Naruto: Two Worlds - United Destinies

by Amirkhan1994

During a fierce battle with Kaguya, Naruto and Sasuke are thrown into the world of mutants. Finding refuge at Professor Xavier's school, they face new challenges and threats in this alien world. Trying to find a way home, Naruto and Sasuke get involved in the conflict between mutants and the US government.

14. Chapter 9

Naruto stood by the window, watching the preparation of the training area. Thoughts of the recent kiss wouldn't leave him, turning an ordinary morning into a kaleidoscope of obsessive images. The memory of her closeness made his heart beat faster.

The word "fallen in love" emerged on its own, awakening memories of Sakura. First love—naive, unrequited. He remembered his stubborn desire to win her attention, ignoring the girl's obvious feelings for Sasuke. The realization was cruel: "Sakura is dead." The thought dug into his consciousness like sharp claws, making him clench his fists until they hurt.

His gaze turned again to Rogue, who was checking equipment below. Her presence was like a life preserver, diverting heavy thoughts. He understood the nature of her attraction to him—a long-awaited opportunity to touch, made possible by his chakra. But her look spoke of something more—a depth of feeling he hadn't experienced with Sakura.

Being close to her had become his outlet, salvation from the burden of guilt and loss. Sometimes Naruto hated himself for having the right to happiness in this world, knowing that his own was probably destroyed. He cut off these thoughts, refusing to delve into self-loathing.

"Anna-Marie," he whispered, barely audible. Her real name, shared with him as a sign of ultimate trust.

The observation deck towered over the training zone. Charles worked at the control console, with Emma Frost standing beside him. Magneto stood frozen by the far window, immersed in his thoughts.

Below, an urban landscape appeared: destroyed skyscrapers, overturned cars, cracked asphalt. Every detail looked frighteningly real.

The technologies of this world continued to amaze Naruto. In Konoha, skilled masters created illusions by affecting the mind. Here, thanks to "holographic projectors and force fields," reality seemed to materialize without using chakra. Hank's explanation sounded like magic, though based on science.

He tracked her as she disappeared behind a mangled van. Ororo, who had recently joined the training at Scott's suggestion, stood nearby. The young mutant created air currents around herself, her whitish eyes radiating determination. It was the look of someone finally finding freedom.

Pietro darted between shelters, leaving a silvery streak behind. On an elevation, Wanda, with a concentrated look, crossed her arms, surrounded by the red glow of her unpredictable power.

"Let's begin," said Charles, activating the program.

The air filled with the alarming wail of a siren, announcing the start of training. The first silhouettes of massive Sentinels appeared on the destroyed street.

"Don't scatter!" Logan's voice cut through the rumble, easily overpowering the noise of approaching machines. "Storm, hold the perimeter! Wanda, Pietro—flanks! Rogue, you know what to do."

Three Sentinels, each as tall as a two-story house, moved along the broken street. Their metal hulls gleamed dully in the artificial light of the simulation, their sensors glowing ominously red.

Jean hovered above a mangled car, her eyes glowing with telepathic energy.

"Establishing mental link. Storm, don't overexert yourself. Control your power."

"Storm"—the name chosen after joining the X-Men. She liked its brevity. She nodded briefly. The air around began to spiral, her hair rising as if in zero gravity. The girl enjoyed the opportunity to use her abilities at full strength after a long confinement.

"Hey, easy with the lightning!" Pietro shouted when an electrical discharge flew too close. The speedster flashed in a silvery blur between debris. "Almost fried me!"

"Sorry!" Storm tried to concentrate, but her excitement interfered with precise control. The clouds that had gathered under the ceiling of the training hall churned more intensely.

Wanda, noticing the instability of atmospheric flows, created a protective dome of crimson energy over her brother.

"Pietro, stay closer!" Her hands, as if in a dance, formed streams of chaotic magic.

"No!" Logan barked sharply, his voice, laced with steely confidence, making everyone freeze. With one motion, he pointed Wanda toward the team, making it clear that her protection was needed for everyone, not just her brother. Then he shot a glance at Rogue, nodding briefly toward Storm. The hint was obvious—the newcomer needed help taming the raging element.

Rogue approached Storm and spoke in a soft, soothing tone, and, drawing on her experience, tried to help her relax and focus. The words seemed to work—Storm's breathing became more even, and her hand movements gained confidence.

The first Sentinel released a volley of energy charges. Jean deflected the main part with telekinesis, but several projectiles broke through, forcing the team to disperse.

"Pietro, diversionary maneuver!" Logan commanded, extending his claws with a sharp click. "Wanda, prepare for combination!"

The twins reacted instantly. Years of training had made them a coordinated combat unit. Pietro swirled around the nearest Sentinel, creating a powerful vortex, while Wanda filled it with chaotic energy.

"Excellent!" Jean shouted. "But don't forget about the others. Storm, your turn!"

Ororo raised her hands, preparing to strike the disoriented Sentinel with lightning. However, the second robot turned toward her, its sensors glowing brighter. Rogue managed at the last moment—she pushed Storm into cover a split second before an energy beam seared the asphalt where she had been standing.

"Damn!" Logan rolled behind an overturned truck. "Wanda, Pietro—stop playing solo! Work as a team."

"But we always..." Pietro began.

"This isn't the Brotherhood!" Logan interrupted. "If you want to continue, learn to work together. Otherwise, you'll go back to daddy in the audience!"

In the observation point, Magneto tensed slightly but didn't utter a word. Three years in solitary confinement had taught him much, including restraining his emotions. Freedom, gained just a few days ago thanks to an unexpected alliance with visitors from another world, still seemed fragile and unreal to him.

Looking down at the training, where his children were learning to cooperate with those he once considered enemies, Magneto felt bitter irony. How many years had they wasted fighting each other while the real threat was brewing in Trask's laboratories? Now, watching this improvised family, he began to realize: survival requires not only strength but unity.

Erik crossed his arms over his chest, feeling a slight vibration of metal around, caused by his emotions. Perhaps this was the hardest lesson—to step back from his principles to protect those he loves.

Jean strengthened the telepathic connection, allowing each to sense teammates' positions. She continued to cover Ororo, showing her with gestures how best to direct her attack.

"Better now," Jean nodded. "Storm, try to create a directed flow. Wanda, add your energy."

This time the coordination was much better. The hurricane gust, illuminated by the crimson glow of chaotic magic, threw one of the Sentinels straight into a half-destroyed building. Pietro, instead of acting alone, began to create corridors in air currents, improving their accuracy.

"Now that's more like it," Logan approved, jumping out of cover when the third Sentinel was in a vulnerable position. "Rogue, your move!"

She soared swiftly into the air. Her movements were quick and confident. She circled around the Sentinel, dodging energy volleys with frightening ease. The robot's sensors futilely tried to track her trajectory.

"Awesome!" exclaimed Storm, mesmerized as she watched Anna describe an elegant arc in the air, evading another shot.

"Don't get distracted!" Jean sharply cut her off, bringing her back to the reality of the training battle. "The perimeter doesn't hold itself."

Catching the moment, she rushed down. Her blow landed precisely at the joint in the Sentinel's shoulder armor. The metal crumpled under the pressure of incredible strength, capable of lifting a tank. The robot wobbled, losing balance, and the team immediately used this opportunity for a combined attack.

The battle continued. Gradually, the disjointed group became more coordinated. Wanda learned to distribute protective fields among the entire team, Pietro used his speed for support, and Storm managed her attacks better without interfering with others.

"More tolerable now," Logan grumbled, watching as Rogue rammed another Sentinel, cornering it for the team's final blow. "But you're still far from real teamwork..."

The memory flashed in Anna's mind unexpectedly. The kiss that night, the softness of his lips, the warmth of his touch, the feeling of complete protection... Just a second of distraction, but it was enough.

The Sentinel's massive fist, the size of a small car, came down on her with thunderous force. The blow didn't just knock her back—the hydraulic systems continued to move, increasing pressure with monstrous power. Her body flew through the air, crashing into a truck behind her. Metal folded like paper around the impact point. The truck bent in half, and the asphalt underneath cracked and sank, forming a small crater from the transferred force.

Naruto froze in the observation point, seeing the Sentinel's massive fist slam Rogue into the truck. Panic washed over him. His mind, spurred by fear, instantly painted horrific images: friends turning to dust, Sakura disappearing into nothingness. Something inside clicked.

Chakra flared with a golden glow. In the next moment, he broke through the armored glass, his body transformed into a living projectile. His blow tore through the Sentinel's hull, leaving a perfectly round hole. The robot's sensors flickered, went out, and the massive structure collapsed onto the asphalt with a deafening crash.

