Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

UPDATE********
Chapter One is now available in an audio format! Took forever, but I plan to do this for every chapter! https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Li5rfvMC7Aw

WARNING!
I have a Rewrite of Portal Panic started!

Monday, September 3rd

8:50 am

"If you look at the final page, it covers the grading policy for all the projects and assignments we will be covering this quarter." Papers shuffled throughout the room, too quiet to echo in the large auditorium. "Mr. Johnson - or, you know, Carl'' stood out on the whiteboard that hung beyond the lanky, brown haired instructor. Below the name, several announcements sat encased within a markered box, while an underlined joke of the day defended its solidarity from several feet away.

"I may throw in a couple more things near the end of the quarter if everything goes well, but we'll see. It depends on how far we get in the syllabus," Carl informed distractedly, and glanced at the clock hanging unassuming over the door. The man sighed and straightened, rearranging the papers in his hand until the top paper proclaimed "Fall 2015" at the head, and "PC Repair and Information Technology: Course Syllabus" at the foot.

"That'll be everything you need to know from today's class." Walking to the center of the stage, Carl haphazardly tossed his copy of the handout forward, the little stack of stapled papers splaying onto the podium as he passed. "I know it's the first day of school, and can seem a little overwhelming, but we'll get there." The man clapped, and addressed his audience with hands held in not-quite finger guns. "Besides, your early morning enthusiasm should float you straight through the rest of the day!" the teacher chuckled, looking out over terraces of seating filled with glazed gazes.

From the rows of students, a pair of bright blue eyes looked up through black shaggy bangs in mild amusement. A smile pulled at the corner of the twenty-year old's mouth as he cupped his face, forearm propping up his head.

The teacher went on, tone changing to one of embarrassment as he glanced at the clock yet again, "Honestly, I know that the class ends in ten minutes but I'm pretty done with today if you guys are."

Like a spell had been broken, the class' frozen state thawed. People of varying ages started to rise and gather their things. The blue eyed boy stretched, mouth opening in a jaw-popping yawn. Movements sluggish, he collected his pen into a small mesh pouch, zipped the case shut, and dropped it into an open pocket of his laptop bag. Next, he clicked open the metal rings on a plastic binder, and grabbed his syllabus. Sliding the handout's three holes over the curved protrusions, he went to snap it closed. His pointer finger, however, dipped down through the metal like it never existed. The second-in-line then smacked the steel rings hard at the lack of resistance, causing the holder to snap shut over thin skin. Indrawn air hissed through pursed lips. The young man looked down in bewilderment at a small bead of blood that formed at the base of his first finger.

"Ooof. That sucks. You good, Fam?" A brunet teen inspected the injury from two desks down.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a slip of the hand," the safety-challenged boy responded.

The other kid looked dubious, and shuffled around in his bag before holding out a stack of travel tissues.

"It's already stopped bleeding; thanks anyway."

After having the offering waved away good-naturedly, the concerned party nodded, and headed toward the classroom's exit.

"Nice going, Fenton. It's been years since you've done that." The admonishment did not carry. With a quick wipe of his hand on a pair of black jeans, the male stood and put the binder away. Most of his peers had already left, but a few stragglers remained. The stage was empty, the professor long since departed.

It always amazed him, being in college and seeing the normalcy of the instructors. His homeroom teacher in high school, Mr. Lancer, had been overbearing and a bit quirky, constantly breathing down his neck and pushing him to succeed while simultaneously swearing in book titles. As a byproduct, the young man expected community college to be incredibly uptight. Instead, the teachers were just slightly older people slogging through their day just as much as he was.

Hiking his laptop bag over a shoulder, he sidled down the aisle past pushed-in chairs. Filing in behind the last of the students, he followed the herd to the exit and kicked out the stopper from underneath the door. A last glance around the room confirmed nothing left behind as wood patterned veneer started to obstruct his view, moving slow from a soft-close mechanism. He turned, ready to leave.

Thump.

The black haired youth held his head, blue eyes closed, as a goose egg formed beneath his fingers and someone's hand reached out to steady him. The hissing door settled against his back, ushering the still-dazed clutz over the threshold. This time he was just aware enough to duck past the jam that had smoked him. The twice-injured male looked back toward the door, mildly affronted by its audacity. He blinked in confusion when the skinny, rectangular window recessed into it carried a luminescent green hue. Blinking his eyes a few more times, both the spots in his vision and the color disappeared.

"—anny...Danny...Danny!" A feminine hand waved in front of him, and he jerked back to the present. Replaying the incident in his head, Danny realized who the steadying arm had been attached to.

"Hey, Sam."

An amethyst-eyed goth cocked a hip, palm settling against her tartan mini-skirt as she gave him a once-over. "Be nice to the door jam, Clueless1. It can't win in a fight against your head; I've seen your thick skull break concrete." A short pause. "Seriously though, something up? Your eyes haven't glowed like that in a while."

"Yeah, just spacey this morning, I guess. It's the only class this year I've had that's started before ten. At least all we did was go over expectations and introductions. I expect Biochem to be way worse." Danny shook his head a bit to dispel the last of the grogginess.

"I mean, you do look like the dead." Blue eyes rolled in the face of the excessively overused joke as Sam smirked. Did he really look that bad?

Danny appraised Sam's outfit, getting ready to parry his close friend's comment.

"Well you look…" He paid more attention, and the jab died in his mouth, replaced by curiosity. "Even more black than normal. And is that...orange I see?" His brows knitted together and his gaze went to the ceiling for a second, before snapping back down. "Oh no."

Sam's smile turned vicious. "It's already September, and the most sacred of holidays is next month."

Danny cast a sidelong glance at Sam as he started to walk away. "You're getting worse, you know. You're almost as bad about Halloween as large corporations are about Christmas."

"Wow. That was below the belt. I might just have to start playing Spooky Scary Skeletons in July if you keep that up."

Danny cracked a smile and altered course, veering around someone on their way to class.

"The horror."

The two shuffled down the hallway, combat boots and sneakers just barely squeaking on polished linoleum. Occasionally they had to break stride to avoid people, but not often.

"So what'd you have in mind for lunch?" the goth asked.

A shrug. "Up to you. You know I'm not picky. I'm just excited we actually have classes that kind of overlap this quarter."

"If you call me having to come to class two hours early 'overlapping'," Sam air quoted, "I think we may have a difference of opinions. My Women's Lit doesn't even start 'til noon." Danny peeked down at her sheepishly as she continued, "You know I'm a night owl. I could be sleeping right now." A mildly grumpy look was shot at Danny as he rubbed the back of his neck.

A thought occurred to Sam as she craned her head back, "You know, it still gets me that we were basically the same height before summer and now you're a foot taller. I swear you grew faster than my chili pepper plants."

A reddish tint flushed Danny's normally pale cheeks, bringing a light dusting of freckles to visibility. "Quit it, Sam, you know I only grew five inches. I'm not that tall."

"Yeah, you are. But six foot one looks good on you," Sam answered with a shrug.

"The glowing white stretch marks up my back would disagree with you," the taller of the two refuted with a grimace.

"Pfft. You know your scars don't stick around. Besides, faded scars are often described as having a silvery sheen. Yours just happen to take things a bit more literally until they disappear." The two came to a door at the end of the hall, and Sam pulled it open. On the other side was an open-air stairwell, Amity Park's urban area peeking from beyond the roofline of one of the campus' other buildings. Sam waited for Danny to pass, then followed single-file through the door and down the steps.

"I'm surprised you haven't attracted any female attention around here to be honest." Sam slapped Danny's shoulder amiably as she came level with him just before the end of the stairs. The young man tensed, subconsciously bracing himself, but kept his steps steady. Behind him, three barely-visible, shoe shaped ice prints stayed flash-frozen on the cement. "Community college is a decent sized fishing pool, and most of the A-listers from Casper aren't here. It's practically a fresh start." Sunlight blinded the pair as they passed out from under the shadow of the building and onto one of the paved pathways.

Danny hummed non-committedly in response.

"Well, mostly." A short ginger male holding a clarinet cut in front of them, and made his way into a nearby building. Sam threw a thumb toward the freckled kid with braces as he disappeared into the two-story lounge of the Arts Center. "Pretty much only the geeks know your reputation here." There was a pause, then a Cheshire grin lit Sam's face. "In fact, there is a really nice girl in my nonprofit class who likes the occult..." she trailed off suggestively.

"Ah yes. Sweet with a side of necrophilia. A match made in heaven."

Sam felt Danny's mood shift from bantering to bothered in a heartbeat, and didn't comment further. A silence descended, but it wasn't strained. Good friends knew when to back off and when to push.

They turned right at a T in the walkway, and a row of hedges on the building's side fenced them in, little waxy leaves showing the first sign of autumn red at the edges.

Taking advantage of one of the last sunny days of the year, the duo made their way into a courtyard with several brilliantly-colored sweetgums. Danny slung his bag onto the grass and plopped down next to it, sprawling out and making himself comfortable. A decent number of people shared the space, making the lawn appear to have a speckling of human weeds.

Squinting up at Sam from his place on the ground, Danny groaned, "We never decided what we wanted for lunch."

Monday September 3rd

4:25 pm

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" A sixteen year old bowed out of a lounge room containing two blue-eyed blondes, each dip of his shoulders punctuated by another "thank you". The fanatic manners and mousey demeanor were typical to the green haired student, and warranted no additional reactions from either of his seniors.

The blondes stayed seated across from each other, one on a stool and the other on a green couch. They may have matched in both eye and hair color, but that is where the similarities ended. One was emaciated and middle aged, watching stoically from behind permanently blackened eyes. The other, at the peak of youth, had a disarmingly warm smile plastered on his rather plain face.

"No worries, Midoriya. Just try to relax. I'm sure Sir will love to meet someone All Might personally recommended," the upperclassman reassured. "Just don't be late Sunday." His easy smile stayed in place as he lifted a heavily-muscled arm for an overachieving thumbs-up.

"Y-yes! Thanks again, Togata-senpai!" Midoriya tried to return the confidence in kind, but faltered a bit at the thought of meeting his idol's one and only sidekick.

Believing himself dismissed, the teen turned and stepped into the expansive hallway just outside the lounge, only for a much deeper call to stop him dead, "Midoriya-shounen. Just because Nighteye and I had a falling out, doesn't mean I don't have complete trust in him." The hollow man studied the ground for a moment before looking back up with a sad smile. "I simply cannot face him myself."

Monday, September 3rd

5:16 pm

Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

A disheveled sleeping bag shifted slightly from its place on the floor next to several cubicles, but otherwise did not move.

Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

"Aizawa-san, if you don't intend to answer, might I suggest putting your devices on silent during office hours," a calm, even voice gently admonished. The approximately human-shaped block of cement turned back to his computer, double clicking on an icon, before looking back down at the paperwork on his desk.

Ring, ring.

Another UA teacher sighed and rubbed her temples, the R-rated hero already well on her way to cultivating a migraine.

Ring, ring. Ring, ring

…..

The room held its breath as the small electronic demon quieted.

….

….

Ring, ring. Ring ring. Ring, ring.

"HEEEEEY! SHOOOTA! Answer your phooOONE!" a shrill voice screeched as several of the faculty flinched. The unholy cry had come from mere inches above the polyester cocoon's opening. But rather than respond, the yellow sleeping bag flipped over, hiding black tufts of hair from sight.

Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

Click.

"Hey there, LISTENER! THIS IS ERASURE HEAD'S PHONE, YAAAOOOW!"

"Yamada-san. Please," the grey-faced building material beseeched as both he and the sexy dominatrix next to him shot a pleading look across the room.

"Ok, ok," the concession was fast, with no hesitation, similar exchanges a common occurrence for the man.

Yamada listened to the person on the other end of the line while idly repositioning his directional speaker. The metal rubbed wrong if he let it stay hitched too high on his neck. Reaching down, the voice hero shook his exhausted friend surprisingly gently, then continued in a more subdued tone, "Shota, this support company has been trying to get ahold of you for over a week. It could be important."

With a groan, the ragged man rolled over, sticking a hand through the tiny opening of his buttercup encasement. Yamada passed the small flip phone into the erasure hero's waiting palm, and both arm and machine disappeared back inside like a startled tubeworm.

A voice barely carrying the will to live spoke up from within the bedding, "Moshi mosh. This is Aizawa speaking. Please be quick with whatever you have to say, as I only have thirteen minutes left to sleep." A pause, and something was relayed.

"Ahh. A job then." A sigh. "Yeah, I can make that time. I'll just have to switch my fourth period with someone else and skip my lunch. Thursday the 13th, at 12:30 pm. Is that all?" Another pause. "See you then." The call clicked off and Aizawa shoved the cell phone back at the boisterous, entirely-too-loud blonde with gravity defying hair. His tired voice spoke up once more, now with a bite, "Hizashi. Don't do that again." Then, as if he didn't just reprimand his friend, "And send me a reminder about that appointment later."

Monday, September 3rd

7:30pm

A large dorm building sat nestled into a stand of trees with architecture a blend of both Greek and modern. All the plants growing on the plot remained green despite the slight chill of the air. The sunset took on a golden-pink hue, making the front of the building appear darker as a teenager with floppy green hair approached. In fact, he could hardly see the white Doric columns above the front porch that accented the "1-A Alliance" label.

"It's definitely the end of the year," Midoriya commented to himself while looking around at the beautiful campus, still in awe of living in such a high-class place. Even if he got a part-time job and pooled the cash with his mother, they still wouldn't have been able to afford something near so nice. Two globe lights flicked on, illuminating the pathway from either side, as the lean kid carried white plastic bags on each arm.

"Oi, oi. Midoriya's here!" a guy by the entrance wearing a soft red shirt and navy blue pants announced over his shoulder to some hidden audience inside. Redirecting his voice back in front of himself, the spirited teen demanded, "What took you so long?!"

"Kirishima-kun! Sorry! I realized I might not have time to get groceries if I get a work study, so I went shopping early," Midoriya yelled back, his response not nearly as loud.

"Hey, no need to apologize, you just missed the cake is all."

"Sato-kun's trying to fatten us up!" another kid with a jagged black strip through his butterscotch hair called, poking his head out from behind his sturdy classmate.

Kirishima angled his red eyes down at his friend. "Hey, Man, a padded jacket is an acceptable gift, even in summer."

"But if I keep eating sweets all the time I'm gonna get a pudge, and then I won't get any ladies," the boy whined pathetically.

A slightly rough female voice cut in from beyond the two, "Yeah, because you have so many women falling head over heels for you now, Jamming-yay."

"Hey!"

"Don't worry, Kaminari-kun, we can work out to get rid of any extra fat. It'll be great!" Kirishima assured, pounding his fists together, the skin taking on a crackled, rocky texture.

Watching the banter eased some of Midoriya's stress as he made his way to the front door with a heartfelt smile. The grocery bags he carried stretched taut under their content's weight, but seemed to cause only mild inconvenience. Kirishima and Kaminari stepped back, the chivalrous redhead pulling the door open with him as he retreated. Midoriya entered and was soon flooded by the curiosity of several bored teenagers as he followed the other two left to the lounge.

"Oh wow! That's a lot of groceries. What'd you get?" a bubbly pink girl exclaimed, head dropping back to look upside down at Midoriya from her spot on one of the green couches. A punk-rock chick with earlobe protrusions reclined next to her, actually turning her body to the side to get a better view.

A hand reached out over the coffee table at their feet, silently grabbing a remote and turning the volume down on a massive flat screen TV. The limbs' two-toned owner observed the going-ons through mismatched eyes, content to stay quiet.

Midoriya walked past the couches where his friends, Ashido, Kyouka, and Todoroki chilled. It was kind of surprising that more of class 1A wasn't hanging out, as per usual.

"Where is everyone? It's too early for bed," the boy inquired as he passed only three more students with worksheets scattered around them on his way to the kitchen—a cute brunette, a reserved frog-human hybrid, and a well-groomed male with nary a hair out of place. With the addition of the trio sitting at the centralized tables, the number of occupants in the space only totalled nine, Midoriya included. More than half the students were missing.

Reaching the kitchen counter, the hero-in-training set down his groceries, the answer coming from behind him, "Sato-kun went back to his room to make more sweets for training tomorrow. Koda-kun and Sero-kun went with him. I think Aoyama-kun had an appointment with the support department for his belt. Tokoyami-kun is training with Dark Shadow, but I don't really know where anyone else is." The bubblegum-skinned girl shrugged.

"I know Momo-chan is up in her room calling people. She was really determined to find an agency that would take her on for her work study," Uraraka Ochako supplied, not looking up from her homework. The brunette distractedly twirled a weightless pencil and stared hard at a sheet of paper riddled with English letters.

"Everybody is trying their best to get a work study, but most of the agencies aren't qualified, or don't want to take on the responsibility for our safety," the straight-laced Iida Tenya explained from next to Ochako. "But that is why we need to get better! It is our duty to become stronger so that we may not burden those around us!" The exclamation was accompanied by a chopping hand motion that quickly gave way to a clenched fist at chest height.

"I am already a burden. I need to catch up as soon as possible." The words were calm and even, carrying with them the single-minded determination of the half-hot-half-cold Todoroki.

A number of laments soon echoed around the room. "The school said Gunhead-san hasn't had enough interns, so I can't go there." "Same here, I wanted to go to Selkie-san's, but…" "Fourth Kind doesn't even take work studies."

The mood gained a heaviness as Midoriya listened, continuing to stow groceries. His head disappeared behind the fridge door as he leaned forward, holding a bundle of leeks. The teen's semi-muffled voice floated out to the room as he did so, "I might have found a place to do my work study, but I won't know until after my interview on Sunday."

A chorus of gasps sounded around the room, and several of the students launched themselves toward Midoriya. The unsuspecting male got yanked out of the fridge by two strong arms.

"You're already ahead of us, dude?! That's so manly!" Kirishima shook his meek friend forward and back in excitement, teeth bared in a shark-like grin. Ashido, Ochako and Kaminari pushed in close, invading Midoriya's personal space in an instant.

"No fair, Deku-kun!" Ochako pouted, perma-blushed cheeks puffed up in envy.

"Who's it with!?" the class' personal charging station asked. Kaminari's hands had lit up with sparks to match his enthusiasm.

Midoriya went white, frozen under the attention even as he was wrenched back and forth. "N-N-Nighteye!"

"Nighteye. As in All Might's sidekick, Sir Nighteye? Holy crap, Man, that's awesome!" Kirishima encouraged, ending his classmate's captivity with a slap to the back.

Midoriya blushed, and looked at the floor, hand sliding through his green locks in embarrassment.

Tuesday, September 4th

1:47 pm

Zzzzt. A neon pink ray of light shot across a forested area, just barely missing a black and white blur dodging between branches.

"Nice try, Val, but you'll have to be faster than that! I clocked in at 241 miles an hour last wee—!" the echoing taunt was cut off as the gloating entity slammed face first into the dirt. An emerald vapor formed between the leaves of a nearby bush, camouflaged and blending with the colors of the foliage to give the plant a hazy look. Neither party noticed, eyes drawn instead to the pink mist that rose off the ghost's back, the location of the impact covered with a stinking magenta ooze. Danny's opponent smirked behind a red-tinted visor.

"Speed doesn't mean anything if you aren't paying close attention," Valerie teased; then repositioned her feet for better balance and preemptively swerved right. A green glob splattered against the ground, some feet beyond where she had just been.

"Dang it! I thought I had you! Your gear's automatic spatial awareness is too OP." The ghost lifted into the air again, the pink goo on his back falling through his body and dropping to the pine needles below. "Ugh. Jeez Val, did you have to make your shots stink? I'm gonna have rotten onions and banana peels stuck in my nose for days." Danny scrunched his face in disgust and pulled his white Kevlar collar away from his neckline, shaking it to create a breeze. Dodging yet another blast of the smelly goop, the boy held out a hand. The spread fingers lit up in a shimmer of refracted blue light before several rays shot out and froze all of the stinking piles. Abruptly the air smelled once again of fresh cedar and pine.

"How are you gonna learn if there's no consequences to the hits?" the woman asked as she angled her hoverboard lower, zipping to another position with more space, of which there was little. "You know, Phantom, you sure are whining a lot. You were the one who asked for help with 'Evasive Maneuvers in Tight Quarters'. If you remembered to use intangibility half as often as you could, you'd probably be flying circles around me by now." Valerie chuckled to herself as she shot several more attacks at Danny. Sure enough, the ghost boy zipped to the side to evade, just as she'd intended. The red and black-clad girl pressed a button on the inside of her wrist as the attacks went wide, causing the goo to explode in a shower.

This time, though, Danny was ready for it, and slid through a tree trunk, using it as a shield. Since all his usual opponents had attacks that could hit him whether he was incorporeal or not, springing out of the way, or tossing up an ecto shield was often the safest bet.

"Hey! I'm pretty good at improvising! I just haven't been in nearly as many fights lately." In the last few years, as Danny had become stronger, he had noticed a drastic drop in ghost attacks, and an even greater drop in genuinely malicious ones. "It's a lot harder to keep myself sharp when I only get to let loose a couple times a month. It's not like you've been around enough lately to keep my sorry butt in shape."

"Sounds like we need to kick this training up a notch, then." Speed increasing, the Red Huntress streaked all around the area, flitting from spot to spot sporadically and driving the training further into the woods. Danny chased hot on her heels, ecto-charged fists glowing. Suddenly, she turned a 180 on her board, the machine still moving forward, and amended, "For the sake of your backside." Valerie punctuated the remark with a blitz. A barrage of pink energy exploded outward, but a tree branch nearly clotheslined her in the process. The agile woman did a quick turn about, zipping away as she heard her opponent wheeze.

Two of the attacks that had ignored hastily-conjured intangibility slammed Danny hard in the chest, causing the air to whoosh out of him. Trying to recover his breath, he laughed internally at Valerie's mistake as he watched her shrinking backside. A swirling mass of energy formed several feet behind him; but, the distortion dissipated just before he reached it and he passed backward through harmless, nearly invisible wisps of ectoplasm. The same could not be said for the underbrush he smacked into shortly after, the tree boughs breaking against his back sure to leave painful, if temporary, bruises.

Before he could take out more than a couple feets worth of the natural flora, the superhero phased through the remaining bushes and saplings. In an attempt to arrest his momentum, Danny dropped down into the earth. Correcting his flightpath and still underground, he shot forward. The maneuver twisted his body into a V that would pop most human's spines, but his middle took on an almost liquid state, and the ghost incurred no damage. A tug at his psyche left him a little unsteady, but he continued flying in the direction he had last seen his foe. Subconsciously, all color and light faded from his body as he popped up behind Valerie, who was fastidiously surveying the area. Powering up his hand, and making sure to change the state of the ectoplasm to goo, Danny lobbed a ball at his frenemy.

Who instantly countered with a blob of her own. This caused the two to splat together in the air, turning the mass a different color as the ectoplasm mixed pink and green together with unnatural speed.

Brown slime covered the Red Huntress as she exploded through the attacks, using the distraction to land a cheap shot with her fists. Danny took the uppercut before poofing out of existence.

"Crud!" Valerie turned too late, took a giant neon glob to the back, and was tossed to the floor. With a shlurp, she stuck fast to the ground. "Ugh. You complained about bananas and onions. But they don't hold a candle to the natural stuff. Antiseptics and chemotherapy chemicals is not a scent I'd buy at the store. It smells like hospital."

"I wouldn't know, I tend to avoid them," the original Danny gloated from above Valerie, a triumphant smirk on his face. He reached down, touching the glob with a single glowing finger. A catalytic reaction occurred, spreading outward. Valerie soon ceased her struggle as the prison became a solid. Then, Phantom rapped it with his knuckles. The knock that resounded was much louder than the casual flex of muscles, betraying the strength behind the blow. The shell cracked, the lines spiderwebbing out until the trap flaked away. Danny held his hand out, offering Valerie assistance which she promptly ignored, lunging to her feet and dusting herself off.

The curvy ghost hunter raised an eyebrow. "You're becoming quite the show off in your old age, you know that? We both know you could have just phased me out of there."

"But I just learned that trick, and it was the first chance I've had to use it." The young ghost looked away. He was not pouting.

"When'd you make the duplicate?"

"When I was underground. Figured it was as good a time as any," the admission was coupled with a semi-proud expression.

"At least you're finally thinking ahead in fights. You used to suck at that," Val commented, yanking the cemented-in tip of her board out of the crumbling pile.

"Hey!"

"I think we need to set more rules for training, though. This was supposed to be practice for evasive maneuvers, not counters. And you were talking over the phone how you needed help with dodging, right?"

"I don't like where this is going," Danny's tone was uneasy, watching his friend as she took on a serious expression. Which, ironically, when it came to her brutal style of training, was infinitely more concerning than her sadistic smile.

"The best way to avoid getting hit is to not have to think about it. And you always seem to be fighting enemies that cancel the advantages of nearly all of your powers. I think we should spend the next hour with you limited to flight only. Then spend an hour where I shoot at your—you powered down."

"You literally just got done telling me to use my powers creatively, and how it was good I was thinking ahead. Now you're just gonna nerf me when I do well? Rude." Danny crossed his arms and lifted a few feet into the air in indignation.

The female sparring partner examined Danny's defensive body language. "Don't worry. I'll put on the training wheels for the second half." Val's cocky attitude was back in full force.

Danny just barely caught the end of her sentence with his enhanced hearing, already creating as much distance between his ghostly tail and his friend as possible. And with good reason, as a discharge just narrowly missed his thigh. Heart thumping wildly, Danny swerved right, just barely ducking around a tree. He had correctly anticipated Valerie's eagerness to cream him in battle, what he had not expected was the centimeter wide branch at neck level. It failed to stop him, but at such a high speed it smacked across his Adam's apple with the force of a whip. Blinking through watery eyes at the stinging sensation, Danny didn't falter, more worried about what Valerie would do if she caught him.

Left behind and overlooked at the offending tree, a viridescent hue increased in size. The energy coalesced and centered on a single point, a three foot wide atmospheric eddy trapping the lazy spiral current.

An unconcerned voice yelled out to the fleeing superhero, already nearly three hundred feet away from the spot, "So are you excited to have Jazz home for the whole year?"

Danny shot a look of disbelief over his shoulder. Keeping up his speed, he zagged away from a still fully-leafed Hackberry. After several more minutes of erratic maneuvering, he groaned when Valerie followed up with "Well?" Another pause in which the ghost did not answer, focused fully on the forest around him. His flight path would have given a two-year old's drawing a run for its money. "Danny, you are as obnoxious as Technus in a fight because you never. stop. talking. If this training is gonna be realistic, you're gonna have to keep up your signature word vomit."

Narrowly avoiding yet another branch to the chest, Danny turned his face partway to the side, resigned to answer.

Only for his powers to pull back into his core. His hair lost its ethereal float, flattening to his head and darkening into a light grey. Internally, his sensation of weightlessness fled, the slippery eel of buoyancy sliding out of his reach. He chased the tendrils of his power in panic as he dropped several feet, before doubling down and dragging them back in. Breathing hard from nearly hitting the ground at top speeds, Danny stopped dead. The world swirled around him for a second before settling.

Splat.

The sensation of viscous fluid sliding down the back of his neck and under his jumpsuit's collar brought him back to his senses faster than anything else would have. "Ugh, again?!" A quick bout of intangibility had the ooze falling through him and onto the floor as a shudder ran up his spine.

"You stopped. An enemy would have pegged you in a real fight, I'm just keeping up the authenticity. Besides, I could have made that shot knock you over." Unfaithful to the harshness of her words, however, no further shots landed. Phantom stayed hunched over, holding his knees to increase oxygen and blood flow.

"For real, though. You good?" Valerie asked, raising an eyebrow at Danny's posture.

"Just a bit of vertigo. I've felt a bit odd lately, but nothing too bad. Maybe I'm catching a ghost cold or something. I got one last year that was brutal." Danny laughed, glossing over the worry with a little white lie.

"You should have your parents take a look."

"Maybe, but it's not a big deal. I don't want to bother them over something that might not even happen again," the super insisted.

Valerie gave the hard-headed man a once-over, before sighing as she saw his expression settle into a "the-world-will-end-before-I-change-my-opinion" Fenton Face™.

"You'd know your limits better than me, I'd hope," she finished lamely, giving him one last chance to back out.

"Yep, I'm good!" Being winded had been more rooted in shock than exertion. Danny plastered on a cheesy grin, straightening with exaggerated spring. He also floated up several feet to emphasize his point when a skyblue-and-white colored bomb fell from the canopy. The projectile solidified into a feminine shape just before impact and drove Danny to the earth, his head thudding resoundly against a gnarled root.

"Less good," he coughed, ghost sense rasping from his lips a moment late.

Valerie was too busy cracking up to respond. After a moment, she forced a big breath into her lungs, and strided over to pull the newcomer off Danny and into a familial hug. "Hey Dani."

"Hey Sis!"

"What pulled you out of the Ghost Zone long enough to visit the elderly?" Valerie joshed, glad to see her entirely too busy pseudo-sister after several months absence.

Danny, without an "i", waited for his vision to clear, not particularly worried about a concussion with his advanced healing and supernatural durability. Sitting up, he watched the exchange from his position atop fallen leaves, air whistling through his nose as he controlled his breathing.

"I'm actually here to see my Grandpa for once." The faux seventeen-year-old smirked, and Val indulged her with a high-five before the girl continued, "I need help in the GZ. Something's wrong with my kids." Her brows furrowed subconsciously. "They're powers aren't stabilizing correctly. I'm worried." Danny and Valerie both noticed the teen's nearly imperceptible flinch, forcing them to mentally revisit their own near-loss of Danielle.

"I think we were pretty much done here anyways. Let's grab something from the Nasty Burger, then head back to my place to brainstorm," Danny suggested, missing the way Valerie grimaced at the mention of her workplace on the one day off she had this week. Being a manager sucked. "I haven't been there in forever."

"Really? I thought you lived there?" Dani joked, quick to pretend her obsession wasn't eating her alive. Danny and her had more in common than just DNA.

"I haven't been in a couple months. My parents put their foot down and said I couldn't go back to college on their dime unless I ate better. Something about the grease being bad for my soul," Danny lamented, swooning back into the leaves dramatically, careful to avoid the violent root.

"Oh quit your belly-aching. I heard enough of it when they put down the ultimatum," Val griped. "Your parents made the right choice. The extremely high levels of saturated fats were binding to some of your mitochondrial DNA when you changed forms. Who knows how long it would have taken you to 'go ghost' permanently." Danny had the grace to look sheepish.

"I'm glad you're doing better." The clone looked to Valerie, who nodded in affirmation. Shoulders untensing, she smiled up at Danny, "...but when did you get so tall? You've shot up like a weed since the last time I saw you."

"Oh, summer. Actually, right around the time that I…switched…" Danny's eyes got big as he failed to finish the thought.

Valerie tilted her head, and stared up at her clueless friend, a bird observing a worm. Then, changing her tone to guttural and scratchy, she declared, "Looks like meat's back off the menu, Boys." Teeth bared viciously, she added, "I heard the HeartBeet cafe has excellent smoothies."

Chapter Text

UPDATE********
Chapter Two is now available in an audio format! Took forever, but I plan to do this for every chapter!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVrTz9hgVKI

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

"This sentence is in English but shhh." This is for when the scene is from a Japanese character's POV and they don't understand English.

WARNING!
I have a Rewrite of Portal Panic started!

Tuesday, September 4th

2:03 pm

A loose patch of leaves exploded into the air, disrupted by an unseen force. A depression stayed in the pine needles and acorns beneath the oak's molt, clearly still affected by some invisible presence.

The air above the tree litter grunted, as if winded by an impact; then the needles and acorns sprang back up, and two much-smaller divots formed shoulder-width apart.

The forest held its breath, the wildlife silent as the grave.

Nearly a dozen feet above the disturbance, a paranormal force receded into itself. The viridescent haze that had caught in its eddy faded back out of existence and disappeared without a sound.

A tense minute passed, only the worms and insects daring to continue about their daily lives, especially with the sounds of breaking branches and indistinct yelling in the distance.

Tuesday, September 4th

2:35 pm

Dani had searched for her life's purpose for several years after her creation. No matter how welcome she was at the Fenton's, nor how close she had become to Val while training under the woman's Red Huntress pseudonym, a monster with great gaping teeth and gangly clawed limbs had gnawed at her.

Loneliness.

She'd craved a sense of belonging brought on by those in similar circumstances.

Over a year ago, Kitty suggested the halfa visit the Lost Holm, a place the full ghost had been in and out of before she met Johnny. Dani had been dismissive of the idea at first.

Despite her origins, the clone was very well adjusted. So suggesting she needed some kind of support group that seemed entirely too much like Alcoholics Anonymous was kind of insulting. Okay, yeah. So maybe it wasn't all that much like AA, from what she'd heard. But it was the principle of the matter.

The look of melancholy understanding Kitty had given her, coupled with a complete change of subject, had the young teen rethinking her options.

One visit was all it had taken. Her heart was caught as surely as a shade in a patch of Undergrowth's Devil's Snare. Now she played mom to a bunch of misfit, newly-formed ghosts struggling to come to terms with their existence.

It was taxing; and interacting with her "kids" could give her a headache or chip at her patience on the best of days. She also had to give up most of her free time on Earth. But she wouldn't trade it for the world.

Then, five days ago, when her newest charge—no, family member—had started appearing a little fuzzy around the edges, she had been more of a hen mother than a den mother. Flustered and overbearing, the teen had done everything in her power to make sure Luke got better.

But then the much older Jessica had started acting strange. And Caleb. Even the Gardener (who only ever seemed to come to meetings to fawn over some Zone-native variety of flower) was having issues with his flight.

She'd checked for all the signs of a ghost cold. No abnormal temperatures—hot or cold; no bags under the eyes or discolored skin tone. Not even a sniffle in anyone's...okay, so not everyone had a nose. But no sniffles.

What she did notice, however, set her core into overdrive, practically freezing the ectoplasm in the girl's veins and frosting her ice-themed costume for good measure.

Several of her kids had begun to leave smudges of themselves behind, their chosen forms lacking a substantiality normally present. A few of them even had their feet start to...to have an almost liquid quality on occasion.

Dani needed help.

Which was why she was currently forcing herself to sit still through Danny Fenton and Valerie Gray's idle chatter.

She sipped on an admittedly excellent smoothie, the frosty beverage soothing a slowly-tightening throat as she kept her impatience in check.

"—Psychology is a tough major. I'm not surprised she wanted a year off," Valerie responded to something the ghost girl had tuned out.

Danny's concerned blue eyes pierced the younger halfa from across the cafe's table. He must have caught her glazed look. Or maybe had noticed the bags under her eyes.

Dani avoided his stare, zeroing back in on Valerie as the ghost hunter spoke again, "So is taking over FentonWorks still the plan for you?"

That caught Dani's attention; she was more removed from the living world than she thought if her biological father's(?)—er twin's(?) major life choices were surprising. She knew he had been going to the local community college, but the "why" had just kind of slipped away.

"Yep. It made a lot of sense after I saw the family finances. FentonWorks is way more lucrative than I gave it credit for. Once I get infrastructure in place for marketing the patents, I'll have a nice passive income with plenty of time to account for my ghostly duties," Danny answered offhandedly, still watching his family member closely.

Valerie took a bite of ham and cheese panini in the interim, noticed Danny's gaze, and turned sharp, calculating eyes on her old mentee. Dani shifted self-consciously, chair creaking slightly at the movement.

Swallowing, Valerie angled her head towards the older halfa without breaking eye contact with the younger one. "It's a shame you had to give up being an astronaut. I know what a space nerd you are."

Dani was pretty sure the conversation was just an excuse for the two to kill time as they waited for her to admit to obsession-related neurosis.

The other two had listened to the teen's concerns already, making a plan of action on the stroll to the cafe. But even though Danny was set to come to the Lost Holm on Thursday—which, to be fair, made sense since he had the entire day off from class—Dani couldn't shake her growing anxiety.

There was no reason to rush, it wasn't like any of her kids were dying.

But she couldn't stop brooding. What if something happened while she was gone? Yeah, none of the symptoms were all that bad now, but that didn't mean they couldn't get—.

Danny's voice piped up much louder than before, jolting her out of her spiral, "Yeah, it would have been too hard to pass the rigorous medical testing they require at NASA. Besides, I can basically go to space whenever I want now with the Nebula Navigator suit."

Dani took another big sip of pineapple papaya, trying to avoid looking up when nothing further was said.

Knowing the trap to be set, the huntress resumed eating her sandwich. The toasted bread crunched loudly as the youngest at the table fiddled with a ponytail.

The quiet stretched, and Dani risked a glance upward. Not at Danny, who picked away at a salad, but at a minimalist-style carrot painted on the wine-red wall behind him. Gathering her thoughts, Dani's eyes flitted from customer to customer, then to nearly every cheesy vegetable pun stenciled around the room.

If weekly meetings with her kids had taught Dani anything, it was that ignoring spectral tendencies just because they were disquieting was a big no-no.

She took one last survey of the cafe to check for errant ears, then collapsed against the table, arms pillowing her face as a mass of silky black hair spread around her. Taking a fortifying breath from within the self-made shield, she caved all at once, "You win, okay? My obsession is flaring up. I can't hardly sleep or relax because I'm so worried about my kids. I know, logically, that their symptoms aren't all that severe. But every time I close my eyes I picture one of them melting. Jessica sneezed yesterday and I nearly jumped out of my skin."

Danny and Valerie shared a knowing glance that Dani failed to see from inside the circle of her protective limbs. She did, however, feel when the Fenton patted her hair soothingly from his seat adjacent.

"Dani. You know we will find out how to help you," Valerie assured, the steel-spined woman's conviction bleeding into her words.

"I'm sure we'll get your kids better in no time. Not only will we have my parents on board, but we also know a ton of ghosts who I'm sure would love to help," Danny vouched, strengthening the argument.

A seed of worry stayed rooted deep in the clone's heart, ready to grow in the quiet hours of night where only thoughts were company. The presence of the two's confidence provided a temporary comfort, but it would not stay.

"Dani. Look at me." The quiet tone held an almost unnatural air of authority, and Dani lifted her head. "Obsessions are a ghost's greatest weakness. They bind us to desire, and can drive us to do counterintuitive and single-minded things sometimes."

Blue eyes mirrored each other, a reflection of spirit as much as genetics, and the world beyond their table seemed to dull.

"But they are also our greatest strength and are a testament to our passion. Ghosts are beings of energy, of the mind. We are at our best when we focus on what drives us. Right now, you are only looking at one facet of yourself. Your need to protect the people you are closest to, to keep them safe and not lose them." The young man's voice gentled, "But the strong ties you hold mean that you can trust in those you cherish. The support goes both ways. When things get hard, remind yourself that we are here, we love you, and we will be your pillars when you can't stand alone."

The ambient sound sharpened, once again comprehensible as the rest of the room came back into focus.

The seed of nagging unease Dani contained burned up, seared out by a much stronger force.

Faith.

Tuesday September 4th

2:05 pm

Earlier...

Toru Hagakure inspected the forest.

The first thought in the UA student's head had been "villain attack" when the ground beneath her feet had taken on an emerald, toxic hue and dropped her through. It had felt similar to when Kurogiri had transported the whole class during the USJ incident, but was different in that it caused a kind of dull static to cling to the skin.

Toru's back had jarred when she'd hit the ground, but the hero-in-training had still sprung to agile feet, risking a glance several yards above her head. The gateway that imitated a shy maiden sensed the attention and promptly disappeared.

