Multiversal Wanderer: Starting in Naruto

"Even though I can tell you're full of confidence, I should return the favor after accepting your gift," Su Xiuyu said with a slight smile. "Let me put it this way—money's not something you lack. But if you're ever in a situation where your life's on the line, I'll save you. Once."

He pulled out a kunai engraved with a complex time-space seal. It shimmered faintly in the light—a rare and generous gift.

Later, Tony Stark would be incredibly grateful for giving Su Xiuyu his Mark 3 suit. But that's a story for another time.

Holding the kunai between his fingers, Tony examined it curiously. "Alright, so how do I use this industrial-looking knife? Or is there a magic word I'm supposed to say?"

He wasn't joking or dismissive. As someone with his own pride and a respect for power, Tony didn't doubt that Su Xiuyu was serious.

"It's a kunai. There's a space-time coordinate engraved into it," Su Xiuyu explained. "At a critical moment, just break it. Normally, it's activated through chakra—but since you don't have chakra, this crude method is your only option. But trust me, if you use it in time, even if a nuclear bomb is about to go off, I'll be able to get to you."

Tony raised an eyebrow, half-skeptical but still intrigued. Whether it was true or not, Su Xiuyu had made a promise—and that meant something.

The party wrapped up smoothly. Su Xiuyu, Uchiha Chisato, and Mito said their goodbyes. Since they were already in Tony's private villa, Su Xiuyu didn't bother hiding. He casually opened a swirling portal and stepped through it.

Tony stood there, stunned. Pepper too.

"Pepper… did you see that? They just opened a space gate and left?" Tony said, as shocked as the day he found out Obadiah Stane had betrayed him.

Pepper, who had recently become somewhat numb to these jaw-dropping moments, nodded calmly. "I saw it. But with them? I feel like we should expect anything."

Tony mulled it over and nodded. "Spatial manipulation… I've got to get Su Xiuyu back here sometime. That tech—or magic, or whatever it is—is groundbreaking. Our second-largest shareholder is basically a gold mine of secrets."

"Tony, be careful," Pepper warned, a rare seriousness in her tone. "Uchiha Chisato and I are friends. We trust each other. Don't make things awkward."

"Relax, Pepper. I know she's your friend, and honestly, I think Su Xiuyu's someone worth staying close with. I'm not about to screw that up."

—

A month passed.

Stark Industries' stock price had stabilized, though it hit a record low before that. But that had been part of the plan. Tony and Su Xiuyu—though really, it was all orchestrated by Uchiha Chisato—bought back almost all the shares and then delisted Stark Industries from the stock exchange.

Real bosses don't play with small shareholders.

The company was shifting away from traditional arms manufacturing and moving aggressively into the energy sector—an industry where profits were nearly limitless. There was no need toshare those gains with outside investors.

Despite numerous legal and regulatory hurdles, SHIELD stepped in to settle all disputes and make the transition smooth.

The U.S. government didn't have much to say about it. Stark Industries was the very definition of big capital, with allies across Congress and the private sector. To go against Stark was to go against the global elite—and no one had the guts for that.

Tony released a small portion of his remaining shares to bring in a few other heavy-hitting investors—one of which was Oscorp.

As one of the larger corporations in New York, Oscorp didn't hold a candle to Stark Industries. And its CEO, Norman Osborn, didn't have Tony's level of dominance.

But with Tony and Su Xiuyu investing in Oscorp, Norman's position solidified almost overnight. Tony owed much of that to Su Xiuyu's support. Without him, even Tony's empire might have wobbled under pressure.

The once arrogant Tony Stark had learned his lesson after the Afghanistan incident. He wasn't lacking in emotional intelligence—he just used to think he didn't need it. Now, with maturity and foresight, he understood that forming alliances with the strong was the smartest move he could make.

But while this new wave of growth and power brought together some of the biggest players in the world, one company remained notably excluded: Hammer Industries.

Why? Because Tony Stark couldn't stand Justin Hammer.

To Tony, Justin was just a cheap knockoff artist—a second-rate imitator who churned out inferior tech.

---

"Damn it!" Justin Hammer roared, slamming his fist on the desk.

He hadn't felt this bitter in years.

Since Stark Industries had pulled out of weapons manufacturing, Hammer Industries' stock had surged. The military and political sectors had started giving him more respect. For the first time in his life, Justin Hammer felt like a serious player.

And yet, Tony Stark still refused to even meet with him. Didn't give him the time of day.

That rejection stung more than anything.

"General Ross," Hammer said during a call, trying to keep his tone polite. "The Department of Defense only filled a third of this quarter's contract. Could we possibly increase the order a little?"

Ross didn't even hesitate.

"Hammer, get your head out of the clouds. If Stark Industries hadn't pulled out of our procurement list, no one would be touching your junk weapons. And now you want to increase your share? Who the hell do you think you are—Tony Stark?"

Click.

Ross hung up.

To Ross, Justin Hammer was just another in a sea of mediocre arms dealers—one of dozens, maybe hundreds. His products lacked power, precision, and reliability. He wasn't even in the same league as Stark.

Justin stood there in silence before hurling his phone to the floor with a loud crack.

The contempt in Ross's voice rang in his ears. That pure, unfiltered dismissal.

He knew he wasn't a match for Stark—not in brainpower, not in influence, and certainly not in reputation. He didn't have Tony's genius or his connections.

But none of that dulled the burning resentment in his chest.

"Why? Why does that damn playboy get everything?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

Just like Tony looked down on him, Justin looked down on Tony Stark. In his eyes, Tony was nothing but a spoiled brat with good luck and a big inheritance.

