.

Peter yawned as he sat up. Today was the day of his exam, the one that would land him in a school for aspiring superheroes. He looked around his dimly lit apartment, tapping on the alarm clock on his nightstand. The sunbeams were glaring through the thin curtains, bits of sunshine cutting through them and illuminating the room.

He slipped out of bed and stretched out his arms and legs, then running a hand through his hair. He spent the next several minutes quietly, thoughtlessly getting ready. Brushing his teeth, putting on a change of clothes, and readying everything he felt he'd need. He knew enough Japanese at this point that he could hold a solid conversation for more than five minutes or so, so there was nothing to worry about there. He was more worried about he 'physical' examination, the one that would determine their combat prowess.

Of course he's had more fights with people twice his strength than he could count, but he's gotten rusty in these weeks. He hasn't trained or honed his skills as effectively as he could before, and lord knows if these other kids had been training their whole lives for this kind of thing with whatever amazing powers they had.

He's sure he'll do fine.

He opens his apartment door and looks down the empty hallway. For a moment he turns back to look inside, as if he's about to say something, a goodbye or a wish for good luck. But there's no one there. No one to support him.

He sighed, closing the door with a soft 'thud'.

"Today's the day Pete. The first real step forward… I can feel it."

Spider-Man was more than ready.

Meanwhile, New York City, Manhattan…

He sighed as he stared off into the night, the city below his monolithic tower illuminated by the billions of lights shining from apartments and billboards and vehicles alike. It was beautiful, a true showing of how far the human race had come in the way of technology and civilization.

That was how it looked to most, at least. To him, this was a fraud. A parody of the real city, the one his family helped build from the ground-up. This was a city built by 'heroes', people with 'quirks' that gave them the illusion of power, that allowed them the virtue of ignorance at the fact that they were all under his thumb. This was not New York City. This was not his home. He didn't care, though. So long as he held power and sat in his ivory palace on high, he was content. That was the lie he told himself everyday, but in the end he knew he missed him. His jokes, his anger, his sorrow, his struggling as he felt purple-gloved hands wrap around his throat and try to wring the life out of him. He missed it so much.

Norman Osborn missed his son.

He felt a small vibration in his pocket, rolling his eyes as he reached into it. It was probably a text from 'Harry' about something so trivial and time consuming he almost wanted to pound the boy into a bloody pulp. He tempered himself, however . He held back when he needed to blend in, pretend that he was 'Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp, the company that specializes in equipping heroes with state-of-the-art crime stopping technology!'

It made him want to vomit just thinking about it.

It wasn't a text from Harry, however. It was a text from one of the administrators for Oscorp. Japan, located in Tokyo. It's Stromm, asking him if they plan to invest resources into helping local heroes in the country work more efficiently. Of course, Norman would like to rip his arms off for even thinking of something so stupid. But it's one line in the text that catches his eye and nearly makes his heart stop.

Stromm - 9:47 PM

...and there's been a lot of talk about this one kid in Musutafu called Spider-Man, he's usually out helping people on the streets and such. I was thinking someone like him could be equipped with…

He ignores the rest. He instead asks Stromm to text him a picture of this 'Spider-Man'. When Stromm asks why he's threatened with a cruel and swift employee discharge and sends the image almost immediately after.

There he is, standing by some old woman who's trying to hack away at him with some kind of bone coming out of her wrist. His son, clad in his ridiculous looking outfit that he recognizes so well. It's gone unchanged all this time, he's memorized each and every string of black webbing that went around his body. That doofy posture and willingness to help those who couldn't help themselves that disgusted him so. Norman can't believe his eyes. It's been so long since he saw him, and after all this time, all that waiting and all that mourning, there he was. Practically gift wrapped for him.

He spun around in his chair, a wide grin on his usually stoic face, running a hand through his dark red hair. He held a button on his desk, connecting to the intercom. "Liz dear, I'm going to need you to make some calls. I have something very important to take care of." He spoke in a soft, affable voice.

"Sure thing Mr. Osborn, what's the occasion?" He hears her peppy voice that absolutely made his stomach churn over the intercom.

Norman smiled as he rummaged through his desk drawer, finding a small silver suitcase. He clicked it open, and inside was a set of various, multicolored vials, cycling through red, green, and a shade of light, bubbly orange. He still hasn't stopped smiling.

"...Mr. Osborn?"

"Oh-so very sorry it's uh, it's nothing Liz I'm just...excited to see someone, is all."

He picked the green one from the case and popped the cap off of it. "I'm going to give them the best of greetings."

"That's great to hear! Who's the friend-"

He shut off the intercom and leaned back in his chair, twirling the vial in his hand slowly and carefully, as if he was stirring a pot.

"It's going to be so great to see you again...Peter."

He drank from the vial and suddenly the world around him warped and turned into fire.

End

Extra: Break a Leg, Spidey!

A young man dressed in skin tight red and blue spandex and a mask with large, bug-eyed lenses stood at the door of Avenger's Mansion. To most, this would be an unusual sight. Something worth taking a picture of and posting on their respective social media accounts, captioned "LOL XD Spidey's beggin again! What a loser!" on some sort of hypothetical superhero discussion subreddit that Peter hypothetically scrolled through almost every day to see if he could find someone actually saying something nice about him, though in this hypothetical situation he never did. Hypothetically.