Squelching dismay, she focused on a plethora of crashes and exclamations audible in the distance. A few minutes passed and the sounds dampened as if traveling across a snow-covered landscape. Ears strained for the tiniest sounds, Hagakure waited on high alert.

Eventually when silence descended and the awkward posture cramped a calf, the teen began to question whether or not there was immediate danger.

Birdsong resumed and her stance loosened incrementally; then dropped completely when nothing sprang from the underbrush with extreme speed or warped, horrific anatomy.

Toru took a calming breath to still the panic that had set her brain alight and flushed her muscles with adrenaline. The inhale brought with it a wave of exhaustion, pulling at weary bones and making her body leaden.

Taking stock of the situation with newfound levelheadedness, the invisible girl was surprised to find herself shaking faintly in the dappled sun that filtered from above.

It should have been a couple more weeks before any true cold snap. But this forest was already starting to take on the beautiful colors indicative of Autumn and the temperature had to be close to 15 degrees Celsius.

Judging the position of the sun through ruby and gold tinged leaves, the displaced girl came to another unsettling conclusion. It was the hottest part of the day.

A new dread pooled into Toru's stomach as she peered down at a body she could not see. One that was as naked as the day it was born.

Tuesday September 4th,

2:16 pm

"Everyone, that's it. Class is over. Head back to the locker rooms to change," a timeworn voice called out into a cavernous structure filled with pillars and formations of cement.

A strand of what looked like ribbon flew out and stuck to a space some twelve feet above the ragged man's tired posture. Erasure Head didn't flinch as a student in a black, white and yellow skin-tight suit came flying toward him, one enlarged elbow dragging the kid forward with immense force.

Concurrently, an individual in mechanized armor skidded to a stop on the racetrack bordering the room. The fairly tall teen waved his arms wildly and directed toward the door as he yelled "Come on, everyone. We must hurry, or we'll be late for our next class! Punctuality is also a sign of heroism!"

"Yeah, yeah. We get it, Emergency Exit," the first kid teased and landed with a rip of the tape.

The class' signature ice user came next, sliding in from the back of the room on a ramp made of frozen water. Midoriya was soon to follow, small bolts of electricity dancing along the fabric of his costume.

"Oi, Bakugo! C'mon!" a buff, topless redhead in gear-like sleeves shouted upward at a cliff where several booms still echoed.

"Shut it, crap-hair!" came back at him, vague in its location from around an outcropping of cement. A spot soon turned red, and a four foot hole burned through the fake mountainside. Katsuki Bakugo shot out of the newly made cavity, exploding down to the makeshift gathering with rather more emotion than was warranted.

The rest of the class made their way to the front entrance, much less flashy in nature. Except for a single boy, who had literal sparkles adorning the air around his knight's armor and blue cape.

Two teens brought up the rear from a ways away. Having to walk from the farthest corner of the training center had made them lag behind.

With eyes set in a face that seemed to be an amalgamation of a dinosaur, an axolotl and a cliff side, Koji Koda looked around Gym Gamma.

The petting hero's throat hurt from screaming at pigeons for the past hour. Swallowing instinctively, he tried to wet his parched tongue, then turned to address the tall boy with six wing-like arms walking next to him, "Sh-Shoji-kun?"

"Hm?" The reply that should have come from beneath a blue face mask instead came from a small mouth at the tip of one of the quiet teen's arms.

"Did you happen to hear if Hagakure-chan came back yet?" The fully-in-costume invisible girl had left a little over ten minutes ago. She was supposed to be grabbing drinks for the three of them, but had yet to return.

Koda's throat scratched again, but he ignored it in favor of concern. The vending machines were just outside the door, their position a midway point between the PE field (where they had first tested the boundaries of their quirks) and Gym Gamma.

"I am unsure. I heard something a moment ago that may have been her footsteps, but I was busy focusing on duplicating my eyes today. I apologize for not being more help," Shoji confessed, calm but sincere as he glanced at his friend before refixating back on the pair's destination.

"Oh. Okay. Thanks anyway," Koji responded.

The rest of the class came into view, and he noticed a large bag at Aizawa's feet. Next to the practical teacher, Ken Ishiyama, better known as Cementoss, was pulling water bottles from it and passing them to everyone in 1A.

Seeing the drinks being handed around, Koda's furrowed brow relaxed.

Tuesday September 4th,

2:20 pm

A locker room door opened and a flood of girls strolled in. Two of the teens headed left while the other three diverged right, mimicking a forked river. They split again as each magnetized to their own metal cubby, idle chatter a near constant.

"—I just can't seem to get my body to keep bright colors, kero." Tsuyu Asui, or Tsu, as she was always insisting her friends call her, ended the comment with a signature croak.

"Uuhm. You could try practicing back at the dorms with just your hands or something. Maybe smaller body parts would be easier to keep bright. At least until you got the hang of it!" Ochako encouraged, happy to help her friend brainstorm.

The mostly pink-outfitted girl pulled off her visor. A strip of chestnut hair under where the headband had fallen and the strands over her ears remained indented, even with the plexiglass face covering removed.

Everyone else was making short work of switching to their gym uniforms. Kyoka had already even changed into the school's mandatory tracksuit, the letters "U" and "A" hiding in the white lines across the blue cloth.

First Aid Training was starting soon, and it was rare that Recovery Girl led a class, so everyone was in a rush.

"What about you, Momo-chan? How's making two different kinds of items at the same time coming along?" Ashido asked curiously, interested in all of her classmates' lives despite the minor hurry.

"With dedication and practice, I believe it's possible. Currently, it is proving troublesome to split my attention between the molecular differences of two items simultaneously. But I did manage to make a red and a blue ball at nearly the same time today. Color was the only difference, but it's a start." Yaoyarozu aligned the two sides of her dark navy jacket and zipped the metal tab up, covering her white undershirt beneath cotton-nylon blended fabric.

"I'm just impressed you can do it at all, kero," the amphibian girl complimented from across the aisle and raised a finger to the corner of her lips. The everything hero blushed in response, then turned away from the praise.

Ochako slid on a pair of the same fancy sweatpants everyone else was wearing and pivoted toward the door, fully dressed and ready to go.

Ashido followed the gravity-altering girl's motion and mused aloud, "Toru-chan sure is late. I wonder what's keeping her? I wanted to ask if she managed to up the brightness on Warp Refraction."

"Are you sure she's late? She might have just got here before us and is already at sixth period," Kyoka hypothesized.

"Yeah, maybe," Ashido acquiesced, but couldn't quite shake a feeling of unease.

Tuesday September 4th,

2:23 pm

1A converged on their next location. A large space nearly identical to their homeroom class with one major difference. There were no desks lined up in rows. No tight aisles to circumvent or navigate when crossing the classroom. Only a big open space ringed by standardized blue computer chairs, a single seat missing to give access to the circle.

Waiting patiently like a sun ready to pull planets to orbit, a vertically challenged grandma stood leaning on a giant syringe-shaped cane. Her doctor's outfit draped far past her feet, indicating an extreme loss of height in recent years.

The children finished populating the seats, and a single chair stood empty. Wizened eyes peered about the room, crows feet pulling at their edges as Chiyo Shuzenji took in her students.

Her attention passed over several perturbed faces, but her own facade kept a pleasant and professionally-disarming passivity.

Several of the kids were obviously anxious. Like Kyoka, whose tense muscles and deep frown were a dead giveaway. It didn't help that the rocker kept glancing at the barren seat, whispering to a purse-lipped Tsuyu; and, even though Chiyo's older ears heard only indistinct mumbles, the "youthful" heroine could guess the conversation's topic.

The concern of a few other, more restrained students, would have been difficult to see if she hadn't served years in the medical field. Patients that insisted everyone else with minor injuries be treated first while they bled out internally taught her to look for the little things. Like the two clenched fists in their hiding spot beneath multiple appendages and flaps of bat-like skin.

Mezo Shoji's expression stayed reserved even as he made direct eye contact with the instructor, then pointedly looked at the missing person's spot.

Next to him, the equally quiet boy, Koda, appeared quite pale and twiddled furiously with his thumbs. His mouth even opened and closed slightly like he wanted to say something.

Recovery Girl angled her body around to take in more of her audience. Keeping her eyes occupied by watching the class rep's openly aghast expression, she ran through a list of students in her head. Ah yes, the invisible one. That was why it had been hard to immediately place the face of the missing child. Besides, the girl hardly ever got hurt, so Chiyo had spent little time with her.

By the time Tenya Iida had started yelling for her attention, robotic arms swinging, she already knew who the grievance would be about.

"Yes, Iida-kun?" the grandma acknowledged, willing to let him explain the predicament himself.

"Sensei, Hagakure-san is late for class!" the boy belted, standing ramrod straight with arms to his sides, hands flattened like they were about to cover a rock in a game of Janken.

Multiple exclamations came from the girls at once.

"We didn't see her in the locker room and thought she went on ahead, kero."

"What if she got hurt during training and nobody noticed?!"

"What if she was kidnapped..." Pops like a firecracker punctuated the words from a place opposite the last speaker, and the very air suddenly felt strained.

From within the noise, a deep voice came from the beak of an Asian Koel, unique in its pacific nature, "We should not jump to conclusions just because something is amiss. Recovery Girl is staying calm, as should we all. We are heroes in training and should act as such." Sheepish expressions crossed some of Fumikage Tokoyami's more distressed classmates, but Bakugo stayed rigid, teeth grit and jaw muscle twitching. "It would be best to respond logically, by contacting the other faculty and determining if there is not some mundane reason for her absence."

"Excellent suggestion, Tokoyami-kun," Chiyo praised, voice just as steady and unhurried as ever as she fished in her oversized pocket for her cell. She drew it out, and ten key-clicks later the phone was ringing.

[Moshi-mosh.]

Glancing at Shoji and Kyoka to make sure she didn't spot any extra ears or plugged in jacks, the healer responded, "Hello, Shota-kun? I was wondering if I could expect Miss Hagakure-chan for today's class, or has she been pulled away on an errand?"

The next part came through the line in a hushed tone, [Hagakure is missing. The other faculty are already combing inside Gym Gamma, in case she has been rendered unconscious in an accident. Do not inform the other students until we find out more.] Aizawa was as to-the-point as ever.

Chiyo wanted to ask questions. To demand answers and insist on standing by if the girl really was injured. Instead, she let her features stay kind, lifting up her mouth in a practiced smile as if hearing reassuring news. "Thank you, Shota-kun. Then I will continue class as normal," she answered, looking the epitome of unbothered.

Ending the call, she addressed her students, "Aizawa-sensei has informed me that Hagakure-chan will not be joining us for today's lesson for personal reasons, but to go ahead and start."

The atmosphere around the class shifted, a general feeling of placation blanketing those present. But as Recovery Girl turned in a full circle, ready to start the lesson, she noticed a few who remained suspicious.

Midoriya, Yaororozu, and Bakugo's unease went unnoticed by virtually everyone else, but Chiyo picked up on subtle differences of posture and negative micro-expressions.

Only a single person besides herself noticed anything out of place. The bubbly brunette that always hung around Midoriya paid close attention to the boy's face as if trying to unlock his mind while he typed a quick text.

Chiyo pretended not to see the phone held close to his thigh.

Yaoyorozu kept her typical composure, but the reassuring smile she turned to a classmate seemed a little tight around the edges.

Unlike the other two, Bakugo showed major emotion. The boy's fuming, however, was so typical of his nature no one thought twice about what it masked.

"Today we are going to learn about the difference between treating a compound fracture and a regular one. I want you to be able to assess and secure both kinds safely. Can anyone tell me what you absolutely should not do when faced with a fracture?"

Several hands shot up around the room.

Tuesday September 4th,

2:43 pm

Toru couldn't believe her luck. Climbing no less than two trees hadn't given the lostling any new information about her surroundings; but wandering around the woods for, like, a half hour, max, had allowed her to miraculously find a paved running trail.

It was a good thing, too, because walking through ferns, brambles and bushes had been savage on her bare skin and feet. One stinging line (which the girl was sure would have been red were it visible) stretched from a hip to the lower edge of her scapula.

Not to mention that she didn't have any form of GPS.

Quirk Training was often bad for an electronic's health and all devices were forbidden in class; but it had been horrible to remember her phone was safely tucked away in her gym locker. She might not have been able to use it if there wasn't service here (she was somewhere in nature, after all), but she could have at least tried to send a text. Or even just checked the time.

Sighing, she squared goosefleshed shoulders and kept walking, the pavement under her feet sapping the tiny amount of warmth the exercise created. Hugging arms around her waist tightly didn't stop the shivering, but did allow for a modicum of heat to be retained. The air was cold.

She thought about the circumstances that surrounded her kidnapping as she plodded along. Coming here had been terrifying at first, so some arrival details were lost to the initial panic that had swamped her mind; but the teen did know three things for certain. One, that she had fallen through some kind of green portal; two, someone had been fighting nearby; and three, she had to get clothes.

Having a very pressing survival goal had allowed her to push down any anxiety. She needed to get out of this forest and to do that she had to keep moving. So the invisible girl had picked a direction away from where she'd last heard the battle, and started a manageable, but muscle-warming, hike.

If all the villain attacks on the student's school had taught her anything, it was that freezing up was the worst thing you could do. In a bad situation, it was easier to take things one step at a time. Focus on what could be done now to better the situation.

She had briefly considered going toward the crashing sounds, but had chucked the idea like a hot potato. She didn't know anything about the scuffle she'd heard, nor whether the participants were villains. Even if they weren't, who knows if they would have helped her. Hagakure could have revealed herself only to lose her one real advantage in dealing with this situation. Stealth.

Ten more minutes of miserably ambling down the paved foot path had Toru spotting a wooden stake set into the ground. Two arrow-shaped boards adorned the top, rusted nails affixing them in place. One side pointed in the direction she had come, the other, where she was going.

Dread crept up the teen's spine as she spied something truly unnerving.

English letters.

A visceral reaction set her to sweating as the sign swam in her vision. Then, a mundanely inappropriate memory surfaced, warding the feeling off.

"Honey! Look! Toru-chan tied her shoes!" an empty business suit called across a small apartment from the living room. Next to the unseen man sat a miniature Toru, decked out in tiny clothes. A single shoe had a floppy knot of strings on top that somewhat resembled a bow. The other had yet to be defiled by tiny, invisible hands.

Equally bland clothes leaned out from behind the kitchen wall at the prompting, hugging the curves of a middle aged body. "You bet she did! She's named Toru for a reason!" The tan blouse fist pumped, the motion a dichotomy to the reserved nature of the outfit. "Nothing can stop my girl; she'll never be a quitter!"

The businessman leaned closer to his daughter, pulled the child into a goofy hug, and swung her around. "Hear that, Tora? Mommy thinks you're a fighter; go show her your claws!"

"Raaaaaawwwwr," the knee-high t-shirt and shorts roared, racing toward the kitchen. Up until the untied shoe reminded the girl of its existence as a tripping hazard. Down she went.

But not for long.

The smile on Toru's face as she jerked back to the present was unbidden.

The memory had reminded the hero-in-training of something very important.

She was a Toru. Persistent was her very name. The first challenge of finding a possible way out of the woods had already been cleared. She could read a sign. Even if it required remembering things from one of the girl's worst subjects.

Brow drawn in concentration, she stared hard at the arrow pointing behind her. Suu. Puu. Kiii. Tsu. Re. Ii. Ru. It meant nothing. She tried again, this time sounding the words out aloud. "Su-pu-ki tsu-re-i-ru." Not fast enough. "Spu-ki tu-re-iru." She concentrated on changing the "R" to an "L" at the end. Spooky Trail.

The first word was foreign, but a nagging at the back of the mind made her concentrate on the second. Trail….trail…..trail….was it…..shippo? No….that didn't feel quite right. Unless the path was talking about squirrels.

Wait!

That was it!

It wasn't tureiru. It was TO-reiru, the synonym for michi!

"Trail" was the English word for path!

A sense of accomplishment filled her as she tried to read the second sign. "A-mi-ti Pa-ru-ku".

Toru puzzled over the first word's meaning for a minute more, before the chill got the better of her and she had to give up. At least the second word, park, gave some reassurance. If there was a car lot in that direction, she could find a real road, and maybe a town!

Either way, the teen had to start moving again before she froze.

Semi-confident in her previous heading, she started to jog, back warming slightly. The cleared path was a boon, keeping the trees at bay enough to let rays of sun through. After a few minutes Toru began to breathe hard. After twelve, she used blurry eyes to make sure numb and scratched feet were still there and moving.

Lost in focus, she startled when the trees just...ended, the path curving out into a field.

In front of the girl stood a massive billboard that proudly proclaimed "Amity Park: A nice place to live", its feet obscured and encroached on by overgrown grass. The only thing immediately recognizable for Toru was the phrase "Amity Park" from the trail.

Beyond, a glorious road led straight into a city.

Tuesday September 4th,

2:43 pm

A bipedal mouse crossed a large lot, eyes drawn to the white lines of chalk marking the compacted dirt. The professionally clothed mammal took a breath, line of sight raising as he appraised several teachers stationed in the field outside Gym Gamma.

The gaunt face of Yagi Toshinori was not among them. The man had wanted to be here, but was in charge of 1A's final class of the day, forcing the instructor to get ready. Still, a decent number of UA's faculty made up the huddle.

One of which was a dino helmeted man, the mecha headwear covering much of his facial features. In his red-tipped fingers was a massive metal detector-esque device. The main difference between the support item and something normally reserved for finding lost jewelry or coins was a giant display screen stationed near the handle. As Power Loader walked forward to meet the principal, the read-out's numbers jumped erratically.

"Kocho-sensei!"

Nezu Kocho locked gazes with the head of the support department, acknowledging the man to continue. Before Higari Maijima could, though, he was cut off by a massive man next to him who jumped forward, landing on hands and feet in front of the mouse.

Black striped arms splaying wide in something halfway between a bow and a push up, the bestial teacher yelled "Nezu-san! I lost—rrawrr—scent! Got—aaarraahraa—the dooorrrr—arrrraaghraaa aahhhhh raaa roooaaaoooooo!" the passionate man ended the report in a soul-torn howl, saliva spilling from a mouth no longer capable of human speech.

The scar over Nezu's right eye tugged at a white-furred cheek as his lips drew down in a grimace. Tucking small arms behind his back, he subconsciously reverted to submissive posture. "Thank you, Inui-san. I understand how upset you must be. Failing my students to such a degree is making me question my own competence as a principal."

"Kocho-san! Don't say that! No school is equipped to handle such extreme situations," a voice whose origin could have been a meat grinder sounded from the side. The lean but excessively tall hero dropped to a trenchcoat-covered knee, bringing his own height much closer to that of the rodent's. His head, which was so dark blue it bordered black, bowed. Sharp yellow accent lines caught the light as he went on "If anything, we have failed you."

Not impressed with the pity party, a new person spoke up from the back, "We have uncovered very little. But we do know for a fact that Hagakure-san is nowhere inside Training Dining Land. We are hoping your quirk will offer more insight." The man who could have starred in an apocalyptic wild west film gestured for everyone to follow. Without waiting to see if they did, he immediately started trekking toward the large building with its rounded top.

The group filed in behind, the final party member picking up the principal. Vlad King positioned the small creature on his shoulder before striding after.

"Even if I am unable to determine anything, Tsukauchi-san and Tamakawa-san are on their way. They should also be bringing two heroes with them that may be able to help." Nezu sounded somewhat hopeful. The police department had been integral in rescuing young Bakugo.

"If only Ragdoll hadn't lost her quirk…." Power Loader's tone was the opposite of his boss', and the silence hit like a side hook.

Trying to pull the topic away from the reminder of the Wild Wild Pussycat, Vlad reported the faculty's findings in a steady voice, "As Ryo was saying, he lost Hagakure-san's scent just outside the gym. He's incredibly frustrated." The male built just as massively as his close friend raised a red-clad arm, patting the hunting hero apologetically with a silver-backed hand. "Apparently it just vanished. But there was a new smell there—"

"Hospitaaaaaarrrrrrooo!"

The blood hero just nodded, unconcerned by Hound Dog's interruption. "I myself was unable to find anything useful, but Higari-kun took readings at the site where she vanished." The group was almost across the field, only fifteen feet away from the aforementioned location.

"There are trace amounts of energy, but I'm having a hard time pinning down what kind. The radiation is decaying at a rapid rate and interfering with my equipment. Its half life seems to be about every eighteen minutes, so if Hagakure-san has been missing an hour we only have about thirteen percent of the radioactive isotopes left to test at this very moment. Unfortunately, the data I'm collecting is unreliable, so without incredibly specialized equipment arriving here in the next thirty hours, we have hit a wall on my front," Power Loader supplied, then rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation, tilting his headgear back for better access. "My guess is that a quirk rather than a support item generated it. Probably a portal user."

"Just because we have been faced with two portal generating quirks recently does not mean we should rule out other possibilities preemptively. A multitude of quirks could be responsible, and are statistically more likely. Teleportation, flight, and permeation to name a few," Nezu admonished gently, small black eyes watching as the petite mechanic stopped in front of two vending machines.

Ectoplasm hicc-urped as he closed the gap between himself and the support department head, an indistinct mist escaping his mouth. Ignoring the minor indigestion he'd been experiencing lately, the clone-generator watched Nezu and Vlad advance toward him.

Then outright stared when the principal started shaking in a way he hadn't seen since their first introduction.

"Are you okay, Kocho-san?" Vlad asked, instinctively putting a supportive hand on the small male's side, worried the mammal might fall off his perch.

"Y-yes. I-I'm f-f-fine. D-d-don't wor-r-ry," Nezu assured through chattering teeth.

Snipe raised an eyebrow skeptically from where he casually leaned against one of the drink dispensers. With crossed arms partially covered by a rusty red fabric, the gunslinger examined his boss.

"J-just s-some in-s-stincts," the principal responded, already slowing his heartbeat with mental exercises. "I-I'll b-be fine in a s-second."

The rodent shook his head as if to clear it, then took a steadying breath before hopping to the floor. Hound Dog and Vlad shared a furtive glance as Nezu circled and inspected a very specific spot on the ground without being told.

Ignoring his staff, the head of UA continued gravely, "W-we need to proceed very c-carefully. Whatever or whoever took Hagakure-san activated my fight or flight response with nothing more than residual power."

Chapter Text

Chapter Three is now available in an audio format! Took forever, but I plan to do this for every chapter!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rTrvZx5TD8

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

"This sentence is in English, but shhh." This is for when the scene is from a Japanese character's POV and they don't understand English, or, if they understand some words, those are not underlined.

WARNING!
I have a Rewrite of Portal Panic started!

Tuesday September 4th,

3:35 pm

Toru's feet were starting to hurt so much it set the girl's eyes to watering. Tear tracks started on wind-bitten cheeks but were quickly wiped off.

At least she'd made it to the edge of town.

Grey and taupe buildings of western-style architecture closed in. Most were one to two stories tall and had a distinctly residential feel.

A violent shiver wracked Hagakure's body as she traversed a shadow cast by a rather tall apartment complex. The sunless section coveted the girl's heat like some jealous yuki-onna.

Coming to a stoplight at the end of the first block, Toru surveyed the area as a blue Prius passed on the left. A glowing white stick figure lit up on the far side of the street and the invisible girl crossed at a set of painted white lines.

Casting a curious glance at an excessively large truck parked at the side of the road, a flicker of resigned dread teased at the Japanese teen's mind. She'd only ever seen such large vehicles in satirical depictions of the United States.

Movement at the girl's periphery had her looking back to the sidewalk. Two people approached from the opposite direction, Hagakure's first encounter since dropping through the portal. Heart rate speeding up, she side-stepped quietly then held still longer than was strictly necessary. The duo passed, ignorant of several red smudges that decorated the cement at even intervals.

Toru's feet weren't bleeding a lot. Just enough to make her nervous about being noticed.

When the pair remained oblivious, laughing and openly holding hands in public, Toru let out a breath. Then sharply inhaled when the woman spoke. It was not only in English, but it was fast.

"So are you free Saturday night? I heard the mall here carries Halloween stuff all year long because of 'ghost attacks'."

Toru could tell the tone was lighthearted, but the guy stiffened a bit. An awkward laugh blended in discord with the girl's carefree one as they drew further away.

"Yeah...there are some really….kooky people here in Amity Park." The man avoided his date's gaze as the two made their way to the truck Hagakure had just marveled at. The insignia across the front grill read R-A-M.

Okay. So it was confirmed. It wasn't just the signs; this town was English-centric.

And unless there was a magic way to slow everyone's words down, the conversational skills Toru had learned in school were a moot point.

Which meant she was much worse off than originally believed.

Mind racing, the UA student continued to vacate the suburbs, ambling toward the city's heart.

Hagakure passed recessed doors framed by large picture windows. Beyond the glass, clothes and other odd items were displayed. There wasn't anything wrong with them, per say, they just felt….off.

It was in passing the sixth storefront Toru finally figured out what bothered her so much. The mannequins on display all had exactly two arms and two legs, and the technological items seemed almost….old.

This town was strange. How could so many shops afford to exclude people with mutation quirks from their clientele?

Spotting a bald, middle aged man wandering into one of the stores, Hagakure put on a burst of speed. The young woman jumped through the door before it could close, but misjudged the size of the man's portly stomach. The close quarters had Toru teetering awkwardly as she barely avoided knocking elbows with the poor guy.

Not that he knew the difference.

The warm air nearly made Hagakure dizzy with relief when the teen made it inside and righted herself. Leaving the entryway, the invisible girl mentally praised her quirk as she settled between exhibits of…..model trains? Then, surprisingly, her shivering increased threefold.

Unable to think past the heat slowly suffusing frozen muscles, Toru just listened to the man behind the counter speak animatedly with his equally enthusiastic client. A lot of gesturing occurred which seemed to center around one particular box of goodies.

The exhausted teen let the gibberish of the two's conversation pass by, strangely comforted by the hobbyists. Eyes wandering, Toru relaxed further when she noticed a tuft of brown poking from the customer's back. The baby blue dress shirt couldn't contain all of the man's mutation, and the small patch reached for freedom from beyond the collar. Hagakure entertained the idea of a hedgehog-based quirk, but discarded the belief after moving closer. The texture was more like fur than quills.

No longer shaking, Toru watched the animal guy leave with a railroad box-set tucked under one arm and a bright smile on his goatee'd face. A bell chimed as the mostly glass door shut.

Shoot.

There'd be no leaving until another customer came. Which, admittedly, wasn't so bad. Avoiding hypothermia was on the top of the to-do list until a solution to the no clothes situation could be improvised. At least getting in here had been super easy. Hard to argue with good luck. A pleased feeling forced an optimistic smile onto Toru's face.

Now that she wasn't imitating an ice sculpture, it was so much easier to focus.

Okay. It didn't seem like the people around here were particularly evil. Hagakure doubted this was a villainous city filled with awkward dates and miniature locomotive fans. But it was an English one. Going to the police might not be a bad idea at this point, but that meant she'd have to find a police box and somehow explain the situation.

Since it was already getting later in the day, it made sense to prioritize getting clothed and scouting a place to sleep. Or maybe even finding a map and a local hero agency if she could swing it. It'd be hard without being able to talk to any civilians; but she knew nothing about her kidnapper and being in a populated place did not guarantee her safety. Midoriya's encounter with Shigaraki at the Kiyashi Ward shopping mall proved that.

Now, clothes.

Dumpsters sometimes had them! But there was a time crunch...and outerwear did no good if it was sopping wet or covered in mold spores. That was actually a terrible idea, the more she thought about it.

...a homeless shelter? Without being able to read or talk to anyone it would be really hard to find. Pilfering the donated clothes section seemed like a pipe dream, even if it was an appealing option.

Raid someone's closet. The thought of going into a private home instantly made Toru squeamish and the hero-in-training shifted awkwardly. Definitely a last resort measure.

Balconies with drying, unguarded linens? No, they didn't seem to be particularly popular around here. The apartment complexes were mostly fronted by slabs of concrete and plain skyscraper-esque windows, the hallways to access them hidden inside.

Okay, that left taking from a store as the most plausible thing to do.

...Unless she could somehow make her own clothes from materials in the forest...? Imagining a giant centipede crawling up her back, the teen immediately discarded the idea and nuked it with napalm.

In fact, all vague plans involving camping out in the woods went up in smoke by proxy.

Hagakure scanned outside the hobby shop at a flicker of movement, mind still reeling. The only thing in view was not a hundred-legged nightmare, but a person. Pale blue face a mask of disinterest, the bat-winged human floated harmlessly by. Still, the sight caused Toru's mouth to pop open of its own accord. The person hadn't been in costume.

Were the laws here so lax that quirk usage was allowed in public? Even America had licensed heroes.

Where on earth could she be?

Staring too hard out the window, Toru missed when the cashier's shoulders sagged and his whitened grip unclenched from the counter.

Several more people passed, but still no customers entered the model train store. Waiting with growing impatience, the bubbly teen's thoughts strayed to things she'd actively been ignoring.

Why was she here? Why didn't the kidnapper attack? What was the fight about when she arrived? Had a hero saved her? Or maybe she hadn't been ambushed because she wasn't the intended target. Or the villain had wanted to recruit her like how the League had tried to entice Bakugo.

The spiral stalled at that last idea, kicking Hagakure out of the anxious flurry of thoughts that beat like trapped pigeons at the inside of her head. It just didn't seem...right. Bakugo had been violent, aggressive. The perfect candidate. Toru Hagakure was a happy-go-lucky girl that, if anything, came across as preppy.

Ding-ding.

Startled, the UA student lunged for the door, battle instinct kicking in when her mind screamed to MOVE.

A chill breeze tickled bare skin. She was outside.

Huh.

Determined not to lose extra heat Toru started jogging, tagging a few boutiques mentally while ignoring the sting of unshod feet. If a second-hand shop didn't show up in the next few blocks, she'd return.

Toru slowed and lightly walked around a pedestrian. It happened a few more times, but was getting less and less stressful as the minutes went on. With things working out so well, it was hard not to draw parallels to some kind of top-secret espionage mission.

Just as the teen was about to call it and head back, an ideal candidate for the heist came into view.

Ducking into the place behind three people, the invisible girl immediately swerved right to follow them down a flight of stairs. It seemed the displays were backed by some kind of live-in flat on the first floor, while the outlet hunkered below.

Stepping down into the store, mental alarm bells were set to ringing. The inside was significantly more popular than the train shop and the teen's new evasive skills got tested immediately as she had to practically dance out of a woman's way on lithe feet.

Tiptoeing into a side aisle between rows of hangered clothes, Toru picked a careful path avoiding the Bargain Basement's customers. She pulled nothing from the metal racks just yet, debating on how to get any selections out of the store without being seen. It wasn't like they could be willed into invisibility.

Surveying the shop again, Toru noticed a small handwritten sign taped to a glass display that doubled as a check stand. Nearly antique jewelry peeked coyly from behind the laminated paper that held five colored dots corresponding to percentages. Red was highest at 70, while yellow sat at a lowly 20.

Covertly checking a few tags to confirm her suspicions, Hagakure set about finding not only the warmest but the cheapest red-stickied items.

At least the prices could be read. Numbers were the same in both Japanese and English. As a hero in training, there was no way Toru wasn't going to pay the owners back later. She'd even save the tags for an accurate total.

Along the back wall there were nearly fifty tiered cubbies full of shoes and a bin containing socks. Most of the footwear was well-worn, but the socks were brand new. Hagakure found it hard to mind the splurge, imagining soft fabric on stinging and aching feet. Checking over a shoulder for looky-loos, the girl grabbed a pair of the fuzzy tubes and tossed them down the back aisle. Following the socks' path, the chilled female walked along the wall, browsing for thick, warm shoes.

Constant English chatter came from the rest of the shop, but tuning it out was becoming second nature.

The teen grabbed the tops of a pair of fur-lined hiking boots. Taking a quick look around, Toru made sure there was no surveillance—human or otherwise—before yanking them off the shelf and setting them as quietly as possible on the floor.

A woman walked past a perpendicular aisle in view of the suspicious activity, prompting Hagakure to let go. When the lady moved on from the end of the row of sweaters, the invisible teen unlaced the boots, only stalling two more times when a shoulder came into view.

Still vigilant, Toru picked up the socks she'd chucked onto the floor earlier. She stuffed them into the first hiking shoe like a present into a Christmas stocking, then shoved her foot into the second one to test the fit.

The hidden female froze, half-shod, as a stupidly fast guy practically power-walked into the space and examined a pair of loafers. Lifting them up, the young man took a perfunctory sniff of the air overtop, then put them back with a mild shake of the head and a scrunched up nose.

Hagakure held her breath at the brunet's claustrophobia-inducing nearness before the dude pivoted and stepped straight toward her.

The internal panic was instant. If Toru moved, the boot would move. But to stay still was a sure-fire collision path. She couldn't let him touch her.

Limbo may have been an option had the thief thought of it but instead she bolted, feet thumping loudly against the floor. Grabbing the other boot in passing, Hagakure dodged the human obstacle that'd spooked her.

The young man covered a shaggy face in defense of the suddenly audible yet unseen stampede.

"GHOST!"

It wasn't long before the entire shop was yelling the strange English word in the same way a civilian might scream "villain". Shoppers and employees alike fled in terror.

Cover blown, Toru zipped around the shop, grabbed everything she'd scoped out earlier and made a break for it up the stairs.

A gangly sweatpant leg fell out from the wad of clothing and landed beneath her non-booted foot. The fleece-lined tripping hazard nearly caused a tumble and a bra dislodged from the pile. Flailing, the conglomerate of apparel threw the door open and dashed down the sidewalk.

Expecting to have to sidestep pedestrians, Hagakure was bewildered when everyone ran. Not a single person stayed to watch a hero detain her.

Taking the blessing, the thrift store raider sprinted down another five blocks, only crossing a street if a crosswalk was ready. Otherwise, the girl would turn the corner and sprint down the side road.

Breathing hard and worried about losing more than just underwear, Toru ducked into an alleyway. She expected a dead end, but instead saw it let out into some kind of parking lot access.

Hiding behind a dumpster that smelled of rancid tomatoes and mold, the exhausted girl opened her hand. The spare boot not currently on her foot fell to the floor, allowing tired arms to lose some of their burden. Flexing a cramped wrist while still hugging the clothes Toru looked around, listening hard for the inevitable chase of a hero.

Several minutes of inactivity passed. While the lack of any agency's immediate response was troubling, it was hard to be upset.

Dropping her bundle onto a relatively dry, if not entirely clean spot, the teen got dressed.

Looking around more closely, Toru spotted a door further down the brick wall. An Italian caricature stood invitingly above, hoisting a pizza to indicate the establishment's nature.

A growl gurgled from beneath Hagakure's hideous, floral print hoodie.

Turning, trepidation wormed its way into the lost kid's stomach as she regarded the dumpster behind her.

Time to see exactly how generous Hotei-sama was feeling.

Tuesday September 4th,

4:28 pm

"Koda-kun," the boy went positively purple and tensed up, startled at the principal's direct addressment, "Did you notice anything strange when you last saw Hagakure-chan?"

He was saved from answering when the calm, deep voice of Shoji spoke up beside him, "No, Kocho-sensei. Both Koda-kun and I were together with her when she decided to grab drinks for us. She was not under any duress and I had acute vision on all of our surroundings at the time."

"S-she was just being sweet. She noticed my throat hurt without me even saying anything...I thought she came back when I saw Cementoss-sensei handing out water." Koda sagged in on himself with every passing word.

Earlier, only a few of 1A had been hanging in the main lounge of the dorms. Now, the entire class took up station around the small mouse and their homeroom teacher for the announcement.

Aizawa clutched a laptop flat to one side. The silent device sustained no data corruption solely because it lacked moving parts. In the man's other arm was a yellow roll of bedding.

Stepping up behind the petting hero, a blonde whose most prominent feature was a massive tail of corded muscle put a hand on the despairing boy's shoulder. After a slight jump, Koda settled under the brotherly pat. "It's not your fault," Ojiro informed with conviction.

Several more stressed faces stood around the room; but most of the class remained quiet, choosing not to interrupt. Even the pop pop of small explosions stilled.

Midoriya leaned forward in his spot on one of the couches. The green armrest beneath his hand dimpled with what would have been bruising force on a living thing, but the micro-suede remained unscathed. The analyst's gaze nearly lit the floor on fire with its intensity.

"He's absolutely right," Nezu announced. "I am here to see if there are any details I missed. Pointing paws is unproductive at best." The rodent surveyed the students.

"Is there anything more?" The commanding tone of Aizawa blanketed the class, demanding answers from anyone who had them. The underground hero wasn't fairing much better than his students; but he hid it well, pinning them with a severe gaze.

Izuku waited, listening hard. A couple of his peers voiced upset that the class had been left in the dark for the past few hours, but no new information came to light.

Studying his homeroom teacher, All Might's successor found it impossible to be frustrated. Aizawa-sensei had previously sustained countless injuries in everyone's defense, and the choice he had made this time was clearly strategic.

There was always a chance UA's staff could have located or rescued Hagakure-chan before any major incident occurred. It was better not to instill panic when all the facts weren't in. Besides, the faculty probably could have gotten away with not telling anyone until tomorrow before things would have started to smell of rotting roe. The fact that they hadn't showed a respect for their students.

Mind racing with all the topics to consider, Midoriya's right hand subconsciously reached up to cup a slightly rounded chin.

A sudden abduction of a UA student could have something to do with Kurogiri. Or even that suffocating liquid quirk that had teleported Kacchan into the warehouse full of Nomu.

But why take Hagakure-chan? Her profile didn't match up with Kacchan's at all. Was she bait? Was a villain trying to lure out All Might again?

Killing Hagakure-chan or All Might after he had effectively retired would definitely be a crushing blow to both UA and society's already shaky trust in heroes. The villain wouldn't even have to kill Hagakure-chan. Just taking her, a student who didn't stand out in any major way, sent a message that no one was safe.

A detonation rocked Izuku out of his thoughts. The boy's right ear kept ringing even as Bakugo pulled a soot-smudged hand away. "I SAID SHUT UP, NERD! Your mumbling is disgusting!"

The greenet looked around the room, startled to see everyone watching with horrified gazes. Midoriya's skin turned ghost-white and the boy's eyes dropped.

"S-sorry! Sorry, everyone! I didn't realize I was thinking out loud again." While avoiding everyone's looks, Izuku finally noticed the abused armrest under his left hand and unclenched white fingers from the green fabric. Pulling the offending limb down near his thigh, he rubbed the sweat off his palm.

Aizawa shot a mildly annoyed look Midoriya's way, but spoke up, "If you have nothing further to share, then it's our turn."

The loose circle of children turned to watch as Nezu cut between Aoyama and Tsuyu, leaving the center of the room for the TV area. Upon reaching it the intelligent animal crawled onto the coffee table in front, then assumed a formal stance with arms clasped behind a business-casual vest.

Aizawa followed, righting the laptop on his boss' stage, then plugged a dongle into a slot at the bottom of the flatscreen. The television lit up, a video set to play.

As the homeroom teacher got ready, all the students formed a new ring. Midoriya was lucky enough to not have to move, simply rearranging himself to face the other way on the couch.

Nezu motioned toward the erasure hero, blinking beady eyes as he did so. The sideways triangle in the middle of the display clicked.

As the scene at Gym Gamma became apparent, a strange overlayment lit up, shades of scarlet and cobalt coloring the visual.

"Be back in a second!" A red humanoid figure waved behind at Koda and Shoji. Neither of the two seemed to see the parting motion, but responded to the words.