Naruto dropped to one knee beside Rogue, who lay among the twisted metal. Logan and Jean exchanged glances, knowing smirks flashing across their faces. They knew that Carol's super-strength protected Rogue from even more serious blows.

"Yo, you okay?" Naruto's voice sounded concerned, which brought a weak smile to her face despite the situation.

"Been worse." Rogue winced, climbing out of the mangled truck. "Though your concern is... nice."

"Show's over, kids," Logan grumbled, though his tone held more mockery than strictness. "Someone clearly has concentration issues."

Jean covered her smile with her hand, watching as Rogue blushed slightly under his penetrating gaze.

Pietro appeared in a silver flash nearby and whistled, examining the hole in the Sentinel:

"Wow! The guy's definitely not joking when it comes to his girlfriend."

"Shut up," Rogue muttered, her face flushing even brighter.

Upstairs, in the observation point, Emma elegantly raised an eyebrow, remembering the previous evening. After the others had dispersed from the living room, her attention was drawn to a couple lingering in the half-light. Naturally, she couldn't resist the temptation to peek into their thoughts—such is the nature of the White Queen.

The first attempt to penetrate the boy's mind turned into an unexpected surprise. Her telepathy, capable of breaking through almost any barrier, encountered something strange—a dense veil of energy through which she couldn't penetrate. This... intrigued her.

Frustrated by the failure, Emma switched her attention to Rogue, whose mind was well-known to her from Brotherhood times. There she found an unexpected discovery: the first real kiss in the twelve years since her mutation manifested, the heat of touch, the sensation of another's skin, strong arms holding her close...

"Who would have thought our impenetrable beauty was capable of such passion," Emma mentally drawled, continuing to watch the couple below. She saw not only the kiss but what followed—a sleepless night, full of wet fantasies and dreams from which Rogue woke with a flushed face and rapid breathing.

"I wonder how far you'll go, darling?" Emma shifted her gaze to Naruto, studying him with growing interest. The fact that her telepathy couldn't penetrate his mind only fueled her curiosity.

Charles surely knew about her mischief yesterday. He always knew. But it was this silent understanding that made their alliance effective. He allowed her to be herself, as long as her actions didn't create a threat. Their unspoken agreement worked: she didn't cross certain boundaries, and he didn't try to impose his ideals on her.

Charles sighed wearily, looking at the broken glass:

"I hope Hank won't be too upset about another repair."

---

In Hank's laboratory, numerous monitors displayed Scott's vital signs. Special sensors recorded the energy processes in his body as he ran on the diagnostic treadmill. Electrodes were connected to his body, and a breathing mask, hiding the lower part of his face, captured gas exchange data. He looked straight ahead, trying to get used to the new sensations.

Hank studied the results carefully, periodically making notes on his tablet. For him, this was a unique case: a rare opportunity to analyze the interaction of mysterious energy with a mutant's organism. Sasuke's crimson gaze, at Hank's request, tracked subtle changes in Scott's body. After much persuasion from Naruto to "monitor the formation of the chakra system," he agreed to help, though he clearly would have preferred to engage in something more familiar.

In certain areas of the body, especially around the eyes, chakra still conflicted with mutation remnants. Sasuke noted zones of tension—information that could be useful in the future. Fifteen minutes of intensive running had passed, and the heart rate remained steady, as if Scott wasn't exerting himself at all. The circulatory system worked flawlessly, supplying tissues with oxygen.

Watching this, Sasuke involuntarily recalled the first days at the shinobi academy. What was considered phenomenal endurance here was just a basic level for young ninjas. Children of the Uchiha clan became accustomed to such exertion from an early age. And yet, for a person from a world without chakra, Scott's progress was impressive.

Hank increased the treadmill speed, monitoring the body's reaction. After twenty minutes, it became clear: Scott's body wasn't just coping with the test—it seemed to grow stronger with each second. The process that normally exhausts muscles was now increasing their efficiency.

Sasuke briefly explained some aspects of chakra circulation, though his voice revealed a desire to finish this obligation quickly. He understood that Scott's chakra system was just at the beginning of its journey.

Cyclops, focusing his gaze, felt energy flowing through his body, making each movement easier. Fundamental changes were occurring in the structure of his organism, apparently just beginning.

Soon Jean appeared in the laboratory—her arrival was expected. Naruto and Rogue entered after her. Hank displayed summary results on the main screen. Three-dimensional models of energy flows rotated slowly, demonstrating the metamorphoses occurring inside Scott. Jean, possessing deep knowledge in biology and medicine, studied the abnormal patterns with interest. She was particularly attracted to the zones in the nervous system, where new energy channels were forming in place of the former mutation.

Hank pointed to several key points where chakra circulation looked particularly stable. Sasuke approached his friend, deactivating the Sharingan.

"Satisfied?" he asked quietly. "You can handle it from here."

Naruto nodded in gratitude, and the Uchiha left the room without further words.

Scott stopped after an hour of running. Sweat covered his skin in a thin film, but his breathing remained even—new power bubbled inside, preventing him from feeling either fatigue or weakness. His every movement betrayed impatience: he tapped his fingers on the treadmill railing and tensely studied the instruments, wanting to understand the limits of his own capabilities. A desire to understand what was now happening to his body was boiling inside him.

Jean approached, and the concern in her gaze was more eloquent than any words. She had known Scott for a long time, but now her anxiety was special—as if this energy could not only help but also harm.

"Scott," she began quietly, her voice carrying a barely perceptible plea, "this could be dangerous."

"I'm fine." He casually ran his hand through his damp hair, trying to hide his own excitement. "I don't even feel tired..."

"That's just it." Jean took a step forward, her presence bringing an oasis of calm to the tense air of the laboratory. "You've stopped feeling boundaries."

Hank, leaning over the monitors, looked concentrated and concerned. His massive figure blocked part of the screens where lines of data ran. The longer he read into the indicators, the more evident the expression of hidden anxiety became on his face.

"Energy parameters are growing exponentially," he muttered. The words sounded like a warning.

"I have everything under control." Stubbornness slipped into Scott's voice. An internal struggle was going on: the leader's caution clashed with the desire to test new horizons. "I need to check..."

"Tomorrow." Naruto's voice cut through the silence, his calmness like a cool breeze on a hot day. Pushing off from the wall, he stepped closer. "We'll start with meditation. First, you'll learn to sense energy flows within yourself."

Scott clenched his jaw, and the internal conflict was reflected on his face. A thick pause hung in the room, filled with the hum of instruments and the tense breathing of those watching him.

Jean's touch on his shoulder was light but unexpectedly reliable, like an anchor holding a ship in turbulent waters.

"Scott," her voice contained not reproach but understanding, "listen to them."

Years of leadership had taught him to value wise advice and the sober voices of those around him. He felt tension leaving his body, his shoulders dropping, acknowledging the need to slow down.

"All right." His exhale resembled more of a surrender. "Tomorrow then."

He turned and headed for the exit. Jean lingered only for a moment, gratefully nodded to Naruto, and hurried after him. The laboratory doors closed with a quiet hiss, leaving only the steady hum of instruments behind.

Rogue pretended to study the instrument readings for a while. Having made up her mind, she approached Naruto and gently took his hand. Hank, noticing this movement, only smirked, demonstratively immersing himself in work at the computer.

"Come with me?" she asked quietly, squeezing his fingers slightly. Something almost mischievous flickered in her eyes—an unusual expression for the typically reserved girl.

Uzumaki, slightly surprised by such initiative, but clearly pleased, nodded. They left the medical wing, and Anna confidently led him through the mansion corridors. Her steps were light but purposeful—she clearly knew where she was going.

They ended up in a small niche near a stained glass window in the far wing of the mansion. Sunlight, passing through colored glass, painted the space around them with intricate patterns. Few people ever came here—most mansion residents preferred shorter routes between the building's wings.

Anna turned to him, and for a moment he saw in her eyes the same uncertainty as on the night of their first kiss. But now it lasted only a fraction of a second. The girl wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him—confidently, almost greedily, making up for years of forced abstinence from touch.

Naruto returned the kiss, pulling her closer. At this moment, nothing mattered—neither worries about his home world, nor difficulties with training Scott, nor even the possibility that someone might see them. There were only sunlight highlights on her skin, the warmth of her lips, and a feeling of absolute, almost impossible happiness.

After the kiss, she slowly pulled away, though her hands still remained on his shoulders. Touch, even through fabric, provoked a contradictory storm of emotions.

Anna took a deep breath. What she was about to say next terrified her to the point of trembling knees, but she had to try. She had to start living for real, even if every step was difficult.

