Chapter 9: "So Apparently I Signed Up for Mortal Kombat?"
In which Peter gets turned into a human crash test dummy. Repeatedly.
Peter had faced a lot of things in life.
Flash Thompson's locker shoves.
Science exams with equations that looked like alien language.
Aunt May's very suspicious meatloaf.
But never—not once—had he stood in front of a blond, cosmic ninja warlord with a "time for your beatdown" grin.
"Fair enough," Naruto said casually, cracking his knuckles like he wasn't about to unleash trauma. "But for now, we have more immediate problems."
Peter, being the ever-hopeful optimist-slash-idiot, smiled. "Cool! More tree-climbing? Chakra manipulation? That fireball jutsu you keep not teaching me?"
Naruto's grin turned slightly… feral. The kind of grin you see in wild animals or older brothers about to prank you into next week.
"Nope," Naruto said. "I'm going to train you to fight all kinds of people. Your body will memorize different fighting styles—taijutsu, kenjutsu, brawling, you name it. You'll also learn ninja arts. Maybe even create your own style."
Peter nodded. "Sounds awesome."
"And," Naruto added, "you'll get to fight another Spider-Man."
Peter blinked. "Like… a clone?"
"No. A version of you who never trained with me. A 'what if' scenario. I want you to see the difference."
Peter raised a finger. "Wait—hold up. Spider-verses are real?"
Naruto winked. "You'll learn."
Before Peter could process how ridiculous and yet entirely on-brand that sounded, Naruto's tone shifted.
Low. Serious. Ominous enough to cue dramatic thunder if they had a budget.
"Finally…" he said, voice dropping like a death sentence, "…I'm going to break you."
Peter stepped back on pure instinct. "I'm sorry, you're going to what now?"
"Break you," Naruto repeated calmly, like he was reading off a weather report. "Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. I'm going to push your pain tolerance so far, it'll register as background noise. You'll experience what it means to be truly broken."
Peter's eye twitched. "Is… is this normal training in your world?"
"Totally," Naruto said with a shrug. "Everyone I know has been emotionally scarred and power-leveled through trauma. It's like… step three on the hero roadmap."
Peter mentally ran through the first two steps. Probably:
Step One: Get powers.
Step Two: Lose someone important.
Step Three: Get obliterated by your trainer.
"Cool cool cool," Peter said slowly. "And when do we get to the fun stuff? Like learning to run on water? Or summoning frogs?"
"This is the fun stuff," Naruto said with a straight face.
Peter's brain screamed at him. Something about labor laws and common sense.
But then he thought of Jessica.
Killgrave.
The people who would've died if he hadn't stepped in.
The people he wouldn't be able to save next time… unless he was better.
He clenched his fists. "Fine. Where do we start?"
Naruto's grin returned, wide enough to terrify minor gods.
"We start… with your beatdown."
And then—
WHAM.
A roundhouse kick came out of nowhere. Peter flew backwards and bounced off a tree. A real tree. In dreamland. He coughed up chakra dust and possibly a few metaphorical regrets.
"Lesson One," Naruto said brightly, "Always expect betrayal from your mentor."
Peter groaned. "Noted…"
He staggered to his feet, face throbbing, pride already on fire.
"This… is not training," he wheezed.
Naruto's voice echoed as he crouched into a ready stance.
"Nope. This is survival."
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Peter had thought he was ready. He had activated Spidey Sense. He had squared his stance like in the movies.
He had even given himself a pre-fight pep talk.
And then CRACK!
His ribs met Naruto's knee, and Peter learned what it felt like to become a flesh-and-bone accordion.
He barely hit the ground before Naruto said, "Stand up."
Not "Are you okay?"
Not "Need a second?"
Just: "Stand. Up."
Peter wheezed like a broken harmonica but forced himself up. Because apparently, pride was stronger than his skeletal system.
Then came the elbow.
A ninja elbow.
A titanium-rocket-powered-chakra-infused elbow.
CRACK!
Peter's shoulder exploded in pain, and he saw colors that probably didn't exist on the visible spectrum.
"Muay Thai," Naruto said helpfully, as if Peter wasn't currently malfunctioning like a dropped iPhone.
"Eight limbs," Naruto explained. "Fists, elbows, knees, shins."
Peter gasped, "Can't I… start with two limbs? Maybe one?"
Naruto grinned. "You'll thank me later."
Peter didn't think so.
Next came Taekwondo.
Naruto said something about range and long kicks, and then BOOM—Peter's stomach was booted like a football.
He flew.
There was airtime.
He considered charging admission.
And while still airborne—
SNAP!
A spinning heel kick caught him midair like a glitch in a martial arts video game, and Peter spiraled into the dirt like a very confused Beyblade.