But it had happened so many times at this point that no one would bat an eye. Spider-Man was punctual and consistent. Everyday for the past 2 weeks, 9AM, in front of Avenger's Mansion. Usually asking for training, a place on the team, a chance to 'make a difference.' He'd usually get a curt, but commanding answer at the door. Sometimes it would be Captain America, Iron Man or even Hawkeye that one time. But no matter who it was, it was always the same.

"No."

He was sure today would be different though. He had a whole speech planned out, one that would woo anyone who opened that door enough for them to offer him some training, a semblance of a chance at joining Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Admittedly it was a pretty embarrassing cycle, but Peter hoped he'd have a chance. One day.

He stood his short self outside the wooden door proudly. His chest puffed out, hands curled into fists at his side. There was no expression present in his mask, only the blank, wide-eyes stare of his white lenses shining in the sunlight.

"Yo, Spidey?" A man who was walking by spotted the boy, calling out to him quietly. Spider-Man turned around quickly, a bit too quickly. "I just wanted t'say kid, I seen you come here like, every day dude. Perseverance, I admire 'at. But you can't be out here doin' the most you feel? Looks kinda sus'. Anyways, good luck lil' dude." The New Yorker gave the boy a thumbs up as he walked away, to which the spandex-clad boy responded with with a shy, quiet 'thank you'.

"Alright Spider-Man. Just like random citizen said, perseverance. I'm sure they'll admire that. Today's the day they accept me into their team and I-I get to be just like them. I..." His thoughts halted when he saw the doorknob turn. His posture straightened and he stared up at whoever it was that greeted him-

Only to see the monolithic green body of the Hulk himself, bare-chested and breathing heavily, like some kind of wild animal. Peter's breath hitched and somehow his back straightened even more than it already was. The large green gamma mutate made him look like a twig by comparison. Standing at just 5'3, Peter was only a little self-conscious about his height right about now.

"Uh...heya', Hulk, I uh just...uh. Just dropped in t'say-"

"No." And with that single word, the Hulk shut the door, making a booming SLAM noise that reverberated throughout the city block.

"Oh c'mon you didn't even know what I was gonna say!" Peter received no further response.

He heard giggles and the sound of pictures being snapped behind him. He turned, noticing a small gathering of onlookers.

He scowled under his mask, the spandex tightening over the lenses and making the big bug eyes thin. "Hey, HEY! Stop that, I, HEY!" He grumbled, shaking his fist at the small crowd, who soon dispersed when they noticed his fuming.

He sighed, putting both hands on his hips. "...Is it me? Maybe I'm just too good for them...Nah, s'not it…" He muttered to himself as he fired a webline to the nearest building, swinging off to go do whatever a Spider can.

Still not a member of the Avengers.

He wonders, for a moment, if Daredevil is interested in forming a team…

End

Author's Note: In response to a reviewer last chapter, Mic overheard Peter doing the outer monologue thing, and heard him refer to himself as 'Pete'. I like Peter's inner/outer monologues. They shine the most in JMS's run imo, which is where the 'Hey God?' Scene was inspired from. Loved those scenes. However the tone will change once the more BNHA phase comes into play, now I'm more exploring Peter personally than those around him.

So yeah, probably a huuuuge tone shift in the next 2 or 3 chapters that'll revert from time to time whenever needed to for the sake of tension build-up.

I tried a Konosuba-esque montage. Dunno what to feel about it, it felt like the best thing to do where I was. Felt like I'd written myself into a precarious place.

Also it's eventually gonna be Itsuka x Peter, for reasons. It'll actually become a 'thing' by around Hideout Raid or so. I like Kendou's design and attitude, plus her hair and eye color will help keep things interesting in Peter's mind. Must be a sucker for green eyes.

Peter's proactiveness is gonna help push some of 1-B into the plot. Again, reasons. For the 1-B characters whose quirks haven't been shown or confirmed yet, if I get there before they are, I'm gonna get real weird with them. Probably.

I'm harnessing (or trying to harness) my inner 2000 - 2010 Bendis when it comes to writing Peter, along with some of the better JMS works. I'm trying to make him a good person, who's been through lot, but has come out somewhat bitter for it. Not an unforgivable asshole but can occasionally just be a bit of a jerk. But for good reason.

I've been reading over chapters and noticing a lot of spelling/grammar mistakes I failed to spot. Keep in mind I have no consistent writing schedule and usually do these at night or on my phone so forgive me. If anyone would like to offer any proofreading service or something, or teach me how Beta Reader functions that'd be swell.

If you're wondering why I keep putting Daredevil into the extras, I just really like their dynamic from back in Ultimate and wish it were touched upon more. Darn it Ultimatum…

I've also been thinking of an overarching theme song for this story. Thinkin' "That's Life" by Sinatra or "Evaporated" by Ben Folds. Either works.

Overall, didn't enjoy writing this chapter as much as I know I will the chapters I have planned for later. Consider this grade A filler and minor character development.

K thnx review por favor. Need more criticism. Also would like ideas that I can toss in here or take from because I have an overview but am missing some of the finer details. I'm still working on my writing and would appreciate any and all advice.

byebye.

Next Chapter: The Entrance Exam, Class Time, Makin' Friends, Wazzap Gurl u Cute