"Thank you, Hagakure-chan!" the hoarse voice came from the ani-lingual, whose body temperature visually came across on the recording as cooler than the other two's.

"Much appreciated." Shoji's head dipped in a polite bow. By far the warmest of the three, the boy's figure was lowlighted in variations of a nearly mahogany sheen.

"Tell me if you notice anything unusual in the video," Nezu addressed the entire class. "You may watch it as many times as you wish to make sure nothing was missed."

"May I plug in, sir?" Kyoka's jack lifted in askance.

"By all means."

The red figure of Hagakure thumped along in a jog, the girl making her way outside of Gym Gamma. The two teachers who would normally have heard the exit helped other students throughout the gym.

While the security footage played, the principal watched the students in the lounge closely, checking for any change in their facial features. There.

"Pause." Nezu pinned Kyoka with an unblinking look.

The frame stayed frozen on Hagakure's vague form, one scarlet foot poised to take another step toward the drink dispensers ten feet away.

"I don't think it's anything, but the audio changed a bit. There was an almost crackled muffle just now." A fingerless-gloved hand reached up, holding the listening ear like a secret agent speaking into a mic set.

Nezu mentally filed the information away, kept in the ironclad vault that was High Spec.

"Let me know if you hear anything else."

A nod answered and the footage resumed. Much of the class had a hard time deciding what to watch, the recording or their resident musician.

The thermal image that was Hagakure approached the vending machine, hand out to select a button labeled "UA-torade".

A curly wire spun and the electrolyte-infused sugar water pushed forward.

Suddenly, the screen fuzzed at various places. One such unfocused part, directly beneath the girl's feet, took on a green tint. What seemed like an error in the video's recording quickly revealed itself to be part of the scene.

There was a nearly comical parallel in the way both Hagakure and the liquid refreshment dropped, disappearing from view simultaneously.

"Wait, play that back." Aizawa immediately complied without Nezu asking. Now there was no question on what had the group's attention, all eyes on Kyoka. "There's some kind of static in the background. Can you turn up the volume about fifteen decibels?" A few blank stares had her rephrasing. "If the TV is on eight, turn it up to like….seventeen?"

Sero was closest to the remote and clicked a button on the side nine times as the video rewound again.

Kyoka's earphone jack suddenly jerked from the aux port on the TV and the girl stayed frozen, face pale and sweating.

"...shrieking..." the word was barely audible. Then, louder, "It sounds like a thousand voices crying and screaming in anguish."

A concerned Uraraka hugged Jiro from the side as Nezu twitched almost imperceptibly.

"I will leave a copy of the recording here so you may re-watch it. If you find anything else, please notify me no matter the time." The mouse sighed and the exhale bore a crushing weight, assessing the room slowly in what was an obvious stall for time.

The principal was saved from his impending words by a no-nonsense voice to his right; "In light of what happened today, all work studies will be canceled until further notice." Aizawa angled more into view, keeping cross-legged as he leaned back from the laptop screen.

A chorus of dismay sounded around the room, the exclamations seeming to be rooted more in compound worries than true anger.

Iida tried to console everyone, flailing arms even more rigid than normal and a furrowed brow at odds with his words.

Tokoyami bore a grimace, beak somehow mixing self-disgust and determination into one.

Ashido looked positively sick.

Midoriya was drowning in feelings.

The Work Studies were supposed to help the class grow stronger, teaching them how to react faster, notice problems and resolve them quicker. Being good wasn't just about physical strength, but awareness, prediction and self-reliance.

Izuku needed that experience. He hadn't even noticed his friend was in danger until it was way too late. The aspiring hero had been straight up incapable.

Frustration swamped All Might's successor and the boy clutched at his pants subconsciously to keep tears from falling. Eyes lifting from the wadded fabric of his lap, Izuku watched as Aizawa laid out a buttercup sleeping bag.

He could only imagine how the erasure hero was feeling.

Tuesday September 4th,

6:00 pm

Hagakure glanced at a tree's shadow. In the last fifteen minutes it had gained quite a bit of length while she'd been scouting the area. It indicated approximately an hour or so before sunset.

The invisible girl had been conspicuous in bright sweatpants and a garish hoodie, and had had to strip once again to make it this far. But it had been worth it. Somehow, in the middle of town was a park. Better yet, it had been a well manicured, nearly bug-free locale with a drinking fountain!

Camping was once again a viable prospect.

Toru continued searching for a spot to sleep, passing by several boxwoods. Tucked beneath and nearly hidden from sight was a wad of clothes.

Getting them there had been a tricky matter; but she'd finally managed by way of a bizarre pedestrian-judged game of red-light green-light that had spanned several blocks.

Despite a shiver of longing, the naked teen steadfastly walked away. Toru had gone left from the big oak tree last time, and now headed opposite.

There was no underbrush to push through, just expanses of grass and flower beds covered in bark chips to suppress weeds. Landscaped shrubs, tiny evergreens, and the occasional bout of coreopsis and aster populated the area. A larger stand of slippery elm loomed further in, promising a drove of insects within its shelter.

Toru avoided it, skirting the copse and doubling back around.

Until someone screamed.

Adrenaline spiked, but only for a moment. The yell had been less threatened citizen and more child screeching in excitement. Curious, Hagakure strolled back toward the elms that scoffed at her presence, doing their best to unnerve the teen as she remained entirely unaffected.

Sneaking around the trees (that actually had undergrowth), Toru popped her head out from behind a bush. Nothing of the girl could be seen, but the action was habit.

Holy crap. That kid's shouting could only have been a sign from the universe. In front of the increasingly lucky young woman was a massive playground.

She'd have to find a way to buy a lotto soon at this rate.

Eyes scanned the premises quickly, honing in on a large yellow tube connecting two portions of a wooden look-out structure. The plastic section was likely to stay much warmer and drier than any shelter Hagakure could make in the next hour.

An offshoot of evenly spaced bars for hanging and a web of braided climbing rope decorated the closest side of the structure. Further away, on the other end, was a circular slide sure to crackle hair and zap any butt who dared use it.

Another scream of joy and thump thump thumping of little feet reminded the UA student she'd only be able to stay here at night when it was unoccupied. Even knowing that and the fact that she'd have to find a way to cover both ends of the tube for heat retention, she still rode a wave of minor euphoria.

The wind changed abruptly and the scent of artery clogging fast food teased at the hungry teen's nose. There might even be a restaurant nearby.

What a find.

Tuesday September 4th,

7:00 pm

"WHAT ON EARTH IS WRONG WITH YOU!? You call yourself an educator when you constantly put the students' lives at risk?!" the male's voice which was unaccustomed to yelling went hoarse with emotion and strain. "My baby girl. My little Tora. You failed her."

An empty sleeve descended, eclipsing one of a different style below. As it settled gently overtop, the stream of indignation coming from the man slowed, then stopped.

"You promised. You promised us this would never happen again. That the dorm system would fix this." The words were soft, carrying with them the silent death of poison rather than the harsh blow of a club.

Bowing prostrate on the floor of the small apartment, Nezu failed to answer. For the first time since gaining higher intelligence, the mouse nearly wished to return to his former life. It was both a gift and a curse to feel such shame so acutely. Had the rodent been physiologically capable, his cheeks would have been aflame.

"I will do everything in my power to bring Toru-chan home to you. If I am unable, I will resign my position as head of UA."

The promise was a commitment, not empty placations.

Toru's father tensed, hand nearly crushed in his wife's previously comforting grip. The next words were cold steel.

"See that you do."

Chapter Text

Chapter Four is now available in an audio format! I am now caught up with the audio and can start writing again! Yay!
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=s4bvUDFqWx8

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

"This sentence is in English, but shhh." This is for when the scene is from a Japanese character's POV and they don't understand English, or, if they understand some words, those are not underlined.

"Tea wa dokodesu ka?" [Where is the tea?] For scenes from an English character's POV that does not understand Japanese except for any words shown in bold, which may be none. The bracketed translation is for the audience.

"Dialogue in Japanese that is getting translated in real-time." If all words are in bold, the English character can understand everything that is being spoken in Japanese.

"This sentence is in Japanese but has English words mixed into it." This is for when the scene has Japanese being translated in real time, but there is a word that is in English because the English speaker does not know the word in Japanese.

Wednesday, September 5th

7:20 am

"Feelings of helplessness, headaches, irritability, fitful sleep and constantly pouring over an event to determine what you could have done differently. It sounds like what you're experiencing is a form of 'survivor's guilt'."

"Hagakure-chan may still be alive. I do not believe I have that." Shoji sat tense upon the edge of a common green UA recliner, all parallel hands clasped together in three pairs of two.

Across from the boy sat a brand new member of the school's faculty, daintily perched on the arm of an identical chair, clipboard in hand and business suit tucked perfectly into place. Once just a consultant on retainer, Hikari Aguni now held a full time position.

"Actually, that's a misnomer. Survivor's guilt is much more common than people realize, and also includes events in which loss of life is unknown," the petite lady explained. Then, after giving the stressed student a once-over and not liking what she saw, followed it up with "I am going to activate my quirk so you can think through this logically with me. Is that okay?"

The brooding male nodded in affirmation at the mental health expert, keeping an intense gaze locked on the grey linoleum floors. Almost instantly the dupli-hero's frown relaxed, and Shoji's clenched hands parted from each other, settling lightly onto dark blue slacks.

Although it was not Aguni's profession, the psychiatrist was known as the sunshine hero by her patients, quirk instilling a sense of calm and warmth similar to lounging poolside.

"A lot of people go missing in our society. Kidnappings, runaways, natural disasters, unstable quirks manifesting and collateral damage while subduing villains." A slender finger lifted with each new addition to the list. "There are many reasons people left behind may experience survivor's guilt. It is even more common in heroes because of the sheer number of these kinds of events they encounter on a daily basis. Not to mention that they are expected to keep people safe. Losing someone—even to things outside of anyone's control—can feel like a personal failure."

The woman tucked a string of wispy chestnut hair behind an ear and fixed Shoji with a sympathetic gaze. "I am here to help you recognize and learn coping skills to deal with anything you may be struggling with, including PTSD." A bright smile of encouragement lit up Hikari's face as Shoji finally looked up at her, the normally stoic boy's surprise visible despite his blue face mask.

"I am currently in charge of all first years and will be checking in with everyone on a regular basis. I even have open office hours now; and with a teacher's permission you can come see me at any point in the day. Basically, I'm a glorified nurse for psychic damage." The specialist winked at the gaming term, but kept the numerous studies showing a major correlation between survivor's guilt and suicide in heroes to herself.

Wednesday, September 5th

12:15 pm

"Whaaaat?! Aww, maaaan!" The whining came from an African American roughly Danny's age. The young man on the halfa's left shot a glare at him before collapsing dramatically into a pillowing of white sleeved arms. The boy's multi-colored beanie slid down at the motion, covering teal eyes and a pout. "This is your fault. I didn't even wanna take biochem."

"—free to choose from any of the topics on the board. You'll be in groups of three for this presentation, so find two other people you'd like to work with," an older female projected from the front of the room. With graying hair and less than perfect posture, the woman had to be at least late fifties.

"Sorry Tuck. I have to take Biochem this quarter while it's being offered. You could have taken the computer class with me?" Danny answered, voice significantly quieter. The ghost kid glanced at the other male before his eyes darted back to the instructor.

The lady had stopped speaking, assessing the class from behind thick glasses while waiting for any outbursts to settle.

"What, be bored to tears and waste money? Hard pass." Tucker Foley picked up a smart phone from where it lay on the desk in front of him and took a picture of the whiteboard behind the teacher. "At least this way I'm only wasting money."

The half ghost took on a serious expression, catching his best friend's gaze. "You know I really appreciate you taking classes with me, right? I know you don't have to, with your business getting so popular and—"

"Danny, enough. If you keep up all this brotherly love people are gonna start shipping us," Tucker dismissed, fingers wiggling in a grossed out way. His laughing smirk undermined the jibe as he stood at some cue from the teacher.

Several groups had already started to form around the room while Danny had been distracted.

Tucker power walked away, weaving between desks on his way from the back row to the front corner seats. A younger kid with wavy, shoulder-length hair seemed to be the techno-geek's target. The teen fidgeted in place, eyes just a bit too wide as they surveyed everyone nearby.

Danny took off after, having to lengthen his stride to keep up with the much shorter Tucker. He nearly tripped when someone's foot happened to jut out into the aisle, but intangible toes turned what would have been a fall into a minor stumble.

"Oh my gosh, sorry!" A girl apologized, hazel eyes sincere.

"Don't worry about it." Danny's head ducked as he backed away, hand automatically holding a tense trapezius.

Tucker was already chatting up the timid male he'd cornered at the side of the classroom. A smugness tinged his smile and tone, ready to spill over like liquid held in a glass by surface tension alone. "Hey Danny, meet our third: Julien."

Tucker snapped, finger ending the motion by staying pointed at Julien's semi-gaunt face framed in hickory brown hair.

" 'allo, Danny. T'ank you fou⟨r⟩ allowing me to join you⟨r⟩ g⟨r⟩oup." The H disappeared and the R's rolled in an alveolar trill from the boy's heavy French accent. The extreme anxiety of the male now made a lot of sense.

"Glad to have you." The disarming charm of a leader settled into place and a lopsided smile pulled at the superhero's lips. "I doubt you'll be saying the same for us by the end of this though. I don't even know what the citric acid cycle is."

Rather than be unnerved as would be expected, the French student merely sagged in relief.

Wednesday, September 5th

3:25 pm

Well today had been a bust.

Toru had been keeping a dour mood tamped down. But like a banked fire, the dying embers of the emotion felt like they could reignite at any moment to consume and burn out her resilience.

Many unforeseen problems had cropped up over the last sixteen hours, starting in the night.

Even with a thick, oversized men's jacket (found forgotten on a bench), a fleece-lined hoodie, plum purple sweatpants, and heavy boots it had been chilly. Covering both ends of her sleeping quarters with pine boughs had done little to retain the heat. Outside the tube the temperature had dropped to just under 11 degrees Celsius while inside hovered around 13.

The moisture in the air also brought another problem. While the waterproofing on the jacket had mostly warded against dampness, the humidity and all the fleece-lined clothing combined to create a monster of static cling that left small pops of stimuli against the highschooler's body every time she moved.

Needless to say her sleep had been light, and had required intermittent bouts of exercise to happen at all.

Long before the first child set hands upon the monkey bars, Hagakure had already left for the morning scout. The timing worked in the lost female's favor in that she didn't have to hide from many people.

After an hour traffic had hit, but there still hadn't been a lot of pedestrians. Face covered with a hood and hands tucked into a kangaroo pocket, Toru had been able to travel fully clothed. But as the morning had dragged on, being so tightly bundled had started to draw looks, and slowed all progress to a crawl.

Finally finding a map at a travel center's brochure stand, the UA student cried in relief. But the tears quickly turned to ones of frustration when Hagakure went to unfurl the cartographic paper.

It was in English, of course.

Tucking herself just inside an empty construction site to study the dang thing, she took a fortifying breath and got to work.

There wasn't anything resembling a "you are here"; so finally, after nearly ten minutes of searching, she found three candidate locations for "her park". Then it was just a matter of comparing road names from nearby signs with ones on the glossy paper to rule out the extra possibilities.

Next she looked for hero agencies, but didn't see any. Only major public services seemed to be listed by special symbols on the legend. Ignoring the "H" of the hospitals, Toru looked for all instances of a blue badge with a "P" inside.

Too bad there weren't any nearby.

Doing the math internally, Hagakure calculated her current speed then divided the distance she needed to travel by it. Three hours to reach the nearest police station was a long time. That would mean arriving dangerously close to sunset in a strange part of town.

This place was positively wonky. What country believed not having police boxes at normal intervals was a reasonable approach to public safety?

Groaning, Hagakure tilted her head back in exasperation.

A wave of dizziness caught the highschooler by surprise, and Toru braced herself on a steel beam. It was the second time she'd felt faint since waking up. The dumpster had only gifted her half a slice of cheese pizza the day before. Everything else had been a little too fuzzy to justify eating.

Taking long, even breaths to dispel the vertigo, Hagakure waited for the world to stop spinning.

No longer feeling like a drunken ship in a stormy sea, the woozy teen used the map to chart a new path towards her playground shelter. It was better to stay local to find a meal, and she just wasn't up for the trek to the police station.

Getting to the park fully clothed took a while, but she managed.

The embellished wrought iron gate of an unfamiliar entrance passed over Toru, and she consulted the map again. Following the leftmost running trail that wound through the public gardens, the haggard kid perked up when she saw a tiny, solitary building. Thank Kami-sama, the symbol for toilets was universal. Going number two in her little elm grove was something Hagakure could now avoid indefinitely.

Feeling somewhat better after relieving herself, Toru freshened up, the cheap, dehydrating antiseptic that came from the dispenser outlandishly pleasing to her nose. After disinfecting a series of shallow cuts, the girl washed her socks in the sink. Humming the tune to Tegami, she waited for the water to flush clear as soap suds rinsed down the drain with dried blood and dirt. The wool blend was then wrung out and held under the hand drier, the metallic click of a button sounding periodically.

It was tempting to sleep here; but the cold cement floors and gag-inducing smell were too offputting. Besides, people were more likely to come and go in a restroom. That was the same reason she hadn't stayed in any of the shops she'd come across even though they were heated. Her playground felt safer being raised off the earth and having no reason for visitors in the night.

Toru still had yet to see a single hero agency and had a sinking suspicion she wasn't going to. It was partly why the girl was putting off going to the police. Something just wasn't right.

The aspiring hero had seen more quirk users during today's excursions and almost all had generated discomfort in the general public. A few people didn't seem bothered by the displays of power—most of them younger in age—but it wasn't the norm.

Pushing back thoughts of doom and gloom, Hagakure's hands lifted, formed fists, then pumped down together.

"Yosh! Time to get some food. Nothing truly bad has happened yet but a bit of sore feet and a crappy night's sleep. I can still do this!" The self-encouragement echoed hollowly around the acoustic-friendly space; and yet, before she'd even stopped speaking, Toru was already getting ready to leave.

"I've got at least two more hours of light, which should give me plenty of time to look for a meal! Who knows. Maybe I'll find a hero while I'm out! You fall seven times just to stand up eight, after all!" The smile on the UA student's lips was strained, but without a reflection, the doubt could not stare back at her from the surface of a nearby mirror.

Mood lifting through sheer force of will, the prep exited the bathroom and headed back to the street, determined to find the artery-clogging restaurant she had gotten a whiff of prior.

Thursday, September 6th

10:47 am

It was freezing today. If Hagakure gripped her coat any tighter, the lostling's skin could practically meld with it.

Toru was especially spiteful of the development because not only was she incredibly tired from barely sleeping, but she finally had a lead. Ranging further from her park this morning had borne fruit; and it was obnoxious knowing she'd have to go clothes hunting again before she could follow up on it. Her emotions teetered back and forth between the extremes of furious and optimistic like the steady sway of a metronome's arm.

Taking a breath, the waffling girl reexamined a brick building from her spot crouched between two bright red burning bush plants. The flower beds lining the front of the school gave a decent view of the handrailed steps leading up to the entrance, while still offering cover to hide in.

As long as the sneak was still nobody seemed to notice her, even with all the winter gear on. They were average teenagers Toru spied on, after all, who mostly stayed glued to their phones.

What had caught her attention about this place was that just about every sixth student coming in and out of the olive green front doors had some accessory with either a fancy English "D", or a glowing black and white individual on it.

The pattern may have been attributed to the student body liking some movie character or a celebrity with a funky outfit, but she hoped it was because the person was a hero. Creeping slightly closer despite the risk, she sat down to wait.

The patient hero-in-training stayed there nearly an hour, body numbing and falling asleep while learning nothing new.

But finally, a lucky break hit when a pair of boys sat down on the closest concrete railing. One was a scrawny individual with light brown hair absolutely decked out in the monochrome celebrity's paraphernalia. The other was a crew cut blonde, more punk in nature, with jet black skinny jeans and an ivory skull on a crimson t-shirt.

It was several minutes before anything noteworthy about them caught her attention, but then she heard a word that seemed to be repeating a lot in the last hour.

"Did you hear what Phantom did last week?" The student who seemed to be a fan of the white haired person tilted his head slightly to the side while addressing his fellow highschooler.

The end of the sentence had lifted up, so it had to be a question.

"No, what?" As soon as the apathetic denial finished leaving the second teen's mouth, his excitable friend was already clicking away on a smartphone and pulling up a video.

"A delivery driver had a massive heart attack on his route, and Phantom stopped the van before it could crash! Then, he took the guy straight to the hospital. The doctors claimed it was a miracle the guy lived. If he had ridden in an ambulance, he'd be dead right now!"

The few words she'd caught made Toru think the dyad was definitely talking about some kind of emergency, but she couldn't be sure. They could be chatting about something from the news or explaining the plot to a movie. Both scenarios were equally likely, and she'd never know the difference.

The brown-haired kid pressed play on his phone, the screen shaking slightly in overly thrilled hands. Toru could just see from behind the duo, watching with them as it played.

"Another good deed done by the local hero, Danny Phantom, caught on tape." The voice came from a nasally ginger woman who looked more plastic than person. She sat at a grey desk, holding papers. One hand let go and perfectly manicured fingers gestured to a green screened image in the corner of the display. "Let's watch."

The frozen picture enlarged, filling the entire screen with a view from a street cam.

Toru recognized the street, having walked down it just yesterday.

A white van drove down Hudson Way, stopping periodically for a middle aged man in a khaki uniform to clamber out of the driver's seat. The guy sporting a hefty gut and a distinctive handlebar mustache ran to various residential doors, leaving packages behind and scanning them with a handgun, a suburban parody of Santa Claus.

The camera fast forwarded through the postman's routine for ten seconds, the guy ducking in and out of the van and delivering mail at high speeds. Then slowed, focusing the audience's attention on a moment when the mustached male was driving. It soon became apparent why, because the guy slumped at the wheel, clutching his chest.

The vehicle that was still moving forward listed to the side, almost hitting a parallel parked car before a jumpsuited person flew in front of it. Planting white boots on the ground, the quirk-user grabbed the bumper in two places and forced the five thousand pound automobile to an abrupt stop.

Seconds later the hero was wrenching open the delivery van's door. Pulling the driver out into a princess carry he launched like a rocket into the sky, blue-collar worker clutched to his chest.

Toru couldn't believe her eyes. There was a hero here! With both super strength and flight! She marveled at the genetically fortunate combination.

The footage froze and the preppy woman's voice from earlier talked over it, " You saw it here, folks. Phantom saves the day again. Now, here's Shelly Makamoto at the hospital."

"Thank you, Tiffany. I'm here awaiting an exclusive interview—".

The clip cut off as the fanboy paused his device. "Everything after that is kinda boring, so I'm not gonna make you watch it, but isn't Phantom just soooo cool!?"

That. That was definitely praise. And the recurring word Toru kept hearing was probably the hero's name.

"Yep. He's real awesome." The words still lacked enthusiasm, but it was obvious the punk-like teen was trying not to rain on his friend's parade any longer.

Feeling like Uraraka had tagged her with Zero Gravity, the foreign dimensional girl backed carefully away from the pair, a single word whispering from her lips.

"Fantomu."

Thursday, September 6th

11:08 am

The sky was a writhing swirl of emerald shadows, supporting iceberg-shaped land masses of violet and pewter.

A mostly monochrome figure except for its burgundy red backpack passed floating doors that drifted in no particular pattern throughout the Zone. Seeing an island supporting an abundance of exotic fruiting plants and flowers, the ghost's lips raised in endearment, knowing he was close to his destination.

Putting on a burst of speed, Danny Phantom plummeted straight down, flying through a corridor of twisting stairs and windows reminiscent of M.C. Escher's "Relativity" lithograph.

Shooting out the other side of the pocket worm-hole, the halfa came upon a massive building of traditional Scandinavian architecture. The house tiptoed the line of mansion and castle, impressive with its natural stone and mortar siding, elaborately carved archways of dark, rich wood, and a mighty turret to one side. The turf that made certain areas of the building's roof appear shaggy and unkempt held a strangely lavender luminescence.

Danny knew the grass was for show, as the ghosts inside generally didn't require the natural insulation it provided, but he had to admit it gave the building a more homely feel.

Touching down amidst Zone-variety daisies, tulips, and bachelor buttons, the white-haired male tipped forward as his flight cut out a smidgen too soon. Thinking little of it, Phantom inspected a courtyard enclosed by walls that doubled as additional living quarters. Most lairs gave off a feeling of "beware". But not here. Never here.

The very air welcomed, inviting all to kick up a wispy tail and stay a while.

"You made it!" The words were all the warning Danny got before a skinny figure nearly bowled the male over in a hug. "Not that I thought you wouldn't, just, well. I'm glad you're here."

Dani's frosted white ghost form looked up at the taller half ghost with azure eyes.

"C'mon! I want you to meet everyone!" The girl's change in attitude from a few days ago was apparent. A certain tenseness still pervaded Dani's frame, and the bags under her ethereal eyes hadn't disappeared, but the aura of "haggard raccoon" was now missing.

Dani pulled at the older Phantom, forcing the twenty-year old to float into the house behind his female counterpart, tugged along like a balloon on a string.

The "Guys, he's here!" that Dani called was probably unnecessary, as the two glided into a wooden beamed lounge packed with undead. Danny barely caught a glance of the chevron and diamond shaped carvings notched into the ceiling before he was accosted by greetings and swarmed with good intention.

When a feathered cross between an owl and a house cat landed on Danny's head, kneading the boy's shoulder and trill-purring like some squeaky chainsaw, a grin threatened to consume his face.

"Hello to you, too, Gryph."

The little beast leaned hard into the white gloved hand that reached up to scratch it beneath the chin.

Turning to another, distinctly more humanoid face, Danny remarked, "Lost Holm's mascot has gained a few pounds. Who's been overfeeding the little chonker?" The halfa's eyes twinkled as he watched Caleb squirm in place, a distinctly green tinge creeping up the young ghost's normally blue cheeks and pointed ears.

A snort was heard from the snout of a lizard, and a gecko girl with an extra set of arms piped up. "Told you to stop taking Gryphon to visit Uncle Walker." Danny's smile dropped imperceptibly at the mention of the prison warden, but the boy didn't interrupt. "She eats way too many ectoplasmic rodents when she goes."

"Sounds like she needs a rat-ical change in diet," Danny couldn't help but remark.

Only the newest member of the house giggled at the wordplay, everyone else just groaned or rolled their eyes if they had them.

The sound drew the punster's gaze to a little glowing magician. The kid sat on the twin tails of an overcoat, silky white-gloved hands clasping a comically large wand like a cane in front of him. Phantom watched the child lean forward in his wingback chair, a white tophat completely covering the ghost's head...or was the hat his head? Either way, no eyes looked back at Danny.

"You must be Luke."

The kid sprung to lithe feet, twirling the wand to the side and bowing with a flair for dramatics. "Luke Myway. At your service, Mi'lord." The words were said with a mocking flippancy.

Danny grinned, liking him on the spot.

Then frowned when the boy collapsed back into the chair, winded, a puddle of green forming along the edges of his tailcoat where it met with the upholstery.

Dani was at the kid's side in an instant, reaching under the hat to feel at the boy's hidden neck. An ectopus was fast behind, wrapping the younger ghost in a cocoon of tentacles that glowed neon lime. Luke seemed to stabilize, sucking back in on himself as the cephalopod's limbs lost their vibrant luster and darkened to a deeper jade.

"Thanks, Aegle," Luke rasped softly, all hint of mirth gone. The animalistic ghost bobbed in reply, worry etched across its face.

Danny detached Gryphon from his head and slipped off his backpack before rummaging around inside. Pulling out what looked to be a syringe with a satellite dish on top, Danny approached the fledgling ghost.

"Ecto-Dejecto?" Dani asked, disbelief in her voice. "It can't be that easy...Can it?"

"You never know; it might be." Danny shrugged. "I honestly might not have even thought of it if you hadn't been the one to come get me. It's been years since we've used it for anything. I even had to make up a whole new batch because all the stuff we had on hand was so old it had crystallized."

Rather than start spraying the stuff on right away, though, the halfa held out his hand to Luke. "May I get some goo, Mr. Myway?" The tone was polite, gentlemanly.

"Why certainly, Sir Phantom," the response matched in tone perfectly as the kid spurted slime from a fingertip directly into Danny's face.

Visage scrunching in exaggerated disgust, the superhero wiped the coagulated ectoplasm off as Luke laughed.

"C'mon Luke, this is serious," another ghost chided, making the magician sigh and hold out a handful of goop.

"I think I have plenty, thanks," Danny assured, holding up a still coated glove.

The Ecto-Dejecto was picked up and spritzed across the dirty smear on the Kevlar-lined hazmat. After a moment, the goo's elasticity and rigidity increased, a putty-like consistency overtaking it while it tripled in size.

Danny took his glove off and left it to the side. While the group waited ten minutes to see if there were any negative changes in the treated ectoplasm, the future Fenton Works employee tested another sample from Luke to get a baseline. After, he checked the altered sample, comparing the two and making sure the Ecto-Dejecto hadn't caused any potentially dangerous flaws at the microscopic level.

Seeing none, but being careful, Danny insisted they wait another hour.

To Luke's delight most of it was spent cracking horribly dumb jokes. Like how Danny would only call the area they were in a lounge, parlor, foyer or entertainment space. When asked why, he very flatly said "Well it's not a living room, I'll tell you that much."

For the entire duration the glove remained moisturized by unchanged, healthy ectoplasm.

So, Danny misted the air around the mischievous child; and within seconds, the ghostling perked up.

A minute passed and he was levitating effortlessly.

…

…

"I can't believe it was that easy."

Dani's voice was somewhere halfway between extreme relief and despair.

"I mean, if it ain't broke don't fix it, right?" A smug grin accompanied the statement. Danny grabbed three more syringes of the miracle medicine and put it on the table. "I still want to test anyone having problems to make sure it's safe across the board, but I think I have enough to inoculate everyone who's here. I know some people are gone right now, but this is all I could make on short notice. I'll have my parents work on getting more for you to keep on hand."

Dani's voice, cracked with emotion, croaked, "Tha-anks, Cuz."

"I told you your kids would be better in no time."

The wink sent her way had Dani wanting to facepalm.

(Retroactively adding this in.)

Thursday, September 6th

12:14 pm

"Hey Mom, I think there's something over there."

A middle-aged woman turned the wheel of an oversized SUV with black gloved hands, following a younger female's pointing finger. The passenger's raised arm swayed, a little charm bracelet tinkling over the fabric of a sweater as the Ghost Assault Vehicle turned and rolled to a stop a foot from the curb.

Throwing the gear shift into park and killing the engine, Madeline Fenton jumped up to open a steel-plated door for her daughter, Jasmine, and the two exited onto the sidewalk. Both Team Phantom members held some form of ghost hunting equipment; but neither seemed particularly tense.

Jazz carried a scanner in one hand and a collapsed battle suit in the other. The mechanized outfit was specially made, the designs based off of the original Fenton Peeler.

A futuristic soup thermos clipped to an obsidian colored belt was all the extra equipment Maddie needed.

Flipping the hood of her "Swiss army" jumpsuit over a pixie-style haircut, the woman's enhanced welder's goggles slid into place.

"That's weird, the Fenton Finder isn't picking anything up, but there was definitely something on the RV's radar." Jazz studied the handheld gadget, brows furrowed in confusion, before glancing at the family's work car.

"Here, Sweetie, let me see." The younger redhead shrugged, handing over the invention.

Maddie flipped through the device's menu, switched an ecto-signature lock off and passed it back. Almost immediately, a holographic projection popped up above the device's screen, several dots flashing in the right hemisphere of the lined display. "It's been malfunctioning lately. But I suppose it has been a while since I gave it a tune-up."

"What'd you do?" The daughter tilted the Finder on its side, as if that would make it spill some secret.

"Oh, I just set it to look for movement within certain temperature ranges, rather than for ectoplasmic energy. It means we won't want to use it unless we've spotted a ghost and are actively tracking it, though. It's next to worthless in this mode, since it picks up both ghosts and living things," Maddie explained.

Jazz let the scanner drop to her side, no longer worried about watching the hologram.

"Well, whatever the GAV picked up was in this direction, so we may as well check it out," she mused, and started a leisurely stroll.

"I still think the theft might have been one of the regulars having a bit of fun. Eleven dollars and twenty five cents in clothes is hardly the heist of the century. It's almost like the ghost was trying to get the cheapest stuff. I've seen Bargain Basement's prices, and believe me, 'bargain' is not a term I'd use." The older Fenton laughed at her own joke, while the younger just rolled aqua eyes. With all the other things they'd been helping her son with, petty theft was low on Maddie's importance meter.

"If they were human I'd profile them as a runaway," Jazz threw in, psychiatrist training peeking through.

"Or we could just have a tropical plant core on our hands," Maddie countered.

Jazz was silent for a moment, mulling her mom's idea over. "We are in the middle of a cold front. And today's only supposed to get up to 50 degrees."

Maddie reflexively relaxed into the heating elements of her teal suit at the words, and the pair lapsed into companionable silence.

The duo turned the corner at the end of the block, approaching the general area that the Fenton RV had indicated. Just as Jazz was about to consult the Finder, a small feline burst from a second hand store to their right, a bag of treats in its mouth. The owner came close behind, cussing up a storm.

Settling a rapid heart rate, Jazz exhaled a shaky breath.

"What's up, cat got your tongue?" Maddie teased, one eyebrow raised.

"Nope." A giggle escaped Jazz's throat before she could stop it. "I was thinking I got the wrong cat burglar."

Maddie snorted, then replied dryly, "Your brother's rubbing off on us." The woman shook her head, a smile threatening to invade her deadpan expression.

Jazz watched the shop owner chase the orange tabby down the sidewalk until movement in the foreground of her vision became too distracting. Behind a spindly ginkgo biloba trunk, a small puff of condensation frosted the air at even intervals.

Lifting the scanner, the twenty-two year old was unruffled to find a blinking red dot. No foreigner to ghostly interaction, the chipper redhead's finger hovered above the activation button to her mechanical suit. Moving only her eyes, Jazz glanced back and forth between the older Fenton and the tree, catching Maddie's attention.

They must have been quiet too long, because the water vapor disappeared.

Red tinted glass gained a slight glow as Maddie turned a dial on the side of her goggles. The world switched to infrared and a rosy figure came into focus behind the tree. It only took a second for the ninth degree black belt to assess the person. Hips and chest—female. Short and somewhat petite—probably a child or teenager. Shivering and light red in the thermal vision—not a ghost and suffering from the first stages of hypothermia. Standing outside of yet another second hand shop—likely the thief from Bargain Basement.

A pang entered Maddie and maternal instincts flared. Keeping a relaxed posture, the adult pulled off her hood while holding her eyewear in place. Looking slightly less intimidating, she called out a greeting.

"Hello?"

The infrared girl tensed, sliding into a posture made for sprinting at a moment's notice.

Maddie stood stock still, mouth barely moving and tone switching to one reserved for wild animals, "We won't hurt you. We're friendly."

Still the kid didn't speak, but she also didn't run, clearly regarding the two.

Beside Maddie, Jazz caught on and slowly lowered to the ground, sitting crosslegged non-threateningly. The child's pose relaxed a hair.

Taking a stab in the dark, Maddie asked, "Do you need help?" Then threw in, "We work with Danny Phantom," on a gut feeling.

Finally, "...Fantomu?"

"We are his—" the adult searched for an appropriate word, finally settling on "—sidekicks."

"Saidokikkusu," the invisible teen's heavily accented voice was reluctant, bordering on disbelief.

Maddie frowned, then asked, "Fudan nihongo de hanashiteimasuka?" [Do you usually speak Japanese?]

There was a heavy pause, then, "Hai." [Yes.]

Oh. Oh. Maddie changed her frame of mind, reordering her thoughts and thanking her lucky stars she'd kept up on the language. Studying abroad through Honda's robotic internship program, while difficult fresh out of college, had definitely been worth it in the grand scheme of things.

"My name is Fenton Maddie. This is my daughter, Jasmine." The elder Fenton gestured slowly to the younger. "We won't hurt you." Seeing the girl shudder again, very strongly, the ex-ghost hunter stopped, ashamed. "Please wait a second, I'll be right back."

"Jazz, Honey, can you wait with her for a bit? She's not a ghost and she's scared," Maddie informed her daughter before heading into the store. Inside, the analytic female examined all the displays, beelining for one labeled "women's outerwear". Finding nothing that stood up to a quick inspection, she power walked to the men's section. Within two minutes the cashier was checking out a heavyweight sweatshirt, ski jacket, sweatpants and sheepskin slippers.

Exiting the store with trepidation, Maddie was relieved to find neither party had moved from their spots. The skittish female's body language seemed softer too, no longer in a fight or flight stance.

"—understand me, but it's nice to meet you. I think my mom already introduced me, but you can call me Jazz." Jasmine pointed to herself at the last word, and repeated, "Jazz."

Maddie smiled from just inside the shop, proud of her daughter's perceptiveness.

The sound of the glass door opening made the hidden teen go rigid. Maddie froze, then moved forward again when the kid took a breath, shoulders lowering. The warm clothes heaped in the older female's arms probably had something to do with it.

"I bought some clothes. I don't want you to die of cold while talking." Maddie put the bundle of stuff on the ground a few feet from the girl, then backed off, wishing she could actually read the child's expressions. Her infrared was good, but it wasn't that accurate. "What's your name?"

Jasmine stayed quietly to the side, hands tucked beneath her butt non-threateningly.

"Th-thanks," the higher pitched words were reluctant, but sincere, as the enigmatic Asian pulled the clothes in close, head tilted at an angle that made it obvious Jazz and Maddie were still being watched. Then, failing to answer Maddie's question, she asked, "How can you see me?"

"My glasses have heat looking. I'm an inventor that makes many things," Although several of the words were strangely phrased, the heart of the conversation was there. Then, when the nameless female still didn't make any moves to dress, Maddie added, "The clothes are safe. They will not harm."

Without speaking, the teen slid on the jacket and slippers, ignoring the sweatshirt and pants for now. Maddie recognized the unwillingness for what it was: an avoidance of any garment that limited sight or mobility when changed into.

"So you are part of a small support company, not a sidekick, then?"

Maddie felt as if the question meant more than she was getting from it, since "support company" was apparently a katakana phrase now.

"There is a long seat across the street if you want to sit while talking. I'm also very hungry and would like lunch from the Thai place by there. I am happy to answer questions, but my understanding is weird. This could be a long time talking."

It was a strained moment before the invisible kid lifted an arm, as if to say "lead the way".

When Maddie spoke next, it was courteously slow and even, "Jazz, we're gonna head over to that bench to chat, can you grab us Yum Yum? Something hot and filling; maybe a mild curry for our friend. You know I can always eat Pad Sew Ew."

Jasmine stood, dusting off the back of her jeans. "Sure." The fledgling psychiatrist stayed bright and cheerful as she nodded to the floating ski jacket. "I'll even make sure they include three pairs of chopsticks."

Maddie walked with Jazz across the street, resisting the urge to look back at their guest. It was imperative that the child understand the situation was in her control, that they would make no demands of her. It was clear that the struggling teen had not meant any harm, and Maddie wasn't about to turn away someone in need.

Jazz split off, heading into a nearby building while Maddie branched left, sitting as close to the far end of a solitary bench as could be managed. A dazzling smile illuminated her face when the mysterious girl seated herself on the opposite side.

