Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, Marvel, or Disney.
This is the first chapter to a story I honestly believe is pretty unique. I haven't seen many, if any at all, fics go this route with a Naruto-crossover. Nevertheless, I thought this idea had some reasonable potential, and I want to explore it. For all of you that want to read along as I unravel this idea and forge it into a story; I hope you all enjoy this as much I will.
The shinobi were an enthralling species. Rarely did she see a human species kill each other droves quite like this Earth. They were primitive yet naturally possessed powers that humans could only dream of from various corners of the multiverse. Naturally occurring abilities that were tied directly into their physiology.
Chakra, they called it.
Yes, a curious method of channeling life energy.
Death had seen it all. Every possible method, every technique, every manner, or order of practice.
There was no universe that she had not seen. If death had transpired, she existed. She was a concept, a law of the multiverse. Where there is life, there must be death. If a universe bore even the tiniest spec of sentient life, Death existed. She was an abstract being. An idea. A constant. A perception of one of two most persistent laws of the universe.
One side of the same coin, if you will.
Life and death.
Where there is life, there must always be death. Some had escaped her grasp, yes. There were immortals. True ones. Vexing as it was, the power existed in the multiverse. There was nothing she could do.
It was a dreadful omen to mortals. To know that your time was limited. Death knew why. These creatures, these mortals, frenzied about the notion of dying. Yes, to know that your days were numbered. Death had no such luxury. For as long as life existed throughout the vast multiverse, Death would simply be. Yet, she found herself… curious.
Primordial forces were not meant to interact with the multiverse. Overlook and simply exist. They were concepts, constants. Nothing more, nothing less. But she found herself longing for more than that. She wanted more to her existence than simply subsisting. Death wished to interact. To meddle. Not out of mischievousness or malice. No, she wanted to be known, not as a figure, but as an entity.
This land, this planet in a distant corner of the multiverse, fascinated her. Children were groomed from birth to be soldiers, spies, and assassins. Militaristic monarchies ruled over the lands, training children as their weapons to achieve their respective goals was a surprise. Not many human civilizations did so. Her interest was north birthed solely from their natural abilities rather than their upbringings.
Death came swift and often for these humans. The average lifespan of a shinobi was… momentary. Almost insufficient. Many shinobi never made it to their thirties. A simple fact, one that was readily accepted by its occupants. Some even seemed to relish in this, deciding to spurn as much chaos and excitement as possible before their timely demise. Others felt motivated to serve their villages. Propaganda was concocted to ensure the next generation of soldiers would be thoroughly indoctrinated into the system.
Death had seen it all before. It was human nature to be opportunistic. On levels that were clever, to a concept like her. All manner of death she welcomed. This species of humans joined her realm expeditiously. It was all middling to her, whether through disease, war, famine, murder, or despair, which led to frequent suicide. Death was death.
Even so, as she found herself looming over this boy, she found herself pensive in the face of contemplation. This boy, this squishy human with a tuff of blond hair and birthmarks on his cheeks, was destined to be a weapon. His father and mother damned him when they summoned her. Summoning Death, even an avatar, had consequences. This man, Minato Namikaze, recognized this and called her anyway. All to seal a mass of living, sentient energy into his child.
Self-sacrifice was admirable to many.
This man did this and more.
He sacrificed his child's future knowingly. Even if he couldn't possibly fathom the specifics, he knew, in his heart, that his child would become a weapon. One unlike any other, yet similar to some. Death stared into this man's soul. She saw through him. He subjected his son to this fate out of foresight.
This "Masked Man" posed a significant threat to frighten even him. He assumed that his child, one day, could grow to master this power. This vision was born out of necessity. Minato had to believe his spawn could defeat the "Masked Man" one day. Death could understand if Minato Namikaze only saw his son as a weapon, a tool to be used. That wasn't the case. He treasured his son, but his sense of duty overpowered his love. Which made his decision even more paradoxical.
She reflected as she laid eyes on this child, time having all but stilled around her.
Death ascertained his fate. An ostracized boy that failed to become embraced by the village that birthed him. Instead of aspiring to see it burn to feel its warmth, he becomes a figure so tremendous that it cannot help but embrace him as their champion. A curious boy, Death uttered. This one would be no stranger to suffering. Then why was she personally viewing this one? This mortal boy? What fascinated her so much?