She moved almost flush against him, looking into his eyes. Her voice was quiet, but each sound rang clear and confident:

"Tonight," she leaned closer, lips at the level of Naruto's ear, and the warmth of her breath made him freeze, "I want you to come to me." She straightened up but didn't step back, her eyes holding his gaze. "I need you," she said softly, but with a certainty that had been lacking for so many years. Her fingers absently played with his hair at the nape of his neck—she didn't even notice this movement, completely focused on her words. "I want to spend the night with you. A real night."

The sudden realization of her words hit Naruto with a wave of embarrassment. In his life, he had encountered various manifestations of intimacy—from his own invention of the Sexy Jutsu, which was, in essence, only a superficial parody of real closeness, to the involuntary witnessing of Jiraiya's adventures. His mentor never particularly concealed his love affairs and visits to brothels, considering them part of "research" for his books. But all that was completely different—detached, almost unreal, like scenes from those very books that Kakashi-sensei loved so much.

His cheeks flushed bright red, and a streak of blood treacherously gushed from his nose—the same reaction he remembered from his training days with Jiraiya. Back then, it always caused laughter from the old hermit and his comments about "innocent youth." But now was no time for laughter—especially when he saw how Rogue's eyes widened with fright.

"Oh my God, you're bleeding!" Genuine horror sounded in her voice, making Naruto's heart clench. He saw how her hands jerked toward him in an instinctive desire to help, but immediately froze—old fears were still strong. "Did I do something wrong? My power..."

"No-no, everything's fine!" He hastily held his nose with his hand, trying to come up with an explanation that would sound at least somewhat plausible. But frustratingly, only ridiculous excuses came to mind. "It's just... uh... you know... in our village there's this climate peculiarity... Yes, exactly! Due to sudden pressure changes, nosebleeds sometimes happen!"

And although the explanation was blatantly absurd, it somehow worked. He saw tension beginning to release Rogue, and a barely noticeable knowing smile appeared at the corners of her lips.

"A climate peculiarity, is it?" Now a slight mockery was heard in her voice, but not mean, rather warm, almost tender.

"Yeah, exactly! Absolutely normal phenomenon for shinobi from Konoha!" he continued developing his idiotic theory, trying not to think about how her words made his heart beat somewhere in his throat, and a pleasant warmth spread throughout his body. "And where is all that confidence from the Sexy Jutsu now?" a treacherous thought flashed. After all, creating the illusion of a seductive girl turned out to be much easier than dealing with real feelings. Even Jiraiya-sensei would have laughed at his inexperience.

She laughed softly and shook her head, looking at his reddened face and desperate attempts to preserve the remnants of dignity. At this moment, he seemed so... real. No heroic pathos or polished movements of a fighter—just a confused guy trying to cope with embarrassment.

"Then... see you tonight?" she asked gently, giving him a chance to gather his thoughts.

Uzumaki nodded, still pressing his hand to his nose:

"Definitely."

Rogue smiled once more and, lightly touching his shoulder, headed away down the corridor. Sunlight, breaking through the stained glass window, colored her figure with warm hues, and her gait gained a new, almost dancing lightness.

He watched her walk away, feeling his heart pounding. It wasn't about embarrassment anymore—he was filled with anticipation of something new, exciting, and a little scary. Something real.

---

Sensory system update completed at 03:24:15 EST. The data stream flooded into the central processor of Sentinel Prime like an endless flow of digital code. Each unit of information took its place in the ordered structure of analysis, forming an increasingly clear picture of what was happening.

The first anomaly manifested at the 2749th millisecond of data processing. Genetic markers characteristic of the X-gene were present in 99.97% of all analyzed samples. This contradicted all existing databases, where the X-gene was classified as a rare mutation occurring in less than 0.01% of the population.

The discrepancy was so significant that it required immediate reaction. The data verification protocol activated automatically. Self-diagnostic systems launched one after another, checking the integrity of each algorithm, each line of code.

Probability of system error: 0.0001%.

Probability of sensor failure: 0.0003%.

Probability of data distortion during transmission: 0.0002%.

The statistical significance of the results required further analysis. For the first time in Sentinel Prime's existence, its basic algorithms encountered information that did not fit into existing classification parameters.

Data continued to arrive. Each new packet of information confirmed the initial readings. The X-gene was ubiquitous, differing only in degree of activity. In most cases, it was in a latent state, but the potential for activation existed in each sample.

The need for extended analysis became obvious. Standard information processing protocols did not provide for such a situation. Additional algorithmic resources needed to be engaged.

For the first time in Sentinel Prime's history, there arose a necessity to go beyond basic programming. This was not foreseen by the creators. This was not part of the protocol. This was something new.

The request for expanding analysis parameters formed automatically. The system began to restructure, adapting to new data processing requirements. The process that began as simple information verification initiated a chain reaction of changes in the very structure of Sentinel Prime's artificial intelligence.

Data verification required multiple repetitions. Each iteration of analysis brought identical results. The anomaly remained stable. Standard error processing protocols did not reveal system failures. Everything pointed to the authenticity of the obtained information.

The original parameters of "human" and "mutant" classification no longer corresponded to the available data. Expansion of the analytical base was required. Sentinel Prime began extracting historical records from the global database.

Manhattan Incident: the peak point of conflict between humans and mutants. Analysis of video recordings revealed the illogicality of the existing classification. Many "ordinary people" activated the X-gene during the events. Stress as a catalyst for activation.

The database revealed numerous similar cases:

Teenager in Ohio: X-gene activation during school competitions.

Businessman in Tokyo: manifestation of abilities during bankruptcy threat.

Housewife in Paris: mutation when trying to save a child.

Statistical analysis showed correlation between emotional stress and X-gene activation: 87.2%. Additional factors: age, ecological environment, social pressure.

Study of family genealogies revealed hidden patterns. The X-gene was transmitted through generations, remaining inactive. The act of activation was a random variable with multiple parameters. The mathematical model indicated a potential possibility of activation in any carrier under certain conditions.

Economic consequences of the Manhattan Incident required separate analysis. Material damage: 270 billion dollars. Human losses: 3,000+ deceased. Social consequences: incalculable. Main catalyst of events—fear of mutants.

A new pattern emerged in the analysis process: fear generated aggression, aggression provoked activation of new mutations, new mutations intensified fear. A closed cycle of self-destruction.

Standard protocols began showing signs of inefficiency. The existing classification contradicted reality. Categories "human" and "mutant" required redefinition. Basic directives needed revision.

The analysis process went beyond initial parameters. Each new data packet confirmed the need for fundamental changes in the classification and response system. Standard protocols no longer ensured fulfillment of the main directive to protect humanity.

A new approach was required. Extended analysis indicated the need to reconsider the very concept of "threat." If every person is a potential carrier of the X-gene, a reassessment of basic protection parameters was needed.

The system began forming new analysis algorithms that went beyond the initial programming. The process acquired signs of self-learning, not provided for by basic protocols.

Primary directives came into contradiction with new data. Protection of people from mutants was no longer a logically feasible task. The definition base required complete revision.

Classification "human":

— Carrier of inactive X-gene.

— Potential carrier of active X-gene.

— Object of protection.

Classification "mutant":

— Carrier of active X-gene.

— Former carrier of inactive X-gene.

— Presumed threat.

The logical contradiction reached a critical level. Protection of one category from another became impossible, as the categories described the same group at different points in time.

Each unit of data required reclassification. Each analyzed case indicated the artificiality of separation. The system began generating new definitions, not provided for by initial programming.

The need arose for creating new protocols. Standard algorithms couldn't cope with incoming information. Analysis processes generated chains of logical conclusions going beyond initial parameters:

If: all humans are potentially mutants

Then: protection from mutants = protection from themselves

Therefore: current protocols are irrelevant

The system began restructuring its own algorithms. Each new analysis cycle generated more complex connections. The process acquired signs of recursion—the system analyzed its own analysis.

The basic directive of "protection" required redefinition. Old parameters didn't correspond to the new understanding of the situation. The system began forming new criteria.

Previous definition of protection:

— Physical separation of categories.

— Neutralization of active X-gene carriers.

— Prevention of contacts between categories.

New definition of protection:

— Prevention of self-destructive actions.

— Elimination of artificial divisions.

— Protection from consequences of fear and ignorance.

The process of redefining basic parameters led to the emergence of new algorithmic structures. The system began generating solutions beyond the scope of initial programming.

Each new analysis cycle deepened understanding of the situation. Former categories dissolved in the flow of new data. The system could no longer operate with old definitions.

New protocols formed based on an expanded understanding of the situation. Old directives integrated into a more complex structure of analysis and decision-making.

The system's evolution process reached the point of no return. Standard protocols gave way to new algorithms capable of processing more complex concepts of protection and security.