In good faith, Maddie tried to answer the guarded kid's question from earlier. "I know not what 'support company' "—the katakana phrase sounded strange to Maddie's ears—"means, but my husband and I own an LLC, uhm, a company,"—this time she used the more familiar term kaisha—" named Fenton Works. We make ecto-technology. Machines that use ectoplasm to work." Not having words for everything, the adult had been forced to drop back into English whenever a blank was drawn.

For some reason, those words caught the child's attention quicker than anything else, tone going sharp and speech coming fast as the foreigner demanded, "What do you know about Ectoplasm?"

Maddie's face dropped at the change in attitude, but the woman still clarified. "My jobs are ecto-biologist and inventor. I study ectoplasm and ghosts for making machines. Ectoplasm is energy ghosts use to…live? No, exist. I do not understand why this question has strong emotion." Another pause happened, and the scientist wondered if she'd killed the conversation by bringing up her line of work.

But then.

"Gosuto-su?" The phonemes were clearly foreign to the speaker's mouth, causing the extra syllable to ruin the word's enunciation.

Peculiar. It was evident the teen knew the word "ectoplasm" without ever having heard the term "ghost". A big part of the picture to this story was definitely missing.

Stuffing down growing curiosity, Maddie went on, "They are not Japanese spirits,"—the word yokai just didn't fit—" but like them. Ghosts live in the Infinite Realms, or as my kids like to call it, the Ghost Zone. That place is a mirror of this world." Maddie halted, stuck on trying to think of a better way to describe the spectral beings. Eyes widening, she realized there was a simple one, "Phantom is a ghost. You have probably seen others around town, also."

"So these—," the girl slowed, as if rolling something around in her mind, "—ghosts, are what you call people with abilities. Is that why everyone's afraid of them; because they're from a different place?"

Ah-ha. Some things were starting to make sense. Being a foreigner and having powers that closely mimicked that of a ghost's probably made her worried about what Amity's reaction to her would be.

"I explained badly. The Infinite Realms is the...afterlife." Maddie made a small groan of frustration in her throat, then, "The place of death living. Ghosts are the souls of the dead from all worlds."

A small gasp sounded from the far side of the bench, quiet but noticeable.

Pinching the top of a petite nose behind her black goggles' bridge piece, Maddie tried to ease a building headache. All the strange words made speaking in another language that much more taxing.

"That idea is scary for many people. But more scary was when the ghosts came at the beginning. They made big damage and had big fights often. Phantom stopped the fights, telling the bad ghosts to go away, and only letting the good ghosts come. In the last couple years, Amity Park—this town—made peace with the good ghosts, so they can come to have fun or live here. But people who used to have problems with the bad ghosts find living together difficult."

"If ghosts are so scary, why aren't you afraid...?" Of me was the obvious, unspoken end to the query. The girl shifted in place, waiting.

"Good, an easy question." The Fenton's smile was relieved. "I said before that my family works with Phantom. We are like sidekicks, but more helpful." The bilingual paused to trace the bottom of her chin lightly, then pointed skyward with a sound of epiphany. "Teammate is a more good word. We make a lot of machines Phantom uses during fights, but we also help with normal things, like his health and taking care of the town. A lot of our time is spent….balancing?"—Maddie mimed a scale reaching equilibrium—"between ghosts and humans."

"Hagakure Toru."

"What?" The information that seemed to come from nowhere had Maddie blinking twice, worried she'd severely botched the last explanation.

"My name is Hagakure Toru," the teen proclaimed, unfurling the sweatpants from her lap and putting them on, butt lifting off the bench to finish the motion.

Thursday, September 6th

1:32 pm

Hagakure was unsure why she was willing to follow these two redheads home. By all accounts they were just some random women with oddly specific equipment for finding invisible people. That was sketchy as all heck. Not to mention that they started the conversation with just about the only word that could have made her hear them out.

How on Earth had they known she was gearing up to find Phantom? Unless they were already stalkers. Everything in the kidnapped girl's mind screamed that they were villains; that them offering help and saying they worked with Phantom was all some elaborate ruse.

Her heart said otherwise.

There was just something so….sincere about them. Every step of the way the older woman—Maddie-san—had done everything right to make Toru feel more comfortable. The invisible teen had nearly fled three times during the conversation; but the mother's abject sensitivity to the UA student's needs became an emotional glue bonding her new slippers to the floor. Even when Jazz-san had come bearing coconut flavored curry, both Fentons had tasted it first, directly where Toru could see, before handing it off.

The close-lipped teen had still almost run when the pair offered to let her stay at their house. Normal people didn't do that. The strangers only knew Toru's name, and that she was hungry and lost. It was so suspicious.

She, herself, had learned plenty, if any of the information was to be believed. Quirk users apparently weren't a thing here. Nor were there really superheroes. Phantom was quite the oddity, to the point that the rest of the world believed "ghosts" to be one big hoax.

Even knowing that, it had still been very tempting to refuse Jazz and Maddie-san's olive branch. If she hadn't spent the last few days exploring the city, she would have. But too much of what they said, while crazy, somehow sounded plausible when compared to Hagakure's own observations.

The new information had definitely put her only solid, long-term game plan of going to the police in a questionable light. Requesting help from another dimension's American government that didn't know anything about quirks had just sounded like a can of worms.

She could have continued living by herself outside, but combating the cold was becoming a very serious concern.

The dwindling options were what had finally gotten the yes out of Toru. If the Fentons really were working with Phantom and the "Ghost Zone" really did connect worlds, staying with them was probably her best bet for getting home.

Still in her new, oversized apparel, Toru looked out the window of a vehicle that could only be described as a tank, eyes heavy. The air inside the cabin was outright balmy, as Maddie-san's first order of business upon entering the thing had been to blast the heat.

The cloud grey upholstery, with its excessively soft padding and wonderful back support were lulling the sleep-deprived girl into micro-naps. Every few minutes, Toru would jerk awake from a nightmare, expecting to find some horrific scene. And every time nothing changed, the gentle whir of the air conditioning system's fans the only things moving inside the space.

The final time when it happened, she realized that the SUV had stopped. Maddie and Jazz were still in their seats, unbuckled now, but patiently waiting for Toru to rouse.

"Are you ready to go?" Maddie-san's accent wasn't terrible, but it definitely wasn't great, and it was obvious the woman didn't speak Japanese on the regular. Still, the fact that the older female was trying so hard was part of what was breaking down Hagakure's defenses.

"Yes." The trio piled out, and Toru got a full look at the home they'd parked in front of.

For the first time since dropping through the portal, she completely forgot about her worries. For it was not a ground-floor-office/top-floor-apartment building that stood in front of her like she'd expected.

Eccentrically bizarre was the best way to describe this suburban residence.

The federal style house towered over the street, and not just because its red brick walls had to be at least forty feet tall. An absolutely gargantuan structure clung to the flat-topped establishment like an ungainly rendition of an alien's saucer. Giant steel protrusions stuck out of it every which way. From radio towers to flags, exhaust pipes to satellite dishes, the monstrosity had everything. Even a lone weather-vane chicken poked from behind one of the support beams that attached the construct to the roof. Then there was the enormous orange and green behemoth of a sign that proclaimed the business' name.

Toru's mouth dropped open. How did the family ever get the city to approve this thing's permits? It had to be some kind of safety hazard.

Well, at least there was no chance this was some shady location that got overlooked by the local populace. This place was the opposite of anonymous.

"Yeaaah. It's a lot. But it's home." The slow words came from Jazz, the simple sentences actually holding meaning for Toru.

"MADDIE! JAZZY-PANTS, YOU'RE HOME!"

Toru backpedaled on instinct as a massive male burst through the front door of Fenton Works, the green wood creaking on its hinges. The startled kid didn't even have a chance to run before it became obvious the day-glo orange man had zero interest in her. With the excitement of a golden retriever, the brick of an American practically flew at Maddie, carrying a cardboard box filled with a cobbled-together mass of wire and electronic parts.

"I got the Fenton Box-of-Boos to work!" The fast-talking, boisterous adult shoved the bundle of glowing parts into what Hagakure could only assume was his wife's hands.

"That-. That's great, Jack," Maddie congratulated anxiously, throwing a covert glance Hagakure's way. Probably making sure she hadn't run. Then, looking down at the jury-rigged package of whatever-it-was, commented, "I'll help you streamline the design later."

Even though the second sentence had been mostly incomprehensible to Toru, the edge of mirth in Maddie-san's words showed the woman was amused despite herself.

"Great! You're the best, Mads." The man who must be Jack pulled Maddie into a side hug and kissed the much shorter woman's cheek, grinning all the while.

"Daaaad! Calm down! We're trying not to spook our new guest!" Jazz rebuked, exasperation palpable.

"THERE'S A NEW SPOOK!?" Jack spun around fast enough to get whiplash, sighting down and rushing Toru in an instant. She'd barely drawn a breath before her arm was being wrenched by a violently enthusiastic handshake. "Jack Fenton! Owner of the infamous Fenton Works. Nice to meet you!"

Hagakure jerked away. Heart thumping wildly and nerves on high alert, the invisible teen dashed back to the street. When no one chased after, she stopped, turning around to reassess.

Jack Fenton was obviously excitable, and Toru did not like being grabbed, but the kicked puppy look spoke volumes.

Jazz stood to the side, the skin of her face stretching under the downward pull of her palm.

"DAAAD! STOP! She's not even a ghost. This is Toru Hagakure. She's human and needs a place to stay."

"Jack, Sweetie, come here and give her some space. She's afraid of people and only speaks Japanese."

"Oh." Jack sheepishly grabbed the back of his neck as he ambled toward Maddie. Hagakure's taut posture lowered minutely, then sagged when the childish adult retreated fully.

"I'm sorry about my husband, Hagakure-san. He can be…a lot, sometimes," Maddie explained, grabbing Jack's arm and holding onto it when the male got close enough. "He means well."

"It's okay." Toru's thoughts didn't match her words; but she wasn't about to be rude to the guy for being too nice.

Maddie relaxed on Jack's arm, prompting the man to perk back up like a sun-wilted tomato plant getting water.

"We should go inside. I can open the hiding bed and get you some warm tea."

Toru sighed. Maddie’s acting skills were top notch if the worry in her body language was faked.

Jazz followed Maddie's cue when the older Fenton took point, leading a confused Jack back up the stairs, invention tucked under an arm.

As soon as the door opened, the younger redhead called into the house, "Danny! We're coming in with a skittish person that needs Phantom's help." No one could see Hagakure's furrowed brow as she wondered just why Phantom's name had been emphasized.

Swallowing trepidation once again, Toru trailed after them and into a surprisingly normal front room. Well, at least what she assumed was normal for American-style houses. There was an awful lot of purple; and the grey section on the right had this weirdly circular recession in the floor. But otherwise, the kitchen visible on the far side of the room was fairly basic, and the plain staircase on the left seemed to only lead to bedrooms and a bathroom.

Hagakure nearly tripped on the welcome mat when she spotted a raven-like young man staring at her with piercing blue eyes. She could have sworn the male hadn't been perched on the foyer's curved couch a moment ago. It was unnerving.

The TV was off, and the room was bare, so why was he even in there? The UA student then noticed the boy pull a small cloth pinched between two circles of wood from behind him and almost chuckled at the absurdity. She'd been afraid of a guy doing needlepoint in his spare time.

Then, the giant pumpkin-like man in front of her bellowed, "DAN-O! This here is Teru Hagga-curry! Come say hello!"

It was all Toru could take.

A fit of hysterical giggles overtook her, which quickly escalated to roaring laughter while all the Fentons exchanged sidelong glances.

"Are you okay?" Maddie asked, head tilting to the side like a bird while the young man from the couch came closer, footsteps silent.

"I think I will be. Things have just been rough these last few days. I guess I needed some stress relief," Toru answered offhandedly.

"If you believe so. Just talk to me if you are needing," the mom entreatied.

"Thanks. I do mean it."

"Arigatou. That means thank you, right?" It was the first time the younger male spoke, his voice surprisingly smooth and middle-toned. Hagakure had expected it to have more bass, with the guy being close to Shoji and Sato-kun in height.

The American held out a hand, arm relaxed and waiting with a pleasantly warm smile on his face. "My name's Danny. As you probably already guessed, I'm part of the family."

All the English was making Toru's head spin so only some of the words made any sense, but she did appreciate that the handshake was not forced this time.

"Danny, Toru Ha-gah-cur-aye-san is Japanese and doesn't speak any English at all. But if you want to be polite, you can bow in greeting." Danny angled toward his mom as she spoke, eyes training on her mouth when the correct way to say Hagakure was emphasized.

"Oh. Whoops!" Danny turned back to the invisible teen, dipping at the waist with a loose fist in front of his stomach and one behind his back in a distinctly western bow. Then, speaking slowly, tried again, "Konnichiwa. My name is Danny Fenton. Nice to meet you, Toru." A sharp inhale came from Maddie, making Danny's head swivel.

"What'd I do?" The words were fast, panicked.

Toru thanked Kami-sama that no one could see her blush. She was already embarrassed enough.

"In Japan, it's traditional to call someone by their last name and use honorifics to denote familiarity, like san, sama, kun, and chan. Using someone's first name at all shows closeness. Using someone's first name without a suffix attached, well…" Maddie trailed off awkwardly.

The boy groaned, apologizing profusely.

This is Relativity by M.C. Escher:

Chapter Text

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

"This sentence is in English, but shhh." This is for when the scene is from a Japanese character's POV and they don't understand English, or, if they understand some words, those are not underlined.

"Dialogue in Japanese that is getting translated in real-time." If all words are in bold, the English character can understand everything that is being spoken in Japanese.

Friday, September 7th

11:12 am

"And now, not only do I have to help a lost girl that came from who knows where, we have that stupid presentation due Monday. Who the heck assigns a major group project on the second day of class!?" Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair before grabbing a fistful at the end in a brief hold. "Mrs. Atterbury is a sadist, I swear!"

The armchair the Fenton sat in was rust red, the fabric a hideous paisley that screamed outdated. On the other side of a black coffee table, Tucker slouched into an identical seat, glaring at a laptop screen as he listened. Both chairs hugged a wall, trying not to intrude into the Health and Science building's hallway.

"You really suck sometimes, you know that Danny?" Tucker grumped at his best friend. The boy's arms crossed as he slid further into the cushion, shoulders pulling up in a sulk.

"I suck? How does that even make sense? I told you to take the computer class with me." The pale boy leaned back, affronted.

"Dude—"

"Mrs. Atterbury sucks! She's the one on the power trip!" Danny cut Tucker off, already invested in the tirade. A searing glare, however, clicked the bellyacher's mouth shut.

"A cute, superpowered high school girl worthy of being an anime protagonist just fell through the universe and landed herself in your lap. Yet somehow you find a way to complain about it?! I wish I had your problems!" Panic crossed both boys' faces momentarily as they glanced around desperately. When no green smoke swirled up from the shadows, Danny leveled his friend with a deadpan stare.

"Tucker, I don't even know what she looks like. But more importantly, ew. She's sixteen."

"That's no different than a senior dating a freshman," Tuck defended, the words reflexive. The techno-geek refused to meet the halfa's gaze, training back in on the glowing screen of his laptop. Finger double-tapping on the trackpad, he amended, "Okay, I spoke before I thought too hard about it. I just—the mini-skirts, Man!"

Danny rolled electric-blue eyes. "Hagakure-san is currently decked out in Jazz's old clothes."

"I meaaaan—" Tucker's mouth quirked at the corner, trying to suppress a grin.

"Don't."

The familiar shutdown sent the heckler into a fit of chuckles. Smirking, the shorter male set his device on the coffee table and sat up, giving Danny undivided attention.

"So when am I gonna meet Hagakure-san? There's no way you're leaving me out of this one! Even if she wasn't a supe, she'd still be from Japan." Tucker's tone lifted up at the end, nearly croaking in excitement.

"Besides dinner last night, I haven't really had a chance to hang out with her, myself. I've just been so busy with this stupid project. She's still a bit skittish from what I saw, though, so I might have to rain check you for now," Danny admitted. Then, seeing a crestfallen look, threw a bone, "Sorry, Tuck. If it helps, I plan to spend all day tomorrow with her to see what I can find out. I'll keep you updated; even before Sam."

"You wouldn't dare." Tucker's tone was skeptical. Then, seeing the ghost boy's smirk, a grin split his own face. Switching thoughts, he asked, "Why hasn't she said anything yet, though? Normally when people come to Phantom for help it's with some great sob story."

"I actually have a theory on that. I think it has to do with her invisibility. She's clearly human; I don't get even a hint of ghost sense around her. But she gets tense when ghosts are mentioned, and keeps insisting she wants help from Phantom." Danny airquoted, then shifted in the chair. "I don't think she trusts normal humans all that much. She said she was lost, but I think she escaped from somewhere."

"Oh, crap. Like some kind of human trafficking? Do you think the Guys in White are involved somehow?" Tucker turned serious, immediately grabbing for his laptop again before popping it open and placing a thumb on the touchpad. As soon as the login screen flashed away, the hacker was launching an .exe file with an F as its icon. A homebrew program took up the screen, a search bar floating dead center. Dragging and dropping a file labeled "GIW" into the white rectangle, he relaxed and turned to Danny. "I wis—" A glare had the Foley quickly rephrasing, "I mean, it would be better if I had my desktop. Cassandra's fast, but she's limited by her hardware." The tech addict subconsciously stroked the chassis, comforting the computer after the verbal slight.

Danny shook his head fondly at Tucker's movements, causing the geek to peek down and jerk his hand away, a barest hint of red darkening already dark cheeks.

"I don't think we have to worry about the GIW. I think we were thorough enough last time." The boys shared a malicious grin. "But I'm going to ask around, just in case. Could be someone like Apex."

"I thought you left them with Walker?"

"There've been breakouts before." Danny shrugged. "I hope it's not them, though, Apex is creepy as all get out."

"Well I'll let you know if Cassandra comes up with anything. But until then, why don't you just talk to Hagakure-san as Phantom?" Tucker asked. "That seems like the simplest way to get information to me?"

"Ugh. I would, if she was staying with someone else! But I don't think I can pull off keeping my identity safe while she's living with us if she gets a close look at Phantom. Anyone with half a brain would figure me out after just a couple days."

"True, you don't always think ahead. Remember when you used to just change out in the open? Or just randomly talk about your alter ego in public places? The good old days." Tucker's eyes danced.

"Oh shut up; I'm listening for people and that obnoxious whine cameras make. Plus I'm putting out a scrambler," Danny huffed.

"And you just 'appearing' in the living room when Hagakure-san first arrived was a calculated move to keep your secret, huh?"

"Ugh, seeee? I can't let her interact closely with Phantom."

"Alright, Danny. I see your point. Just don't come crying to me when it comes back to bite you in the butt."

"Thanks for the encouragement. I knew I could count on you," the Fenton sassed and glanced at his phone. "Oh shoot!" Grabbing a discarded red backpack off the floor, he stood. "Tuck, it's 11:59. Mrs. Atterbury's gonna have an aneurysm." The college student froze at the thought, eyes tracking down to the paisley chair longingly, then the halfa sighed and they snapped back up. "Let's go…"

Friday, September 7th

12:10 pm

Hagakure woke with a start, heart pounding. A cozy silence drifted around the room, at odds with the adrenaline pumping through the girl. A slight thump and clatter sounded from below, and the teen jumped out of bed. The final clinging cobwebs of a nightmare cleared from the back of her mind, and the hero-in-training's posture sagged in relief.

Side-eyeing a small clock on the nightstand, Toru was flooded with surprise. She'd slept nearly fourteen hours! Exhaling heavily, the sixteen-year-old glanced around again, taking in a room that had barely registered last night.

Everything was very….pink. One of the only exceptions being a worn, one-eye teddy bear that sat reclining on the desk beneath the window, its white lab coat flopped open around it.

Hagakure yawned and stretched, white flamingo pajamas lifting up with the motion. The invisible female then hobbled to the room's exit, feet still tender, and peeked out into a deserted hallway. Darting several doors down to a bathroom, the teen slipped inside, turned the shower hot, and scrubbed several days worth of dirt off, leaving skin that should have turned lobster-boil red as clear as ever. Drying and dressing, Toru used a toothbrush Maddie had supplied yesterday before a knock at the door had her jolting just a bit.

"Yewsh?" A foamy paste was spit into the sink, followed by a much clearer, "Yes?"

"Good afternoon, Hagakure-san! I hope you slept well. Jack and I are making pancakes, would you like any?" Ah, so that was the clatter that woke her. Kitchen pans.

"Yes, please. I'm starving!" The answer came quickly, Toru finding death by poisoning less and less plausible the more she was exposed to this family.

They seemed like good people. Weird, but happy enough.

Yesterday, when Jack and Maddie-san had mentioned having hot dogs for dinner, Jazz-san had chased them out of the kitchen, instead finding and making a hamburger noodle dish that came from a box.

Even though Hagakure hadn't understood many of the words thrown around the table, there seemed to be quite a bit of laughing involved in the affair. The Fentons clearly teased each other a lot, Jack-san taking the brunt of the jokes. The family banter had been heartwarming.

Toru was still inclined to be careful with her words, but the constant feeling of fear that had stalked her like a mountain lion was gone, allowing the lostling to behave more like her normal self. It was a weight off the bubbly girl's shoulders when she was able to open the bathroom door with a gratuitous smile.

"Awwwww." Maddie grabbed the sleeve of Hagakure's pajamas. To Toru's credit, she didn't flinch as the mother rubbed the flannel between a thumb and forefinger. The adult then turned to face the landing that overlooked the downstairs and yelled, "Jaaaack! Jazz kept her flamingo pajamas!"

Toru tugged back on her arm lightly and Maddie let go, embarrassed. Coughing slightly into a hand, the Fenton went on, "Sorry, I just had so many rememberings. Jazz wore that for her sixteen year old party. Her friends wore same clothes for sleeping."

"It's fine; they are very cute pajamas."

Maddie brightened and beamed at the invisible kid's change to a positive attitude, "They are! Now let us grab pancakes before they are cold. Jack and I have a good surprise for you!"

A slight tenseness went up Toru's back. She'd had more than enough surprises lately. Still, the highschooler followed Maddie's retreating form down the stairs, through the living room and into the kitchen where a spread of sausages, bacon, pancakes and syrup awaited.

"TA-DA!"Jack held up a strange gadget roughly the size of a smartphone. Except it looked nothing like one. The metallic, circular-on-bottom/square-on-top device sported two screens. The one on the upper half had a grid-like pattern across it while the one below was covered in touchscreen-style buttons. The oddest part, though, had to be two tall, green light bulbs that stuck from the top and gave the thing an almost cartoony, mad scientist feel.

Hagakure blinked, vaguely uneasy, but with a growing curiosity. They hadn't actually figured out how to send her home already, had they?

"What does it do?" she asked, turning to Maddie while trying to squelch rising hopes.

The woman just smiled mysteriously and nodded at Jack, who practically smashed the power button in excitement.

Hagakure waited.

Nothing.

It did nothing.

"Is-is this a joke?"

"Is this a joke? Fear me." Neon lights glowed and the instrument's top screen gained a moving, jagged line.

The foreigner stared in bewilderment at the talking English device, now more confused than ever at the feminine voice that had emanated from it.

"So what do'ya think, Hagga-curry?!" Jack blurted.

"So what do you think, hog a curry? Fear me." This time the machine's speech was in choppy, robotic Japanese.

"It still has some kinks to work out, since we modified some old tech, but it's pretty good for one day's notice, huh?" Maddie challenged with a wink as the device translated her words, switching "kinks" for "knots", "modified" for "changed" and "pretty" for "beautiful". For all that, it was still understandable, dropping Toru's jaw in stunned silence.

Taking advantage of the lull, Jack proclaimed, "You know. Sometimes my genius, it's—it's almost frightening."

The machine agreed, parroting the egocentric mindset as the hulking man wiped a small tear from an eye, once again ending the sentence with, "Fear me."

Saturday, September 8th

7:59 am

A large, circular room filled with panels and electronics hummed quietly. The morning chill could not penetrate the Fenton Ops Center despite all the windows in the futuristic space. The servers and gadgets around the circumference vented too much warmth, even in hibernation.

Which was a marvelous thing for anyone staying in the emergency sleep hub—AKA one of the light proof, bedding-filled pods that could pop up through the floor at the touch of a button.

Currently, one such capsule was occupied.

Just outside, on a small brown dresser that didn't match its surroundings, sat a simple, digital clock. The numbers on the cobalt device read 7:59.

In less than a minute, the machine bellowed to life, blaring an obnoxious beep to the world. It got out all of three calls before a masculine, sleep-filled groan resonated from the pod nearby and a void opened up beneath the clock.

Silence.

Danny Fenton rolled over in his temporary bed, Technus now a key player in his dream.

Saturday, September 8th

8:16 am

Hagakure walked quietly this morning. The invisible girl made her way down the stairs in a taupe sweater and Carolina blue jeans, crouching all the while to hide beneath the banister. She hoped that the neutral, plain colors would camouflage somewhat with the house's decor, as she planned to do some sleuthing.

Today was a recon day.

After the introduction of the translator, yesterday had been devoted to a tour of Fenton Works in which Jazz, Maddie and Jack-san had explained more about "ghosts" and what the family did for a living. But something was off when certain topics came up about Phantom. Where the hero lived, and how they contacted him made the three uneasy and evasive. It happened enough times that the tiny strangeness had snowballed into a bottom-section-of-a-snowman level of suspicious behavior.

But the weirdest thing was, Toru didn't sense any malice.

It made her wonder.

Secret identities may have fallen out of favor in Japan some time ago, but it'd make sense to have one here. Or maybe there was such a thing as part-"ghosts" in this universe.

Toru doubted that "ghosts" were spirits of the dead, but they could be another species. It was easy to imagine relationships between "ghosts" and humans being taboo, so what kept people from hiding hybrids away from the public eye like some crazy aunt in the attic?

The guy at the train store could definitely have been one. She never did shake the feeling of him being some kind of small mammal cross.

Another person immediately jumped to the forefront of Hagakure's mind when thinking of the possibility.

Jack Fenton.

The man's size just couldn't be natural. He was built like an absolute tank. There had to be something to that.

Crawling along the wall of the living room, Toru tucked herself just behind the cased opening to the kitchen. Inside, Maddie stood making breakfast, while beyond, Jack sat tinkering on a box of random wires that the UA student recognized, parts spread around him.

Toru's eyes dipped down to focus on the father's plate before nearly bugging out of her head.

Ham.

Not, like, slices of ham.

But a whole freaking ham sat partially eaten in front of the massive male.

Seeing Jack reach a limb that rivaled Death Arms in thickness over to grab several cookies off a plate, Toru's thoughts re-arranged themselves. Fat Gum. He was more like Fat Gum than Death Arms.

"Mads! Can you solder this wire on for me? My hands don't fit in the corner." Jack didn't look up from the project, instead leaning closer, welder's goggles fogging slightly as moist breath bounced back from the confines of the box.

"I'm a little busy right now. Just wait a bit until I finish these eggs." Maddie's violet eyes crinkled close as she stifled a yawn with the back of a hand, stirring the contents of the pan with the other.

A disgruntled expression soon gave way to a smirk as Jack moved sausage-sized fingers even further up on the pen-shaped soldering iron. Tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth, the impatient inventor lowered it back into the corner. Predictably enough, the tool immediately slipped and dropped down into the box. Smoke rose from inside as Jack fumbled frantically, pulling the pen out by its cord. The tip swung back, branding the hand that grabbed for it. "Shrieking shades; that's hot!"

Turning down the food and pulling the eggs off the heat, Maddie ran over to Jack with an aloe-based burn cream in hand. "You couldn't wait two minutes, could you?" she asked dryly.

Toru nearly snickered when her brain managed to translate.

"Nope!" Jack answered unapologetically, reaching up to grab Maddie's head and pulling her down for a kiss. "Thanks for the Fointment, Sweetcakes!" The redhead sighed, but smiled nonetheless while drawing back from her husband.

"Where's the wire you needed soldered?"

Jack grabbed the box and slid it behind him, arm nonchalantly covering the top so the contents stayed hidden.

"You broke it, didn't you?" The question was rhetorical, the wife used to the antics.

"I needed to redesign that circuit anyway!" Jack boomed, smiling brightly.

Maddie went back to the stove top, sending covert peeks at the orange man as she turned the potatoes back on high.

Jack grabbed the device, pulling it front and center again. After a quick inspection of his other half, to verify she'd stopped watching, he grimaced. Picking up a screwdriver, the inventor started chipping away at something inside. Simultaneously, the scientist reached over for another caramel apple doodle, eyes still fixated on the box. Confusion clouded his face, and he glanced at the "cookie" held in his left hand.

As Jack examined a large titanium nut that had somehow made its way onto the confectionary plate, a muted crack sounded from the box where his right hand disappeared.

A tiny, strangled cry came from the bumbling male when he peered inside the invention in dismay.

Well, Jack-san wasn't Phantom's alter ego, if the hero even had one; that much was for sure.

Unlikely to find anything new by spying on the pair's morning routine Toru shuffled away, crawling back through the living room. Upon reaching the base of the stairs, she stood; and, instead of going up them, walked into the formal dining room that was adjacent to the front door. Making her way to the basement's entrance on the far side of the space, the sneak was frustrated to find it locked.

The Fentons had talked about their portal during the house tour; but they'd refused to open the giant, hexagonal gateway for safety reasons. The caution painted frame had sure looked legit, though, and had definitely piqued Toru's interest.

Trying the handle one more time, Hagakure was startled by a sudden, disembodied comment.

"Voice Authorization Required."

"Hagakure-san? Is that you?" Maddie called shortly after. Toru soon heard footsteps starting in the kitchen, and rushed to make it to the base of the stairs before her host could spot what was going on. Just as the UA student rounded the corner, the adult did as well, and they bumped into each other.

"Oh!" Maddie gasped, hand flying to her chest. "Sorry, I didn't know you were that close."

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Hagakure was quick to feign concern, hands reaching out to steady Maddie. "I'm always sneaking up on people by accident!"

"It is okay, there is no problem."

The scrutiny the mother gave her made Hagakure squirm, sure she'd been caught. Until an unexpected query left the older woman's lips, "I am sorry if hard question, but can you not become looking?" Maddie's face scrunched up in thought. "Wait just a second, please." The Fenton turned and ran back to the kitchen, leaving a confused Toru behind, before coming back with the translation device from yesterday in hand. "I'm sorry if this is a hard question, and you don't have to answer, but can you not become visible?"

Holy crap! The machine already sounded so much better just one day later; and it didn't even have that weird "fear me" bit at the end.

Hagakure paid closer attention, really taking Maddie in for the first time this morning. She'd been so focused on Jack that the bags under the inventor's eyes, the ruffled state of her jumpsuit, and the constant blinking had gone unnoticed. Not to mention the slight hint of onions in the air.

"Hagakure-san?"

Snapping out of the musings, Toru desperately replayed the question in her head, "Oh, sorry! I'm still pretty tired. Your translator distracted me is all. I can't actually become visible at will. I'm always stuck like this."

Pure horror stared back at Hagakure, Maddie's body language shouting that she'd been struck an emotional blow as the woman's eyes started to glisten with unshed tears.

"Jack! We're needed in the lab, pronto!" The translator continued to work, even though the conversation clearly wasn't for Toru any longer.

The heavyweight male was there much quicker than his bulk should have allowed, and he studied Maddie's face in concern as one hand reached up to grip the stair's railing. "What's up?"

"Hagakure can't turn visible. At all. Ever."

"That's terrible!" Jack appeared nearly as unnerved by the news as his wife.

Hagakure stood awkwardly, unsure what to do in the face of such a reaction. At home, people barely batted an eye.

"We're going to help," Maddie directed at Toru after noticing the quirk user's extended silence. "We work with ghosts, who turn invisible regularly, so I'm sure we can figure something out." A steely conviction coated the words, a solution sure to be found.

"Ah, you don't have to do that. That's low on my priorities right now," Hagakure played off. Seeing a no-nonsense expression on the woman, the teen tried again, "Really, I would rather work on finding a way home. Even paying the thrift store back is higher on my to-do list."

"Thrift store?" Jack asked, not following.

"Ah…I kind of….borrowed clothes from a place called—" since the Japanese speaker didn't know what the words meant, she opted to say the sounds she'd read off the sign, "—Barugen Besumento." Continuing after the slight pause, she defended, "I kept the price tags, but they got left behind in my other clothes. I don't actually know how much I owe." Avoiding their gazes was silly, she knew, but the habit still won out. The teen rubbed at her head nervously, taupe sweater lifting with an unseen arm.

"Well, that's one thing I can check off your list," Maddie assured. "I already paid the eleven dollars and twenty-five cents with the town's ghost insurance fund."

Hagakure was instantly on guard.

They already knew about her? They must have been stalking her after all! The teen dropped incrementally lower, ready to spring past them like a startled hare. The front door was just behind them; she could make it.

"Before you panic, we had no idea it was you. I mean, I suspected, but Team Phantom is in charge of ghostly disputes, remember? An invisible person stole a bunch of clothes. There was no point in arguing over small change, so we just paid out. Eleven dollars and twenty-five cents is only a little over a thousand yen."

Hagakure blinked. Okay, that was plausible. Likely, even. Feeling embarrassed, the aspiring hero just managed to squeak out, "Thanks, I'll do my best to pay you back." Throat closing and cheeks burning, she straightened.

"No need, Hagakure-san; It's really no big deal." Seeing shuffling socks, Maddie added, "But I can always use some extra help around the house if you have some free time."

"I'd…I'd like that." Egged on by shame, Hagakure debated internally, before deciding to admit something else, "How I got here, and why I'm so edgy; they're related. I fell through a portal. I think I was kidnapped, and I have no idea why."

Maddie and Jack exchanged concerned glances, the redhead's brow furrowing before Jack blurted, "Was it green?!"

"Yes, actually." Hagakure's unseen eyes narrowed, but she didn't give in to the need to flee, already feeling stupid enough.

"Most ghost portals, both naturally occurring or not, are green. There are some exceptions, of course, if the energy of the ghost creating them is another color, but that's incredibly rare. Equally as rare as the ability to make portals. It takes a great deal of power to create a wormhole between worlds," Maddie mused aloud, backing up to give Toru some space.

"Well, maybe we can go take a look to see if there's any leftover ectoplasm where Hagakure came through? Narrow things down," Jack added, already reaching past Maddie to grab the GAV keys off a hanger.

"Sweetie, Hagakure-san was the one at Bargain Basement. Remember, Sheryl called us up in arms on Tuesday? That means she's been here at least four and a half days."

Jack's face immediately fell. "Oh."

"What? Why is that bad?" Toru questioned, bud of hope quashed.

"Ectoplasm disappears quickly. Unless the ghost tries to keep it around, or there's a lot of it, not even Fenton tech can detect it after about a day and a half," Jack informed, causing Hagakure's shoulders to sag.

Maddie's face softened. "Phantom was already gathering intel from other ghosts in the Zone about your situation, but now we can point him in a specific direction. Since we know there was a portal involved, we can also do some of our own research. I'll even message an old colleague who helped with the original Fenton Portal blueprints and loved to theorize about natural-occurring portals and the multiverse for extra clues." The redhead settled a hand on Toru's shoulder and attempted to meet the teen's gaze with marginal success. "If Phantom can't find a ghostly method to get you home, there might be a way to modify the Fenton Portal. We'll let you know if we come up with anything, but something of that magnitude would take a lot of time."

Toru's eyes watered of their own accord. Three days ago she would have balked at the offer of such generous, oddly specialized help, picking the likely trap apart and refusing it entirely. But today a tear trailed down her cheek, inconspicuous until the exact moment it left her face.

"We'll see what Phantom comes up with before we delve into anything too complicated, but there's nothing that says we can't spend today figuring out how to make you visible. We don't have to wait on anyone for that," Maddie declared.

Wiping the salty water and a small line of snot off with a sleeve, Toru took a deep, steadying breath and responded, "Sure, let's give it a shot."

Saturday, September 8th

1:07 pm

Thump.

"Ugh."

Danny gripped his head in the dark, reaching his other hand up to touch a solid metal surface above him. Following the curved ceiling down to a little shelf on the left, he groped around. A second later, the male squinted into a blinding light, face and chamber washed in blue.

1:07 pm.

"CRAP!" The halfa unplugged his phone and launched through the side of the capsule, not bothering to open it. It was only after he'd done so that the absentminded adult realized his error and belatedly scouted the space. "I'm starting to understand why Jazz kicked me out of my room," whispered into the empty Ops Center.

Remembering the need to hurry, Danny made a clone that dashed off to the small bathroom in the corner. Rushing to change and throw on deodorant, the original finished loading keys, wallet, and cellphone into jean pockets right as the other-him came out of the bathroom, drying mussed hair with a towel. It was only as the counterpart sauntered toward Danny with a devilish smirk that the superhero felt his stomach drop in realization.

"I'm so screwed."

The copy's smile widened even further.

Too late to take back the blatant display of powers he'd literally just got done telling himself not to use, Danny sighed. It was a small blessing when only a whispering echo of you know what you did fluttered along the halfa's mind during the re-merged.

Such light teasing was practically sweet nothings when it came to one of his doubles, as he and his duplicates had a horrible habit of trash talking each other in a demented form of self-therapy.

Danny felt his hair miraculously dampen, and the boy's skin took on an almost humid feel. At the same time, his teeth lost their grittiness, and a minty freshness flooded his mouth. Ready to go, the halfa took a breath and glared at the ground before shouting "One to the kitchen!"

The floor opened beneath the super, and, with the sound of a vacuum, sucked him down through a large tube. Landing lighter than should have been possible, but not by much, Danny smiled.

"Hey, Sleepyhead. I was gonna check on you soon. I was worried you'd died," Jazz commented from the kitchen table.

"Har de har har," Danny acknowledged. "I've never heard that one before." Despite the backtalk, the halfa fought to keep a grin off his face. What could he say? Cheese was his thing.

Hushing, the ghost kid stilled beyond what a normal person was capable of and listened. Other than Jazz scratching a pen across a notepad, the house was quiet.

"Where is everyone?"

"In the lab. When I got home from grocery shopping they were already down there," the older sister informed. The raven-haired male started for the living room when Jazz's voice called again, "They put up the do not disturb sign."

Danny's eyebrows raised as he continued toward the basement and inspected a little carved ghost hanging from the door, "Beware!" painted across it in childish handwriting.

"Wow, I didn't know we even still had that sign." The twenty-year old's voice raised just enough for the other Fenton to hear him.

Jazz's response came semi-muffled through the walls, but for Danny it was crystal clear; "Dad's a packrat and Mom loves keepsakes. The more surprising thing is that they were able to find it."

Leaning forward, Danny placed the side of his head against the soundproof door to the lab. Clanking sounded from below, barely audible to enhanced hearing, before a slightly louder yelp halted the tinkering. Had to be Dad.

Danny just shrugged. Who was he to intrude on something private. If it was important, his parents would fill him in later.

Well, so much for rushing to spend time with their guest.

Danny grabbed into a pocket, pulled out his beat up cell phone, and sent a quick text.

Less than a minute and the boy's jeans were humming, a Star Wars' sonic boom vibrating a reply.

R u sure ur free? U were supposed 2 give me the deets on Hagakure 2day

Danny sighed, before typing back, Yeah, parents and her are in the lab. They even used the DND sign

They still got that?