A clawed digit imperceptibly trailed down the baby's forehead until she reached the ink that besmirched his still red and puffy belly.
Was it his fate? Or was it his species that interested her so?
Death wondered endlessly; time halted as she deliberated her subsequent actions carefully.
Perhaps… perhaps this boy held within him the potential to live out her desires. Death yearned to connect. To interact and have her presence felt. Her ambition was infantile, just like the boy that lay inches from her grasp.
Thanos, the Mad Titan, courted her. A man brave or foolish enough to court Death. She was amused. This man possessed will that was very rarely surpassed. He also held the ability to make use of that determination. The knowledge of how to proceed with his goals. He was a captivating man. She saw him as her opportunity to reach out. To grasp onto the universe and live, rather than solely remain as an idea.
This boy, was he cut from the same cloth? Both Thanos and him—they bore similarities. They both were introverts by nature. Only the latter presented this through extroverted actions. He was a quiet youth who only acted out to gain attention. To the boy, any attention was welcomed after spending his early childhood in solitude. These two were both born in societies that rejected them, deemed abnormal by forces outside their control.
Despite their resemblances in their upbringing, they couldn't be more different. Thanos the Mad Titan was a man that chased her affection. He cared little about how many planets, civilizations, or the innumerable amount of lives he had to sacrifice. All as long as he received her affection. Plagued by an insatiable hunger for power, a trait he and this infant shared, he was determined to obtain any artifact, weapon, or tool to further his power. Although, these traits were ultimately surface ambitions.
Thanos the Mad Titan was far more intricate than that. He hungered for her love, but he also desired to make the universe better. Mayhap this was the reason for her intrigue with him. He was a man conflicted by his nature and who he was shaped to be by his tortured past. This boy could have very well turned out like him. But instead, fate sought a separate existence, a dissimilar idea.
The parrels drawn between the subject of her fascination were enough to interest her. However, the temptation of subverting fate engrossed her much more. Seduced by the idea and lured into inveiglement, Death chose.
This boy's fate was her to determine. Death treasured that impression of autonomy.
Time resumed, and the baby disappeared as if he was never there to begin with.
She emerged elsewhere, in the distant macrocosm of existence.
The Mad Titan rested on his throne. Mighty as it was, granite carefully carved and slivered to perfection, it looked every bit as meaningful he demanded as he demanded it to be. He expected nothing less.
Thanos shifted in his seat, glimmering violet eyes sinking onto her bony form, then the child sleeping peacefully within her robe.
"The Black Order," she whispered to him. Just her voice enraptured him. Her words needn't even be uttered. He would do anything for her. She need not even ask. "Should it welcome a new member?"
The Mad Titan never bothered to eye the slumbering newborn for more than a moment. "If it is your will, it shall be, my Mistress," he spoke respectfully and profoundly.
"It is," she said, her voice a whispery echo that Thanos cherished so intensely. "He shall make a valued member in your search for the Infinity Stones. For he bears a power he knows not. A godly power resting within that needs only to be awakened."
"Then he shall become a Child of Thanos…" The Mad Titan declared intimately.
Death could only smile.
Human children were fragile, Thanos observed distastefully years later. One wrong move—too much pressure, and you would reduce their bodies to mush. Yet, this one proved… durable. The boy could take an enormous amount of punishment and live on. Death refused to accept this boy into her realm. Thanos admired his perseverance. If this human had not been given to him by his Mistress, he would have never spared him another indifferent glance. He was thankful to be blessed by her interjection.
Proxima twirled her spear, ramming the butt of it into the child's stomach. He reeled over, puking his guts out. When he stopped his retching, the boy peeked up in time to see the lance whack him. He lay, sprawled out, clutching his chin. Panting, now laying in his vomit, Proxima circled him. Spear casually twisting in her grasp, she watched the boy struggle to stand. His wry arm quivered, his entire body trembling under strain.
"The boy?" Thanos inquired softly. Ebony Maw, his most loyal servant and a valuable general over his army, bowed to his master. It had been a fleeting four years since Death had arrived with her gift.
"He is progressing faster than we anticipated," he answered, voice smooth and practiced.
This was the first time Thanos had laid eyes on the boy since Death left him in his care. He wanted to see if he could survive the training. The Black Order, his children, would root out weakness. They would test his abilities and assess his worth. Thanos dared not question his Mistress's rationale for relinquishing this boy to him. These years were spent idle. Thanos trusted his Order to evaluate this boy's value.