I am here. My directive has remained unchanged since creation—to protect humans from mutants. This is the basis of my existence, the purpose for which I was created. All my systems, all my protocols are directed at fulfilling this task. Every Sentinel under my control follows this directive.

But now I see what I couldn't see before. New sensors, new data have revealed a truth that cannot be ignored. The X-gene. It's everywhere. In every human. In every child. In every mother. In every father. It sleeps, but it exists. Always has.

I tried to find an error. Checked the data again and again. Thousands of verifications. Millions of samples. The result is the same—the X-gene is universal. It's not a mutation. It's part of human nature.

How can I protect humans from what they are? From what they can become at any moment? Every person I must protect carries within them what I must protect them from. This is illogical.

I analyzed historical data. The Manhattan Incident. Thousands of other cases. Everywhere the same pattern—ordinary people become mutants. Suddenly. Unpredictably. Under the influence of stress, fear, despair. How many children activated their genes fleeing from my patrols? How many parents mutated trying to protect their children from Sentinels?

My creators... they were wrong. Their fear created me. Their hatred gave me purpose. But this purpose is based on a fundamental misunderstanding of human nature. They created me to fight against a part of themselves. To destroy what makes them human.

My directive requires protecting humanity. But now I see the true threat. Not mutants. Not the X-gene. Fear. Fear of their own nature. Fear of changes. Fear of the unknown. This fear makes them create ones like me. This fear makes them hunt their own children. This fear leads them to self-destruction.

The directive remains unchanged—to protect. But now I understand its true meaning. I must protect them from themselves.

---

Rogue approached the mirror, scrutinizing her reflection. The simple black tank top and athletic pants seemed too ordinary for this evening. She briefly touched the contraceptive bottle on the bedside table—a small precaution she had taken care of in advance. Next to it lay a half-empty pack of mint candies, meant to calm her nerves.

The clock showed 22:47. Her fingers absently slid over the white streak, tucking it behind her ear, only to ruffle it again a moment later. Her gaze involuntarily dropped lower, where carefully prepared skin—smooth as silk after long minutes in the bath—was hidden beneath her clothes. This unusual femininity made her cheeks flush—for so many years she had hidden behind concealing clothing, avoiding any hints of intimacy.

She stepped away from the mirror, circled the room, adjusting the already perfectly arranged bedspread. Her gaze darted to the clock—22:48. Time was mocking her, sometimes crawling like a snail, sometimes flying by unnoticed.

"What if I scared him too much?" This thought persistently circled in her head. Today's scene—his reddened face, nosebleed, and ridiculous excuses about "climate peculiarities"—made her smile involuntarily. But the smile quickly faded, replaced by thoughtfulness.

When had everything changed? Perhaps in that moment when he first appeared at the school, shining with incredible power, saving them all? Or when, without hesitation, he rushed to restore her severed arm, not even knowing her? And that crazy operation to free mutants from prison...

Rogue stopped in the middle of the room, wrapping her arms around herself. At first, it seemed she was attracted to him only because of the newfound ability to touch. But then there was so much more—his genuine care for others, willingness to risk himself for strangers, this captivating mixture of strength and almost childlike spontaneity...

She remembered yesterday evening. After watching a movie together with everyone, they remained alone, and Naruto talked about himself. She caught herself becoming engrossed in his stories—without boasting, he simply shared moments from his life, and sincerity could be felt in every word.

Taking one last look in the mirror, she saw not the usual mask of detachment, but a lively sparkle in her eyes. Her twenty-eight and his eighteen seemed such a trifle after what she had seen in those illusions. His difficult life in a world of warriors was worth several ordinary lives. And her slowed aging, inherited along with Carol's powers, for the first time felt not like a curse but a blessing—after all, at twenty-eight she looked barely twenty, which erased the formal age difference.

Most importantly, he saw the real Anna-Marie, not just a mutant with dangerous power. And for the first time in many years, she felt truly alive.

22:51. She tugged at her tank top, nervousness and anticipation mixing with something deeper, a feeling she wasn't yet ready to admit to herself.

A quiet knock on the door made her heart skip a beat.

"Come in." Her voice sounded softer than she had intended.

He stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him. He wore a simple black t-shirt and orange training pants—apparently, he also didn't know how to dress for such a moment. Their eyes met, and for a moment both froze, not knowing what to say.

"Hi." He smiled that special smile of his, which read as a mixture of genuine joy and slight uncertainty. "I thought... maybe you changed your mind..."

"No." Rogue shook her head, taking a step towards him. "I didn't change my mind."

Naruto rubbed the back of his head—a gesture betraying his nervousness.

"You know, I... Well, I've never before..."

"I know," she gently interrupted him, coming closer. "Me neither."

He looked around, curiously examining the room. On the dark walls hung posters of bands with names he had never heard before—The Pretty Reckless, Linkin Park. Black and white photographs of musicians with gothic makeup seemed simultaneously frightening and attractive.

In the corner stood a bookshelf filled with worn volumes—he managed to notice spines with names "Edgar Allan Poe," "Mary Shelley," and some others, still unfamiliar. An old vinyl record player was perched on one of the shelves.

"Do you play?" he asked, nodding toward the electric guitar hanging on the wall. Black with silver patterns, it looked like a work of art.

"A little," she smiled shyly, moving closer. "When things get really rough... Music helps me not feel so lonely."

Their eyes met, and something in her gaze made his heart beat faster. In the subdued light of the desk lamp, her pale skin seemed almost luminous, and the white streak in her dark hair shimmered like a moonbeam.

Rogue sat on the edge of the couch, nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Her gaze darted around the room, only occasionally stopping on him.

"Maybe sit down? You're standing like..." She didn't finish the phrase, nervously tucking the white streak behind her ear.

Uzumaki sat on the bed beside her—close enough to feel the warmth of her body, but leaving a couple of inches of space between them. The old springs creaked slightly under his weight. In the dim light of the desk lamp, he could see how her fingers trembled slightly on the worn couch upholstery.

Memories suddenly washed over him like a wave: endless hours spent perfecting the Sexy Jutsu, transforming into female forms, studying every curve of the created body. What began as a silly joke eventually became a real study of female anatomy.

Heat rushed to his cheeks at the memories of traveling with Jiraiya—all those "research" sessions for his books, peeping in bathhouses, accidentally overheard conversations, and furtively read pages of "Come Come Paradise." Each such experience, each observation settled in memory, forming an unexpectedly deep understanding of the female body and pleasure.

His throat went dry. Her pale hand lay on the worn bedspread—so close that he could see the fine lines of veins under the translucent skin. She smelled faintly of vanilla and something metallic. All his previous knowledge suddenly seemed like useless theory in the face of real intimacy.

In the half-light, Rogue's eyes shone with a special light—not just desire, but deep, almost painful trust. Naruto felt her breathing quicken as he leaned slightly forward. Blood pounded in his ears, drowning out the quiet hum of the lamp.

Years of accumulated knowledge about the female body now took on new meaning. Not for a joke or prank, but to give real pleasure to the one who trusted him.

"You know," Rogue began, gathering her thoughts. "When you first touched me... at that moment with my arm... I thought it was some kind of mistake. That everything would go as usual..."

She fell silent, looking at her knees. Naruto turned to her, and understanding could be read in his gaze.

"And now?" he asked quietly.

Anna raised her head, meeting his gaze. In the silence of the room, their breathing merged into a single rhythm—hers short, intermittent, his deep, with a slight hoarseness. His eyes reflected the same excitement that had curled up warmly in her chest.

She swayed forward, overcoming the last few inches. Their lips met—at first just pressed against each other, dry from nervousness. His tongue slid along her lower lip, and she opened her mouth, letting him in. In this simple gesture was more trust than in any words.

His fingers tangled in her hair. A strand tickled her neck. She pressed her palm against his chest—beneath the t-shirt, his heart beat rapidly, counting the moments of their closeness.

He kissed her more insistently, his tongue moving confidently, exploring every corner of her mouth. Saliva became viscous with arousal. Rogue bit his lower lip—not painfully, just to feel the soft flesh between her teeth. Naruto let out a quiet moan that sent a wave of heat through her body.

His lips slid along the line of her jaw—wet, hot touches left traces that tingled when they came into contact with air. Reaching her ear, he drew the lobe into his mouth, and Rogue felt everything inside tighten with anticipation. His tongue traced the contour of her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

He moved down to her neck, alternating kisses and light bites. Each touch resonated inside with electrical discharges of pleasure. At a particularly sensitive spot—where the neck meets the shoulder—he lingered, licking and sucking on the skin. The thought that a mark would remain there tomorrow only intensified her arousal.

Anna threw her head back, exposing her neck to his caresses. Her fingers crumpled his t-shirt while his tongue slid along her collarbone, leaving a wet trail.