Naruto stood over him and said, "Rule two: balance."
Peter's internal organs disagreed loudly.
Still, he got up again.
Because that's what Spider-Men did.
And also because Naruto wasn't taking no for an answer.
Then came the Karate phase.
Precise. Ruthless. Efficient.
Naruto demonstrated this by obliterating Peter's collarbone with a strike that felt like it had been crafted in a lab by sadistic monks.
"Karate doesn't waste movement," Naruto said, like a murderous yoga instructor. "When you strike, you end the fight."
Peter replied with, "Glkkhhh—"
Which loosely translated to: "I'm dying, thank you."
And just when Peter thought he was finally out of bones to break—
Grappling.
Sweet, suffocating grappling.
One second Peter was on his feet.
The next, he was a pretzel.
An extremely breathless, neck-cranked, pain-drenched pretzel.
"Control. Leverage. Chokeholds," Naruto said, his voice calm and terrifyingly informative.
Peter flailed. Naruto bent his arm the wrong way.
SNAP!
A scream escaped Peter's lips as his shoulder gave out again.
Then Naruto let go.
Peter collapsed face-first into the dirt, officially upgraded from "student" to "floor mat."
His body was wrecked.
He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't remember his own blood type.
And yet—
His fingers twitched.
Then dug into the soil.
Then curled into a fist.
He moved.
He moved.
Naruto's expression didn't change. But there was something in his eyes.
A glimmer of approval. Maybe even pride.
And then, with no warning, Naruto snapped his fingers—and Peter was healed.
Like magic, his ribs uncracked. His jaw aligned. His shoulder popped back into place.
Peter sat up, blinking. "Wait—wha—did you just—you could've healed me the whole time?!"
Naruto shrugged. "Yep. But pain's a better teacher."
Peter stared.
"…You're the worst mentor ever."
Naruto beamed. "Thanks. Now get up. We're only halfway through the day."
Peter groaned and flopped back onto the dirt.
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Pain.
Healing.
Laughter.
Repeat.
That was the new daily rhythm of Peter Parker's life.
Gone were the days of caffeine-fueled cramming and awkward lab group projects.
Now it was sunrise ninja dropkicks, mid-morning bone shattering, lunchtime chakra-lock grapples, and oh—don't forget evening cardio, a.k.a. "outrun the exploding clones."
But strangely… it was working.
At first, Peter did what any sane person would do when being turned into human origami: he gritted his teeth and took it like a very sarcastic champ.
"I am one with the pain," he muttered after Naruto shattered his shoulder for the fifth time in an hour.
Naruto, naturally, was unimpressed.
"You're taking yourself too seriously, Pete," he said one morning after slamming Peter into the ground with the grace of a guy throwing out last week's trash.
Peter groaned into the dirt. "Yeah? Well, maybe it's because I keep getting my ribs turned into fine powdered sugar!"
Naruto crouched beside him, grinning. "And yet, you keep getting back up. That's why it's working."
Peter blinked.
Naruto chuckled and added, "The pain's gonna come whether you like it or not. But if you learn to laugh through it…"
He tapped Peter's forehead.
"…it won't own you."
At the time, Peter thought that was nonsense.
But later that day, something changed.
It happened mid-fight. Naruto launched a knee strike toward his ribs again, the very same ribs that had practically taken out a lease on a hospital bed.
But this time, Peter ducked.
He ducked.
There was a whoosh of air and Naruto blinked as his knee swished past empty space.
Peter's eyes went wide. Then, without thinking, he laughed.
It wasn't a polite chuckle. It was a full-on, surprised, oh-my-god-I-did-it laugh.
A deep, cathartic sound that echoed across the clearing like some kind of battle cry.
Naruto raised an eyebrow. "You good?"
Peter doubled over laughing, not because he was hurt this time—but because he wasn't.
Then came the next lesson. A flying spin kick.
Peter caught it—with his face.
He was launched into a tree and bounced off it like a badly thrown pillow.
Still, lying flat on the grass, he burst out laughing again.
"Okay, that one hurt," he wheezed. "But at least now I know trees don't make good sparring partners."
Naruto shook his head, hiding a smirk. "You're insane."
"Yup." Peter gave him a dazed thumbs up. "Fully certified now."
From then on, something shifted.
Peter didn't just fight. He started playing with the fight.
He dodged with flair. He threw in quips mid-combo.
Once, while Naruto was going full Judo God, Peter managed to slip out of a hold by blurting: "Hey, is that Sasuke behind you?"
(It wasn't. Naruto still looked.)
Sometimes he still got wrecked. Okay—often.