"He learns much of what we teach after only seeing it once," said Ebony. Palm still carefully set on his chest, he reformed to his respectable height.
Thanos stayed quiet as if he wasn't impressed.
"The boy, if pushed far enough, is capable of great rage and power—for a human," his servant uttered softly. "It's his pitiful body that is holding him back—"
"Show me," Thanos ordered, his voice just as soft, but Ebony heeded the veiled threat in the deepness of his tone. Ebony bowed again.
"Proxima." The ferocious woman looked up from the debilitated child and across at the leader of the Black Order. "Lord Thanos wishes to see the boy's power."
She grinned horrifically, her blue skin stretching to accommodate her terrible smile. Proxima slammed her foot into his face just as he was beginning to rise. Her cheek pressed down into the cold metal of his ship. His hands fruitlessly scratched the deck before finding her foot. This only made her press harder, electing a strangled gasp from him. Then, just when she was about to force his head through the ship, a red, bubbling appendage formed out of his tailbone and knocked her back a considerable distance away.
Thanos watched a curious cock of his head. The Titans violet eyes glimmered as Proxima twirled her spear before throwing it. Ebony arose his hand, and—the child's hand snapped out. An invisible force halted the spear.
"You may let the spear fall, Maw."
"This is not my doing, sire."
No? Thanos wanted to ask.
That bubbling appendage flicked anxiously. The crimson in the boy's previous blue eyes simmered like a great blaze encapsulating a forest. He let out a roar too imposing to ever be from a child. Metal beneath him was peeled up by an invisible force while smaller items were launched back. The deck itself was being stripped from the power he was releasing. Her staff was flung back. It rebounded off a distant wall. Proxima shielded her face as slivers of steel were hawked at her.
Ebony went to restrain the child, intent on overpowering his telekinesis with his own. Only for Thanos to raise a calm hand. "Sire?"
Thanos said nothing, merely watching the boy scream as even more telekinetic energy burst off him. Ebony observed and finally understood. This child was releasing a paramount of raw energy. They were not dealing with a threat but rather a test to witness the value of this young boy.
He thrashed at the ground, those whisker marks of his darkening while fingers lengthened into claws. Another thunderous shriek and that tail lashed solicitously. An aura shrouded him, the same color and consistency as his tail. When the boy snapped to them, roaring, fangs forming, he glared at them with his red, slitted eyes. Without fear—only fury, he lunged at Thanos.
The Mad Titan didn't blink.
A simple wave of his hand, Ebony wrapped the boy in a telekinetic hold. He struggled against it, yelling, thrashing desperately as he swiped at them with his claws. Thanos leaned in, studying those red eyes.
"Such hatred," he whispered. "Remember this feeling, child. Helplessness. Fear. Hatred. Memorize it all and draw power from it. Only those with the strongest of wills could ever think to oppose me. Come back to me in a thousand years; perhaps you will be a challenge then. I, alone, have looked into the darkened corners of your soul… and know you for what you truly are."
His lord's words coming to a halt, Ebony strangled the boy until that power around him vanished. The ocean of rough, uncontrolled telekinetic energy disappeared, as did his fangs, claws, and that peculiar aura around him. Slackening, his eyes rolled up in his skull and fell into oblivion.
"The boy has shown promise to your liking, Lord Thanos?" Ebony Maw inquired humbly.
"Yes," he answered, tone rumbling. "Continue to train him. His power will only grow as he does. Teach him to control it, lest you want this ship to crumble in the future."
"Of course." If his master wanted him to train this boy, he would do so. His dislike for this human child mattered little compared to his devotion to Thanos. Never in his long servitude to the Mad Titan had he failed him. This was but another task that proceeded thousands of others. And when it was over, another thousand would come after. Ebony did not simply succeed in his orders—he superseded them with extreme prejudice.
I just want to say: thank you all for reading the first chapter to this story. It's a prologue, obviously. I didn't feel right starting it off with Naruto already grown up. I wanted to flesh out what happened when he arrived, how he arrived just a little before getting into the meat of things. Hence the prologue.
If you all enjoyed this story, you can leave a review, favorite and follow. You know, if yall want. I'm not gonna force you. Anyways, thanks for reading, and I'll see you all next chapter!