"He's not better than me," Justin muttered. "He just got lucky. If I had that kind of money and legacy, Hammer Industries would've ruled the world by now."

But the truth was... he didn't.

And that truth was killing him.

----------------------------

Tony Stark inherited everything from his father, Howard Stark. That legacy brought him immense fortune—but it was Tony's wild imagination and brilliance that elevated Stark Industries to new heights. Justin Hammer, however, didn't care about any of that. Jealousy can twist a man beyond recognition.

At Hammer Industries' R&D facility, a group of scientists was hard at work replicating Iron Man's armor. They knew the truth—it was all just cheap imitation. But Justin Hammer held on to one desperate hope: maybe, just maybe, one of these scientists could create something worthy of being called Hammer's version of the Iron Man suit.

"The experiment is starting. How do you feel?" asked a technician from Research Institute, communicating with the test subject inside the armor.

"I feel fine. Let's move on to the next test."

"Alright. Try controlling your body—rotate slowly."

The replica armor's upper body began to turn… but the lower half didn't move. Then came the inevitable disaster. The test subject screamed in agony before abruptly falling silent.

Bright red blood seeped from the gaps in the steel suit. The 360-degree spine twist had instantly killed the man. There was no chance of saving him.

"You idiots! You can't even get something this basic right?" Justin Hammer roared.

The research team stood frozen, not daring to talk back. One of them finally spoke, cautiously: "Sir, developing a suit like this involves human engineering, mechanical dynamics, and advanced materials. It's not simple."

"Then how the hell did Tony Stark do it on his own?" Hammer snapped, his face red with fury.

"Because he is Tony Stark," the researcher replied bitterly. If he had Stark's talent, would he be working for someone like Justin Hammer?

"Get out. You're fired. Sign the NDA, collect your last paycheck, and never show your face here again!"

Hammer had zero tolerance for anyone who dared praise Tony Stark in front of him. Sure, he could accept failure—for now—but not that.

Meanwhile, Tony Stark was dealing with his own mess. Ever since he boldly revealed himself as Iron Man, the backlash hadn't stopped. The U.S. Department of Defense and military officials were relentless—sending warnings, ultimatums, and thinly veiled threats. Their goal? Get him to "cooperate" with their Iron Man research—or else.

"For the last time—I am Iron Man. The suit is part of me. Anyone trying to take it is violating my rights. I will never hand it over. End of discussion!" Tony shouted into the phone. "Rhodey, I know you're stuck in the middle, but this is where I stand."

He hung up, frustration clouding his features. Pepper Potts entered, sensing the tension.

"Tony, maybe you should compromise a little. Give them something. I'm worried you won't be able to keep up with this pressure forever," she said softly.

Tony shook his head. "Pepper, I swore I wouldn't let my work fuel war anymore. I'm not handing this tech over to warmongers. As for the pressure… I'm Tony Stark. I can handle it."

When the world was pressing in, Pepper was his rock.

"Sir," Jarvis's voice cut in, "the palladium levels in your blood have increased again. Are you sure you don't want Ms. Potts to know?"

"Don't tell her, Jarvis," Tony said, sighing. "She's already worried enough."

"Sir, continued use of the armor will only accelerate the toxicity. At this rate… your body won't last much longer."

Even a man as reckless as Tony could hear the genuine concern in Jarvis's tone.

"Thanks, Jarvis."

"No need to thank me, sir."

At times like this, Tony couldn't help but envy Su Xiuyu. The U.S. military knew about him but avoided causing trouble. That was all thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s quiet warnings to leave Su Xiuyu alone.

Not that Tony knew about Nick Fury's headaches. The S.H.I.E.L.D. Director was doing everything possible not to provoke Su Xiuyu.

Then the phone rang again.

"Hey, Tony," came Rhodey's voice.

"Let me guess. You're back to pleading on behalf of the military? I already said—"

"No, no, it's not that!" Rhodey interrupted. "Have you seen the news? A giant green monster just appeared in New York. The military's trying to stop it, but it's chaos out there. Can you suit up and help? They need you."

Tony's expression turned grim. He didn't need to hear more. He turned on the projection screen. A fearless news crew was live-streaming the chaos from a helicopter.

On-screen, a massive green humanoid hurled a car like a toy, smashing it straight into a military chopper. The explosion lit up the sky in a fiery blaze.

"Jarvis, prep the suit."

"Right away, sir."

With the suit equipped and music blasting through his helmet, Tony shot into the sky like a rocket.

Down in the streets of New York, it was absolute hell. The Abomination—once known as Emil Blonsky—was tearing through the city. The military threw everything they had at him: rifles, machine guns, rockets, even helicopter cannons. Nothing worked.

"Blonsky! Do you know what you're doing?" shouted General Ross through a comm still in the creature's ear.

The Abomination heard him but didn't care. Blonsky had chased this power for so long, and now he had it. He was stronger, faster, nearly invincible—and no one could stop him. Not even Ross.

You wanna talk, General? Come say it to my face, the monster seemed to say with every rampage-fueled stomp.

"General, we're getting torn apart! We need backup now!"

"Hold your ground! Tanks are moving in, the crowd's being evacuated, and we'll launch a new assault in ten minutes!" Ross barked.

But inside, he knew the truth: they couldn't do anything. Their bullets barely scratched the monster's hide. It wasn't even trying to defend itself—nothing could touch it.

This wasn't just any street. This was downtown New York. If things kept going like this, even a decorated general like Ross wouldn't survive the political fallout.

He clenched his fists and stared at the monitor.

They needed a miracle.

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