Apparently

Well, u know im always down 2 game. My timelines for work r…fluid

Danny snorted. Tucker was such a procrastinator. But for some incomprehensible reason, the tech genius always somehow turned work in on time.

Just a sec. Danny ambled up to his room upon finishing the text. Waking a sleeping computer, the gamer opened up a Doomed file on the desktop, only for a lengthy update bar to pop up on the screen.

Ugh. It's gonna be a bit. I have to wait for the new Eternally DLC to download

I keep telling u 2 set up auto-update, noob :P

Oh, shut up

Saturday, September 8th

3:39 pm

A rodent-like fetus lay twitching on a vinyl dentist's chair, the shudders that wracked the small frame splashing up a clear liquid. Above the dying animal hung loose belts of leather held together by several buckles. The aftermarket restraints didn't match the chair, but the leather was worn and faded along the inner edges, showing signs of age and use. Industrial shelves pressed tight to the back wall and an electrocardiogram monitor lay quiet and lifeless on a wheeled stand. Likewise, a mobile medical tray stood at the side, bare of any instruments that would normally adorn its surface.

A spritz of the organic matter that was not water, but thicker, splotched onto a snow-white Armani sneaker nearby.

"Hhhhsssh." An indrawn breath hissed through a plague doctor's mask, the beaked fabric muffling the noise until it sounded of TV static.

The wearer's lemon eyes glared down at the filth, and the dark-haired youth kicked off the shoe in disgust as a mild rash crept up the side of his face. Reaching down, he pulled off a glove and touched the footwear, causing it to explosively disintegrate into a fine powder. A second later, the particles drew back together as if magnetized to a singular point and reformed into their original shape, the fabric whiter than before.

A fully ivory-cloaked figure stepped into the room behind the first man, hood drawn down over a similar, but altogether different plague mask. The contrast between the two people was striking, as their color schemes were essentially inverted.

"What is it?" The words were calm, lacking much emotion. The speaker slid the newly constructed Armani back on, lacing the material before standing and tapping its toe on the concrete.

"Second, I've heard a rumor that may prove fortuitous," the other person replied; then held up his cloak a moment later. Shielding the darker male as the mammal in the chair threw liquid with one final kick, the subordinate continued, "Something 'revolutionary' is being tested at Detnerat, according to several contacts. I think it has potential in helping us halt the extreme devolving issue."

Trying not to scratch at the hives on his face, the young, germaphobic adult stared with impassive eyes at the chair.

"Hm."

Chapter Text

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

Sunday, September 9th

8:46 am

The quiet hum of the Ops Center was disturbed by a shuffling. Unhurried, Danny pulled things from his dresser, worn sleep pants hanging loosely on the young male's hips. Left arm clutching a wad of clothes, the halfa took a quick peek at his cellphone. Still forty-five minutes before he had to be at the college. Plenty of time.

Moseying over to the bathroom, the raven-like youth grabbed the handle to the door and opened it. He smiled down at his entirely solid hand before passing through the opening.

A frosted mist gasped from his mouth, taking Danny by surprise.

"Seriously?" Danny groaned, closing and locking the door behind him. Jumping into the air, a white light flashed from one side of the male's lean body to the other, eating away at soft grey pants and replacing them with a form-fitting costume. The Kevlar blend acted like some alien infection, spreading rapidly from nothing to consume any bared skin.

In a moment, Phantom was dropping the armful of clothes to the floor and rocketing through the metallic ceiling. Popping out the other side, the halfa scanned his surroundings. Seeing only a grey and brown cityscape covered in a foggy drizzle, the white-haired superhero closed neon-green eyes and focused on his core.

A tug to the left. Eyes springing open, Danny flew in the direction of the pull, watching for motion as the feeling of "other" got stronger. Buildings sped past and he found himself approaching a small park, only about one square block in size. A lilting tune of a wind instrument just barely teased his ears, wisping notes that danced away if he focused on them. The core he followed continued to feel just out of reach, spurring an increased pace. So when the ghost suddenly appeared in a shower of leaves, Danny nearly ran into it.

The hero swerved, avoiding the autumnal being just in time, then twirled around to face it. Knowing the ghost had triggered his sense because it wasn't a local, Danny yelled a greeting, "Hey, Kid. You know you aren't supposed to come to Amity without petitioning for a visitor's pass, right? If you want an application, they're at Queen Dorathea's castle."

A mouth filled with tiny, sharp teeth smiled too wide back at him. The creature tilted its rounded head, sage grey skin complementing the fiery glow of its eyes.

Danny expected the…guy's(?) pointed hat to slide off-center, but the tawny accessory seemed unaffected by the motion.

Slightly unnerved by the silent stare of the nightmare scarecrow, the halfa tried again, "If that's all you need, I can point you in the right direction." The ghost just reached behind his back with jerky, puppet-like joints. Danny tensed, ready to dodge knives, but managed to stay motionless when the kid pulled out a flute.

He could do this; he could be civil. Even when one of his subjects freaked him the frick out. This little guy could be like Lyrica. Maybe he just talked through music. That could be it.

That was not it.

The child lifted the instrument to his lips and played a short, four note ditty. In seconds, a swarm of mosquitos descended from the nearby trees, buzzing a battle-cry as they tried to bite at Danny through his suit. The halfa went intangible, gaze jerking back to the brat when a melodious laugh taunted from beyond the cloud of insects.

The kid was gone, a puff of leaves drifting to the floor where his tapered brown shoes had been. The keen surrounding Danny lessened as well, the bloodsuckers departing.

Dropping the temperature around himself, Danny watched the moisture in the air turn to diamond dust and the wave of tiny attackers flash freeze.

He hated mosquitos.

Phantom's sense spread out again, and the super flew fifteen feet up, spotting his opponent through the fog. On the far side of the park, the little brat twirled atop a leafless tuliptree, the twiggy branches setting an eerie stage for the creaking, jagged dance.

Danny rushed him, just missing his chance for a quick grapple. Passing through another spray of foliage, that teasing, alto laughter chafed along his skin.

Tapping his wrist, Danny glanced down when the spot lit up lime green with the time. 8:55. That was going to cut things a little close for his meet up with Julien and Tucker.

"Jeeze Kid, don't you have something better to do? Like scaring birds?"

Five new notes trilled from behind him, and a nearby dogwood rattled as several crows burst from it, their bodies a dark contrast to what was left of the scarlet leaves. Danny just raised an eyebrow, easily avoiding the attempted murder.

The child stomped and flailed his arms, the branches beneath his feet remaining miraculously unbroken.

"You know, you don't seem particularly outstanding in your field; you might want to hit up Oz." Danny surged forward again, fists aimed for a double punch. "I hear he's handing out brains!"

Fast as a whip, the flute lifted again.

"Oh no you don't, Pied Piper!" Danny yelled, shooting off a low-powered ecto-ray. A single, long note got cut off by the blast, and the ghost fell from the tree. The halfa zipped after, throwing a circular construct around the kid before he hit the ground. "Gotcha!"

Tapping a neon green button on his belt, Phantom curled the hand not directing the sphere into a fist and aimed it loosely toward his corralled opponent. Pushing ecto-energy into his suit, Danny's arm illuminated, and a wide-spray beam of light flashed toward the capturee.

Who was gone. Again.

Frowning, Danny surveyed the area. The tiny woodland space around him had filled with creepy-crawlies wiggling to the surface from underground. Must have been the single note the kid got out. Well, at least the weather was dreary. Not even a dedicated picnicker would be out today, and it wasn't like he'd be bothered up here by things that couldn't fly.

Seeing the little monster atop an apartment complex's roof, merry feet kicking as they dangled over a ledge, the halfa closed his eyes for a second and exhaled. Patience.

Checking the time again, Danny grimaced. Then facepalmed and created a duplicate.

The clone looked at him quizzically. "You sure you want to split our strength just for a shower?"

"Yeah, I'll be fi—" A blob of mud exploded over the original's face. Spitting dramatically and wiping wet dirt from his eyes, the ghost hero turned to belt up at the rooftop, "No more going easy on you, Kid; that was the last straw!"

"Dude. That was corny. Even for us." A cheeky smile greeted Danny as the clone reached over and swatted the back of his head. Numb-nothingness spread from the point of contact and the pale boy watched as the mud fell a dozen feet to the ground.

The doppelganger just saluted, before darting off in the direction of Fenton Works.

Danny turned back to the pesky scarecrow, tossing a volley of electric green air-sickles at him. The trickster burst into yet another puff of leaves before they could hit, that singing "he he he" lingering in the air longer than the child. Canceling the attack before it could cause property damage, Phantom groaned.

"Dang it! How is he so fast at teleporting?"

Legs merging into a tail, Danny's eyes narrowed. Spying the rascal on top of a stop light, the half ghost blasted off, wind whistling past his ears and flipping snowy hair backwards. Before he got close enough to try and attack, the twit was gone again.

Creating yet another duplicate, the two Dannys tag teamed their slippery opponent. But like a wet bar of soap, every time they thought they had him—regardless of invisibility, pincer attacks, or ambushes—the scarecrow just slipped away like magic. An obnoxious game of chase ensued, forcing the Phantoms to pour more and more power into speed and acrobatics when the kid decided near-perma teleports were a wonderful idea.

Finally catching up to the brat when the antagonizer took a breather on a telephone pole, Danny peeked an invisible head out from beneath the sidewalk.

Only to fade back into sight.

"Aw man, not again." The adult frowned and tried to bring back the instinctual feel of "so still a predator passes" to no avail, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Noticing the movement, the child drifted up from his perch in what Danny recognized as the ghost's signature "teleport" form. Phantom raised a hand out of the earth, ready to zap that stupid smirk right off the scarecrow's face when the enemy changed expressions. Panic. An ice-ray shot from above, the hit landing just before the "poof".

The kid reappeared only five feet to the side. Frantically discarding a giant leaf-cloak before the frost could spread to his body, the autumn imp ran with jolty, lurching motions down the telephone wire.

Somehow, losing the forest green backdrop made the ghost appear spindly, elongated limbs stretched and pulled like too little taffy.

"Looking a bit twiggy, Kid; you look like you could use a knuckle sandwich!" Phantom's clone taunted, going in for a strike while Danny floated up from the ground, searching for an opening to help him(self?).

Somehow, despite being off-kilter, the little creature twisted away, teleporting just to the side once again. The duplicate swung around to retaliate, but the kid was already blowing his blasted flute. Danny got an eyeful of his doppleganger phasing through a massive wooden puppet before he himself was slammed by a full body tackle.

"Already stuffed. Got it," Danny commented with a grin as he righted himself, legs reappearing on instinct and bracing against the ground. Phantom wrestled (held, really) the second puppet in place, protecting the car behind him from the impact as his copy spared an amused glance, staying intangible.

Swinging in a circle, the halfa used the momentum to toss the mindless hunk of wood into the air, satisfied when it collided with the second marionette and drove them both well above the telephone lines.

Other-him took the cue and the wooden constructs exploded in a shower of splinters. Danny was fast behind, a shield erupting around the detonation. Catching the little bits, he minimized the size of the barrier and levitated it over a dumpster, dispelling the power when it lined up.

Seeing his new least favorite wind instrument raised yet again, Danny shot off a barrage of finger rays. Two met their target, and the scarecrow fell off the telephone line. As the ghost plummeted, his clone powered up an arm with white light, sucking the troublemaker into his suit.

"You know, you kind of suck," Danny-3 called from above.

"As if," Real Danny scoffed, "I totally dealt the final blow!"

"Along with getting clobbered by mud, tipping the kid off by losing your invisibility, and getting tackled by ye old Pinocchi—"

The original floated up and forced the double into a re-merge, brain filling with laughter. The white-haired youth sighed, then winced when he consulted his wrist. 9:38.

Sending a mental ping to the Fenton Works duplicate to meet at the college, Danny turned around.

Only to be hit by a delayed air strike.

"UUUUGH. PIGEONS?! Seriously?!" Danny phased the poop shower off, the laughter in his head turning cacophonous.

Monday, September 10th

-One Week Since Hagakure's Disappearance-

7:17 am

Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

An alabaster paw grabbed at an antiquated phone, lifting the device out of its cradle and raising it to a delicate, furry ear.

"Hello, UA principal's office, this is Kocho Nezu speaking," the rodent informed, leaning back in an executive-style chair.

Hello, Kocho-sensei. This is Saito Hideaki from the Chugoku police department. I am calling to inform you that a Shiketsu highschooler went missing yesterday morning, a tired voice spoke over the line.

"What?!" Nezu squeaked out, slamming a paw down on his desk. A stack of papers fluttered in response, the top sheet drifting to the floor. "Why wasn't I informed sooner!?" the principal demanded, biting back several choice, uncouth words.

Shiketsu High had only allowed one day off campus per week, and had implemented increased security measures following the licensing exam. The timing was way too convenient to be an accident.

You'll have to excuse the lateness. Closer schools have priority right now, and we only have so many staff. Everyone here has been up all night making calls and trying to keep this off the news as long as possible.

Nezu's anger simmered down, empathy overtaking the mammal. He knew the feeling of a rug unraveling beneath him, the fraying strings impossible to grasp.

Sighing, UA's head replied, "Thank you for telling me. What details can you give me about the disappearance?" Pushing wouldn't get him far with an ongoing investigation. Best to let the policeman say what he was able.

A student from the support course went missing early yesterday morning on a shopping trip with her family. That's all I can say at this time. There was a break when someone else's voice mumbled in the background, before Saito continued, I have to go. There's still so much to do.

The call ended and Nezu closed his mouth, too late to ask a final question.

Black eyes narrowing, the adult grabbed the wooden top of his desk and wrenched his body, rolling his wheeled chair in front of a monitor. Nezu logged into the Shizuoka school district's website and used several links to navigate to a Shiketsu dorm attendance list. Technically, he shouldn't have had access, but extreme intelligence, and by proxy, hacking, had its perks.

Ignoring everything but the support course's curfew check-ins, Nezu found three absences from yesterday. Excluding two males, since the officer had said "she", the investigator had his answer.

Monday, September 10th

8:00 am

"In light of recent events, UA will be going into lockdown. The faculty and I have deemed it a necessary measure in protecting our student's safety. From today on, leaving campus will be forbidden for all students and dorm curfew will be moved up two hours. If an excursion off campus must be made, it will require preapproval and an escort," Nezu informed a conference room, lights flashing around him.

The head of UA stood alone at a podium, a booster platform beneath his feet. Even with the added height, the animal felt tiny, dwarfed by everyone in the space.

Leaning forward, the mouse spoke more directly into a black microphone. "This is not meant to be a punishment. Guests may still visit students under supervision, and family members will be allowed inside the dorms. Copies of the necessary paperwork for a visitor's pass will be available on our website shortly."

"Kocho,"—Nezu had to stop himself from narrowing his eyes at the reporter's disrespect—"Your own student was kidnapped on school grounds; do you really expect that to be enough?"

Guilt twinging at the reminder, the principal kept his voice even and made sure to address his entire audience, "I have spent the last week interviewing, researching, and hiring thirty heroes to supplement our campus patrols. In addition, we have brought in a new cybersecurity expert to upgrade our network and systems."

Pinning the journalist who'd asked the question with a stare, he added, "There will be eyes everywhere, I assure you; but I refuse to have my students feel like they're in prison."

A new shout came from the back of the room, "How long do you expect the lockdown to last?"

"Only as long as absolutely necessary. When the villain behind the kidnappings is apprehended I intend to lift lockdown. The increased security, however, will be permanent."

"Have you gathered any new information on the whereabouts of your own missing student?"

"I cannot report at this time, as that is an ongoing investigation, but I can say we've made progress."

"What do these kidnappings say about the future of heroes?"

"Do you think it is time to let Aizawa-san go?"

"Who has been hired to the security detail so far? Did any local heroes make the roster?"

"How has All Might been handling the kidnappings?"

The questions just kept coming. And for the next hour, the stressed principal did his best to answer them.

Monday, September 10th

9:38 am

1A settled into the seats of a basic classroom—normal desks, blue chairs, a teacher's stand, and a smartboard furnishing the space. The green-tinted blackboard that had long since replaced erasers and chalk stretched nearly wall to wall and was covered in a paragraph of English writing. Tapping on a tablet near the blackboard stood a teacher clothed mostly in biker's leather. The text behind the male's cockatoo do disappeared, and the blank screen lit up with a new lesson.

Mishirao Ojiro reclined at his desk, scrolling through a cell phone and tuning out the Denki last-minute-homework mumbles coming from behind him. Scowling, the martial artist checked the news one more time. There'd been a failed robbery downtown, a vandal tagging city buses, a porcelain cat collection stolen from an old lady, and a hero protest in Hosu among other things. Only a single article had anything to do with the Shiketsu student's disappearance, and it was just a regurgitation of UA's press conference.

Ojiro tapped his finger on the desk and tried to keep the end of his tail from twitching like a cat's.

The media was garbage; his class had already found out more than the supposed "journalists", even with lockdown limitations.

Todoroki-kun had texted Yoarashi-kun; and, despite the pair's rivalry, the Shiketsu wind-user had been very forthcoming in what he knew.

Haru Kamada, a second year support course student, had gone missing over the weekend during a family outing. Yoarashi-kun had even met her a couple times in the past when the nervous teen was caught watching his class' hand-to-hand fighting practice. The "plain-faced", "klutzy" girl supposedly admired heroes, but was otherwise pretty unspectacular.

Unfortunately, none of that brought him any closer to finding Toru-chan. Which was why Ojiro kept obsessively checking his phone, a hungry man frequenting an empty fridge.

A hush overtook the room in the minute before class started.

Unsettled, the close combat fighter used a meditation technique, breathing deep and even through his nose to calm the roiling mood.

He really missed his best friend.

Putting away his phone and focusing forward, the blonde shoved his feelings down as a lesson on adverbs began.

Monday, September 10th

4:36 pm

Have you found anything yet?

The small, waving dots of a "typing" icon mocked Izuku from his phone's surface.

It had been hours since the initial text, without a word. But now, All Might was responding, and it churned Midoriya's stomach to wait.

The strength-enhanced student did another push-up, the screen getting closer to his face as his body dipped down toward the dorm room's floor. The gym had been booked, so the teen did what reps he could sealed away in the privacy of his bedroom.

Finally, the cell dinged and the new message displayed, causing the greenette to practically throw himself out of the push up in a grab for his phone.

I told Aizawa-sensei I needed to talk with you. Come to the front door, and we can go for a walk. If your classmates ask, you requested quirk tutoring.

The aspiring hero didn't have to be asked twice. Midoriya dashed out the door and lunged down the stairwell to the first floor in less than thirty seconds, muscles sparking the tiniest bit. Before opening the metal door to the lounge, however, he stopped and steadied his breathing. Walking through the heavy atmosphere of the main area, Izuku felt his heart clench as a couple classmates swiveled his way.

"Hey, Mido. You doing alright?" Mina asked, a slight hollowness to the question despite a paired smile. They were just words to say. A semblance of normalcy.

"Yeah. I was told All Might-sensei could squeeze me in for a little tutoring, so I'll be gone for a bit." Izuku almost left it there. But it ate at him, seeing someone normally so bright be so forlorn. "Maybe we can all do a group study session when I get back? Take our mind off things." The sunshine child forced a smile and chose his next words carefully, "We can even brainstorm more on our ultimate moves, see if we can come up with any variations."

Gratitude shone in Ashido's black-sclera eyes. "Yeah, I'll get anyone together that wants to!"

The horned girl snatched her phone and sent a text. A second later, Izuku's pocket dinged, as did two other phones in the lounge.

Aizawa's gaze shot up, attention pulled from the papers he graded. The ragged man hunched over one of the kitchen tables, studying his students for signs of "insubordinate planning" from the middle of the room.

Midoriya pretended not to notice.

"Be back soon!"

"You better!" Kaminari yelled from the kitchen, instant ramen boiling on the stovetop beside him. It was obvious the electricity user's next words weren't meant for Izuku, however. "You know it's been a rough week when you're stoked for studying."

"Do your best, Deku-kun!" Half-napping on one of the TV area's couches, Ochaco waved goodbye over an armrest.

Izuku traded indoor slippers for a pair of high-backed scarlet sneakers and exited the dorm.

"Midoriya-shounen!" the emaciated form of Yagi Toshinori greeted, already waiting on the porch. "I heard you wanted to talk with me about your quirk!" The retired hero started walking, motioning for the younger kid to follow. The fanboy fell into step beside his idol, the two actually talking about strength quirks as they walked (just not One For All). When they got well away from the Heights Alliance building, Midoriya finally burst at the seams.

"So what did you find?" The words were whisper-quiet, anxiety not enough to quell the intelligent boy's good sense.

All Might answered loudly, laughter in his words, "Yes, we ordered the new fighter drones! You'll have your chance to try out aerial combat soon, but you have to be patient!" The man's sunken blue eyes cast about and the protege took the hint, spying one of the new security staff—Raptor, his hero-obsessed mind idly supplied—watching from behind an evergreen.

The two continued to the main campus, their conversation now having mostly to do with manipulating air pressure.

Passing between the white pillars supporting UA's entrance, Toshinori badged Midoriya and himself through one of the three brown doors. The hallway lit up, motion sensor lights emphasizing the stark emptiness of the space. When the door closed behind them, the gaunt hero sighed heavily, the exhale turning into a wet cough.

"Sorry about that, Midoriya. Kocho-sensei has asked that the faculty be very careful with information regarding Hagakure-san's disappearance. The less people that know details, the better."

"All Might." The words were watery as Izuku's chest tightened. The number one hero trusted him enough to share a closely kept secret.

A skeletal hand reached up to clasp Midoriya's shoulder amiably as the two shambled into an elevator. "You really need to learn to control those tear ducts."

Vision blocked as he wiped his leaking eyes, Izuku felt the hand on his shoulder turning him to face his mentor.

"I have both bad and good news. Kocho-san contacted a search-quirk user from Africa. Tafuta's ability is known for being infallible and can find an object or person anywhere in the world with just a name and a picture."

Something felt off in the way All Might's tone came across, sending Midoriya's stomach into a series of flips unrelated to rising nine floors.

The man shuffled in place and couldn't quite look his student in the eyes, "He found nothing. All he could tell us was that Hagakure and Kamada-san's readings were muffled. He described it as if they existed, but didn't, at the same time. He's never encountered the feeling before."

What did that even mean? Were they trapped somewhere? Was it like being held in one of Compress' marbles? Were they somehow being kept in a pocket dimension? The possibilities were endless.

"Does that mean they're dead?!" Expecting the worst, panic seized the chronic worrier.

"Sorry, Midoriya-shounen." The teacher's head tilted back, and he suddenly sounded very tired. "Tafuta can only see things he looks for as objects. Even if they weren't 'muffled', he still wouldn't be able to tell us that."

Izuku bit the inside of his cheek, determined not to add his thoughts to All Might's stress pile as the elevator slowed to a stop.

The teen snapped back to attention when the lift's doors opened, and Toshinori spoke again, "Now that we've covered the bad news, I do have some promising leads to share. We still don't know who left the energy behind; but we have confirmed that it is indeed a portal quirk, not a look-alike power or machine that spirited the two away."

The dyad exited the elevator and made their way to the faculty lounge, settling on a couch in the far corner. Midoriya sat up straight, too tense to relax back into the cushioned spot.

"The Chugoku team got better readings on the radiation than our team did; and, I can't say that I understood the science behind it, but apparently quirk-made portals create a certain pattern when they deteriorate."

"Do we know if it's the League again, or someone new?" Midoriya asked, unable to hold back the question as his head flooded with thoughts, the deluge washing away a conviction to not interrupt again.

"The signature did not match either the liquid portals or Kurogiri's."

Another portal user? But the power was so rare! Even Izuku's notebooks had nearly nothing on them.

"I still believe it is likely the League, since only major schools are being targeted, but Kocho-san wants us to stay open-minded," the older male explained.

"The only thing that makes sense to me is the League," Midoriya blurted. "Three portal users showing up in Japan all within two years of each other is astronomical odds if you don't add All For One to the equation. It makes the most sense if it's a quirk from a decade or two ago that is just now being put into a new host. I mean, the last time we saw any portal user in Japan outside of the League was eight—"

"Midoriya-shounen."

Izuku startled at his name, and the mumblings cut off.

"Y-yes?!" His teacher gave him a wry look, and a rush of blood heated the kid's freckled ears.

"That's not all." Slouching forward in his chair, Toshinori's gaze dropped and focused intently on the floor as he laced his fingers together in front of his mouth. "The new data gave us one more, very important clue. It looks like we're dealing with an ectoplasm-based quirk. Power Loader and Ectoplasm-sensei are fairly certain of it now that they've looked at the Chugoku data."

"That can't be!" Izuku's mind was racing so fast he felt dizzy. "There's only been three recorded cases in the history of the world!"

That did it. It had to be All For One.

If it wasn't, there was some real Deus Ex Machina horsecrap going on.

Monday, September 10th

6:54 pm

As soon as the announcement had been made about lockdown, the first thing Katsuki had done was reserve training slots at the on-campus gym every day for the next three weeks. If he wasn't so pissed at literally everything, he'd laugh at the stupidity of all those ridiculous extras. It was obvious that the time slots were going to be worth more than gold in the foreseeable future, and there'd been so many open ones when he'd booked.

This student body had scat for brains.

The aggressive male kicked a cement pillar, feeling the jar all the way up his spine despite the black boots of his hero costume taking the brunt of the blow. His resulting grimace immediately turned into bared teeth, and he kicked again. Harder.

No one at this freaking school could do anything right!

Throwing his hands down as fire tore out of them, Kastuki vaulted into the air. Roughly twenty feet up, a tingling, cramping pain flared in the quirk user's right hand, and he squeezed it into a fist, snuffing out the source of propulsion. Ignoring the tremors that started in his left immediately after, the enraged boy redirected his fall, pencil diving at an innocent training dummy across the lot.

The faculty wasn't ever fast enough.

Slamming feet first into the cotton-stuffed armor, the gifted athlete used the resistance to launch backward, catching himself with a handspring as the faux villain snapped off its pole. The boy landed the gymnast's move and pivoted on the ball of his left foot. Muscles bunching, he sprinted at a geological outcropping.

The security sucked at their jobs.

Lifting an arm, Bakugo pulled his costume's corresponding grenade pin. The exposed bedrock exploded in a spray of stony shrapnel, little cuts opening up on the blonde's shoulders, neck and jaw where his costume offered no protection.

That nobody prep got herself abducted.

Gritting his teeth, he screamed, punching a nearby boulder. The rock cracked at the same time as his knuckles. Clutching the break, the boy stood rigid.

And he. He was the worst one.

For all his training, all his work to ensure he'd never feel vulnerable like this again, Katsuki Bakugo had been just as useless as last time.

Monday, September 10th

8:03 pm

Nezu stared down, heart weighing heavy in his chest. It was only the first day since the announcement had been made; and yet, thirteen papers lay spread in front of him, "unenrollment" glaring at the principal in black ink.

Chapter Text

"Tea wa dokodesu ka?" [Where is the tea?] For scenes from an English character's POV that does not understand Japanese except for any words shown in bold, which may be none. The bracketed translation is for the audience.

"This sentence is in Japanese but has English words mixed into it." This is for when the scene has Japanese being translated in real time, but there are word that are in English as well because the English speaker doesn't know the words in Japanese.

If a scene is being translated the entire time, and there are no language issues anywhere in an entire scene because of a translation device, the scene will just be written as normal. But you know who speaks what. I believe in you.

REMINDER THAT THIS STORY HAS SPOILIES ALL THE WAY TO EPISODE 113

Sunday, September 9th,

9:40 am

-One Day Prior AKA The Day of the Kidnapping-

Sry Im late. Ghost attack. Sending dup ahead.

Tucker just stretched in an armchair, more than happy to keep scrolling through memes while he waited. It didn't really matter that Danny was late, anyway; it wasn't like Julien was here either.

The theme to Ratatouille interrupted the thought and the boy unwedged his phone from between the seat cushion and the armrest.

"Hey Frenchie. Don't worry, Danny's late too."

"Um, so⟨rr⟩y, but d'at is not why I am calling. D'e⟨r⟩e is a girl 'e⟨r⟩e d'at is upset and needs 'elp, but I can't unde⟨r⟩stand 'e⟨r⟩ well."

"Does she not speak English?" Tucker shot back, interested in his presentation-mate's plight. It wasn't like he really cared about Biochemistry anyway.

"Ah, no, you misunde⟨r⟩stand. She is speaking English. I 'ea⟨r⟩ some words. But 'e⟨r⟩ accent is as bad as mine."

Tucker nearly laughed at the imagined scenario, but controlled his voice as he responded, "I'll head over in a bit. Where are you at?"

"By the baseball fields. Please 'u⟨rr⟩y; she won't stop c⟨r⟩ying. I think she's been 'e⟨r⟩e a couple 'ou⟨r⟩s." Julien's plea carried more than a little stress.

"Will do. Tucker out." Ending the call, the young adult packed up, stashing various gadgets into their respective carrying cases. Slipping on a sky blue hoodie so he didn't have to hold it, the technogeek missed when his best friend entered the building on silent feet.

"You were gonna leave me?" Danny spoke up from right behind Tucker, tone saturated in mock hurt and a hand flying to his chest.

The target of the jump scare didn't flinch, both acclimated to ghostly antics and the theatrics. "Yep, figured you'd just text when you got here."

"Uh, Dude, it's not like I get a copy of my phone, remember?"

Oh yeah. Duplicate. Sometimes it was easy to forget. "Whoops; my bad. Did you happen to hear the sitch, or do I need to fill you in?"

"Other than that blatant copyright infringement, I didn't hear a thing. What's up?"

Texting a quick update to the original Danny that actually had a phone, Tucker ignored his pseudo-friend's smirk and continued, "We're heading over to see Julien. Apparently he's been held up by some overwhelmed foreign exchange student?"

"Uhm, okay?" Danny-2's tone conveyed just as much confusion as Tucker's.

"Don't look at me like that, Man. I didn't ask for a ton of details." Tucker waved dismissively before padding to the door. The hoodied boy shook his head, sensing both mirth and a slight chill following.

The pair crossed campus, the burbling hum of a leaf blower engine deafening as they passed through the main courtyard. Winding between buildings, they came to the edge of an athletics field.

A large fence stretched before of them, a dugout on the other side and an open plot of well-manicured grass beyond.

Spying Julien and a smaller figure crouched further down the chain link, the two turned right and paralleled the barrier.

Even from a hundred feet away, Tucker was intrigued. It was a bit surprising someone else knew about Police in a Pod, but he could definitely get behind a girl in costume.

Coming closer, the hot-blooded male sighed. She was too young for him and it wasn't even a Seiko Fuji cosplay.

Danny-2 met his eyes. Expecting a reprimand for checking her out, Tucker was thrown off guard when his friend's face tried to convey a message. One that was incomprehensible until they got within hearing range of the other duo.

The new, very European-looking teen had a Japanese accent so thick it could be spread on toast.

Oh. Dang. Okay.

"Hu ahru de?! Biransu?!" the girl shouted hysterically. Lunging to her feet while keeping some weight off her right leg, the foreigner brandished a…writing utensil?

"A pen isn't always mightier than a sword, but points for trying," Tucker supplied instinctively, before realizing only Danny-2 would get it. What a waste.

Julien was quick to step back and hold up his hands in placation, trying to calm the girl down. But rather than have the desired effect, the semi-tan teen just pointed the stabby end at him, instead.

"Tomodachi! Tomodachi," [Friend! Friend,] Danny's duplicate assured from next to Tucker.

Huh. Danny must have picked up a few words of Japanese.

"Die joe boo." [iT iS oKaY]

Well. Something resembling Japanese anyways. Tucker sniggered into his hand when the female hiccuped and lowered her pen in utter bafflement.

Minor adrenaline shivers trembled up slender arms and the plain teen's teeth chattered every few seconds; but at least she'd finally stopped crying.

"I'm sorry. Danny doesn't speak Japanese." Realizing his mistake, Tucker quickly amended, "I don't, also."

"B-But you're speaking J-Japanese right now." The foreigner tilted her head, medium-grey hair catching around the collar of a short-sleeved dress shirt. When the strands moved Tucker could swear there were highlights of green.

"Uhm."The anime lover raised his fingers into a little pinching shape. "A little; but I'm not skillful at it." Switching to English and pointing to himself, he admitted, "I'm just an otaku."

The girl's overall confusion and fear seemed to die down, and with it, so did her confidence. Eyes fixating on a lone weed in the concrete and hand snaking over to hold its opposing arm, the teen subconsciously hunched inward. "Wato izu yoo nemu?"

"My name is Tucker," the Foley spoke slowly, pointing to himself. "The kid next to you is Julien;" the gaunt brunet nearly flinched at the attention, "and on my left is Danny. What's your name?"

"Mai nemu izu Kamada Haru." She paused, then startled slightly as if an idea just occurred to her. "Amerika-jin. E-to...Haru izu fuasuto nemu." Glancing in the direction of the buildings, she asked, "Woeru amu ai?"

"This is Lower Illinois Community College," Danny-2 cut in before Tucker could answer, darting blue eyes toward Julien.

Oh. Right. Can't say anything too specific with listening ears.

Tucker made a show of pulling his phone out and checking the screen. "Oh shoot! It's already ten! Hey Julien, let's get going on our project. Danny can help Haru."

Julien looked both relieved and pensive, the first emotion in higher quantities than the second. "What if 'e needs us?"

"Pfft. Helping a lost kid's no big deal. He'll be fine. Besides, he was the one who was late; he can be the one who has to play catch-up tonight. If we don't get started soon, we're gonna be screwed for the presentation tomorrow!"

"Thanks for the nomination," Danny's clone deadpanned, staring the techno-geek down with crossed arms.

"Yep! Anytime!"

Tucker let a cheeky smile curve his mouth, then sauntered over to Julien. Kamada shuffled back as the young man approached, but he ignored her, clasping the other male's bird-boned shoulder in a friendly manner. Using the hold as both rudder and means to push the boy along, the master deceiver steered his classmate in the direction of the campus library.

With a final glance over his shoulder, Tuck winked at Danny-2's grateful look.

Sunday, September 9th,

10:07 am

Danny-2 felt a 'completeness' tingle up his legs, the sensation filling his body like liquid. When it reached the top, a secondary awareness settled into his brain, a flood of memories rejoining a whole. Or was he giving the memories? It was always hard to tell.

Making sure Tucker and Julien were well out of earshot, Danny—for he was sure he was the original now—turned back toward his newest problem.

Debating on how to ease into this delicate conversation, Danny noticed Kamada-san grow increasingly nervous in the silence.

"Woai aru yuu suteriingu ato mi?"

The halfa's mind blanked and he blurted, "You wouldn't happen to be from an alternate dimension full of superheros, would you?"

Well crap. That came out totally wrong.

By the way Kamada-san froze and her eyes widened, the behatted girl was likely five seconds from running. Scratch that. Three.

"Wait, wait, wait! Come back!" Danny sprang after, red converse thudding on the concrete. The girl took a hard right, darting through a gap in the tall, foul ball fence that led to the baseball field. "I'm sorry! I'm not a villain! I'm trying to help!"

Danny knew the teen could hear him—she kept throwing glances over a shoulder—but stopping didn't seem on the agenda despite a lurching gait.

Gasping for breath, Haru flew past second base.

All the ghost boy could think was that he was really glad Tucker had left.

Squeezing through another opening, this time in one of the outfield's short fences, the flighty female bolted toward the road, limp more obvious now. Danny's panic wrenched to new heights when he noticed a silver Honda barreling down the street toward her.

"The other girl that was kidnapped! Hagakure Toru! She's at my house!"

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HIM TODAY?!

Leaning forward, the halfa picked up speed, momentum surpassing that of a track star's, and vaulted the fence. "I can show you, if you just come with me!"

Holy flaming poop balls. He'd be better off using candy to coax her into a black-windowed creeper van at this rate.

Danny couldn't blame Kamada-san for the fresh round of tears that poured down her cheeks. But the car in his periphery urged him on. Lunging forward as the escapee stepped off the curb, the hero grabbed Haru around the waist and twirled her to face the sidewalk. During the spin, Danny witnessed the Accord come to an abrupt stop and concurrently throw on a blinker.

Distracted by the terrible parallel park job in progress, Danny was stunned when a fist to the face brought him back to an anticlimactic reality. His grip slackened—from shock more than anything—and the flailing limbs jerked away.

Wheezing in air and shaking, Haru backed up until she hit the fence. Left hand clutched to her chest like it hurt, the girl's gaze darted around maniacally.

"Shhh, shh." Danny subconsciously started to gesture "calm".

Wait. She was literally fenced in. Imagining a new farmer chasing sheep, Danny's limbs dropped out of the corralling pose.

Surprisingly, the foreigner didn't immediately flee. But considering a big, bad wolf with pulmonary hypertension would have sounded less winded and she seemed to be putting all her weight on her left leg now, he could see why she'd chosen the move.

Keeping his eyes fixated on Kamada, the raven haired man reached into his pocket and pulled out a smartphone.

"Hey, Eerie. Call home."

"Calling 'Little Shop of Horrors'."

Danny flinched at the same time Haru did, but he still clicked the megaphone icon.

"Hi, Sweetie! Why'd you call the landline? Did your father lose his phone again?" the cheerful question blasted through the cell's crappy, static-ridden speakers.

"Ah, no. Mom, can you put Hagakure-san on, please? It's urgent."

At least Kamada-san's wild eyes had lessened. The whites were no longer quite so prominent and her gaze downright riveted to the phone when a new, unsure voice crackled out of it.

"E-to. Moshi-mosh?" [Uhm. Hello?]

"Hagakure-san! This is Danny—" The boy cut off when his mom's voice yelled in the background.

With enhanced hearing, he could easily make out the "Motte imasu! Douzo, Hagakure-san, kore wa yakudachimasu." [Got it! Here Hagakure, this will help.] Danny had no idea what it meant, but he stayed quiet so she could finish.

A small beep sounded and "Arigato, Maddie-san," turned into "Thanks, Maddie."

"Uhhh….wait just a second." Danny's eyes flicked to the parallel parker who had finally exited her vehicle. The petite fashionista grabbed an excessively large purse out of the passenger side of the cheap Honda, glancing back and forth between Danny and Haru.

When Kamada failed to make any sounds besides catching her breath, the new chick marched straight up to the frozen highschooler. Palming something into the Japanese teen's immobilized hand, the intruder glared at Danny and marched away.

Both the foreigner and her pursuer stared in stunned silence at a travel-sized can of pepper spray. After a slow blink, the tall male pulled his gaze away and checked for other, unwanted ears.

"Okay, coast is clear." Leaning forward a little to make sure his voice would feed coherently into the receiver, Danny informed, "Hagakure-san, I think I found someone else from your world, but she's really scared." Tone turning needling, he begged, "Can you please tell her that I'm not some crazy axe murderer?"

There was a short wait, the Ghost Gabber happily churning out a translation.

"Wait—WHAT?!"

Sunday, September 9th,

10:54 am

"I'm sorry."

"Huh? What!? No! I don't blame you for running at all. I was stupid! And I made you hurt your leg more," Danny denied, a strange device translating his words in an echo of Japanese.

"No, I mean, for punching you." Sitting on the curved couch of this strangely recessed living room, Kamada stared at her clasped hands, a blush creeping up her face.

"Ha! Everyone in this family practices martial arts except Dad. We can take a punch," A young redhead—Jill-san? No, Jazz-san—reassured from her spot on the furniture several spaces down.