But the fear? The dread? The voice in his head that once whispered "You can't do this" every time pain surged through his nerves?
That voice had been replaced.
Now, all Peter heard was: "You survived that. Let's see what you can do next."
One evening, after their session, Peter lay on the grass, watching the clouds overhead.
"Hey Naruto?" he said, barely winded for once.
"Yeah?" the blond answered, flopped nearby with a stick of pocky in his mouth.
Peter grinned. "I still don't know what I'm doing… but I think I'm getting better."
Naruto turned to him, the sky's golden hue reflected in his eyes.
"You are. You're starting to enjoy the ride."
Peter snorted. "Says the guy who drop-kicked me into a pond."
"You laughed, didn't you?"
Peter chuckled. "Yeah… I did."
And that was it.
Peter Parker, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, was still getting beat up by a ninja from another dimension.
But now?
Now, he was doing it with a smile.
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If Peter Parker had a list of things he never wanted to hear while airborne without a parachute, "Figure it out before you hit the ground!" would rank right at the top.
Unfortunately for Peter, Naruto didn't care about rankings.
"WHAT THE HELL, NARUTO?!" Peter's voice cracked as he flailed mid-air, arms windmilling like a wacky inflatable tube guy plummeting from the world's tallest tree.
Way above, lounging on a branch like some kind of smug forest cat, Naruto cupped his hands around his mouth. "Remember—focus your chakra into the webbing!"
Peter's answer was a scream that probably startled every bird in the tri-state area.
Rewind a bit.
Earlier that week, Naruto had made a rather rude observation during breakfast:
"Your webs suck."
Peter, with a mouthful of toast, blinked. "Come again?"
"They're tools," Naruto said, casually flicking Peter's web shooter and making him choke on orange juice. "Not you. But they could be. Chakra can make them alive. You're still thinking like a tech nerd instead of a ninja."
"Gee, thanks," Peter muttered. "I am a tech nerd, in case you forgot."
Naruto didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed a strand of Peter's web and infused it with chakra.
The change was immediate.
The web glowed blue, pulsed, then twisted like a snake responding to Naruto's thoughts. It retracted, snapped, reshaped—it moved like it had a brain.
Peter stared, eyes wide. "You—You can control it like that?"
"With practice," Naruto said, grinning like the guy who'd just taught a kindergartner how to summon a demon. "So can you."
Week One: Chakra Webbing 101
Peter's training was… intense.
He started small: trying to make his webbing tougher. Stickier. He added chakra like frosting to a cake and hoped for the best.
Sometimes it turned into unbreakable steel-like cords. Other times it became stretchy enough to bounce a tree like a trampoline. Once, it became too sticky and glued his hands together for four hours.
"You look like a failed arts and crafts project," Naruto said helpfully.
Then came the electric webbing.
Peter grinned the first time he zapped a dummy. "Ha! I call this one the Thunder Thwip!"
Naruto raised an eyebrow. "You're naming your web techniques?"
Peter struck a dramatic pose. "Wouldn't you?"
Naruto muttered something about "dramatic Americans" and moved on.
But the real test?
The cliffs.
Big ones.
Like, absurdly tall ones that clearly violated gravity and OSHA regulations.
Peter stood at the edge, legs shaking. "You're joking. Right? You want me to jump?"
"I want you to live," Naruto said cheerfully, then shoved him.
Thus began the glorious tradition of Peter Parker being hurled off increasingly large and terrifying cliffs.
The first time?
Snap. Crash. Groan. Healing jutsu.
Second time?
Snap. Face-first into a tree. Healing jutsu.
By the fifth time, he just started screaming mid-air, "I REGRET EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS TRAINING METHOOOOOD—"
THWIP.
His hand shot forward. The web launched. Chakra surged through it like a lightning bolt down a powerline.
And this time?
It held.
Peter yanked himself up in a smooth arc, swinging gracefully onto a nearby branch.
Naruto, watching from above, gave him a big thumbs-up.
"See?" he called out. "Told you you'd figure it out!"
Peter collapsed on the branch, breathing hard, then pointed at him accusingly. "You're evil."
Naruto winked. "And you're improving."
From that point on, everything changed.
Peter's webs stopped being just silk and science.
They became extensions of him.
He could make them whip like tentacles, wrap around targets, or zap someone like a taser-hug.
He made a net so springy, he used it as a trampoline. He accidentally webbed a squirrel once—it glared at him for twenty minutes.
He even practiced remote-controlled webbing: creating traps that would spring at his mental command.
"Peter," Naruto said one day, "you're getting scary good at this."
Peter grinned, fingers still crackling with chakra. "Does that mean I can stop falling off things?"
"Nope."
Peter groaned. "Why do I even ask."