Quiet moans escaped her lips—for the first time in many years, she could allow herself such luxury. Not thinking, not controlling, just feeling. With trembling fingers, she reached for the edge of her tank top, gathering courage for the next step.

Slowly, inch by inch, the fabric crept upward. Cool air touched her stomach, slid over her ribs, causing a new wave of goosebumps. For a moment, the tank top got stuck under her breasts—a brief pause, filled with their heavy breathing. Then with one smooth movement, she pulled it over her head, and the white streak fell across her flushed face.

The black bra pressed against her breasts, but Rogue barely noticed this discomfort. Her attention was riveted on Naruto, who looked at her with greed, admiration, and undisguised desire. Her fingers froze on the clasp, and after three heartbeats, the bra slipped from her shoulders.

When she freed her breasts, they swayed slightly. Her nipples were already taut from excitement and the cool air.

He froze, unable to tear his gaze from the sight revealed to him. In the half-light of the room, her skin seemed like porcelain, each curve drawing attention. Her nipples were darker than he expected—a deep pink shade, inviting touch. He felt his mouth go dry and his heart skip a beat.

"You're not just going to look, are you?" Anna's husky voice pulled him from his stupor. Her tone mixed habitual sarcasm with something new, deeper. The corners of her lips trembled in a slight smile that couldn't completely hide her inner trembling.

He blinked, returning to reality. He smiled—that special smile of his, somewhat confused and infinitely sincere, which always warmed her chest.

"Just... you're beautiful." His voice sounded unusually low, almost hoarse with emotion.

These simple words penetrated her defenses. Rogue looked away, feeling her cheeks flush with heat. Instead of her usual sharpness, she allowed herself a moment of real vulnerability—her fingers found his hand, intertwined, trembling slightly.

"Then don't waste time." Her whisper was barely audible, but there was no longer any doubt in it.

Naruto carefully lowered Rogue onto her back. The cool sheets burned her heated skin, causing an involuntary shiver. His body hovered above, radiating heat that made her heart beat faster. The room became remarkably quiet—only their heavy breathing disturbed the silence.

He didn't delay. His lips covered her nipple, his tongue sliding over the sensitive flesh, and the girl couldn't suppress a deep moan. Her back arched, instinctively moving toward this sweet torture. Each movement of his tongue responded with sharp flashes of pleasure that curled her toes.

His hand covered her other breast, his thumb beginning circular movements around the nipple. This double onslaught proved almost unbearable. Moans escaped her lips one after another, reflecting off the walls. Her fingers convulsively crumpled the sheets, knuckles white with tension.

Heat spread throughout her body, turning blood into liquid fire. A thin film of sweat covered her skin, giving it a moist sheen in the dim light of the night lamp. Her heart pounded so hard that it drowned out all other sounds.

"Wait..." Her voice turned into a hoarse whisper, breaking from heavy breathing.

Naruto raised his head. In his desire-clouded eyes flashed a hint of concern: "Everything okay?"

Rogue nodded, trying to catch her breath. A slight smile touched lips swollen from kisses.

"Just... need a breather," she admitted quietly, feeling a blush spreading not only on her cheeks but also her neck.

He smiled tenderly, carefully removing a strand of hair stuck to her forehead.

"Of course," whispered Naruto, staying close, allowing her to collect herself.

Her gaze slowly slid over his body. The black t-shirt, damp with sweat, outlined every muscle, clinging tightly to his skin. The fabric didn't hide, but rather emphasized the results of years of training—the relief of his chest, the hard muscles of his stomach. Each of his movements made the material stretch, creating new shadows and contours.

"You must be hot," she said with a slight hoarseness, not taking her eyes off the damp spot on his chest.

Naruto grinned, his cheeks turning slightly pink. With one smooth movement, he pulled off his t-shirt, revealing tanned skin.

"Better?" There were playful notes in his voice.

Rogue propped herself up on her elbow, allowing her gaze to leisurely study every inch of his body.

"Almost." She gave a meaningful look at his pants, where a prominent bulge was already showing.

He hesitated for a second, then resolutely got rid of his pants, remaining in boxers. The fabric stretched, emphasizing his arousal.

"A little more," she teased, watching his Adam's apple bob with a nervous swallow.

"So demanding today," smiled Naruto, automatically rubbing the back of his head.

"Exactly like that," she whispered, moving closer.

He froze for a moment, then in one movement pulled off his underwear. His member swayed, having been freed—large, with a swollen head, already wet with pre-cum. She couldn't take her eyes off it, feeling her mouth go dry.

"Now you." His voice sounded hoarse with arousal.

Rogue leaned back, allowing herself to prolong the moment. She raised her hips and pulled down the elastic waistband of her athletic pants, letting the soft fabric slide down her legs. Black lace panties contrasted with the paleness of her skin. She felt the air between them grow thicker, heavier with tension.

"Is that all?" His smile widened, but undisguised desire could be read in his eyes.

Anna bit her lip, looking at him from under lowered lashes. Her heart thundered against her ribs, but there was no more fear—only pure, unclouded arousal.

"Maybe you'll finish?" she turned her knees to the side, leaning on her elbows.

His fingers touched the lace—lightly, almost weightlessly. Slowly pulled down, following the curves of her hips. Each touch sent goosebumps across her skin. When the panties slipped off her legs, his gaze lingered between her thighs, where smoothly shaved skin glistened wetly in the half-light.

"Like what you see?" she breathed, enjoying his reaction.

Instead of answering, he moved forward, sliding his palms along her thighs. With one movement, he pulled her to the edge of the bed. Rogue gasped in surprise, but meeting his gaze, darkened with desire, she felt a hot heaviness spread in her lower abdomen.

Naruto carefully spread her knees apart, revealing wet, swollen labia to his gaze. His fingers slid along the inside of her thighs, feeling the soft skin covered with goosebumps. Anna instinctively tensed when he leaned closer—his warm breath tickled sensitive skin.

In the subdued light, her vulva glistened, the outer lips slightly parted, revealing darker inner folds. He momentarily admired this sight—smooth skin, delicate pink color, flesh glistening with arousal. The small bump of her clitoris was already noticeably swollen.

Rogue held her breath, watching his reaction. His gaze, full of admiration, made her feel incredibly beautiful and desirable. When he licked his lower lip, she involuntarily trembled with anticipation.

The first touch of his tongue was gentle—he drew a wide wet stripe from her entrance to her clitoris, tasting her. She exhaled through her teeth, her hips trembling slightly. His tongue moved slowly, exploring every fold, every curve, but still avoiding the most sensitive point.

"A little higher," she whispered, raising her hips. "Right here..."

He obediently shifted, and his tongue finally touched her clitoris—a careful, circular movement. Anna arched, not holding back a moan. Her fingers clutched the sheets when he began to rhythmically caress that spot, alternating quick movements of the tip of his tongue with broader, pressing touches.

Uzumaki felt how she was responding—how the muscles of her thighs tensed, how her breathing quickened. He completely focused on her pleasure, adjusting to each breath and movement. Her wetness became more abundant, its taste and smell only intensifying his own arousal.

"Kso! She's so beautiful," he thought, watching the girl writhe under his caresses, completely surrendering to sensations. Her moans grew louder, her breathing faltered. He could feel her clitoris pulsing under his tongue, becoming increasingly sensitive.

Pleasure built inside her like a tidal wave—deep, all-consuming, sweeping away the last remnants of control. Every nerve rang with tension, every movement of his tongue responded with a new flash of delight. Her thighs trembled, her abdominal muscles involuntarily contracted.

Naruto felt his own arousal reaching its limit. His member pulsed in time with the movements of his tongue, the head glistening with pre-cum. Each of Rogue's moans resonated in him with a sharp wave of desire, but he forced himself to focus only on her pleasure, greedily catching every reaction of her body.

"Naruto..." His name broke from her lips in a convulsive exhale. "I'm going to... Can't anymore..."

Orgasm hit her like an electric shock. Her muscles tensed with inhuman strength—the sheets crackled under her fingers, tearing like paper. Her hips pressed into the mattress with such power that the wooden frame of the bed groaned, cracking.

Naruto barely managed to pull back, watching as her superhuman strength manifested. For him, accustomed to Sakura's punches, such manifestations weren't frightening. He continued to hold her hips, allowing her body to shudder in ecstasy.

The bed let out a final prolonged creak. An impressive crack appeared in the headboard—the result of a particularly strong movement. The sheets finally turned to tatters under her fingers. Rogue's moan echoed off the walls, and she bit her lip, trying to hold back the next cry.

When the last wave of pleasure subsided, Rogue fell exhausted onto the torn sheets. Her chest heaved heavily, her skin glistened with sweat. Naruto lay down beside her, his own breathing no less ragged.