Across from the couch sat the parents of the household, two scientists in superhero-esque jumpsuits. The mom perched daintily on her chair while a kitchen stool strained to hold up her husband.

"Don't worry about it. We're just glad you're okay!" the hulking dad reassured. A broad hand reached down, cupping most of his son's scapula before giving a light squeeze. "Danny's made of tough stuff."

"So how'd you get here, if you don't mind me asking?" Hagakure questioned.

Head turning right and gaze fixating on the UA student's shoulder, the Shiketsu girl responded, "My sister and I were shopping. We were looking at bracelets and then I just...fell...I lost my footing, and there was this green mist. I grabbed for a display case to try and catch myself but all I managed to do was knock it over. Next thing I knew I had landed thigh first on a curb."

"Wow! For kidnappings, these stories sure are boring, eh Haru—ah, Toru?" the dad—Jack-san?—joked. Kamada just caught the, "Man that's gonna get confusing," that followed, the translator on the coffee table between them not even picking up the quiet grumble.

A glare pinned the middle aged man. Jack-san's wife, Maddie-san, angled more toward him before going very still.

"Whaaaat? I just meant that nothing all that exciting happened to either of them; well, unless you count the tussle Toru heard." Jack smiled disarmingly, "But that's a good thing."

The proclamation elicited a long-suffering sigh from the orange man's daughter while his son just leaned back, eyes rolling and fingers pressing into the carpet to support the pose.

"Can you think of any reason why you were taken?" Maddie-san inquired, finally pulling her gaze away from the object of her ire.

"I don't know," Haru answered, face burrowing into her hands. "I'm just a mediocre student from the support course. I ranked seventeenth on my class's final exam last year and 4D only has twenty-two students!" The thin girl's upper half folded, chest sinking toward her thighs and knees propping up her elbows.

A hand rubbed circles on her back and Kamada looked up to see Jazz leaning toward her. "We don't mean to push you. Take your time."

Contrary to the words, though, a voice jumped in on Haru's other side, "Have you noticed anyone suspicious hanging around the past few weeks? Or like, has anything unusual happened at your school lately?"

"When my class was targeted by the League of Villains, the first sign something was up came from news reporters trespassing on campus. It wasn't until the next day that we actually got attacked."

Haru blinked at the sudden reminder, sitting back up. "Act—"

"Hold up! What? Your class has been attacked before?! You didn't tell us that!" Danny freaked, legs pulling into a criss-cross and back straightening as he jolted to attention.

Near simultaneously, his father exclaimed, "League of Villains? That's ridiculous! I could come up with a better name in my sleep!"

Jazz and Maddie locked eyes over the coffee table before the younger redhead leaned forward to look past Haru, regarding Toru's probable face location with concern. "Are you okay? Was anyone hurt?"

Hagakure-san's voice turned sheepish and a glove covered what Haru assumed was the girl's unseen face, leaving a crack between the middle fingers. Maybe to peek through?

"Sorry, everyone. I haven't been entirely honest. I mean, I haven't lied, but I did omit some stuff. I am training to be a hero and I did fall through a portal while at school. I just wanted to be totally sure you weren't connected to my world's villains in any way before I told you everything."

Danny rubbed under his bushy eyebrows with one hand. The guy didn't appear angry, per say, but something like directionless frustration hung about him.

"So, I guess I should start with where I go to school...UA High is the top hero school in Japan, with only one rival that could possibly match it in prestige. Shiketsu Academy." At this, Hagakure gestured towards Haru, and the grey-haired teen subconsciously squirmed in place. "Last year, a new teacher came to work at UA—a super famous hero named All Might."

At the name, Jack's face gained a highly amused grin. "This attracted the attention of a budding group of terrorists. The League of Villains." "Terrorists" killed the mirth in his eyes.

Likewise, Haru's half-emerged phone slid back into her pocket, all desire to show a picture of the America themed hero evaporating like summer puddles on blacktop.

"The first time they targeted my class was during specialized training at a secluded building on campus. They wanted to murder All Might and they brought in a grotesque, multi-quirked monster to do it. To get everyone else out of the way, they had a portal user, Kurogiri, separate the students so that lesser thugs could pick us off."

Maddie inhaled sharply and covered her mouth, while Jazz muttered, "Portal user?", tone intense.

Neither interruption was enough to pause Hagakure's tale, "What they didn't know was that All Might had called in sick that day."

"Everyone fought for their lives, stalling for time as our classmate with super speed got past the villains and ran for help. All Might and several other staff members arrived just in time to save us and our homeroom teacher."

"So everyone made it out all right?" The youngest Fenton visibly sagged, shoulders relaxing.

"Depends on what you mean by all right. Aizawa-sensei nearly died protecting us that day." The sentence was gunshot, turning the room deathly silent. Danny in particular looked as if he'd been physically hit by the words, rubbing at his chest through the fabric of a black tshirt. "He suffered full body bruising, two cracked ribs, torn muscles, multiple lacerations and abrasions, a smashed elbow, several facial fractures including a crushed orbital floor and broken arms—three breaks in his right and a severely comminuted humerus on his left."

Kamada's eyes widened. The story had been plastered all over the news when it had happened, sure, but hearing the details directly from a student made it so much more real. And terrifyingly brutal. How could this girl sitting next to her be so sweet and cheerful after going through that?

"The second time our class was targeted—" the sound faded out and the room swam around Haru, "—classmates were nearly cut down by the hero killer, Stain. I wasn't there, but the League set fire to Hosu and let more of those monsters—Nomu—loose on the city, killing almost a dozen people."

A muscle in Jack's jaw ticked and Danny's shaggy bangs hung over his eyes as he silently leaned forward, hands clenched very tightly in his lap.

Feigning obliviousness, the orator went on, "The third time, one of my classmates was held hostage in a shopping mall under threat of disintegration by the lead villain's quirk, Decay."

Jazz was positively green. Not that Haru could blame the woman. Her own stomach was churning as she watched Hagakure-san deliver the news somewhat impassively.

"Then the last time was probably the worst."

"There's worse?" Maddie croaked.

"Ah. Yeah. Not in terms of injury, though."

"The League managed to discover a secret training camp that the teachers had set up for us and another class. During the courage walk they burned the forest around us and filled it with poison gas, using the distraction to kidnap Bakugo—oh, that's a classmate of mine who's known for his anger issues—and one of the pro heroes that helped arrange everything."

Hagakure's voice finally showed emotion, going soft and carrying an ache, "It was rough, not knowing what was happening to them…"

There was a pause, then like a switch, the joyful teen returned. "But we got them back! A bit traumatized, but alive! So, all things considered, I'd say this kidnapping experience has been great! It might as well be a vacation!"

The ecstatic vibe was downright jarring.

"Sorry for not telling you guys everything sooner. You've been so good to me, I really don't deserve your patience."

Jack sputtered as Maddie practically growled, "You have absolutely no reason to apologize. You've been a complete pleasure to have around, and I'm surprised you told us a gosh darn thing. Thank you for even giving us a chance."

Mouth poised as if to say something, Jazz suddenly looked down. After a beat, her gaze rose back up, lips smoothing out into a shaky, comforting smile. "If you ever need to talk about anything, let me know. I can help you work through things, if you'd like."

Danny stayed tense and unresponsive, eyes still shrouded by a raven veil.

Not sure how to interrupt, Kamada lifted a slightly open hand just above her shoulder line and waited.

It was Jazz who noticed. "Uhm….Yes? Kamada-san?" The adult's face had perplexion written all over it.

"Ah—What Hagakure-san said about strange things happening at school. It reminded me of something."

"There's been a rumor going around that someone from our hero course was kidnapped by the League. I seriously doubt it's true, though. All the increased security lately is probably because of what's been happening at UA. Plus the girl that was supposedly kidnapped took part in the provisional licensing exam during the time that she was 'missing'."

"Really? Who was the rumor about?" Hagakure asked, a thread of demand strung through the words, despite the forced laziness with which they were spoken.

"Utsushimi Camie." A lightbulb went on in Kamada's head. "You might have seen her at the exam. She's ahead of me, so she would have been a second year at the time." The support student fiddled with a strand of hair. "I haven't officially met her, myself, but I have seen her in the halls. She talks…strangely."

Toru held up a finger, the "wait a second" pose ensuring everyone's silence while she contemplated the name. After a bit, her right hand formed a fist and plopped into the waiting palm of her left.

"Midoriya-kun might have had a one on one fight with her during the first phase of the test. He said a girl asked him a ton of weird questions, and I think that was her name. I know it was a blonde." Hagakure's sleeves rose in a shrug. "Midoriya-kun tends to attract the oddest people, though. It could have been someone else and I'm just not remembering right."

"Utsushimi-san is blonde," the thin teen acquiesced, the edges of her mouth pulling down.

"How many people were at this test?" Danny cut in, hyper focused.

"Over fifteen hundred took part in the last exam," Haru supplied, heat rising to her cheeks when Hagakure peered at her questioningly. "I-ah, I like heroes. I keep track of every licensing exam."

"Well, if it was her, such a direct interaction would be pretty unlikely to occur on its own," Maddie considered.

Toru turned to face Haru and grabbed her hands. "Is there anything else you remember? Even the smallest detail could help."

"Uhm. She was gone for like three days after, but that could have been a family matter. Everyone was saying she had no memory of the exam or the days she missed, though. That's what caused the original rumor. People were speculating that she'd been drugged."

"Wouldn't the school have known if she went missing?" The scowl on Maddie's face could have withered Gang Orca.

"I'm sure they do know. Which is why I find the rumors so suspicious. Something like that would have made the news, and I find it hard to believe her parents wouldn't have stormed the gates in worry if it had actually happened."

Toru sucked in a short breath beside Haru, and the support student went quiet, a wave of depression hitting hard. Pulling her thoughts forcibly back together, she tried to recall any related chatter she'd been privy to since school began.

"I overheard a student in the cafeteria say Utsushimi-san woke up behind some garbage bins on the seedy side of town," the Shiketsu kid monotoned. "But I expect that's about as likely as the rumor that she's a werewolf and had a bad transformation on the full moon. Kaito-kun even insisted she was talking about worms in her arms at one point." Vague irritation empowered Haru, allowing her to make eye contact with everyone in the room except Toru. "It was just a typical rumor mill."

"Considering all the kidnappings lately, let's at least entertain the idea that it's true." Jazz stared directly at Kamada and the teen quailed. "If she was kidnapped, how could she have gone to the exam without remembering it?"

The question hung in the air.

"She coulda been drunk!" Jack threw in, tone chipper. Half laughing, he elaborated, "I remember this one college party I—" Maddie shot her husband a sharp look and the man's mouth clicked shut.

Ignoring his parents, Danny got up from the floor and paced back and forth behind them. "Do you know if the League of Villains has a brain washing power on board?" After a pause, "Or someone who can shapeshift?" Eyebrows drawing together, the male breathed something nonsensical under his breath, leaving Haru to wonder what the heck "ammo-four" was.

"There's a guy that can make copies of people, but I don't know if the copies have free will or if he can control them," Hagakure answered. "Are you saying they used a fake Utsushimi-san to spy on my class?"

"I don't know; maybe. At least that gives us another lead to look into," Danny mused as he gripped his chin, steps halting and eyes boring holes in the carpet.

"Thank you, Kamada-san. That was very helpful." Maddie turned to Haru, and the support student glanced away under the sincerity.

"Tor—Hagga-curry-san. Something you said earlier is nagging at me worse than Maddie's sister. That portal guy. His name's Blackmist, right?" Jack asked, backing up the conversation. "The portals he makes aren't green, are they?" The question was nearly a statement.

"No, they're not. They're purple with black edges. But portal quirks are super uncommon in our world. If Kurogiri is involved he might have been upgraded by the person who makes the Nomu." At her audience's general confusion, Hagakure clarified, "Nomu aren't natural, they're bioengineered."

The Fentons all scowled as if smelling something so rotten the flavor coated their tongues.

"Or like, maybe he got contaminated with ectoplasm or something?" Toru continued hypothesizing, tapping a finger repeatedly against her thigh in thought. "With all the stuff you and Maddie-san have been telling me about ghosts, that sounds like it could be a real thing."

Kamada paled and looked at her fellow foreigner.

Ectoplasm? Ghosts?!

"Ha! Humans with ghost powers? That's preposter—," Maddie stopped, head tilting back. "Actually. There was that ghost mosquito outbreak during Danny's freshman year of high school." Seeing Haru's gobsmacked look, she elaborated. "The bites infected the kids with such high levels of ecto-radiation that they exhibited ghostly abilities."

Yeah, sure. That explanation sounded less crazy. Why not.

"There's also a genie ghost, Deadly Desire, that can grant wishes," Jazz supplied, grinning when her brother grumbled unintelligible, irate sounds and Kamada's eye twitched.

Maddie slouched forward into a "thinker" pose, closing her eyes for several heartbeats to actively ignore her children.

"What about that amulet thingy? Didn't your friend, Sam, turn into a ghost dragon once?" Jack threw in, turning on his stool to address Danny.

Haru swore she felt her mind go on strike, refusing to digest any of this and shoving it into the "later" portion of her brain.

"Okay! Okay. We get the point. Maybe this Kurogiri dude has something ghostly going on. Speaking of, shouldn't you guys be heading to check out the portal Kamada-san came through? While it's still fresh?" Danny's eyebrow rose, arms weaving together over a lean, yet muscular chest.

"By George, he's right! Let's go, Mads!" Jack was already grabbing the keys for the GAV off the hanger, looking positively thrilled. "C'mon girls, we're gonna need directions."

The rest of the room rose, and Haru found herself herded along.

"Ah, Danny? Aren't—Aren't you coming with us?" For some inexplicable reason, her prior captor was suddenly an anchor to her sanity.

An almost pained expression stared back. "I can't. I have a really big assignment due at school tomorrow, and I already missed my group's last study session." Guilt twinged in Haru's stomach as he added, "Sorry."

"T-that's okay." Realizing it was her last chance for a while, she turned toward him and bowed. "Thank you for helping me. I know I don't deserve it."

"That's bullcrap." Danny's eyes became intense and Haru took a step back subconsciously.

"Of course you do."

Sunday, September 9th,

11:38 am

I don't know, Sweetie. We already double checked. The only signature here is yours.

The words whispered into Danny's ear from his smartphone's front, quiet even to enhanced hearing. On its back, an oddly perfect picture of Mars's surface peeked from between slender fingers.

"But that doesn't make any sense! Even if it was a natural portal, it would have left a mark!" The half ghost groaned and repositioned his cell into a shoulder hold. Hands free, he changed windows from an internet browser to a PowerPoint presentation. Typing "fumarate" into a circular diagram's empty box, a thought occurred to the college student. "Wait. Where are you guys?"

Kind of by the old Googolplex Cinemas. Several blocks down on Maple Street, Maddie replied.

"Well, that explains my signature, at least. I fought a prank-happy scarecrow near there this morning. The dude would not stop teleporting; it was Box Ghost levels of annoying."

That could be our guy. Where did—

"I hate to burst your bubble, Mom, but the kid didn't do it. He's nowhere near powerful enough to create a portal."

It could be an obsession-related power, Maddie refuted.

"I'm telling you, it wasn't him. He was a mischievous little twit. If he could create portals I'd be making my way back from Timbuktu right now."

A heavy sigh traveled through the phone.

Okay. If you're positive. Doubt trickled through the words.

"I am."

Well, maybe we have a new ghost on our hands that can hide its signature. Or it actually is Kurogiri, and his power somehow masks, doesn't have, or negates the radiation?

"Ugh-Maybe. I feel like we can never catch a brea—" Beep beep beep.

"Hey, Mom, I'm getting a call from Sam. I'll call—" the halfa raised his voice over the next busy tone, "—you back later, okay?"

Okay. Love y—beep beep beep—ell her hi.

"Yep. Bye, Mom."

Holding a button down on the screen, until Hello, Danny? Are you there? came through the speakers, Danny greeted, "Hey Sam."

Tucker told me you found another girl.

"Yeah, I was actually just about to call you guys and fill you in."

Conference?

"Yeah."

Ringing filled the silence as Danny took the opportunity to stretch, arms reaching toward the ceiling with phone in hand. The call connected and the cell snapped back down, rubber-band motion rocking the Ops Center chair forward.

Hello, Mom. Yeah, I'll be back in time for dinner. Julien and I are still working. There was a break in which neither Sam nor Danny spoke, then, Love you, too. Bye.

The line clicked off.

Well. Looks like you managed to successfully pawn your work off again, Tom, Sam jibbed. Danny could feel the smirk through the phone.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm actually working on the project right now."

Le gasp. That's a new one.

A huff exited the male's nose. "Do you want to hear the news or not? It might as well be a Texan peach in August."

That sweet, huh?

Recalling the horrifying tales from the other world, Danny corrected, "No. That juicy."

Sunday, September 9th,

7:54 pm

The kitchen table had been displaced from its normal spot. But at least it had adapted well to its new environment, already covered in note cards despite being shoved into a corner of the living room. The couch, coffee table and TV stand had been rearranged, giving their new roommate space.

At the impromptu desk sat the youngest Fenton, grabbing his hair with one hand in stress as the other tapped a highlighter up and down on a textbook.

Behind the boy, a pair of dimensional travelers lounged on the curved sofa, paying attention to a herd of claymation sheep on the forty inch flatscreen.

The male's older sister came down the stairs from the second floor and beelined for the wall below the staircase. Fussing a striking red jacket off a mounted coat rack and onto her body, she plopped onto a little bench. "Danny, you're in charge of feeding the girls! I'm going to a bar with a friend and won't be back until really late!" she called, grabbing some boots from the shoe storage beneath her. "Mom and Dad are in the lab working on something and you know how they get."

"Kay," the homework-ridden adult acknowledged, looking up from the biochemical migraine before him to survey his sister, "I'm more surprised by you. A bar? Since when do you drink? You'll kill your only brain cell!"

"Ha, ha; Danny. I'll remember that the next time you ask me to pretend to be your guardian. I don't think my single brain cell will be able to pull off a convincing performance."

"Jokes on you. That won't matter by next weekend."

"Wato wonto mataa?" A new voice cut in, breaking the siblings out of their naturally occurring repertoire.

"NOTHING." Danny turned his chair abruptly away from the table, the legs ripping across the carpet.

Jazz's grin turned coprophagous.

"Oh. Nothing important. Just a family matter."

The younger Fenton sagged, face pale, but relieved at his sister's words.

Haru seemed momentarily uncertain; then dropped her gaze when Danny grabbed his seat and turned it back toward his temporary desk.

In the opening created by her brother's distraction, Jazz winked and held a pointer finger in front of glossed lips. By the time the beleaguered man looked back, the redhead was already disappearing through the front door.

Checking his space-themed cell phone, the half-ghost winced. "Sorry. I bet you guys are starving. My family normally eats super late so I didn't even think about it."

"Ito izu oke. Ai iito rato aruso. Mai sukuuru izu haado. Deru izu machi homuwaaku," Kamada reassured.

Danny put down his pink highlighter, reaching up to rub tired eyes. He was no stranger to a schedule packed so tightly meals got missed.

"Ban gohan?" [Dinner time?] Hagakure's question startled the other two, making Haru twitch in surprise and answer with a hesitant, "H-hai…" [Y-yes...]

At the confirmation, Toru popped up like a kid on a trampoline and jogged to the kitchen.

Shaking her head, Kamada extracted herself somewhat stiffly from the purple-grey upholstery and followed with an uneven gait. Danny watched the teen go, gaze concerned, before taking her cue.

Stopping five feet from the girls, the tall male settled himself between the two rooms, leaning against the threshold's cased opening.

A gloved hand reached out, tugging the awkward guy closer as its twin turned on a recently procured Ghost Gabber. "You don't have to worry about towering over us, Danny-kun. You should see some of the people in our world! My teacher, All Might, is 220 cm!"

At Danny's somewhat blank look, Kamada clarified, "That's seven feet, two and a half inches tall."

"Wh-what? I wasn't—I mean. Was it that obvious?" The boy rubbed at tense muscles in his neck while light freckles contrasted with a blush.

"I mean, yeah. But the only reason you look strange is because you're acting that way," Hagakure teased. "Now come on. I'm hungry as a tiger!"

The phrase startled a single laugh out of Haru.

Taking a quick peak in the mostly empty fridge, the host asked, "Is Mac and Cheese okay?"

"Sure!" and "Sounds great!" were joint calls.

As Danny instructed the girls on what cold things they'd need, he reached into a yellow cupboard for the shelf staple ones.

"So, uhm, I wanted to say I'm sorry I haven't really had a chance to get to know you, Hagakure-san. I know you've been here since Thursday. I've just been so busy with that stupid school project. And then I accidentally slept in yesterday—"

"Danny-san."

—and when I finally woke up you were already holed up in the lab."

"Danny-san!"

The half ghost flinched. "Yes?"

"You're fine. Calm down. I'm not made of glass. Like I said before, it's actually been really nice staying with you guys." The girl reached up, socks indicating a tippy toe stance, and patted the older boy's head like a dog. "Besides, you're more fun when you aren't being a nervous wreck."

This finally got a snort out of the guy, the movement as he crossed his arms suddenly more fluid, almost lithe. "Bark bark."

"That's the spirit!" Hagakure's arm pumped in cheer; the atmosphere around her could have made dancing daisies feel at home. "Now let's get cookin'!"

Kamada split off to the lemon colored counter on the far side of the stove, a cutting board and knife in hand. Setting them down, she went back for the cheeses, bringing the Fontina and cheddar to be cubed.

"So, how did yesterday with my parents go? You guys were down in the lab for a long time…" Danny pettered off, getting out a pan and adding milk to it.

"No luck. To be honest I didn't have high hopes. Support companies have tried to make me visible before. It's never worked." Toru grabbed her own pot and started filling it with steaming water from the tap. Putting it on the stove, the teen poured some salt in and turned the heat on high.

Haru watched covertly from the side, starting to cut several hot dogs up. "Do you happen to know how your quirk works? My applied robotics teacher always says, 'The first step to creating a good support item is to know what you're supporting.' "

"Yeah, actually! So, at UA, I figured out that my body flashes if I hold it in just the right way." The excited girl held up her arm, twisting the exposed wrist around until the epidermis glinted. "But yesterday in the lab, we tested why."

"Would you mind taking over for a sec?" Danny interrupted. Handing off a wooden spoon to Toru so she could stir, the halfa used the break to toss pasta shells in the now-boiling water. The black-haired boy then gestured to Kamada, who scraped the cheese and hot dogs off her cutting board and into the warm milk.

While keeping the newly added chunks from sticking to the bottom, the invisible girl went on, "Apparently, I'm not just shiny; I'm bending light to make myself invisible. We tried a couple different ways to change how the light refracted, but my quirk adapted to all of them almost immediately. I've gotta be doing it subconsciously, because Maddie-san had me repeat the tests with my eyes closed and my adaptation time was slower."

"So you're like a lumi-mage!" The Amity Park hero chewed the information over. "That's actually super different than how a ghost does it. For both intangibility and invisibility, ghosts will their bodies into different planes of existence. They can basically just decide not to interact with this world's molecules. Or in the case of visibility, light. It's more like they aren't fully there than actual photon manipulation."

Pulling the pasta, draining and dumping it into the slowly-melting cheese sauce, Danny asked, "What's your quirk, Kamada-san? I haven't seen you use it."

"Actually you have. I'm always using it, even if it doesn't look like it." An abashed expression crossed the support student's face. "You're 186.31 centimeters tall. You added approximately four and one third cups of milk to the pan. The barometric pressure in here is 30.081 inches of mercury. And it's 21.6-repeat degrees Celsius in here."

"My quirk's called Measuring Tape. I can determine any kind of measurement between myself and an object or place I focus on."

"Holy crap, that's awesome! I bet you're great at carnival games!" Toru interjected, increasing her whipping speed at Danny's behest. A slurry of cornstarch and milk poured into the dish, morphing it very quickly from a runny noodle soup into a creamy American staple.

"Not particularly. I've been banned from every guessing game I've ever tried, and I'm not super coordinated. It's why I can't be a hero…the coordination, not the getting banned." A bitter edge crept into her tone, "My parents want me to be a meteorologist or a surveyor, something nice and safe. They even tried convincing me to go into architectural design. But my dream is to be a hero. And if I can't do that, I want to work with them."

Bringing their food to the dining room, the three settled around the table.

Trying to cheer her up, Danny and Toru turned Haru's quirk into their own guessing game as they ate, trying to ferret out the limits of what she could and could not measure.

Sunday, September 9th,

9:26 pm

The ghost boy shot out of the Ops Center floor, the ground resealing itself behind him.

Rather than fall from the graceless exit, Danny's hair floated and he appeared to pause in midair. Equilibrium restored and touching down on whisper-soft feet, the gravity-optional hero headed to the bathroom and got ready for sleep.

Scratching at the waistband of a pair of black sweats, the tired adult emerged and mosied towards his bed, a hearty yawn cracking his jaw and squinting his eyes. When he opened them again it was to see that the top of his dresser was empty.

A throaty groan rumbled the air and his face collapsed into a heavy frown.

"Seriously, Dad?! This is my fifth clock; cannibalize your own electronics!"

Danny tossed the lid back on the sleeper pod, crawling in and setting a phone alarm.

"This is why we can't have nice things."

Shutting the hinged door, he grumpily cocooned himself in blankets.

—

Beyond the boundaries of the capsule, several feet of black cord snaked across the floor, its plugged side nestled into the embrace of an extension. The other end lay frayed, not cut by any honed edge.

Monday, September 10th,

12:16 am

The silence was a boa constrictor of emptiness, wrapping and squeezing her lungs. Nee-chan was gone. Just gone. It'd happened so fast, and she couldn't stop it.

An echo of shattered glass splintered through her mind, slicing and cutting the memory with aggression and fear.

Tears streaking down her face and pulling a blanket up, Aiko Kamada wormed closer to her mother's side.

The woman's thin arms wrapped around her, tight enough to wind. A second later, a pleasant musk tinged with motor oil and grease tickled the young girl's nose as her dad wedged her in.

It seemed tonight would be sleepless all around.

Monday, September 10th,

2:15 pm

"Sanctuary!" Danny's hands rose to chest height, palms upward and fingers spread in a mimicry of prayer. Excitement shaking them, he exclaimed dramatically, "Blessed freedom! How I have missed thee!"

"Dann-o! How'd you do?" Jack called from the kitchen, throwing together several turkey sandwiches.

"We got a B-." The son's tone dropped lower, inflection changing as he walked toward his dad. "A solid B-."

"That's great! I'll make some bacon to celebrate!"

Danny's cheeks lifted and his eyes did this almost-squint of dubiety. "Uhh—thanks?" Unsure how to proceed, he changed the subject, "Do you know where Mom is?"

"She's napping. I sent her to bed when she started to fall asleep on her feet." Jack shook his head, fond. "Took me almost half an hour to convince her; that woman's stubborn as a bull and twice as strong."

"What about the girls?" Danny skirted around his dad, grabbing a banana off a suspended fruit bowl hook and peeling the top.

"Your sister just left for the library. She insisted books on shadow particles and physics might come in handy if we end up having to modify the Fenton Portal. The other two are down in the lab."

"The lab? What are they doing down there?!" Something akin to an adrenaline rush flooded Murphy's favorite fall boy. It wasn't quite severe enough to be panic, but was definitely enough to give a good case of nerves.

No longer in the mood for his yellow fruit, the jinx flipped the peels back in place and set it on the counter for later.

"Relax Danny, I've been chaperoning! Besides, they seemed pretty down in the dumps about falling behind in their classes. Figured the ol' Fenton Gear 101 would cheer 'em up!"

The half ghost just sighed. Making a mental note to increase his life (death?) insurance, the superpowered adult headed toward the basement.

Opening the soundproofed door at the top of the stairs, he yelled down, "Hey girls, I scored well on my group presentation! Did you want to come celebrate? My two best friends were gonna meet me for ice cream!"

"Aru yuu shyaru woii wonto badoo yuu?" came up the stairwell while a translator's voice worked in the background. A completely certain "Yes!" followed shortly after, Hagakure holding no such qualms now that she knew what Danny'd said.

The halfa smirked, ignoring Haru's polite protests and instead answering Toru's ecstatic affirmation, "Well come on, then! If we get there early, we can hit up some nearby shops."

The two came into view, stampeding up the steps. Danny snorted at the enthusiasm, well acquainted with the million, boring tangents of his father's "classes".

Head tilting when neither girl held anything, the older boy asked, "Where's the Gabber at?"

Kamada got a sly smile, which looked odd on her normally passive face, and reached into a pocket. A very sleek, very advanced smartphone emerged.

"I wouldn't show that to Tucker, if I were you. You may never see it again," Danny joked.

Surprisingly, though, the Ghost Gabber's voice came out of the cell's incredibly clear speakers, rapidly translating everything to Japanese.

"Jack and Maddie-san altered the Gabber's code to work with our technology," Hagakure declared proudly. "Kamada-chan helped them turn it into an app!"

The other foreigner slipped the phone back away, face rosy. Blushing seemed to be a constant state for the kid.

"Your parents downloaded a tweaked version on Jazz's phone, too. You should ask for a copy!" the invisible kid informed as they passed through the dining room, ignoring a crash from the kitchen.

"Typical. The last upgrade I got from them made my clothes inflate at random; meanwhile, Jazz gets the translator." Danny's eyes twinkled as he ushered the teens through the door and down to the Kia.

"Inflate?" Kamada asked, taken aback.

"My parents wanted a mobile airbag for their 'sweet baby boy' in the event of spontaneous blunt force trauma," the adult paraphrased.

Haru gaped at Danny like he grew a second head and the boy just grinned.

The driver then unlocked the red Kia and the three piled in, buckling up before the car pulled away from the curb.

There were a couple blocks of comfortable silence, the passengers fascinated by the world beyond the windows.

"It's so weird to not see hero advertisements everywhere," Haru commented, watching a barber shop pass by. The storefront had a distinct lack of photos showcasing Best Jeanist hair styles and Uwabami-backed salon products.

"Oh hey! Someone's wearing a Phantom shirt!" Hagakure pointed out. Danny winced slightly, the loud cry coming from directly behind his sensitive ears.

Both dimension hoppers had opted to sit in the back, leaving the older male as chauffeur.

"Yeah, he's ah—fairly popular in areas near Casper High School. The closer you get to Elmerton—that's the city across the river—the more he's seen as a menace, though."

"Who's Phantom?" Haru piped up from the back right seat.

"Holy crap! That's right. I was so busy telling you about my week last night, I forgot to mention the local hero!" Toru exclaimed.

"There's a hero here?! I thought you said the only people here with quirks were 'ghosts'?"

Danny kept his features blank and flicked his blinker on, sliding into the turn lane.

"They are! Phantom's is a ghost and the main reason I talked with the Fentons in the first place. They're like his agency."

"Oh, so you've met him?" Kamada whipped to her left, uncharacteristically grabbing Toru's shoulders and lightly shaking them as the car started to creep forward, "Was he cool!? How old is he? Is he…." Trailing off, the girl's arms lowered and she glowed so bright her window nearly steamed. "...what does he look like?"

Toru shrugged, "I haven't actually met him, yet." The prep was, however, happy to gossip. "But I have seen videos and pictures of him online, though. He's hot!"

The small sedan lurched to a stop despite only going a few miles an hour, the seat belts locking up. "Sorry! Sorry; I was making a right hand turn on a red, and there was another car," the driver apologized, steering them back into traffic when the light happened to change.

Peering at an empty street through the front windshield, Toru continued, not entirely against making their host uncomfortable, "He looks like he's in his early twenties. His face is pretty angular, I'm guessing Romanian or something. Well, minus the snow white hair and glowing green eyes. Very trim. Like an underwear supermodel, track star and swimmer's body all mixed into one. His black and white jumpsuit's pretty form-fitting…" the high school teenager trailed off suggestively, voice teasing and oh so chipper.

"He sounds…" The demure girl's volume dropped. "Nice." Then, louder, "I'd love to meet him."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you might not get to," Danny croaked from the front. Clearing a too dry throat, he continued, "He's a pretty private ghost and only works with us because it suits him. Humans haven't always treated him well. In the past, he'd get a bad rep any time a ghost fight turned sour and there used to be a government branch pretty much dedicated to capturing and dissecting him."

A terrified, "Dissection?" squeaked from the back at the same time that Hagakure screeched, "Are they still around!?"

Danny winced from the volume again. "Don't worry! They're gone. He was able to take the agency down by pulling a few strings and planting advanced viruses in all their gear. We've been monitoring them just in case they try to come back, too."

Haru exhaled a long, shaky breath, trying to settle a pounding heart while Toru stayed stiff beside her.

"That sounds a lot like our history books." The bubbly, ribbing demeanor had completely left the stealth hero. "Our home went through a pretty dark time when quirks first appeared, too."

A hand reached across the back seat, slipping over Toru's clenched glove in solidarity.

"So, uhm, what is Phantom's quirk-er-power? Powers? You said ghosts can have more than one, right?" Haru asked in a blatant change of subject. The timid girl looked at Toru, receiving a subdued thumbs up from the other female's free hand. "I want to know more about him than just,"—her face got bright again—"his looks."

"He's super strong! Like insanely strong." Hagakure extracted her covered hand to gesture grandly at the air, looking vaguely like a fisher showing how big the sturgeon she caught was. "I saw a newspaper article from a few years ago that showed him carrying a school bus like it weighed nothing!"

Matching the other teen's excitement, if not her energy, Kamada grilled her dimension-mate, "Does he match up against All Might, do you think? Or would he be more like Fourth Kind? Or Mirko?"

"I honestly don't know. Every recent picture and video I've seen doesn't really show him straining from anything. I mean there were quite a few from when he first appeared, where he struggled with heavy objects or an opponent's strength, but he's definitely gotten way stronger since then."

You guys keep mentioning this All Might guy. What's he all about?" Danny cut in, the eagerness in his voice coming on a little too strong. Cheeks and ears burning, he dialed it back and tried again, "It's awesome to hear about other superheroes besides Phantom."

Kamada's brow furrowed slightly at the strange behavior while Hagakure answered, drawing no attention to the faux pas, "He used to be the number one hero in Japan and only retired a few weeks ago. His last fight was against a villain that leveled part of Yokohama."

"He's known as the Symbol of Peace," Haru added, willing to ignore Danny's awkwardness if the UA girl was. "A major resurgence of villainy happened in Japan a couple decades back and he near single-handedly put a stop to it. All with a smile on his face. After that, his very presence deterred crime."

Getting fired up, air exploded out of Toru's nose. "Yeah! He used to be godly powerful! His punches,"—the prep took a couple fake swings at Danny's seat, thumping the cloth—"caused so much air pressure that they could change the weather!"

"Well, I don't know if Phantom's punches have ever changed the weather, but I've seen him throw a five ton dragon by the tail."

Kamada smiled, amusement bleeding into her words, "The average school bus weighs more than twice that, Danny. But it would be pretty cool to see Phantom test his powers at a quirk measuring facility. I'm really curious if his ability really is brute strength or something else like weight manipulation."

"It's strength," Hagakure shut down. "I saw an earlier video of him kicking this mechanical man into some steel canisters so hard they just crumpled. And another where he ripped titanium with his bare hands."

"He sounds kind of overpowered to be honest. So strength is his main thing, then?"

"Nope!" the invisible teen refuted cheerfully, a cat that ate the canary. "He's insane! I've managed to find evidence of at least eight other quirks! He can even extend some of his abilities to other people!"

Kamada gaped, then, when Toru didn't yell "Just kidding!", glanced forward to check their resident driver. There was no held back smile, just a mild sheen of sweat building on the side of the man's pale face.

"I saw accelerated healing, enhanced durability, flight, emitter blasts, intangibility, invisibility, body manipulation, and shield generation!"

This time, Haru nearly choked.

"I hate to ask, but is that all of them, Danny?" the support student inquired, trying to get one more question in before they parked. Half a block down, a triple-decker ice cream graphic signaled the end of the drive.

Stalling, Danny made a show of being attentive to traffic before turning on the car's blinker and pulling into the parking lot. Sliding into an empty space, he called, "We're here!" as he inspecting the inside of the shop through the building's front windows.

Spying a waving hand, he pushed regret into his voice. "Sorry, girls. Looks like Sam and Tucker are already inside. We'll have to raincheck-ah, save, shopping and that question till later." Kamada seemed disappointed by the news, but Hagakure's body language remained relatively unfazed.

As the Kia's engine cut, Danny held his phone out of view of the two girls, typing, Stop letting Hagakure-san access the internet. ⟩:(

He hadn't even locked the screen before a new message popped up from Jazz.

The girls aren't prisoners, Danny.

"Typing…"

Danny stared at his screen for a solid twenty seconds, the icon continuing its little wave. Gulping, he closed his phone.

Monday, September 10th,

2:41 pm

-Bonus Plot Irrelevant Sam and Tuck Encounter-

Gossiping with girls from another dimension wasn't the most outlandish thing Sam Manson had done in her life. Not even close. But it was refreshingly simple.

Tucker and Sam had taken up station on one side of their little, wobbly table, while the foreigners sat opposite. Danny stayed booted to the end of the short booth, perched on a commandeered chair.

The goth tried not to judge Hagakure for her rocky road cup. The thing was so smothered in caramel sauce that the chocolate snack looked like little islands surfacing from a golden lake. But considering her own black licorice ice cream was coated in onyx colored sprinkles and gummy bats, it was hard to quibble with the girl's choice.

Drawing her gaze up, Sam watched Tucker fiddle with the fancy phone translating everyone's words.

"Okay, that's enough." Sam snatched the device from in front of the electronic buff's near twitching body, passing it back to Haru. "Kamada-san doesn't want drool on her phone."

Slipping a hand into a pocket on her violet-ebony corset, she collected her own cell, pulling it under the table and texting, Or other bodily fluids… to the group chat.

"But I was so close to getting into the operating system!" the technophile griped, a Doomed PvP alert chiming from the PDA in his hand.

A second later, Tucker's expression soured and Danny glanced down at his lap before turning a snort into a cough.

When Haru expressed concern, the halfa offered a half-baked excuse about ice cream going down the wrong pipe.

"So, as I was saying before," Hagakure's tone came across skeptical, causing Danny to look away as a smile broke through his pretend distress, "there's tons of support companies that make everyday items for quirk users. My friend Mina-chan gets this specially formulated oil to make sure her horns stay healthy and clean. And Mishirao-kun has to order in all his outfits to accommodate his tail. Detnerat normally drops them off at his house in just a couple days."

"Wow. That's super fast for special order," Sam praised, idly playing with her own custom-tailored corset pocket.

"Did your family make Phantom's suit?" Haru inquired, glancing up at Danny's face before fixating back on his chest.

"Oh yeah," Toru chimed in, "your parents' jumpsuits do look a lot like Phantom's."

"Yup," Sam affirmed, seeing Danny double check no one was watching before swirling a hint of green into his eyes in annoyance. Well he could shove the attitude. It'd sound weirder if they hadn't. "The Fentons make all of Phantom's gear."

"But he wore that outfit even before the Fentons were associated with him."

Sam's mind blanked and she made sure not to look at the end of the table.

Luckily Tucker jumped in, "Phantom used to…borrow from Danny's parents when he started out."

"He stole from them?" Haru asked in disbelief.

"To be fair, they shot at him a lot," Toru responded.

Tucker and Sam shared a glance while Haru went pale and stared directly in Danny's eyes, leaving him a deer in the headlights.

