(I have a Patreon if you want to read the next 10 chapters of this fanfiction then go to patreon.com/7_Night )
In the middle of a quiet street, a lone figure walked against the rhythm of the cars rushing past him. He didn't flinch at the blaring horns, didn't even glance as vehicles swerved around him. The walker just kept going, his hood pulled low and his steps steady, like someone with a destination and no backup plan.
Up ahead, a gas station with a diner caught his eye—and the second he saw it, his stomach growled hard enough to make him wince.
He stopped for a moment, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a crumpled $25. Not much, but enough. He put it back carefully and glanced down at his left arm, the one still wrapped in his loose sleeve. Just to be safe, he adjusted the fabric again, making sure the demonic black flesh and glowing marks stayed hidden.
This was Dante, and he'd been walking toward the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning for two days.
He could've reached it much sooner—hell, if he ran as fast as he did the night his powers awakened, he would've probably been there the next morning. But doing that attracted attention. A lot of it. And not all the good kind.
A couple of angry anti-mutant thugs had tried their luck, shouting garbage, swinging bats, thinking he'd run. He didn't even need to summon Rebellion—just a little muscle, and they went down fast. He took the money from their pockets after.
It wasn't much. But he rationed it.
Truth be told, he'd been watchful ever since. The idea of Purifiers tracking him made his skin crawl. He didn't even know how powerful he really was yet. And if they caught him off guard… he shivered at the thought
"Been a mutant for two days and I'm already scared for my life," he muttered to himself, letting out a short, humorless chuckle.
He wasn't despairing though. That thought didn't break him. He didn't hate this situation. Not even close.
Now, as he crossed into Westchester, the air felt… different. Not peaceful. Not hostile either. Just quiet.
All he wanted to do was eat—then figure out how to reach the school. One step at a time.
The diner was basic. Chrome stools, an old jukebox in the corner, and a handful of people who immediately took notice of him the second he walked in. It was hard not to—he looked like he hadn't changed clothes or slept properly in two days. Because he hadn't.
He sat at one of the corner stools, quietly, trying to avoid drawing attention. But of course, he'd already failed.
He could feel the eyes. Hear the whispers.
Then someone sat down next to him—and everything changed.
The tension in the room seemed to vanish. Like someone flipped a switch.
Dante blinked, confused, then slowly turned to look.
The man next to him was short, built like a brawler, with a strange haircut, sharp black hair, and signature sideburns that instantly gave away who he was.
Dante's eyes widened. His jaw fell open slightly.
That's… that's Wolverine.
"You can close your mouth, kid," the man grunted without looking at him.
"Oh! Uh, sorry," Dante said, embarrassed. "I just… didn't expect to see you here."
"Well," Wolverine said, finally glancing his way, "you're close to my school. Why wouldn't I be here?"
Dante gave an awkward nod, still trying to process everything.
"You can relax," Logan added. "Ain't no one here gonna freak out over what you're hiding. Go ahead. Show me the arm, bub."
Dante hesitated for a moment but then pulled up his sleeve just enough to reveal his transformed forearm—the demonic skin, the glowing blue markings.
No one in the diner reacted.
Not a glance. Not a flinch.
The room stayed perfectly calm, as if nothing had happened.
Dante looked down at his arm, then back up at Wolverine. "Right… I guess I should've expected that. This is the home of the X-Men."
"Don't get too comfortable," Logan replied. "Even here in Westchester, things are split. The folks that like us are good people. The ones who don't… well, they're not as crazy as what you've seen out there, but they ain't exactly friendly either."
Dante let that sink in.
"So, I'm guessing you're headin' to the school?" Logan asked after a second.
Dante scratched his head with a crooked grin. "Yeah. But I don't think I can pay tuition. Or, uh… get my parents' permission."
Wolverine looked at him for a long second, then smirked at the honesty.
"How 'bout this," he said, nodding toward the counter. "You get some food in you first. After that, I'll take you to the school."
Dante's smile widened.
"Deal."
Later that day, they finally arrived at the school.
Or rather, Dante arrived—huffing, trying to catch his breath—while Wolverine pulled ahead of him on his motorcycle like he had no idea or didn't care how fast he was going.
"H-Half… Half a warning next time…" Dante panted, jogging behind the bike. "You could've let me ride with you, you know!"
Wolverine glanced back with a smirk under his stubble. "Shouldn't have said you could keep up, kid."
Dante groaned but grinned anyway. That one was on him.
Wolverine parked at the front walkway and dismounted smoothly. "Come on in. I'll show you around."
Dante finally lifted his head—and for a second, forgot how to speak.
The building in front of him wasn't just a school—it was a mansion, still partially under construction, but massive and full of energy. This was the new Jean Grey School for Higher Learning. The birthplace of the new X-Men legacy. One of the most famous superhero homes in the world.
He let out a low whistle. "Okay… yeah. That's cooler than I thought."
He followed Wolverine through the front entrance—and instantly got hit with a sensory overload.
The interior was alive.
Students were everywhere. Some looked perfectly normal. Others… not so much. One student walking by had pink translucent skin that showed a glowing skeleton and organs underneath. Instead of being scared, Dante was captivated.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two more students sparring outside the window. They weren't holding back either—fire, ice, bursts of energy, all controlled and fun. It wasn't a fight. It was training. Or maybe just play. Either way, it was amazing.
He felt something stir in his chest.
Excitement. Wonder. Belonging.
For the first time since his mutation awakened, he wasn't thinking about running
He was thinking: I want to know what they can do.
He wanted to walk up to every student and ask what their power was. Even the ones that looked completely ordinary. Especially the ones who looked ordinary. He hadn't expected this—he didn't know he could feel this way.
Then, something bumped into his leg.
He looked down.
It was a small, insectoid-looking student, with a bug-like face, segmented limbs, and sharp antennae poking from the sides of his head. He wore the same student uniform as everyone else, and his backpack had slid off his shoulders and onto the floor.
"Oh—sorry!" Dante quickly kneeled and picked it up for him. "I shouldn't have just stood in the way."
"No, no, it's my fault," the student said quickly, his voice high but polite. "I should've been looking where I was going. But… thank you for the help."
Dante smiled and handed over the bag. "No problem."
The bug-eyed student looked at him for a moment, then straightened his posture nervously. "Do you… mind being friends?"
Dante blinked, surprised for a beat.
Then his grin widened. "Yeah. I don't mind at all."
He stuck out a hand.
The student shook it enthusiastically. "Oh! I'm sorry—I didn't even ask your name yet—"
Before he could finish, Wolverine—who had been quietly observing the whole time—interrupted with a short growl from behind them.
"Alright, enough of that. You'll have plenty of time to make friends later. Right now, we've got to get you set up. Get you a room. A shower. You smell like the woods."
Dante laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry, dude. I'll catch you later."
He waved to the student and followed Wolverine deeper into the school.
His heart was still pounding—but not from nerves.
For the first time in his life, he was somewhere that felt like it might actually be home.
And he couldn't wait to see what came next.