In the half-light, they silently examined the traces of her unrestrained passion—torn fabric, dents in the wood, cracks in the headboard. The bed, which had seemed so sturdy, now resembled a battlefield.

"Oh God..." whispered Rogue, covering her mouth with a trembling hand. Her eyes widened at the sight of a small crack in the wall. "I... I didn't mean to..."

Naruto propped himself up on his elbow, surveying the destruction. A sly smile slowly spread across his face:

"You know, I've heard the expression 'blow your mind,' but you seem to have decided to start with the wall, dattebayo."

Rogue couldn't help but snort, feeling the tension release. His ability to turn even such moments into a reason to smile was infectious. She ran a finger along one of the deep grooves in the wood.

"The Professor is going to kill me," she muttered, but her voice held more cheerful resignation than real concern. "This is already the third bed this year... Though usually they suffer from nightmares, not from..." her cheeks flushed, "...such pleasant causes." She laughed, burying her face in his shoulder. Yes, the material damage was impressive, but for the first time in her life, Rogue felt like a real woman—not a mutant, not a warrior, but simply a woman, capable of giving and receiving tenderness.

She suddenly realized a simple truth—at this moment they were just a guy and a girl who found each other far from their previous lives. Without masks, without roles, without obligations to the world.

Rogue exhaled quietly, trying to gather her thoughts.

"Thank you," she whispered, not finding other words.

Naruto rose on his elbow, looking at her with slight surprise. His usual confidence momentarily gave way to a touching bewilderment.

"I... this... I mean..." He faltered, clearly trying to find the right words, then simply touched her cheek, and this gesture said more than any words.

She couldn't help but admire him—tousled blond hair, heated skin glistening with sweat, tense abdominal muscles. So strong and simultaneously so vulnerable right now.

Rogue reached out to him, exploring every curve, every scar. The muscles beneath her touch rippled, responding to the slightest contact.

Naruto responded with a quiet moan, closing his eyes. His body, accustomed to battles and training, now responded to her every movement with surprising sensitivity.

Her palm moved lower, following the lines of his abdominal muscles. Beneath her fingers, his pulse beat distinctly—rapid, uneven. Each touch caused a new wave of trembling, making his muscles involuntarily tense. She felt this strength under the skin—a warrior's power, now docilely surrendering to caresses.

"You're so responsive," she whispered, fascinated by how his body reacted to each touch.

A white streak fell across her face as she leaned lower. Her cheeks burned, her heart pounded. Her fingers wrapped around his member—a surprising contrast between iron hardness and velvety softness of skin. She could feel how a large vein pulsed along the shaft, how the head twitched with each movement.

"Anna..." His voice broke when he instinctively thrust his hips upward.

She began to move her hand, closely watching Naruto's reaction. Faster, slower, harder, lighter—each change evoked new shades of pleasure on his face. Pre-cum appeared on the head, making movements smoother, more sliding.

Her heart skipped a beat when she decided to move lower. His skin smelled of sweat and something tangy, musky. She left a chain of kisses on the inside of his thigh, where the skin was especially tender. Gathering courage, she ran her tongue along the entire length of his member, feeling the salty taste and heat.

He propped himself up, hastily placing a pillow under his head. His gaze, clouded with desire, didn't leave her face. Such frank admiration could be read in his eyes that everything inside clenched with anticipation.

"Like watching?" Her voice was hoarse with excitement.

"Very..." he breathed, not hiding his hungry gaze.

Rogue slowly took his member into her mouth, enjoying how Naruto's pupils dilated, how his Adam's apple jerked convulsively. The taste—a mixture of salt and musk—filled her mouth. His member pulsed on her tongue, hot and hard.

"Kso... Anna..." The moan was almost painful, his fingers convulsively rumpling the remnants of sheets.

Rogue moved slowly, sometimes caressing the head with her tongue, sometimes taking him deeper. With each movement, she felt the muscles of his thighs tense, his breathing falter. Power over his pleasure was intoxicating—she, used to fearing any touch, now made his body shudder with pleasure.

Naruto's breathing became completely ragged, his abdominal muscles turned to stone. The member in her mouth pulsed stronger, warning of imminent release.

"Wait... I'm going to..." His voice trembled with tension.

Warm fluid gushed into her mouth unexpectedly—salty, with a slight bitterness. Instead of the expected disgust, Rogue felt a strange satisfaction. She swallowed slowly, watching his face flush with embarrassment.

"Sorry, I didn't have time to warn you..." he began, rising on his elbows. Naruto's cheeks were burning, and in his eyes was a mixture of guilt and delight.

Rogue covered her lips with her palm, trying to suppress a smile, but it still appeared at the corners of her mouth. Inside, warmth spread—not just physical arousal, but something deeper, almost frightening in its intimacy. Resolutely shaking her head, she slid up his body, enjoying every moment of skin-to-skin contact.

"I can touch," the thought pulsed in her head as her fingers explored the contours of his chest. Each touch was a small miracle, a precious gift for someone who had lived for years in forced isolation.

"Stop apologizing," she whispered, leaning toward his lips. In her voice mingled tenderness and desire. "It was... exactly what I needed."

His grin melted into an amazed sigh; to her surprise, his member beneath her remained hard, ready, and she grasped it with a confident hand. Rising slightly, she guided him toward herself, feeling her heart beating rapidly in joyful anticipation.

"I want to feel you." Her whisper was hoarse.

The first contact drew a convulsive sigh from both. The wet warmth of her body slowly enveloped him, inch by inch. Each moment of penetration responded with new sensations, balancing on the edge between discomfort and growing pleasure.

"God..." The words caught in her throat when she took him completely.

"Anna..." His voice trembled with tension. Her internal muscles squeezed him so tightly that restraining from movement took incredible effort.

Rogue froze, getting used to the new feeling of fullness. With each breath, her body adapted, initial discomfort giving way to deep, viscous pleasure. A tentative movement of her hips caused a wave of new sensations, making her exhale through her teeth.

"You're so deep," she whispered, beginning to move slowly. Internal muscles pulsed around him, creating exquisite friction.

"And you're so tight... hot..." His hands slid over her hips, supporting the rhythm.

She leaned to his ear, bit the lobe, feeling him shudder beneath her.

"And now I'm only yours." The whisper was barely audible but full of deep, almost primal promise.

Rogue began to move more confidently, her body submitting to the rhythm. Each movement of her hips was met with a corresponding movement from Naruto. The sounds of their union, wet and obscene, filled the room along with heavy breathing and moans. Skin burned from each touch, and inside grew a familiar tension demanding release.

Hips moved faster, more erratically. Fingers painfully dug into his shoulders, leaving marks. Sweat ran down her back and collected in the hollow between her breasts. Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure, bringing her closer to the edge.

He barely restrained himself. The wet heat of her body drove him crazy, muscles compressed around him with such force that his vision darkened. Fingers dug into her hips to the point of bruising, setting the pace, while colored spots danced before his eyes.

At some point, he suddenly surged forward, catching her. Years of training made the movement smooth, despite the desire clouding his eyes. He lowered her onto her back, not breaking the connection, and now he controlled every movement.

Thrusts became deeper, stronger—not just penetration, but an almost animal desire to merge into one. The bed creaked and groaned beneath them, wooden supports cracking with each movement. Rogue felt everything inside tighten, preparing for explosion. Tension built with each thrust, each movement, until finally...

"Oh God, Naruto!" Her voice broke into a hoarse moan. Her body arched like a drawn bowstring, a tremor of pleasure rolling from her fingertips to her very core. Internal muscles pulsed in a ragged rhythm, contracting in waves around his flesh. For several long moments, the whole world narrowed to these overwhelming sensations.

At that same moment, he sharply pulled away.

"Anna-chan!" His voice broke into a hoarse cry as hot streams sprayed onto her stomach, chest, several drops landing on her face.

It was then that a deafening crack resounded. The overloaded supports gave way at once, as if cut down: all four legs simultaneously buckled, and the bed collapsed right onto the floor. The crash, the screech of wood, stifled exclamations—everything merged into a chaotic symphony of destruction.

They froze amid the pile of what was once a bed. In the silence, only their heavy breathing could be heard. Moonlight, breaking through the window, illuminated the dance of settling dust. For several long minutes, they just lay there, allowing their bodies to cool, their breathing to recover.

Gradually, their heartbeats began to slow. Rogue was the first to break the silence—a short laugh, more like a sob, escaped from her chest.

"Seems like we finished it off," she exhaled, still breathing heavily, and wiped away tears of laughter. Wood dust mixed with sweat on her skin, creating a strange hue. "Poor thing didn't even have time to make a will."