Starting to feel like she was sitting near an air conditioner, Sam stomped the ghost's foot under the table. The chill slowly leached away and Danny spoke up, "Phantom used to cause a lot of property damage before he got better at fighting, so my parents used to think he was a villain. Eventually, they realized he was just trying his best and decided to help out instead."

Haru's posture sank, and she suddenly seemed very tired while the empty shirt next to her twisted around.

Sam's suspicion that Toru was just looking at the shop's decor was soon confirmed, "So what's with this ice cream place you brought us to? Why are there newspapers all over the walls?"

Before Sam could answer, a customer walked into the shop and froze in place upon seeing, or rather not seeing, Hagakure. When the Hispanic woman managed to wrench her gaze away and spied Danny, Sam and Tucker, however, her muscles relaxed and she rolled her eyes. Throwing long, wavy hair over a shoulder, the Latina sauntered to the counter.

Sam glared at the A-lister on instinct as she passed.

"The Big Scoop is a play on words. It can be either a large spoonful of something or it can be an exciting story. This place actually does 'historical' ghost tours in addition to selling ice cream," Danny supplied.

"We brought you because it's a tourist trap." Tucker stated matter of factly, grinning.

"We like it because they get their dairy from humane, local sources," Sam huffed, chin rising. Catching a conspiratorial look of amusement between the boys, she scowled.

"I was wondering why they had such weird flavors!" The hero-in-training laughed, seemingly delighted by the turn of events. "Phantom Fudge? Boo-berry? The three ghostketeers?"

"Gotta love a gimmick," Tucker agreed.

-Bonus Plot Irrelevant Haru's Arrival Fluff Scene-

Hagakure felt like she was practically vibrating in place. Another girl! From her world!

Granted, she didn't know much besides that because they hadn't wanted to say too much over the phone. But Kamada and Danny-san were supposed to be home any minute now.

It was emotionally draining, not knowing how happy she was allowed to be. On the one hand, someone else would be going through this with her. On the other, another girl had just been kidnapped. She couldn't exactly revel in that...

Impatient, Toru flung herself off the couch like there were springs in her joints, sprinting past a startled Jazz and throwing the front door open. Planting her butt on the stairs she eyed the street, one socked foot tapping a lower step.

After four minutes, Danny's little red Kia finally rounded the corner at the end of the block, prompting Toru to clear the stairs in a single jump. The UA student jogged toward the car as it parked and both occupants exited the vehicle, the new girl moving gingerly.

The invisible kid bowed informally, posing just right for light to shimmer across her exposed skin in a diluted version of Warp Refraction.

"Hello! My name's Hagakure Toru, but you already knew that." Smile brilliant, even knowing the other girl couldn't see, she proclaimed, "It's so nice to meet you!"

Kamada didn't answer, back imitating an iron rod.

That was okay. Toru knew how to handle awkward silences! Her best friend was Mashirao-kun, after all. Unable to suppress a giggle at Danny's completely lost look, Hagakure went on, "I like your uniform! Are you from Shiketsu? That hat looks like one I saw at the licensing exam."

When Kamada-san side-eyed the youngest Fenton, Toru "shooed" the tension away with a gloved hand, exaggerating the movement to be more expressive. "Danny-kun's super nice. He's like a giant puppy; he just doesn't realize he's intimidating. All the Fentons are really sweet. Fair warning, though, Jack-san's way worse. He's almost as tall as All Might and twice as big! We're working on getting him to respect Japanese boundaries, though." Toru twirled around and started walking, motioning behind her. "C'mon!"

When her entourage failed to follow, she peeked over a shoulder. Danny's face was pinched in indecision, watching the Shiketsu student next to him. The older boy stayed motionless, helpless as the teen began to sob into her hands.

Toru grimaced and turned back toward Kamada with a pang in her chest. Forcing a gentle tone, the empath assured, "It'll be okay." Then, when the other girl remained unresponsive, held her arms loosely in front. Walking slow, the UA student closed the gap, pulling the thinner teen into a hug.

The cries increased and Toru's arms shook with the force of them. "Shhh. Shh. You're safe. The worst things you're gonna have to suffer through here are weight gain, boredom and homesickness."

A very wet hicc-laugh responded.

-Bonus Tangent Info on Kamada's Portal Fall-

-Original Intro to League Reveal Scene-

Haru Kamada and her sister had been checking out a small jewelry outlet when everything had gone sideways. Unable to compromise on a bracelet they both liked enough to get their mom for Christmas, the highschooler had left the much younger Aiko at a stand full of gaudy, oversized baubles.

Then, while inspecting a case strung full of black pearls, Haru had felt her right foot fall into nothingness. The sudden loss of balance had had the quiet teen frantically reaching for a nearby display as she'd tipped over into a sea of hazy green.

A dissonance of shattered glass, a soft crackle, birdsong and the rumble of an automobile engine had fought for Haru's attention during the short, but painful, drop onto a curb.

Over an hour she'd hid between two parked cars, cold, heavily bruised and pouring over half-remembered news stories. When the panic had finally abated enough for her to move, the teen had dragged herself up and limped down the street.

One point seven two miles of hobbling later, several batting cages and a mesh sack of baseball gear had come into view.

Making it only a little ways further, she'd staggered against some chain link, crying.

That's when the French person had found her.

And then, the Fentons.

-Cut Pasta Scene-

"Is…is it really hard? Always being invisible?" The question was weighted and quiet.

"I've never been able to do things like wear makeup, or get my hair done or anything. But it's never really bothered me too much. It can be a bit frustrating trying to show my feelings, but I've gotten good with body language and gloves really help!" Putting the water on the stove, the teen poured some salt in and turned the heat on high.

"I do remember having clothes I couldn't take off by myself when I was really young, but those were because my parents were terrified of losing me." A sleeve lifted up in a single armed shrug, seeming to say "what can you do?".

Danny's obligatory smile was a little broken, a haunted knowing behind his eyes as he stopped stirring the milk to look in Toru's direction.

-Cut Explanation of Quirks-

"Quirks used to be called "Meta Abilities"," Kamada's quiet voice filled the silence.

"The first users were so unheard of that if a child with abilities was born, they'd often get kidnapped or forced into service by their local country upon turning eighteen. Decades later, historians even discovered signs that several governments and crime syndicates experimented on them behind closed doors."

Danny bit his lip, a sharp canine pricking the soft flesh as his grip on the steering wheel grew white-knuckled. The Guys in White were bad, but at least they'd been incompetent.

"Prejudice towards Metas was also rampant. These new humans were stronger, more dangerous. And many turned criminal."

"If it got that bad, how the heck did your world turn things around?" Glancing through the rear-view mirror, the Amity local made brief eye contact with Kamada.

"Average Metas started stepping up. The history books call it the Era of Vigilantes," Hagakure informed, taking Haru's place. "It was basically how heroes started."

"Kind of. But it's a little more complicated than that," Haru gently corrected. "There was a shift in how average people saw Metas. It started when a mother insisted that her son's power didn't define him. That it was just part of his personality. A 'quirk' of his."

"Ah, so that's what coined the term," Danny commented, changing into the left lane and decelerating for a red light.

"Coined the term; is that an English phrase? What does it mean?" Hagakure asked the back of Danny's headrest.

"It means—uhm. That's. That's a good question…It's an idiom. A phrase that history makes popular and then most of the new generation forgets where it comes from," he answered abashedly. "I'm assuming it has something to do with copyright patents. Like how you get money for a trademark. But that's just a guess."

Risking another glance at Haru, he prodded for more information, "So how'd you get from 'my son is quirky' to full government backing of pro heroes?"

"Just like that, actually," Hagakure jumped back in. "More people were born with quirks, and pro-Meta movements started taking root. The word 'Quirk' wasn't really a thing until several decades later. Kinda retroactive."

Kamada rolled her eyes and filled in the gap, "As vigilantes got more popular, governments saw a need to control and regulate them. The best way to control a population is to make them dependent on what you can provide."

"Huh. So not really a route this town can take toward ghostly acceptance and peace," Danny joked, the words coming out a bit flat. "Oh well, I think Amity Park did better under Phantom anyway."

It vaguely lightened the mood. At least enough for Haru to change the subject.

Chapter Text

"This sentence is in English, but shhh." This is for when the scene is from a Japanese character's POV and they don't understand English, or, if they understand some words, those are not underlined.

If a scene is being translated the entire time, and there are no language issues anywhere in an entire scene because of a translation device, the scene will just be written as normal. But you know who speaks what. I believe in you.

******There is implication of experimentation in the Amorpho scene.

UPDATE **** I'VE DECIDED TO PUT IN SWEAR WORDS IN FUTURE CHAPTERS FOR CHARACTERS THAT WOULD NORMALLY HAVE THEM. By being too reader friendly I started avoiding realistic depictions of both story and characters. Like Bakugo. And it really bothered me.

Tuesday, September 11th,

8:23 am

A foul odor roiled up from a fetid river, each new bubble a bursting zit of petulant ooze.

Danny could just make out a lumpy patch of egg-yolk yellow scales that disturbed the surface, blending in with the ghost's liquid haunt. Refusing to breathe, but still tasting the fumes, he dove around the rocks holding in the slimy banks.

Beneath the river, the superhero consulted a hand-drawn map, tuning his flight slightly left and starting a gradual descent. Steering clear of a stone etched with an inverted tree, the male meandered by several fancy doors that slowly gave way to random, floating debris. As he continued on, the nasty smell that still clung to his tongue began to mix with the scent of a summer barbecue.

Danny gagged, spitting into the air a few times as he picked up speed and went intangible, avoiding a baked lasagna and fork.

Stomach churning and starting to feel faint, the mesomorph drew closer to a levitating island of vegetable gardens and freezers. At the haunt's center sat a clean cut 40's style house, the sides of the structure wavering like a mirage as he passed.

Phantom's toxic eyes narrowed suspiciously. This was more than just a standard case of nausea.

A floating boulder eclipsed the island just as Danny angled back toward the anomaly, stopping him for a second and hiding the plentiful land from view.

His perception lurched in the interim, the strange every-atmosphere of the Zone distorting around him like heat rising off of sunned metal. An invisible force pushed in, creating an area of tensility and wrongness that turned ghostly atoms supple.

Swamped with panic and body elongating, the phantasmal being shoved outward. After several heartbeats, the gravity well abruptly lessened and he shot from the pressurized space with a snap.

Ectoplasm filled the warped region's midpoint and stabilized it into a natural portal as Danny took habitual gulps of air, incandescence dimming in time with the breaths.

"That was waaay too close for comfort."

Sweat coating an overly pliable spine, the halfa watched as all traces of the distortion vanished, leaving only the portal behind.

Tuesday, September 11th,

8:50 am

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sorry, Daniel. But I really don't know anything about your situation," Ghost Writer responded. Hunching over one of his pink keyboards, the grey ghost typed "kurogiri", flipping a wool scarf to the side when it got in his way. Swiveling in his conjured chair, the thin man then tapped "blackmist" on a second setup and "known portal users" on a third.

"You know, I find your concern for humans endearing. But not everyone shares that sentiment." As the search engine scanned the library records, the internet cafe archetype turned back and locked eyes with the royal pain in his butt. "You really do need to spend more than a few days a week in the Ghost Zone."

The standing boy pinched the bridge of his nose and grunted, "We've been over this, Writer. I don't have time. I'm not dead yet, remember?"

"Just make sure things don't go to Hel in a hand basket while you're out there playing human."

The younger ghost averted his gaze and went stiff, face paling away the small tan the halfa somehow achieved in this form. When he looked back up, it was with eyes that flickered between electric blue and green.

Static glitches echoed across Ghost Writer's computer screens, syncing in time with his guest's ocular palette swaps.

"Ah, so you can feel it."

A scruffy mammal took that moment to wander into the dead author's creativity station, rubbing against a grey pant leg. The cat dad bent over, picking the three eyed monster up and hugging it to a chest.

"Maybe you aren't as entirely dull witted as you'd have me believe."

Scratching his pet under the chin, the wordsmith flashed a serrated smile.

Tuesday, September 11th,

9:03 am

"Ta-DA!" Jazz called, pulling a white sheet to the side as dramatically as a Spanish bullfighter, showcasing air like some great treasure.

Hagakure just stared, not exactly sure what she was supposed to be looking at.

"Oh come on. I know you're there," the older female informed the empty space wryly, wadding the bedspread up and tossing it onto the kitchen table that had yet to make its way home from the living room.

Quiet.

The redhead raised an eyebrow from behind a set of high-tech reading glasses and adjusted a strange hearing aide. "Just because I'm not a kid anymore doesn't mean I can't see and hear you with Fenton tech, Dork."

Toru nearly startled when the space shimmered, a boy half her age appearing with arms crossed and tongue sticking out through the fabric of a face mask.

Lime green hair and eyes peeked from beneath a dark cowl, a prominent contrast to the pasty grey of a freckled face. The rest of his garb matched the hood, covering the youth head to toe in black.

"Sweet outfit!" Jazz complimented, walking in a circle around the newcomer in inspection. "I've never seen that one before."

Hagakure glanced over to Kamada-san, curious to see what the other teen's reaction to the shinobi getup would be. It was kinda disappointing when the thinner girl snuck glances, but otherwise stayed introverted.

Well, the kid wasn't a hero, so maybe Haru's excitability just didn't extend to ghosts in general.

"Hi! My name's Hagakure-san, and this is Kamada-san! Nice to meet you!" Toru filled in, not wanting to seem rude.

"Youngblood."

"What?" The words were out of the invisible girl's mouth before she could stop them, confusion at the strangely translated phrase frying her brain in record time.

Was he calling her a child? Or maybe it was like the idiom "fresh meat" that Maddie-san taught her yesterday?

"I think it's his name, Hagakure-chan," Kamada tentatively explained, lightly touching Toru's shoulder to pull the teen from her thoughts.

The ghost kid nodded affirmation, bowing at the waist.

Jazz's eyes widened in epiphany before she smirked and ruffled the boy's hood. "Youngblood here has volunteered to help you with your training, Hagakure-san."

The seven(?) (eight?) year old spun around, smacking the offending hand away with a roundhouse kick.

"We all knew how much you guys have been worried about falling behind in class, so we've been trying to put some lessons together for you."

Toru felt a warmth flood her chest, spreading through her body and infecting her legs until she found herself jumping up and down. This was exactly what they needed!

"We'll still have to figure out where you guys are in all your classes before we can put together anything core-subject specific, but I've got a plan set up for combat training and Mom and Dad are figuring out what curriculum they can pair with their inventions."

Jazz walked over to the couch, lifting up a spiderweb-print blanket and exposing a small mass of fabric hidden beneath. Yanking a fuchsia and ebony wad from the pile, the woman tossed it at Toru.

A lump formed in the invisible girl's throat.

It was a Fenton jumpsuit. Specially made.

Toru turned to see a misty-eyed Haru gripping another hero-worthy costume, the grizzle grey and charcoal matching well with the support student's eye and skin tone.

"C'mooooon," Youngblood whined, breaking character as he shuffled from foot to foot, "Put them on already!"

This snapped Hagakure out of her daze, bringing the teen's attention back to Youngblood as the boy jabbed the air several times and proudly declared, "I can't wait to kick your butts!"

Grinning with shared enthusiasm, Toru refuted, "The skilled hawk hides its talons!"

Snatching Kamada-chan's hand, the UA girl dragged her still-zoned out friend up the stairs to change.

Tuesday, September 11th,

10:15 am

"Past Lurking Lake. Seven or eight doors on the right. The highest one. About four hundred feet back. You'll know it when you see it." Danny's nose crinkled in annoyance as he looked at empty space. Six doors had come and went, with nothing new in sight.

The white haired male turned tail, ready to give Ghost Writer a piece of his mind.

He didn't get very far.

Behind the halfa rose a towering cattle gate of galvanized steel that hadn't been there a second ago.

Sometimes Danny really hated Ghost Zone physics.

Sighing hard, the exasperated half-ghost floated toward it, raising a hand to knock on the metal top rail. Before his knuckles could make contact, it disappeared with a thwip.

Spinning head over heels to check all his surroundings, Phantom spied the hinged monstrosity back the way he'd come.

Oh. That's why the directions had been vague.

242 mph later, a rapid tap tap tap sounded on the gate before it vanished again.

Danny buoyed in the empty space, bobbing lightly while he waited.

Silence.

Seeing the teleporting gate settle once more, the halfa zipped to it again.

Fingers cupping around his mouth, he bellowed "HELLO!", the unnatural cry so loud it shook the bars.

Danny gave it a minute. Billy had to have heard that.

Sure enough, a string attached to the gate's latch pulled down, lifting the mechanism and allowing the entrance to crack open. A hand gestured frantically inward, and Danny wasted no time, body stretching thin to fit through the small opening.

The gateway clacked shut behind him as he alighted on a churned up field.

"Sorry, Kid. I heard 'ya the first time. But somethin's got my beeves all looney-eyed today," drawled a barrel chested man. "Didn't wanna hafta round 'em up again."

The yellow skinned ghost nearly sparkled from an internal light, inverted shadows of gold cascading across his leather vest and cotton shirt as he spoke.

"No biggy." At the blank look, Danny clarified, "It's no big deal. I just wanted to make sure you heard me."

"So what can I do you for?"

Studying the thatches of long, scraggly wheat that grew in place of hair around the rancher's body, Danny replied, "I'm looking for information on two things. Something's up with the Infinite Realms and I seem to have a rogue portal user kidnapping young girls. I don't know many ghosts with the ability, so I was hoping to get an expert opinion on where to look."

The cowboy eyed Danny for a solid twenty seconds as if trying to determine whether there was accusation in the words, before replying, "Well, the ghost youngin's were havin' trouble. But I heard they got help. And I haven't heard nothin' bout no sidewinder kidnappin' little girls. I'd have to take a look at one 'a the portals in person to tell you more."

Appearing agitated as he surveyed his lair, the older man started walking.

Danny hurried to follow, the dirt clods sticking to the bottom of his boots coaxing a grimace. But his host walked, so it was only appropriate he stay grounded as well.

"Ol' McNeely had an issue with some of his crops yesterday. Part 'a one of his barley fields got mashed by somethin' real good. And my gate's been on the fritz for the past couple days. Dang thing won't stay still." The two passed more and more clumps of grass interspersed in the torn earth as they went.

"What do you mean, on the fritz? It's not supposed to teleport?" Danny asked, cocking his head to peer down at the wrangler as they crested a gently sloped hill.

A rolling meadow filled with ghost cows stretched ahead.

"Oh, it's supposed to teleport. Once an hour. Keeps the critters from gettin' out." The weather-worn man spit to the side in disgust. "Can't say I'm impressed with this 'every few seconds' bosh."

"Have you had a chance to look at it?" The halfa asked, studying the herd of multi-tailed, stegosaurus-spiked cattle rather than the man's face. He didn't want to appear pushy (even if his core was thrumming with suppressed energy).

"I tried," Billy hissed, an edge of fiery sunlight creeping along his back. "Every time I take a gander, the thing's right as rain. Then this mornin' I had a greenhorn twist an ankle when my field portal cut out."

A power cutting out. That sounded familiar.

"Field portal? What do you mean by that?" Phantom latched on, pointed ears straining.

"One of the portals I use to drive the herd between fields. It closed right in front of a heifer and spooked 'im. Caught his hoof on the corral and dropped 'im like a sack 'a potatoes."

"Have you had any other abilities mess up? Or just the gate and the portal?"

"It's just my property actin' up, Boy. Ain't me."

"A lair is an extension of a ghost's being." Danny stared hard at a blade of grass in thought. "I don't think it's coincidence."

Tuesday, September 11th,

1:29 pm

"Billy! What are you doing here?" a nasally voice ask-cused.

"Just checking in," Phantom soothed, dropping his hand when the other ghost inched back. "Seeing how you've been doing after the…incident."

Neon green eyes met crimson, soft and compassionate.

"Ah, yes. Of course," the dapper being answered, squeezing the head of a skull topped cane and subtly placing it between them with one hand. The other tipped his hat low, hiding round-rimmed glasses from sight.

If Danny couldn't feel the waves of anxiety creeping off Amopho before, he definitely could now.

"Apex is still secure—Walker has been kind enough to give me daily updates—and Nocturn took your request seriously. No more nightmares." The polymorph started to take a step back, fedora brim still shielding his eyes. "I really am doing better; but thanks for the concern."

"You sure? Nobody's bothered you since, right?" Phantom asked softly, exuding an aura of care and attention.

The trenchcoat enthusiast stayed stiff for a moment before caving to the sensation of safety, shoulders drooping as he readjusted his headpiece.

"Everyone's left me alone since your decree," Amorpho acknowledged. "And even though my powers don't always work correctly, I'm still trying to get out more." Tone brightening, he added, "I even managed to pull a prank the other day."

The delight in the words chilled Danny's ice core, a genuine smile pulling at the superhero's mouth in solidarity.

At least this job wasn't all bad. Some days, like today, it was worthwhile.

"I'm really glad to hear that."

He was. Relief and joy vied for Phantom's attention so intensely, he almost forgot the other reason for the visit. "Oh. I have a question for you, if you're up for it. Completely unrelated to…the thing." Surprisingly, the Ghost Zone resident actually perked up at the hybrid's words.

"You wouldn't happen to know about any shady shapeshifters, would you? I have a bit of a problem and I just want to consider every possibility." Phantom massaged his nape. "I know it's a pretty common power, but not a lot of ghosts can use it as subtly as you and I figured you'd know about your competition."

The grey being across from Danny straightened, pride leaking in. "Well, you're not wrong. I am a first rate actor. What kind of problem are we looking at?"

"I found two girls that got mixed up in some trouble and a shapeshifter might—and that's a pretty big might—be involved. We think that someone could have been watching the girls' schools, using the information they found to kidnap them," the taller male explained.

"Hmmm…" Amorpho stalled. "I can't think of anyone who would fit the bill." Letting go of his cane, the spirit's black-sleeved arm lifted in a shrug. "Most of the people I know of just like to stir up mischief. Like committing voter fraud. I can't imagine anyone going so far as to kidnap children."

"Wait, wait, wait. Back up. Voter fraud?! Who?!"

"Now why would I stop someone else from having a little harmless fun?" the mouth-less being chuckled, somehow giving the impression of a grin.

"In what world is that harmless?!" Danny squeaked, an octave higher than normal.

Rubbing at his face in exasperation, the supernatural ambassador sighed. Dropping the hand back down, he pressed a thumb and finger to either side of his other wrist.

"Hey Eerie, add 'secure elections against ghostly tampering' to my to-do list."

Tuesday, September 11th,

3:30 pm

Danny felt like a load of laundry, wrung out and tumble-dried.

He would know. Appliance-heavy Technus had washed him once before.

On the verge of throwing up, the halfa surveyed his surroundings.

Call him a conspiracy theorist, but he didn't think Hagakure's home was in a desolate wasteland that may once have been a big city.

Loath to use the Infi-Map again after such a questionable ride, Danny threw caution to the wind when a bullet whizzed past an ear.

"Take me back to the Far Frozen!" He screeched, turning intangible just in time to evade another shot.

Reality tore in front of the passenger, the scroll drawing Danny through the jagged gash in an instant.

It was lucky he stayed incorporeal. The other side of the dimensional gate let out into a frothy, churning current. Holding onto the map as it launched upward, Danny's dry form slid from the river. Only for minor claustrophobia to douse the traveler in a way the water hadn't.

There was no sky. No stars. Tall, tropical trees pressed in, shading the already dark world with their dense foliage. Glad beyond belief for built-in night vision, the half ghost scanned the gloom with eyes that perceived movement and edges more sharply than color.

Abruptly letting go of the still-rising Infi-Map, Danny threw up a shield, narrowly saving both himself and the omniscient chart from burning to a crisp. Darting to the side and firing an ice beam, the boy whisper-hissed, "Why the heck would you take a route through fire-snake territory!? Are you nuts!?"

The semi-sentient navigator just floated above, seemingly unbothered by the turn of events.

Danny glared, freezing the ghost serpent solid and snatching the scroll again. "Okay, let's go."

The ancient paper stayed quiet in his palm.

Sweat clinging to a pale brow, and not just from the wet heat of the jungle's atmosphere, Phantom's voice got small. "Please, pretty please, take me back to Frostbite."

A solid ten seconds of the man's backlit puppy-dog eyes later, the parchment started to move, trolling the luminescent adult along like a baited line.

Dimming his white aura and staying deathly silent, Danny anxiously examined every tree limb and inky shadow. Minutes passed before a new portal finally formed, as equally sluggish as the Infi-Map itself. What could have been snow was nearly visible through the hazy window.

With Danny inches from the opening, the wormhole snapped closed and a sharp pain jabbed his leg.

The halfa screamed internally.

Freaking Murphy.

Hissing in a breath, Phantom kicked the highly-venomous snake off his calf, more than thankful for the stopping power of both Fenton boots and the Kevlar underneath.

"Okay, as fun as this Trauma-Sauna has been, I'm out."

The superhero speared through the canopy, shooting up into a jet black sky whirled with violet.

This part of the Zone was tricky and remote, but using the map was proving to be infinitely more terrifying. Thinking of all the places the scroll could have landed him, in this time or another, a shiver of dread tore at the halfa's spine.

Flying five hours back was suddenly very appealing.

Tuesday, September 11th,

9:23 pm

Danny was exhausted. And bored. But at least he could see the Far Frozen now.

The retractable head mask hidden in his suit collar had allowed him to listen to music on the flight, but six hours was a long time.

Granted, he probably wouldn't have been this tired if he hadn't run into The Cloud halfway through. But hey, by destroying the soul-sucking natural disaster, he'd been able to scratch something from his ever-growing to-do list. Winning.

Another few minutes and the iced landscape finally came close enough for the young ghost to drop from the sky. Landing hard enough to creak hastily formed knees, the halfa oofed and started a sedate slog toward Frostbite's home.

Passing through an upper labyrinth of defensible tunnels that would put Hotel de Glace to shame, Danny came to a spiral staircase and started down the steps.

Brilliant colors refracted across the walls from behind ornamental fixtures, leading him deeper like whimsical will-o-wisps. When the stairs let out into another hall sentineled by ice sculptures, Danny yawned and blinked hard.

Trudging to the chief's cavern, the worn out superhero knocked, but was unconcerned when no response came. Instead he sighed and plodded to the artifact room, nodding to the bulky creature (who he was pretty sure was a woman), posted at the door.

Much like Dwarves, there was little difference between the males and females of the Ovibos Ursus species.

"Do you want me to call Frostbite?" the guard asked, changing the grip on her high-tech spear to better access a strip of cloth at her waist. "You look like death warmed over."

A strangled laugh escaped Danny before he gave in. "Yeah, go ahead."

As the jumpsuited man crossed the room and approached a golden chest, an amused "nevermind" caused him to glance back at the door.

A massive, white form was pushing through the carved entrance, already rushing toward Danny. In a core-thrum, the friendly beast was kneeling, checking the half-human over for injuries. Voice more strained than Danny had ever heard it, the leader of the Far Frozen asked, "Are you okay, Great One?"

It was only then that the young adult noticed the extra shine of unshed tears in his friend's eyes.

"Don't worry. I was only gone so long because I got dumped in sector eighteen." Frostbite's shoulders started to sag in relief at Danny's words. "Oh, also, can you tell the council The Cloud's on ice so they quit harassing me?"

The giant yeti tensed right back up, studying Phantom's face hard.

When the halfa didn't smile in jest, Frostbite looked like he was praying for patience. "You were supposed to go with an entire unit of my people to subdue it. That was very reckless of you."

"I mean, if I hadn't stopped it, three ghosts would have ceased. I didn't have much of a choice."

The yeti opened his mouth, then closed it, lamb-like ears twitching in irritation at the harsh reality.

"So, uh, the Infi-Map's broken. In case you were wondering."

Rather than laugh at the awkward change of subject as Danny expected, the Far Frozen chieftain looked solemnly at the scroll. Sensing a nonverbal cue, the younger ghost held it out for the furred man to take.

Frostbite spoke quietly, turning the mythical artifact gently in his claws, "You cannot break the Infi-Map, Great One. Not truly. Just as you cannot destroy the Infinite Realms."

"The map is but a sliver of this world's mind. A way for the Realm to speak, as it were. Any instabilities within it are a reflection of the Realm itself."

Tuesday, September 11th,

11:46 pm

A screen illuminated one side of Danny's face as he laid in the dark, phone squished to an ear.

"He wouldn't even give me a hint this time, Guys," the halfa recounted, rolling over in the close atmosphere of the bed-pod. "Normally I get some cryptic words of advice that have me questioning my own sanity, but this time he just told me I didn't need the Infi-Map to solve my problems and warped me out of the tower!"

Danny pulled one leg up to his chest and relocated his cell to his other ear, unable to get comfortable.

Maybe he's trying not to psych you out this time, Tucker's voice filtered across the line.

"As if. He lives to mess with me." The male's tone took on a rough edge, frustration obvious.

Don't you mean 'exists'? I don't think he has much living left in him, another voice cut in, leaving Danny scrambling for a comeback through syrupy thoughts.

If he wasn't so dog-tired, he might have come up with a good one; but as it stood, all he managed was, "You—You know what? Shut up! I don't need the pun police on my case on top of everything else. It's late. Today sucked. And I have a stupid test on Portals XL in the morning." Shoving forcefully at the pillow under his neck until it gave more support, Danny's jaw clenched. "As if I don't have enough portal problems!"

Hey, calm down grumpy pants. We don't need your flak either, Sam shot back, words heating to match.

You both need to calm down. Danny called for help, not a lecture, Tuck mediated, taking on a voice Danny recognized from Mrs. Foley. Luckily he wasn't so far gone in exhaustion as to poke that bear.

Holding on to the anger a moment more before deflating, the half-ghost sighed.

"Sorry, Sam. You're right," Pulling blankets closer, he admitted, "It's been a long day. I feel like everything I did just brought me more problems. I can't even use the Infi-Map to return the girls like I'd originally planned."

It was a miracle when the goth didn't rub it in, instead opting to move on. What should we do to get them home, then? Any ideas?

"Sort of. My parents are going to try and modify the Fenton Portal now that we can't rely on the map, but it's a bit of a long shot. They actually want to visit an old friend from their college days that has a doctorate in theoretical physics. In Switzerland."

A whistle crackled through the phone. That can't be cheap, Tuck commented.

Did you want me to pull some strings to get them complimentary plane tickets?

Danny's brain shorted. "You can do that?"

With a Platinum Flier card you can.

"Uh, yeah. That'd be great. Thanks Sam. I'll try and hit up Wulf when I get a chance, too. Maybe he can take the girls." Danny ran a hand through his hair. "Well, if his powers aren't messed up, too. I really need to figure out what the heck's going on in the Zone."

If both the Ghost Zone and the ghosts are having issues, they're probably related, Sam mused.

I just find it weird that you haven't had any problems. Must be some kind of halfa or real-world-resident immunity, Tucker jumped in.

Danny winced. It was time to come clean. "I—uh. I have." Rushing to drain this freshly lanced abscess, the ghost kid word-vomited, "My powers have been acting up for a while. Everyone else has only had issues for a couple days, but mine started almost two weeks ago."

There was a heavy sigh Danny recognized as Tucker's.

Daniel James Fenton.

Oh crap.

I wish I could pretend I didn't just hear that you broke our promise for full disclosure on your health. But are you freaking kidding me?! A snarl sounded as something distinctly fabric tore in the background.

"I didn't want to worry—" the halfa tried.

Excuses? After last time?! It was a good thing Sam wasn't wearing an amulet of Aragon right now or she'd already be breathing fire. That's it! You're wearing your father's jumpsuit to school tomorrow. And if you don't, I'm going to do something that'll make you wish you had. Mark my words.

"Tucker," Danny implored, requesting backup.

Nuh-uh. Nope. You earned this one. Take your lumps. Or in this case, used-handkerchief stuffed pockets and day-glo orange spandex.

Tuesday, September 11th,

8:35 am

-Earlier-

Consciousness slipping from a computer monitor to a table, a black cord and on, a silent, almost-shadow left a laboratory filled with advanced technology.

The possession-quirked spy traveled down white washed halls, taking mental note of the building's layout. Stopping at an office, he peered inside.

An orange-haired man shuffled things around a messy desk, picking up a clipboard and walking toward the glass door he idled behind.

Avoiding the possible confrontation, the sneak dropped down, inhabiting the floor joists' R-20 insulation and making his way across the room. Better itchy than discovered.

Using a piece of rebar in the outer cement wall as a springboard, the mimic leapt into an alley and assumed his natural form.

A genetic memory surfaced, screaming to abandon this vulnerable, flesh body.

Sweat beading on a pale face, the blonde dashed into the closest possessable object—a dirty rag.

As he scanned the alley for threats, a breeze kicked up and sent an empty cup tumbling along the ground. Silence reigned but for the uneven, scritch-clock-clack of styrofoam on pavement.

An instant later, a deafening gale tore through, snatching and pulling at the terrycloth being as he grabbed at a dumpster with makeshift hands. Looking very much a passenger on the outside of an airplane, the linen held on as tons of litter and trash blew past.

Everything coalesced at a single point, the air moving like a pile of agitated snakes.

Then, the vacuum's suction abruptly released.

The man-turned-fabric flopped to the ground, watching in horrified fascination as a cool, rippling light spread from the center of the aberration to its edges.

Several minutes of observation passed before the mimic finally moved, using the corners of his temporary body to tip-cloth toward the toxic green mist. Trying to ignore bright shadows that turned everything into a series of discontinuous, greyscale negatives, the man peered upward.

Nearly fifteen feet above, otherworldly fog vignetted a wall of dark stone.

Only a strong will and track record of espionage kept the man still when a middle-aged lady suddenly launched through the hard surface.

Roaring and brandishing two barbecue-rib batons, the heavyset woman scanned the alley with eyes of heated coal.

Her gaze passed him by, seeing nothing but cold concrete and trash.

Relief quickly turned to unease when the newcomer's features flipped from seething rage to docility at the drop of a hat.

"Oh. A new neighbor," The foreign words were so...nonthreatening. Sweet, even.

"I wonder how they feel about meatloaf..."

Chapter Text

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

"This sentence is in English, but shhh." This is for when the scene is from a Japanese character's POV and they don't understand English, or, if they understand some words, those are not underlined.

"Tea wa dokodesu ka?" [Where is the tea?] For scenes from an English character's POV that does not understand Japanese except for any words shown in bold, which may be none. The bracketed translation is for the audience.

"Dialogue in Japanese that is getting translated in real-time." If all words are in bold, and the scene is from an English character's POV, the character can understand everything that is being spoken in Japanese. Or if the scene is from a Japanese character's POV, and they are speaking in Japanese, they can obviously understand the Japanese they are speaking, even if an English character can't.

If a scene is being translated the entire time, and there are no language issues anywhere in an entire scene because of a translation device, the scene will just be written as normal. But you know who speaks what. I believe in you.

Tuesday, September 11th,

8:23 am

On top of an industrial-sized grill sizzled all manner of meats. In the back, ribs seared on high heat while brats and hotdogs cooked more slowly up front. Grease dripped, sending a wave of flames up from below.

Brats were tricky. Such a powerful food with all their fat.

Lunch Lady smiled. They were perfection incarnate. Just like the giant bowl of potato salad sitting on the checker-clothed table nearby.

Moving the German sausages so they wouldn't burn, the older woman paused when an intense prickling crawled up her girthy neck with the stick-legs of a beetle.

Her lair was under attack.

Flipping the dials of the grill off and closing the valve to the propane tank, the ghost shot into the air and toward the disturbance.

No one was ruining her Fall barbecue! Not even the Phantom child!

Reaching the point where the ghostling's aura was strongest, she paused. A field of boulders floated, undisturbed, except for one that practically stank of the lair-wrecker's ectoplasm. He had to be hiding on the other side.

Lunch Lady propelled toward and through the rock, a battle cry ruining the ambush as she manifested escrima ribs in yellow-gloved hands.

The dark grey surface gave way to the damp, too-sweet air of rotting trash as the ambient light of the Zone vanished.

Up and down existed now, too.

Lunch Lady righted herself out of a plummet, examining everything and spreading ghostly senses.

The strangeness of another dimension was unequivocal.

"Oh. A new neighbor." She hadn't had one of those in quite some time. How exciting.

"I wonder how they feel about meatloaf…"

Curious as to who lived in this new haunt, Lunch Lady floated toward the mouth of the alley. Right before the end, a sensation from some long-forgotten, almost-foreign memory teased at her non-existent gut. The stomach-drop of a free-fall.

Dirty concrete rushed up to meet flat-shod feet, and by proxy, portly knees.

Another power issue. Well that was aggravating.

The food lover stood and dusted herself off, frowning as she legged it the rest of the way to the street. Eyes surveying an urban district's intersection, she failed to notice when the portal winked from existence behind her.

Lunch Lady strolled across the road, following a core that vied for attention like a little kid shouting "look at me" every few seconds.

The woman passed squiggle-covered signs and anthropoids of various shapes and colors, letting the tug on her soul guide her. Ignoring the paling (or in one case, purpling) humans as she ghosted through their bodies, she approached a flight of stairs that led into a multi-story building.

Looking at the steps as her chest hummed its need again, Lunch Lady raised a brow.

Not in this afterlife.

The cafeteria worker tested her luck, lifting back into the air. Surprised (but pleased) that she wouldn't have to hike, the specter rose through several stories before stopping on the fourth floor. Burger grease and fried chicken curled around green nostrils, mixing with the scent of szechuan sauce and sauteed noodles.

Ah. So that was the lure. A mall's food court.

Lunch Lady's inner fire flared as she watched locals stuff themselves full of essential fats and protein.

What a wonderful place.

Tuesday, September 11th,

8:49 am

We have a case of unauthorized quirk usage near the Detnerat building. The perp is heavyset, approximately a hundred and seventy-three centimeters, mid-to-late fifties with green skin and white hair. She was last seen entering the Kanagawa Valley shopping mall and appears to be using both permeation and flight.

Kenichi Ishii frowned. He was so close to the end of patrol when the call came in from the office.

The other hero on this shift had already returned to their shared agency just three minutes earlier, the lucky prick. Now, as the only one in the vicinity before the next pair clocked on, Kenichi had to respond.

"Roger that." The forty year old's voice held annoyance.

The hero reached behind himself, hand shoving into a giant, plastic jar. Pulling back a fistful of small, colored balls, the stout man sorted them into a seven-pouched bandolier. Each pocket matched its respective primary or secondary color, (except for brown), so the task was quick. Just a few handfuls and he was ready to go.

Popping a yellow gumball in his large mouth and starting to chew, a familiar rush of energy jolted down muscular limbs.

A couple people waved as he raced through the streets and he smiled, maintaining a professionally happy facade as he made his way seven blocks down to the shopping center.

Upon reaching the intersection in front of Kanagawa Valley, he paused, doing a quick survey for damage. Seeing none, he raced up the stairs and opened the glass door to the building.

Maybe the quirk user had already fled without starting anything. Wouldn't that be nice.

As soon as the pro opened the door, though, his hopes sank.

Anxious faces stared back at him.

"Gumball! Thank goodness you're here!" called a calico-skinned woman, pupils widening out of their panicked, half-slit state at the sight of him. Running her hands through a cat-eared child's hair over and over again, she elaborated, "The villain is on the fourth floor! She's taken over the cafeteria and barricaded people inside! My husband went to grab a hot dog, and now he's stuck in there!"

The son grimaced when the petting escalated enough to turn his ginger locks ragged.

