For a while, Jake slept peacefully—his exhaustion shielding him from the grime and the creaking silence of the warehouse.
But peace never lasted in Gotham.
Around 3 a.m., the cold began to bite. Hard.
It crept in through the shattered windows, slipping under his cardboard bed like invisible ice. He curled tighter into himself, trying to fight it, but the breeze was relentless. Eventually, he gave up. His teeth chattered uncontrollably. He couldn't feel his toes. His fingers were stiff. Snot dripped from his nose, and his whole body trembled.
He was sixteen, freezing to death in a dead building.
It was pathetic. And worse—it was real.
Stumbling to his feet, Jake forced himself outside to look for more cardboard, maybe a blanket someone threw away. Anything.
Nothing.
Just piles of trash too soaked or too torn to be of use.
He was on the verge of giving up when the sound of shattering glass broke through the quiet night.
Jake turned sharply toward the noise.
Across the street, two men in black masks rushed into a small clothing store. The alarm blared instantly—shrill and loud—but they didn't hesitate.
And neither did he.
Jake darted across the street and slipped inside just behind them. He didn't care about the money, the theft, the consequences. All he saw were blankets. Jackets. Warmth.
While the masked men headed straight for the cash register, Jake grabbed anything thick or layered—hoodies, coats, socks, scarves—and rolled them into a makeshift bundle. He avoided eye contact, pretending not to see what they were doing.
But one of them noticed him.
The taller guy stared for a moment, then—without a word—tossed a rolled wad of cash in Jake's direction.
It landed at his feet.
A second later, they were gone—bolting out the broken front window as sirens began to scream down the street.
Jake didn't waste time. He picked up the cash, clutched his stolen bundle, and made a break for it.
Another excellent chapter! This one gives us two powerful beats:
Batman silently observing from the shadows (very in-character), hinting at future consequences
Jake taking a proactive step toward control by learning Transformation Jutsu, and even using an emotional anchor—his father—as the form
Below is the cleaned-up and polished version of Chapter 6, with improved grammar, flow, and a bit more weight behind Jake's decision:
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Chapter 6 – A New Face
From a shadowy rooftop across the street, Batman stood watching.
The two masked men hadn't gotten far—not in his city. He caught up to them just a block away. One swift descent from the sky, and it was over before they could even draw a weapon.
As for the third figure—the teenager who had joined the robbery but didn't touch the cash register—Batman had let him go only because he was still a kid he wouldn't stoop so low to start beating up kids and besides he had a soft spot for orphans but the kid shouldn't get used to it or he will have to step in and remind him that stealing is wrong.
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Back at the warehouse, Jake stripped off his torn clothes and changed into the ones he'd "collected" from the store. The jackets were thick. The socks were dry. The relief was instant.
He took the rolled wad of bills and counted carefully.
Seven hundred dollars.
Enough to stay afloat for a little while.
He tucked the money under his makeshift cardboard pillow, curled up beneath a blanket, and drifted into the first truly warm sleep he'd had in days.
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Morning.
Jake woke up with one goal burned into his mind: This can't go on.
Dumpster diving, freezing nights, hoping Batman wasn't watching his every move—this wasn't survival. It was slow-motion suicide. If he was going to make it in Gotham, in this world, then he had to be more than some chakra-enhanced street rat.
He needed options.
And he knew just where to start.
Sitting cross-legged on the warehouse floor, Jake took a deep breath. He recalled the old Naruto hand signs from memory, piecing together the correct sequence through a mix of trial, error, and sheer desperation. He could feel the chakra moving now—rough and unrefined, but present.
Then he pressed his hands together.
"Henge no Jutsu."
(Transformation Technique)
Poof!
Smoke erupted around him in a small burst, and he stumbled to his feet, disoriented but still upright.
He dashed out into the street and stopped at a coffee shop window, heart pounding.
The reflection staring back at him wasn't some ragged teen.
It was his father.
From his old life.
Jake stared at the face in the glass for a long, quiet moment—equal parts stunned and hollow.
He smiled after all he had just successfully used ninjutsu for the first time something that can be counted as super powers.
The reason he had choosen to learn this ninjutsu first was because he would need it when he goes to steal after all it's better than a mask.
And with it he was the equivalent of Martian Manhunter.
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Pulling off the Transformation Technique wasn't just a victory—it was a game changer.
Jake now had a way to hide his identity. No facial recognition. No matching his face to a police database. No teenage runaway profile for the GCPD to track down. The jutsu wasn't perfect yet—his voice was still a little off, and it didn't hold long under strain—but he'd improve it. Refine it. Eventually, it would be flawless.
It gave him something vital: a chance to create a new persona. A name. A backstory. A clean slate.
But doing that required help.
Real documents. Real people. Connections.
And there was no way in hell he'd show anyone his real face to get them.
Which meant one thing: he had to stay in the shadows, until he had enough power and security to step into the light.
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His current stash—$700—was enough to cover food for maybe two days if he was careful. But not enough to rent an apartment, much less buy fake IDs or secure safehousing.
So he'd have to do it the hard way.
Target criminals. Rob the worst of the worst.
It was dangerous, sure. But Gotham was full of scumbags who stole, extorted, and killed without a second thought. If Jake took their cash, he wouldn't lose sleep over it. Not anymore.
But unlike them, he needed to be smart.
Every hit would need to be planned.
No mistakes. No loose ends. No leaving a trail for the Bat or his allies to sniff out.
This was how he'd do it:
By day: train. Build strength. Learn chakra control. Expand his jutsu.
By night: thieve. Quietly. Surgically. From the shadows.
And one day become a powerhouse.
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