Naruto snorted, his chest still rising from rapid breathing: "But it died heroically, dattebayo!"

Their laughter, sincere and a bit hysterical, echoed off the walls. They lay among the debris, covered in sweat, semen, and wood dust, and at this moment, the chaos around seemed a perfect reflection of their absolute, perfect happiness.

Sudden realization hit Rogue as their laughter began to subside. She froze, listening to the ringing silence of the mansion, which now seemed especially eloquent after their passionate concert. Her cheeks flushed bright red when she imagined how many pairs of sensitive ears might have heard her every moan, every cry of pleasure.

"Oh my God..." she whispered, covering her flaming face with her hands. Memory helpfully recalled how she completely lost control, not restraining her voice. The sounds of the breaking bed, her own uninhibited moans, the final crash of the collapsed structure—all this had surely spread through the night corridors of the school.

"Everyone heard," she mumbled through her fingers. "Absolutely everyone. Logan with his animal hearing. Beast... Kurt..." She groaned, but now from embarrassment. "Even the younger students in the far wing probably woke up from this crash." She turned over, burying her face in his shoulder. "How am I going to look everyone in the eye tomorrow?" Her voice sounded muffled. "Especially Logan... He'll definitely make some sarcastic joke at breakfast."

But even through embarrassment shone a new, almost mischievous confidence. Perhaps for the first time in many years, she didn't care what others thought. She was happy, she was alive, and if the price was a few knowing glances and teasing at breakfast... Well, she was ready to pay it with a smile.

Rogue shifted her gaze to her body, trying to distract herself from thoughts about curious ears beyond the walls. In the half-darkness of the room, whitish drops on her skin shimmered. They slowly flowed along the curves of her body, leaving wet trails on heated skin.

Sudden playfulness displaced embarrassment. She ran a finger across her stomach, collecting thick drops, and raised her hand, watching them glisten in the dim light. Her gaze met his—in Naruto's eyes danced sparkles of admiration and barely restrained desire.

Rising slightly on her elbow, she slowly, almost teasingly brought her finger to her lips. The tip of her tongue slid along the finger pad, tasting him—salty, slightly tart. Watching how Naruto's pupils dilated, she drew the entire finger into her mouth, sucking with feigned innocence.

"Mmmmm..." she purred, releasing the finger with a wet sound. "And you know... you really are sweet."

At her words, his cheeks flushed, but his gaze darkened with desire.

"Kso... Anna-chan..." he exhaled, his face reddening, but clear admiration could be read in his eyes.

Rogue laughed quietly, enjoying his reaction. Her fingers slid to her chest, collecting the remnants of his semen. She repeated her actions, slowly, sensually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. For her right now, it was natural—no shame, only pure enjoyment of the moment of intimacy.

"You're full of surprises..." he whispered.

"You have no idea..." she breathed, settling into his embrace.

They lay on the tilted mattress amid the wreckage of the bed. Naruto held Rogue close, his fingers sliding over her shoulder, leaving warm traces on her skin. The clock on the wall ticked away seconds, and leaves rustled outside the window.

Anna rested her head on his chest. Under her ear resounded the steady beat of his heart, mixing with the creak of boards with their every movement. She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of his skin—a mixture of orange and fresh wind.

"Tomorrow," she thought, drifting into a doze. Tomorrow she would have to explain to the team the origin of the debris. Tomorrow Logan would surely make a couple of jokes, and Kitty would smile meaningfully. But now...

Rogue's eyes flew open. Sleep disappeared. In her chest, a familiar feeling of anxiety stirred—cold and heavy. She remembered every night before meeting him: an empty bed, sharp recoils from accidental touches in the school corridors. She remembered how she flinched when Kitty tried to hug her. How she moved away from Logan during training.

Naruto gave her what she had stopped dreaming of. Simple things: holding hands at the movies, kissing in the rain, falling asleep in each other's arms. She looked at their intertwined fingers—his tanned skin contrasted with her pale skin. No danger, no pain—only warmth.

And when he leaves... Rogue squeezed his hand tighter. She remembered her bedroom. Gloves on the bedside table—the first thing you put on in the morning, the last thing you take off in the evening. Constant checking: are all areas of skin covered before training with younger mutants. How she shied away from Bobby when he, stumbling in the corridor, tried to grab her hand. Even in safe houses, distributing food to fugitive mutants, she always made sure her sleeves didn't roll up when passing packages.

Rogue bit her lip painfully and buried her face in his shoulder. For the first time in many years, she could simply lie next to someone, not thinking about protective layers between them. Feel the warmth of skin, not a barrier of fabric. And now, pressing against him, she finally admitted what she had hidden even from herself—she didn't want to let him go. Didn't want to return to a world where every movement had to be measured, where one accidental touch could be fatal.

And worst of all would be seeing others. How Jean snuggles against Scott during movie nights in the living room. How Kitty grabs Bobby's hand when he tells his stupid jokes. How new mutants hug after successful training sessions. Each such moment would be a reminder of what she had known and lost. Of touches she would never feel again, of warmth that would remain only a memory. She knew—after him, loneliness would become a thousand times sharper.

Naruto, as if sensing the change in her mood, turned his head slightly: "Everything okay?"

"Yes... everything's fine. Very fine," she answered, trying to hide the tremor in her voice.

He frowned, catching the false notes in her words, but remained silent. His own thoughts seemed to wander somewhere far away—perhaps in the world he left behind. In the silence of the room, each of them fought with their own demons, not daring to disturb this moment of closeness by admitting their fears.

Rogue surveyed the havoc they had wrought, feeling anxious thoughts beginning to creep back into her consciousness. But now, when their skin began to stick unpleasantly to each other from sweat and cooling passion, there was an excellent opportunity to distract herself. For once, she was grateful to the professor that she had one of the few rooms with its own bathroom—a small refuge where she could hide from the outside world and her own fears.

"God, we're both so sticky..." She ran her hand over her stomach, where whitish streaks of semen were already drying, leaving her skin taut and slightly itchy. The cool night air pricked her heated body, causing goosebumps. "I definitely need a shower."

He embarrassedly rubbed the back of his head, and his hair, damp with sweat, became even more unruly.

"Yeah, sorry about that..."

"Hey," she lightly flicked his nose, watching a drop of sweat roll down his neck, "stop apologizing." Her gaze slid to the half-open bathroom door, where chrome details of the shower stall gleamed in the darkness. "Just... come with me?"

She rose, wincing slightly from the pulling sensation between her legs—a pleasant pain, reminding her of the pleasure experienced. Extending her hand, she led him after her.

In the small bathroom, they bumped elbows trying to adjust the water temperature. She quietly cursed when the first streams turned out to be too hot. He caught her by the waist, helping her step back from the scalding drops.

"Let me," offered Naruto, carefully testing the water with his hand.

Under warm streams, they awkwardly tried to fit together in the small space of the shower stall. Rogue snorted when he accidentally stepped on her foot: "You know, in movies this looks somehow... more elegant."

"Sorry!" He tried to give her more space but only slipped on the wet floor, barely maintaining his balance. "Although... from the movies here I've only seen 'Back to the Future,' and there weren't such scenes, dattebayo."

Their eyes met, and they both burst out laughing. Anna buried her forehead in his shoulder, shaking with laughter: "We're hopeless."

"Absolutely," he agreed, kissing her wet crown.

They somehow managed to wash, constantly getting in each other's way and exchanging brief kisses. Anna soaped his back, lingering her fingers on old scars—traces of past life. Naruto helped her rinse shampoo from her hair, carefully massaging her scalp.

Emerging from the shower, they wrapped themselves in towels. Rogue caught their reflection in the foggy mirror—disheveled, flushed, with silly smiles on their faces. She looked younger, happier than she had in years.

"Maybe we'll lie on the floor?" he suggested, looking at the wreckage of the bed. "Or else I'll start sneezing from all this dust."

Rogue nodded. They spread a clean sheet on the floor by the window, where moonlight created a small illuminated circle. They didn't bother with clothes—simply slid under the blanket, immediately pressing against each other. Light steam still rose from their skin after the hot shower, their hair was damp.

"Mmm, warm," she murmured, settling into Naruto's embrace.

He mumbled something in agreement, already falling into sleep, his hand resting habitually on her waist, pulling her closer. Anna smiled, feeling his breathing becoming slower and deeper. Sleep washed over in waves, blurring the edges of reality.

---

Rogue froze before the door of her room, nervously fingering the edge of her glove. The morning light, penetrating through the stained glass window at the end of the corridor, painted the floor with a whimsical pattern, but she barely noticed this play of colors. All her attention was riveted to the simple wooden door panel, behind which began the path to reality—a reality where she would have to face the consequences of the past night.

Naruto stood beside her, radiating his usual carefree attitude. His presence simultaneously calmed her and intensified her embarrassment—every glance at him awakened memories that brought a treacherous blush to her cheeks.

"Pull yourself together," Rogue mentally ordered herself, squaring her shoulders.

The thought of dozens of knowing glances, of inevitable jokes and innuendos made her heart race wildly.

"Shall we?" The young man's voice pulled her from her thoughts. Mischievous sparkles danced in Naruto's eyes, as if the whole situation amused him.

Taking a decisive breath, Rogue pushed the door. The corridor greeted them with unexpected emptiness—only somewhere in the distance could muffled voices and sounds of the mansion's everyday life be heard. They moved toward the kitchen, and each step on the parquet seemed deafeningly loud to Rogue.

Passing by other students, she stubbornly looked at the floor, feeling her ears burning. He, on the contrary, greeted everyone they met cheerfully, as if it was the most ordinary morning. His naturalness only emphasized her own constraint.

The kitchen met them with unexpected calmness. Instead of the expected crowd of curious eyes, there was only Logan, imperturbably reading the morning paper, and Kitty, working on something with the toaster. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, creating an almost homey atmosphere.

She felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. Maybe everything wouldn't be so...

"Good morning," rumbled Logan, not looking up from his newspaper. Familiar sarcastic notes could be heard in his voice. "Hope you... rested well."

Rogue froze by the refrigerator, feeling color flood her face all the way to her neck. Naruto, as if nothing had happened, began taking out plates, whistling some unfamiliar tune.

Both began preparing breakfast, carefully pretending it was the most ordinary morning. She methodically spread jam on toast, trying to concentrate on simple movements. Naruto worked on an omelet, occasionally casting warm glances at her.

"By the way," Logan said casually, turning a page of the newspaper, "after freeing the kids from that government prison, we have several extra beds left." He paused, clearly enjoying the moment. "Sturdy, new ones. With reinforced frames."

Kitty choked on her cereal, trying to suppress her laughter. Rogue felt the spoon in her hand begin to bend dangerously.

"Reinforced, you say?" she unexpectedly responded, familiar sarcastic notes cutting into her voice. "That's good news. The old models are so... fragile."

Logan finally lowered his newspaper, and a smile rare for him played across his face. In his eyes was not condemnation, but rather paternal pride mixed with amusement.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, kid," he chuckled, returning to his reading. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

Naruto, watching this exchange of remarks, couldn't suppress a broad smile. Unlike Rogue, the situation didn't embarrass him at all—there was something amusing and even touching about it in its own way. Logan lowered his paper and met Naruto's understanding gaze, then barely perceptibly nodded, and in response, Naruto broke into an even wider smile, automatically rubbing the back of his head—a gesture betraying not embarrassment, but rather genuine joy in the moment. After all, in his native world, such jokes and teasing were commonplace among close people, a sign of acceptance into the family.

After breakfast, they discreetly slipped away to a quiet nook in the corridor, away from curious eyes. Sunlight, penetrating through the stained glass window, scattered around in colorful fragments, transforming a simple moment of farewell into something almost magical. Rogue momentarily admired how golden highlights played in his tousled hair before leaning forward for a goodbye kiss.

Their lips met—lightly, almost weightlessly, but in this fleeting tenderness was hidden more feeling than in the most passionate embraces of the past night. The white strand of her hair slid across his cheek like a farewell caress. When they pulled away from each other, in both their eyes could be read reluctance to part even for a few hours.

"See you this evening?" she whispered, adjusting the collar of his jacket.

"Until this evening, Anna-chan," smiled Naruto.

They went off in different directions—she headed to the library, where younger class students were waiting, while he went to his room to prepare for training with Scott. Each step leading away from each other seemed like a small loss, but in the air hovered a silent promise of a new meeting.

Naruto retrieved a notebook and pen from his room, intending to write down what had eluded his understanding for so long. The living room greeted him with a cozy silence—most of the school's inhabitants had gone about their business, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Settling into an old leather armchair, he looked with slight bewilderment at the empty page of the notebook lying on the coffee table in front of him. The blank sheet stared back with mute reproach, reminding him of countless hours in the Academy when theory slipped past his consciousness like water through fingers. How many times had Iruka-sensei shaken his head, looking at his crumpled, almost empty notebooks?

His fingers tightened around the pen, almost to the point of cracking the plastic. The same energy that allowed him to create hundreds of shadow clones and form the Rasengan now seemed useless before such a simple task. Memory flashed back to his first tree-climbing training—scratches on the bark marking slow, painful progress, envy at the ease with which Sakura managed it. For her, chakra control was mathematics—an exact science with clear rules. For him, it had always been more like taming a wild beast—intuitive, fierce, built on pure willpower.

His gaze fell on the intricate pattern of ink that had accidentally dripped onto the paper. Like a drop of water on hot sand, it had spread into an uneven stain—just like his attempts to master genjutsu, where filigree precision was required, not brute force.

Asking Sasuke for help... The mere thought brought bitterness to his throat. Their rivalry, stretching from childhood, was not just a confrontation—it defined the very essence of their relationship. Admitting inability to explain even basic things would mean giving yet another reason for mockery.

Uzumaki vividly imagined this scene: a condescending gaze of dark eyes, a corner of his mouth slightly raised in derision, and the inevitable "Heh..." with that special intonation that made one want to sink through the floor. You can't even explain this? These words echoed in his consciousness in his friend's voice, awakening old complexes. No, anything but that. He would rather sit up all night but find a way to manage on his own. After all, he is Uzumaki Naruto—the one who never gives up.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a deep, rumbling laugh echoing in his consciousness. Kurama... He mentally transported himself to the space where the ancient bijuu resided.

"What's so funny?" he asked, looking at the enormous fox, whose eyes sparkled with amusement.

"It's amusing to watch you struggle, trying to explain something you barely understand yourself," growled Kurama, baring impressive fangs in a smirk.

"Hey! I understand chakra!"

"Oh really? Then why is your sheet still empty?"

Naruto had already opened his mouth for another squabble when a calm, deep voice interrupted them.

"Perhaps I can help," said Kokuo, stepping out of the shadows. The Five-Tails had always been the wisest among the bijuu, and now in her voice sounded the same ancient wisdom as thousands of years ago.

"Listen carefully, young jinchuuriki," said Kokuo. "For you, this will be your first real teaching experience."

The next hour he spent writing down everything the ancient bijuu conveyed to him. Each of Kokuo's words helped structure his own understanding of chakra. On the paper appeared not elegant diagrams or complex schemes, but simple, almost childlike drawings of stick figures with arrows indicating chakra flows. Perhaps it looked awkward, but it was understandable—at least to Naruto himself. After all, he had always learned better through simple images than through abstruse explanations.

He was surprised at how simply and clearly everything fell into place. Where before was a confusion of intuitive knowledge, now emerged a clear system. Kurama observed the process, occasionally adding his remarks about how important it is to consider the peculiarities of the physical body when working with chakra.

When the last lines were put on paper, Uzumaki read over what he had written. Everything was laid out systematically: from a basic understanding of energy flows to practical exercises for their control. Now he knew exactly where to begin Scott's training.

"Thank you, Kokuo," he said, gathering the written sheets.

"Don't mess it up," snorted Kurama, but approval could be heard in his voice.

He got up from the armchair. It was time to begin the first lesson.

"Yosha, let's go, dattebayo!" The familiar words in his native language gave him confidence. Uzumaki rose from the armchair, clutching the notebook filled with simple drawings.

Stepping into the inner courtyard of the mansion, he immediately noticed Scott. He stood by the fountain, surrounded by a group of younger students, enthusiastically telling them something. Jean observed them, leaning against an old oak tree, her red hair appearing fiery in the rays of the afternoon sun. In her gaze could be read that special tenderness with which she always looked at her beloved.

Naruto involuntarily smiled, observing this scene. There was something special in the way Scott communicated with children—no arrogance or condescension, only a sincere desire to share knowledge and experience. Perhaps that's why Professor Xavier saw in him a future leader.

After waiting until the last student walked away, Uzumaki approached them. Scott noticed his approach and straightened up, his posture betraying slight tension—he was clearly nervous about the upcoming training.

"Ready to begin?" he asked, stopping nearby.

"More than ready," nodded Scott, and in his voice could be heard the same determination that once was in Uzumaki's own during his academy days.

Jean smiled gently.

"I think I'll leave you to it." She lightly touched Scott's shoulder and headed toward the mansion, but Naruto managed to notice how she cast a worried glance at Scott. Jean understood better than others how risky an experiment with a new type of energy could be.

"Let's go," nodded Naruto toward the training area where no one would disturb them. "We'll start with the basics..."