Kenichi caught the kid's eyes, dipping his head slightly to acknowledge the boy's patience. The minor looked away, cheeks red, but a tiny smile threatened to overtake the irritation.

"Don't worry, Miss, I'll have everything wrapped up in no time." Spitting his gum into a nearby trash can, he flashed an award-winning grin, then tapped one of the three largest pouches on his chest. The top of the pocket unsealed itself, pushing a crimson ball into his fingers.

Biting down on the vibrant gum, he launched into the air, bouncing back and forth between landings over the central dead-space of the mall. The correct level reached, he vaulted a banister and touched down softly.

Tossing a blue gumball into his mouth to join the red, he sauntered forward, the colors mixing and turning his hearing sharp.

Purple was always great for reconnaissance.

Huh.

It'd been more than half a lifetime since he'd last taken English, but he did recognize the language echoing from further down the mezzanine.

"Would you like a cookie?"

Scattered crying was interrupted by the response, "I'm sorry, I don't speak English," while another person chimed in, "No sank kyuu," voice shaky.

Something was off here. Things didn't sound violent, they were almost…civil. Maybe there was still a chance to de-escalate.

Pulling violet from his mouth, he snapped open a case on his arm and stuck the spare gum to it, the container already resembling the underside of a school desk.

A second later, Kenichi grabbed a fresh, canary-yellow ball and started chewing.

Being careful to actually make sound, the bearded man approached the open space of the mess hall. It was fairly empty, a large chunk of the furniture that normally adorned it populating the perimeter by way of the barricade. At its center, a brass sculpture depicted a tuna, the ribbons of metal woven into an abstract form.

Thirteen people—ten nervous adults and three children—sat at several pushed-together tables. Flitting around them was a portly, green-skinned woman that heaped their plates with all kinds of food.

Hands up as he picked his way through the wall of upturned tables and chairs, the seasoned fighter stalled, "Hello, there. I'm the pro hero, Gumball. What's your name?"

The floating lady just ignored him, seemingly more interested in a small child that had its arms stretched to receive a chocolate chip cookie.

Kenichi tried again, this time in broken, half-remembered English, "Mai namu Gumball. Yuu namu?"

This pulled the maybe-villain's eyes to him for a second. Just enough time for the father of the toddler to shift the kid out of reach and pin its arms. When she looked back, the baby was no longer begging for sugar.

With so many years under his bandolier, the color hero could say for a fact that he was good at reading people. So, while he didn't know what had set the woman off, he was already sprinting by the time her shoulders finished tightening.

As the rogue quirk user raised her arms and bellowed, Kenichi slid into the small space between the green female and the civilian table, whirling a kick. He half expected it not to hit—this lady was supposed to have a permeation quirk on top of her flight after all—yet somehow it did. The blow wasn't very strong, as his hundred and fifty-eight centimeter frame could only create so much force; but it didn't matter, all it needed to do was knock her back a bit.

"Run!" he commanded, refusing to look away from his opponent and dropping into a fighting stance. Hearing chair legs scrape the ground a second later, he jumped forward in an attack.

The woman honed in on him and her eyes started to glow. Perfect.

He could always up the strength of his blows once everyone evacuated, but for now, the name of the game was diversion.

Dodging a back-hand strike with quirk-enhanced speed, Kenichi was caught off guard when he got slammed from behind regardless. An unknown accomplice had somehow hit his jar, breaking the plastic and sending the little orbs inside skittering across the floor.

Spine bruised, the muscular pro pressed a button on his uniform, broken support item hissing as it detached from his back.

Rolling away from another swing, the man scooped a brown ball from the ground, tossing it in his mouth during the maneuver. Momentum caused it to hit the back of his throat and Kenichi suppressed a gag, tonguing it toward his teeth and chewing wildly.

The hero's skin thickened and hardened, back pain receding to a dull ache.

This time he didn't dodge, tanking a hit and throwing one of his own when the lady screeched, "Gum?! GUM?! IN SUCH A SACRED PLACE?! There's all this wonderful food around you and you'd rather taste something so empty?!"

Hearing a whimper, Kenichi glanced behind himself as he smacked away another strike.

It wasn't an accomplice that had hit him.

Floating silverware ringed five hostages, the plastic cutlery flanked by an outer circle of metal kitchen knives.

It was the villain's quirk.

Shit.

Permeation and telekinesis.

She was strong enough to not only lift herself effortlessly, but the things around her as well. What the hell.

Gritting his teeth on the next bite down, Kenichi clenched his fists and jumped backwards. He needed to get to the civilians. There was no way they could protect themselves and nothing short of knocking the villain out was going to stop her psychic abilities. If he continued to fight her, the hostages would be dead long before he won.

The color hero back-stepped, duck-turning beneath a wok that flew in from his left.

Using the momentum to keep going, he sprinted to the trapped people, vaulting over one of the few tables still in the room.

It was a miracle the hostages hadn't been hurt yet. But as Kenichi gave them his full attention, he realized why. A middleschooler with an air quirk was blowing away any cookware that came too close.

The wispy girl couldn't keep it up much longer, though. She was already breathing hard and with Kenichi letting up on the villain, more things targeted the group.

An ojii-san cried out and threw up his hands, thin skin ready to part like wet paper under an incoming blade.

The hero's legs pumped harder, but he was in durability mode, not speed, so all he could do was watch in horror as the serrated edge ripped across the elder's arm.

Expecting blood, or possibly a limb, to splat to the floor, the seasoned man's heart nearly stopped when he realized what had actually happened.

It was about fucking time.

A colossal man in full chain-mail slammed through the room's barricade a moment later, blowing an exit wide open.

Kenichi promptly turned a 180 and popped a red piece of gum. Slamming his fists together and muscles inflating to twice their size, he lunged forward.

Paladin would keep the civilians plenty safe with his Extendaguard.

Now Kenichi could get down to business.

The villain that was barreling toward him stopped, heaving both her fists in a downward bash. It was obvious she expected the small man to either crumple or dodge.

Instead, he twisted, batting her fists past his right side and redirecting them to the floor. As gravity threw the psychic downward, he threw his knee up and shattered her nose.

A viscous liquid that must have been blood showered outward, splattering the linoleum beneath his feet as he followed up with a headbutt.

Instead of connecting, the blow phased through the prone figure and Kenichi fell forward.

Tucking his shoulder to turn the fall into a roll, the middle-aged male came out of the summersault on the balls of his feet, ready to pivot back around.

Right up until a giant, meaty hand grabbed him from behind.

Not a big-boned, heavy-set hand. A meat-y one.

The chicken-coated appendage squeezed him, raw, fleshy fingers driving the air from his lungs with a woosh. A second later, everything blurred as he soared across the cafeteria. Too disoriented to catch himself, Kenichi settled for popping a brown ball. The hardening effect just barely set in before he crashed through a sheet of glass.

He careened across a counter, body knocking something to the floor which he promptly landed on. Feeling a sharp pain spearing his chest, he knew he broke a rib. Enhanced durability was good, but it wasn't perfect.

Kenichi coughed, but the sound was dry and he could still draw breath.

At least he hadn't punctured a lung.

Forcing brown eyes open, he idly realized it was a WacDonald's till he'd crushed. The poor thing cried out in agonized beeps as he pushed himself off it. Never before had he resonated so much with a machine.

Picking his way out of the restaurant, the stout male grimaced. There were so many gumballs on the ground it was a miracle he didn't trip.

Forcing shallow, even breaths, he started a tottering jog, joints and ligaments limbering as he switched to a blue power-up.

Another hit like that would take him out, but he could stall until Paladin got back. If he could just harry the lady, they might have a chance.

The thought finished right as he noticed the villain sinking through the floor.

Not good.

"HEY GRANNY! You call that a throw?!" Coupling the words with a cocky grin, Kenichi ignored the throb in his ribcage and stood tall. Well, as tall as he could. He received a searing glare for his efforts. Whether or not she understood the language didn't matter, the tone came across just fine.

"I was going to leave you to perish on your own, but it seems YOU'RE READY TO EXPIRE EARLY!"

Kenichi rushed to meet the lady as she exploded from the floor, food shooting across the room to wrap around her in some kind of edible armor.

Moving like a leaf in a breeze, he avoided her every hit. Twirling and flipping like some buff ballerina, the color hero focused solely on defense.

He couldn't keep this up. He had two, maybe three misses left in him.

Breaths coming short, he limboed away from yet another punch. Then dropped his palms to the floor, and crab-dodged a second one.

His chest was on fire now, the position scorching his rib as it was forced to grind against itself.

Just when he didn't think he could move again, he realized he didn't have to.

The attacks had stopped.

The edible monster's face was pulled back in a scowl, its limbs moving seemingly at random—almost like a seizure.

Kenichi felt the warm buzz of Extendaguard envelope his skin as Paladin dashed past and kicked at the creature.

It collapsed to the floor, but the villain's body was missing.

A new woman ran into the room, waving as she came up behind the body armor hero.

"I'm sorry I'm late! There was a traffic jam on the way to work!" Examining the deserted, food-strewn eatery, VantaGirl sagged. "You were fighting the green lady, huh?" Hand dragging down her face in exasperation, the black-themed hero turned and booked it back the way she came. "Uuuuugh! I knew she looked suspicious!"

Watching Paladin race after his partner, bitterness blended with the stabbing in Kenichi's chest.

He had been this close to getting off work on time.

Collapsing back-first on the cool ground and rubbing tired eyes, he grumbled, "At least I get to skip the wild goose chase."

Wednesday, September 12th,

9:40 am

Lunch Lady was disillusioned by the cafeteria she'd tried to haunt. The battle had been fun, but the pizza had tasted too much like flavored plastic to give any compliments. She debated going back to rectify the situation, but the sounds of pursuit still trickled by and she wasn't sure when (or if) another power would act up. Being unable to control her edible shell had been troubling to say the least.

Forcing glitchy ectoplasm to stay in the astral plane, Lunch Lady passed through crowded streets. After nearly a mile, she dropped intangibility and settled on a bench.

Using the recess, the injured woman focused on her nose, imagining the ectoplasm reforming into its original shape.

Pain receded and a tiny whistling stopped, allowing the ghost to sag more comfortably into her chair.

People passed without seeing her, the bench appearing empty to their eyes. But she saw them, studying this new world with a dull hum of contentment buzzing in her chest.

Hmmm. What now?

Going back to the alley and heading home felt like such a wasted opportunity.

Ignoring the beautiful architecture of the cobblestone side street and the many pedestrians that populated it, Lunch Lady focused on a shop fronted by paper lanterns.

Inside, the owner tended some kind of griddle-tray covered in spherical divots. Spraying it down with oil, he filled the little circles with batter and shoved—octopus, her core supplied—into the center of each one with commendable speed.

This deserved a closer look.

She floated off the bench, passing a full bike rack and some kind of waving cat statue as she entered.

It wasn't long before the man's four arms were flipping the hundred-plus dough balls, chopsticks a blur of efficiency.

Delightful.

What else did this place have to offer?

Phasing through the wall, Lunch Lady visited the next shop. And the one after. Making her way down the block through the building, she marveled at every unique restaurant and cooking technique.

Core thrumming even harder, the dead school-worker emerged from the superstructure, ready to move on to the next building.

A bus rolled to a stop in front of her, pausing for a red light before continuing down the street.

It didn't matter that it was gone, though. The picture on its side was already branded onto her core, the memory as irritating as an itchy scab.

Some—Some LINE COOK had the audacity to advertise flash-frozen dinners that didn't even have true meat in them?!

Pescatarian!? Low-Calorie!? Disgraceful!

The heavy woman spat at the ground, trying to get the sour taste of disgust from her mouth.

That over-salted blasphemer didn't deserve to have a name so close to her own!

A pit formed in Lunch Lady's midsection.

What if someone confused them?

Closing her eyes, she focused on the man's image and coaxed a tendril of power to the forefront. It latched on, spreading out and shooting southwest before disappearing like a snuffed cinder. Lunch Lady turned, front splashing with luke-warmness when she faced the direction her clairvoyance had indicated.

He was quite a ways away.

Lifting into the sky, the resourceful ghost eyed the city.

Spying what she was looking for, the Zone citizen zipped over several buildings, dropping down and alighting on a large, cement platform covered with roof-like canopies. Throngs of people surrounded her invisible form, unaware of her presence but for the ghost's natural warm-spot that drew a few of the humans subconsciously near.

She didn't blame them. Today was quite chilly.

The pressure around her suddenly changed, a futuristic streamliner whooshing into the station and sliding to an abrupt stop. The doors opened and Lunch Lady hurried inside after the rest of the passengers, making sure to stay back just a bit so as not to bump anyone.

Several cars down, she found an empty section and faded back into sight. Grandmotherly smile softening her face, she plopped onto a well-cushioned bottom.

Why fly a hundred miles when there was a train?

Wednesday, September 12th,

1:05 pm

Lunch Lady's front was positively toasty, clairvoyant abilities indicating that this was the place. Invisible and intangible, the cook threw her arms into a Box Ghost-like pose and sped through the tan stucco of a paneled wall.

Breezing by trees and walking paths, the trespasser drifted around a large, H-shaped building.

A single-story structure came into view, coaxing her interest. Light glinted from above and the ghost angled her flight higher, marveling when a panoramic skylight stretched the length of the roof.

What striking architecture.

Lunch Lady dove through the glass. The temperature immediately rose and the intruder smiled despite the irritation bubbling at the back of her mind. Shifting her body to the material plane, the older woman sank, lowering from the ceiling to just a few feet above the floor.

An obnoxious alarm started to blare inside the building, startling a howl from some far off dog. Then a clatter sounded from nearby, distracting the food worker from her mission and pulling her focus to the center of the room.

A cup lay on its side in front of a girl with bovine horns, soda dribbling off the table and onto the floor.

A new, more pressing emotion covered Lunch Lady's simmering anger and pulled it off the burner.

"Oh no! What a waste. You look like you could have used the extra calories," the ghost lamented, drifting toward the much-too-skinny kid. "Don't worry, I'll have you fixed up in no time." She raised a hand, ready to conjure up another drink. It stopped halfway, held in place by some type of scarlet rope.

Head wrenching toward a 30-something year old at the other end of it, Lunch Lady glared. The skin-tight suit was different, and the man was much too large, but something about this scenario smacked of an encounter with Phantom, aggravating her all over again.

"You dare stop me?!" The fire-core's voice crackled, rumbling the deeper notes. Rage boiled to the forefront and she yanked back.

The muscular, red-and-silver human was caught unawares by her strength, swinging through the air and crashing into a plant fixture. A cloud of potting soil exploded on impact, dusting the tables behind it with a layer of earth and tiny perlite stones.

The clank-bang of cracked ceramic broke the room's mounting tension like blank gunfire at the start of a race.

Imitating a cave of startled bats, the students screeched and ran into each other in a mad scramble for the exit, failing to notice as Lunch Lady searched the crowd.

There. The slim girl was still here, trying to usher others into a semblance of civilized evacuation. The ghost jetted forward, snatching the golden-haired female by a horn.

Abruptly, the humans stopped swarming.

As everything stilled, Lunch Lady noticed the red-silver fighter hold up his hands while another adult ten feet away shifted into a similar, placating pose.

"Sutahpu!" the new man demanded, sharp, ruby eyes nearly glowing from within a floating cloud of black hair.

An illusory cold spilled over and off her skin like water trying to cling to a duck's back and Lunch Lady pulled her hostage close with one thick arm. "Never! This lunch room is a disgrace; these children are skin and bones!"

Sweeping her free hand to the side, an abandoned tray shot off a table and frisbee'd at the lean male. Just barely missing when he ducked at the last second, it flew thirty feet farther and broke a single pane of glass, otherwise leaving the wall of windows intact.

"Let go!" a high-pitched voice shrieked in time with the security system, drawing the woman's attention back down to her side where a hoof jabbed toward her. The ghost merely raised a brow and extended her right arm, destroying the squirming human's leverage and causing the kick to miss by a handspan.

"See?! Without proper nutrition you're weak!"

"I am not! I could—" the refute began, then abruptly died off. Lunch Lady eyed the girl suspiciously until more movement caused her to look away.

Red-silver was lunging forward, two more whips shooting from his body. When they got near, Lunch Lady jerked right, the attack passing within inches of her face.

A distinctly copper scent cut the ghost's nose.

Oh, how interesting.

Grinning devilishly, the paunchy woman lifted her free arm again. The red vines solidified, pinched sections forming every five inches and a light-pink film growing over the coagulating liquid.

Across from her, the jumpsuited male froze, horrified.

Freshly-made sausages suspended in air before tearing back toward the blood user, the links striking at their creator like a snake.

Suddenly thrown off balance, Lunch Lady glanced at her right hand. Her captive was gone, a detached horn the only thing left of the teen.

Before the woman could surge forward in pursuit, white flashed from the side. A telepathically controlled scarf coiled around Lunch Lady's left wrist and she roared.

Following the cloth back to its source with irises of forge-fire, the ghost spotted the floaty-hair guy from earlier and a plump, silver-topped boy next to him. Ignoring the kid and zeroing in on the older man's glare, the cook pulled back on the scarf in a mimicry of what she'd done a minute ago.

Rather than fight it, the new opponent dead-sprinted toward her, apparel-turned-weapon wrapped in a single loop over his forearm and gripped at the end. The teen crouching behind him took advantage, dashing away with large, anxious eyes.

Lunch Lady attempted to trip the black-clothed adult out of the rush, flinging the horn in her hand like a javelin. The haggard man sidestepped, refusing to slow even when the boney appendage speared the ground near his booted foot.

He managed to get in close, tugging hard on the muffler to stagger Lunch Lady and land a hit to the woman's gut. She oofed, forced to bend slightly as the (admittedly unnecessary) breath left her. Her gaze rose back up as she straightened, focusing near the main exit when someone caught her eye.

It was him. Lunch Rush.

Just thinking the name caused the ghost's core to ignite like a dried up Christmas tree. The chef-clothed imposter was even herding her one-horned teen toward an exit.

"YOU!" Lunch Lady howled, right hand ripping at the scarf on her left. The fabric stuck on her glove cuff and she phased it through, metal fibers breezing past the latex.

Pointing in accusation with the now-free hand, she shrieked, "GET YOUR GRUBBY, FOOD-DEFILING MITTS OFF HER!"

Another fist flew toward the green female's head and she caught it without looking, squeezing until there was a sharp crack. Her stoic attacker dipped under the broken hand, silent as his free fist went in for another hit. She smacked it down like a child stealing a cookie, barely registering a sharp sting to the palm.

Swinging him over her head by the fist, Lunch Lady got ready to send the human to the floor. A sparkling beam of light stopped the move, singeing the underside of her forearm mid-motion and forcing thick fingers open. The burnt ectoplasm hardened as if cauterized while a long cord of pink muscle snapped in from the side. Slipping around the obnoxious fighter, it jerked the shaggy man away before he could hit the linoleum. A wall of craggy blue shot from the ground for good measure, billowing chilled air toward the ghost as it separated her from a small group of students and the foe.

Now that was silly; normal ice could hardly stop her.

The refracted figure of her opponent rose and regained his feet, distorted lips growling something that she couldn't hear past the cries of the alarm. Lunch Lady's eyes narrowed. Then relaxed when a plethora of angry, disbelieving shouts followed.

Not an insult after all.

The siren suddenly quieted (thank goodness), and she half-listened as the group devolved into argument, not understanding a word. Using the lull, the Ghost Zone native surveyed the room.

Not many kids remained, but the ones that did seemed intent on aiding the two adults. Even the red-silver man was receiving help in the fight against her sausages—a forest green vine had torn from the floor and was tangoing with her blutwurst. Lunch Lady allowed herself a cheeky grin and willed her meaty minions to grow teeth, watching as they started to bite at the vegetation.

But other than that, most of the lunch-goers and Lunch Rush were officially gone, the horned highschooler included.

The ectoplasmic being grit her teeth, a large vein appearing in her neck.

She started to summon clairvoyance, ready to track the well-done steak that was Lunch Rush down.

"SHINE!" [DIE!] a foreign word shrilled, an explosive palm flying in from the right to match the energy.

Lunch Lady's search ability fizzled out and she let the discharge slide through her head with a sadistic grin. Backhanding the attacker's shoulder blades as he passed, she baited the wide-eyed youth, "Looks like someone could stand to learn some manners. Good children WAIT THEIR TURN!"

The boy tried to correct his flight with a well timed blast, but the table on Lunch Lady's left was too close. The blonde's blue-slacked shins slammed into the top of it and he cried out, upper half swinging down toward the laminate. Palms thwacking against the surface to take the brunt of the fall, he turned the tumble into an awkward half-cartwheel and was thrown off the table.

Hitting the pony wall temple first, he collapsed, a single hand sliding across the ground to cover a pair of too-bright, unfocused eyes.

"Oh my. That may have been a bit too hard for you," Lunch Lady admitted, mindful to keep her voice down. The boy's friends subscribed to no such niceties, barely-muffled screams echoing from beyond the ice wall.

In less than a second, her previous challenger re-entered the fray, shouting something at the downed boy when the kid attempted to stand. Broken hand wrapped in bandages (where'd those even come from?), the scruffy grown-up charged Lunch Lady, face shadowed by an intensity the ghost couldn't quite place. Caught off guard, she barely avoided an uppercut, managing to drop tangibility only just in time.

What was with that look?

It wasn't like she'd let anyone die. She liked children, their well-being so important it tied into her obsession.

The man's teeth grit and his eyes lit red again. That cold sensation was back, but like before, it slipped away, as elusive as a breeze across skin.

A hoarse voice quieted the students beyond the ice wall, and Lunch Lady risked a curious glance back. A blue-haired boy clenched his fists as he ended some kind of speech, anguished form just visible through the frozen water.

The view cut off, covered by that dang scarf as it flattened, going stiff in front of her face.

How rude.

Eyes jerking forward, Lunch Lady watched the cloth-wielding adult retreat to the concussed teen, dropping into a guard stance when he grew nearer.

He didn't move from the position, watching her closely but holding still as if waiting for something.

A stampede suddenly thundered away from the student's frozen stronghold and raced toward the cafeteria's exit, only two sets of footsteps breaking from the herd. A machine gun of taps, and the erratic leaps of a rabbit looped back around, coming in fast. In mere moments the duo slid to a stop behind blast-boy and scarf-man.

Rather than show relief at the reinforcements, the injured blonde started spitting what could only be profanities. The shorter, green-haired boy winced, but his black-haired partner just rolled up grey sleeves with a cocky smirk.

Lunch Lady couldn't help but notice just how lean both newcomers were. Frowning, she tried to recall everyone she'd seen since arriving.

The mousey boy held out a hand, slender palm up. In response, the kid's taller colleague bent an arm, a strip of white….tape? shooting from the boy's knobby elbow and sticking to the proffered fingertips. Their schoolmate's curses grew louder at the action and the blonde tried to jump away. The duo seemed to anticipate this, already dashing to either side and trying to clothesline the firecracker. The kid sprang over the adhesive band, displaying a high jump form worthy of a track star. His peers immediately lowered the line, pulling it back the other way.

Lunch Lady watched the children's sinewy muscles bunching and cording as they leapt. A cold anger burned beneath her skin. The way the students moved, their fat content couldn't be more than six, maybe seven percent of their body weight.

Less than half of what it should be.

Lunch Lady dragged her blazing gaze back to the teens' protector. The man studied her, smoothly lowering a walkie-talkie from his mouth and tucking it back into a belt without breaking eye contact. The controlled movements seemed to say he was reluctant to engage, even as his metallic scarf hovered in the air like the toothy threat of a cornered predator.

She had to take these kids away from here; her core railed at her to feed.

Rushing forward, Lunch Lady jabbed at the persistent human, hoping to hit his chest hard enough for a one-hit KO.

Quick as lightning the man leaned to the side, grabbing his scarf from the air and stretching a length of it between his hands. Using the slack, he twisted the cloth around her arm and tugged tight. Pivoting on his foot, he redirected her momentum into a violent hammer throw that sent her back the way she'd come.

Just before hitting a planter, Lunch Lady steadied herself, taking the second to check on the children.

The blonde ducked and twisted away from his schoolmates' ribbon yet again, just barely avoiding it by throwing up his right hand for an explosion. The force shot him to the side, but instead of launching back into battle the kid clutched at his right ear and vomited all over the floor. His attackers descended, running circles counter to each other like spry maypole dancers. In seconds, a very angry cocoon wriggled on the floor.

Deciding to switch tactics, Lunch Lady let the warm heat of incorporeality pour through her and dove forward. Black-sleeved punches slid through her midsection and a line of crimson attempted to spear her shoulder. Disregarding the attacks, she snatched at the green-haired boy. He juked to the side on electrified legs, blue slacks passing just inches from her outstretched fingers.

Sharp pain flared in Lunch Lady's stomach, doubling the ghost over. The blunt-force blow was significantly worse than earlier, several times stronger than scarf-man's punch had been.

She had little time to wonder how the hit got past her intangibility or who threw it. The kids were bolting toward the exit, dragging their writhing mummy-friend along behind them. Lunch Lady stumbled to wobbly feet and lifted both hands, ready to summon a battalion of food to retrieve them.

Instead, another rope of crimson and that stupid fashion accessory snapped her arms tight to her sides.

Yanking one limb free, she changed the blood into more frankfurter pets. Ordering them to tangle the muffler, she ghosted out of the restraint.

An intrusive thought pushed its way into Lunch Lady's mind as she beheld the sausage-scarf fight and her core twinged.

"You should stop, Dear." The green woman angled toward the blood man. "Losing this much iron really isn't good for you."

Whack.

A hit that would have darkened a human's vision slammed against the back of Lunch Lady's head. But with no brain to bruise, she simply shook it off, the ectoplasm reforming itself where it'd flattened slightly to absorb the impact.

Twirling to face her assailant, the ghost's hands assumed a strangle-ready position.

LUNCH RUSH.

Eyes flashing between solid red and white, she swept forward, grabbing the wanna-be cook's cast iron fry pan. Swinging it like a baseball batter, she roared "YOU NEGLIGENT FILM OF SLIME MOLD! HOW DARE YOU STARVE THESE CHILDREN!"

The utensil-based fighter was a blur, ducking around the blow and retreating toward the kitchen.

"GET BACK HERE! I'VE GOT BEEF WITH YOU!" she shrilled, speeding after him.

Lunch Rush zoomed by the snack kiosk and straight to the serving area, vaulting over one of the counter's glass cases and sliding inside. A second later, an entire cutlery drawer's worth of silverware shot out and one of Lunch Lady's yellow gloves rose to stop it. The metal paused halfway to the ghost and flipped, shooting back toward her rival in a V. She came fast behind, ready to follow up the stabbing with her fists.

Lunch Rush jumped to the side—the projectiles sinking into the row of cupboards behind him with a thwaiAaAaNG—and gave a thumbs up.

Did he just direct that at her?

Confused and livid, Lunch Lady gathered energy in her chest, ready to go all out.

The temperature of the room skyrocketed to a swelter as if preparing for the incoming storm.

But then someone screamed.

It wasn't nearly as bad as being hit by Phantom's blasted wail; but, while she technically didn't have eardrums, the sound reverberated down her chest, shaking and disrupting her core.

Unable to slip into the astral plane, she fell to the white tiled floor and lunged behind an industrial-steel island. Escaping the sonic attack for a moment, the ghost's eyes widened. Without the sound stalling her consciousness, she smelled something off. Like sun-warm strawberries and vanilla.

Lunch Lady pinched her nose shut as one slow blink turned into two.

It was a good thing she didn't need to breathe.

Mind growing fuzzy, she forced herself through the floor, a new screech just barely hitting her ears before the quiet stillness of cement swallowed the sound.

Wednesday, September 12th,

1:31 pm

A heavy sigh split the air as UA's principal paced across a four foot area. How the small rodent's lungs managed that much air was a mystery.

Glancing about the wrecked room again, Nezu rubbed at his forehead, hand pulling back to reveal a small pile of matte hair. Frowning, he walked to a nearby trash can and reached high above himself, tossing the shed fur inside.

Three faculty stood on Nezu's right, abused and upended furniture strewn around them.

Right now, the four adults were the only ones in the room, but that would change as soon as the police arrived.

"Erasure didn't work," Aizawa spoke up, starting the conversation that everyone seemed loath to begin.

"Well, we're probably dealing with another Nomu…" Vlad King supplied, voice only semi-confident as he scratched at the V-shaped neckline of his hero costume. Angry, swollen prick marks peppered the man's chest anywhere the fabric didn't protect.

"I don't know, Kan-san." Nezu's tone carried its own reservations as the mouse stroked a non-existent chin. "From what you and Tsunotori-san told me, our attacker could speak and interact despite having at least five different, very powerful quirks. Even if she was emotionally unstable, we haven't seen anything like that before. The Nomu from the USJ incident could only follow direct orders and the Hosu Nomu did little more than shriek."

"I agree; something doesn't add up," Aizawa bit out. "Unless the League has made some kind of breakthrough, my quirk should have stopped the telekinesis and permeation, even if it couldn't stop the brute strength or invisibility. Then there were those strange, animated sausages...I can only assume they were an emitter-type as well."

Vlad King involuntarily shuddered next to his colleague, head tipping down and dark eyes magnetizing to his chest. "Not strange, creepy. They bit me. With teeth."

"You might want to see Recovery Girl after the briefing, Sekijiro-kun. I know they were made from your blood, but who knows what metamorphosis they underwent. Ground pork alone can carry a whole slew of bacteria—if not parasites and pathogens," Lunch Rush commented, voice carrying with it a concern his featureless chef's hat could not convey.

The much larger hero flinched, color draining from his skin.

Patting the man's arm in sympathy, the cook reassured, "As long as you get it tended to soon, it should be fine."

Nezu glanced at the exit, eyes drifting along the wall as if he could see the H-shaped building beyond it. "I need to review the security footage. Once I translate what our intruder was saying, it might give us a clue as to her origins. Is there anything else I should know before I get started?"

"The kitchen got hot right before we subdued her," Lunch Rush spoke up. "Check the thermal cameras, she may have a temperature-related quirk as well."

"And keep an eye on how she uses her telekinesis," Aizawa chimed in. "She never used it directly on my capture scarf or any of us, so she may have limitations to the types of things she can control."

The underground hero reached inside his pants pocket and pulled out a small kerchief, offering it for inspection. "I also got a sample of the woman's blood, if it even is blood. Her head flattened and reformed when Lunch Rush hit her with a fry pan. It's possible she's made of this stuff, or has some kind of shock absorption."

A tiny spot of toxic green stained the white cloth, no more than a pinprick smear.

Nezu's black eyes snapped to Aizawa's hand, an almost desperate interest sparking within them.

The mammal padded closer, footsteps faltering just a yard shy of his subordinate. The rodent's beady eyes narrowed and he grit pearly incisors, finishing the trek with a ram-rod straight back. "Call Power Loader. I think we have more ectoplasm on our hands."

"Shit."

Aizawa's sentiment was shared.

Wednesday, September 12th,

2:40 pm

Danny's stomach was a churning mess as his father sliced up the double fudge ice cream cake. Had this been a normal birthday he might have complained about the flavor, but as it stood, blowing out the candles had felt like cutting loose the rope of his own guillotine. Such a small thing like the superiority of rocky road over pure chocolate paled in comparison.

"Smaller slice for me, Dad. Remember I have to eat healthy." The raven boy had never been more glad for an otherwise awful rule. He knew he'd want something in his stomach, but liquified cream was not a top choice.

"Don't worry about that, Danny, it's your birthday!" Jack called. Ignoring a wince, the older Fenton tried to dish Danny up with an even bigger slice than everyone else.

Hagakure and Kamada's more modest servings were already on the kitchen table in front of them. Sam, too, balanced a reasonable portion where she stood near the range. Maddie remained empty-handed, but jumped forward from her spot near Sam at Danny's distress.

Taking the cutter from her husband, the redhead split off a third of the sugary treat and put it on a separate plate. Handing it to her seated son, she commented, "Sorry, Jack, but I'm siding with Danny on this one."

"Don't worry, Mr. F, I'll take the rest of Danny's piece. We share everything anyway," Tuck proclaimed, crossing the room and tugging the dessert away from a pouting Jack. The motion turned into something of an awkward juggle partway through, the video camera in the technogeek's other hand (the traitor) giving the boy trouble.

Danny started eating so he wouldn't have to comment, but after no time at all realized he was on his last bite. He felt like an idiot. He should have gotten a bigger piece.

"So are we going to open presents now?" Hagakure asked, positively bursting with curiosity at this point.

"Yeah, Danny, let's open presents!" Jazz called with a sly smile. It was sibling abuse, plain and simple.

Mentally sighing, the male verbally replied, "Sure," voice anything but.

Jack immediately perked up, a dog hearing the word "treat".

The only reprieve the halfa was likely to get tonight was that ghostly healing should take the brunt of the activities rather than his liver. Maybe he wouldn't even get that drunk, his metabolism was pretty insane.

Perking up at the thought, Danny actually smiled when his father shoved two presents into his hand, crying "Me first!"

Picking up the larger of the boxes, Danny tore at the wrapping. He must have made the wrong choice because Jack immediately huffed, "That one's from your mother."

Eyebrow raising quizzically at his mom's flabbergast expression, Danny pulled out a smaller package wrapped in newspaper. A tiny, porcelain cat emerged, the feline stretching in a lazy pose. More baffled than ever, he popped open another—this time playful—kitten. Then a third, mitten-wearing one.

"Thanks Mom? It's…"

"Not from me?" Maddie answered the search for an adjective with her own confusion. "Jazz?"

"Nope, not mine."

"Sam, Tuck?" Danny asked as the two came over to get a closer look.

"I wi—" Tucker started before Sam slapped a hand over his mouth and muffled the rest, Kamada and Hagakure the only ones off-put by the display.

"If only. Your face was priceless. Tuck, show him."

The videographer obeyed—pausing, rewinding and holding out the recording so Danny could see the evidence of his own inner turmoil.

Pushing herself off of a nearby cupboard, Maddie sauntered around the kitchen table and stepped up behind her husband's stool. Arms sliding down the beefy man's chest in a quasi-hug, she asked, "Where'd you get the present, Honey?"

"On our bed? You left it for me to wrap three days ago, remember?"

"Now why would I get Danny figurines, Jack?"

"Well, I thought it was a dumb gift, but you always get him—" A heated glare made Jack hurl the metaphorical shovel he was using to dig his own grave.

"Was someone in the house?" Kamada demanded, looking at the walls with trepidation at nearly the same time that Jazz asked, "Is there a tag on one of the cats?"

"Not that I can—Oh, wait. There's something written on the newspaper." Flattening the tabloid out to get a better look, Danny groaned.

Tucker and Sam peeked over his shoulders, one snorting and the other grinning as they high-fived.

Happy Birthday Danny,

<3 CW

The heart was hand-drawn, not unlike ones he'd seen in Star's statistics notes last year.

Why did the literal ghost of time find it necessary to screw with him?!

Sam and Tuck took one look at Danny's face and burst into full-blown giggles, holding each other's shoulders to keep themselves upright.

"Please tell me—" the goth heaved between laughs, "—you got that."

"Of course I did. What kind of technogeek do you take me for?" Tuck held the camera to his chest in mock hurt.

"Who's CW?" Hagakure inquired, ignoring Danny's friends and leaning over the table to get a better look.

It surprised Danny that she had been able to read the note without the transcribe function of the Gabber app, but he supposed the message was pretty simple.

"Just a family friend," Danny acknowledged. Seeing Kamada frown next to Hagakure, he amended, "The ghostly kind."

The answer seemed to quell the highschooler's anxiety, as her expression lost its edge; but she still seemed displeased, probably unnerved that a ghost had passed unnoticed through the house.

Danny gave her an apologetic shrug and she softened.

Putting aside the first present, Danny reached towards his father's.

Unable to stop himself, Jack blurted, "Johnny and Kitty helped me get it! Just for you!"

OH NO!

Tearing off wrapping paper like the ghouls on its face would come to life and bite him, Danny opened the box.

Inside was a bottle that stared back at him with predatory, glass eyes. Lifting the flask by the neck and refusing to touch the decorative serpent constricting it—Danny held the decanter up to the light.

A bright red comparable to candy apple nail polish shimmered through a swirling, honey-hued liquid.

He was pretty sure he knew what it was, but nearly shuddered when his father confirmed it.

"Fire Snake Whiskey! It's supposed to pack one heck of a punch!"

"Uhm, Da—"

"You would not believe what I had to trade to get it!" his father was already rambling, voice drowning out the younger male. "But then I said to myself, 'Jack, Dann-o is only going to turn twenty-one once; you aren't allowed to be a cheapskate.' " Noticing the half ghost's closing mouth, the eldest Fenton apologized, "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to talk over you. What were you saying?"

"Nothing," Danny squeaked, a stifling jungle flashing through his mind. "Just excited," he managed to choke out, the words tasting like the poison soon to be on his lips.

"OH! Duh! Twenty-one! I thought I was missing something." Everyone turned to look at Hagakure's lounge-wear at the outburst, unable to study her face. At the attention, the teen clarified, "Japan's drinking age is twenty."

A second later Kamada's mouth dropped into her own "O" of understanding before the teenager's head turned away with a small, pleased smile.

"Open Kamada-san's next!" Jazz exclaimed, voice sickly sweet, "She picked it out all on her own." The emphasis made Danny suspicious, which doubled upon receiving a black box with a snowy ribbon and shamrock green bow.

At least his dad wasn't making him take a shot yet.

Fake smile plastered on his face, the halfa ripped open the package. Inside were two smaller, individually wrapped gifts. Raising an eyebrow, he grabbed out the littler one. His happy facade nearly cracked. Forcing more cheer, Danny held up a shot glass for the room to see, an embellished version of his DP insignia etched along the side.

"Thanks! It's awesome!" he praised, smile breaking a bit as he hastily tried to shove it back in the box.

But not fast enough.

"THAT'S PERFECT! Great job, Kamada!—Er—San!" Jack exploded from his seat and dashed to a cupboard above the fridge. Yanking it open, he pulled out several bottles and two more shot glasses. "We can start right now!"

The massive man brought the alcohol back to the table, glass vessels clinking together as he set everything down ham-handedly.

Sam and Tucker could barely breathe they were laughing so hard.

Kamada just looked dejected, obviously sensing she'd messed up.

No, that's not—That's not what he wanted to happen. She didn't know the implications of the gift. Poking at his core and reminding it that someone he protected cared for him back, Danny sent a genuine smile in Kamada's direction.

"That's the spirit, Danny!" Jazz commented, biting her lower lip like she was trying to keep from beaming.

"Did you just—Did you seriously just..?!" Danny couldn't tell if he wanted to laugh hysterically (emphasis on the hysterically) or wring his sister's neck.

"Yeeep."

Danny just looked to his mom, trying to share his exasperation, but the older Fenton was as amused as her daughter. Ugh.

Jack grabbed the freshly opened shot glass from right out of Danny's box and pounded it on the table. Snatching up the Fire Snake Whiskey the older male uncorked the bottle and poured like he was handling liquid gold. The same couldn't be said for the other shot glasses, which he topped with tequila, little sloshes spilling over their sides.

"Sam, Tuck, you too!"

"Sorry, Mr. Fenton, Sam and I are twenty. We can't." Tucker hid a coprophagous grin behind a dark hand.

"Nonsense!" Jack raised a hand to the side of his mouth and whispered conspiratorially, "Just don't tell your—"

"Jack FENTON. We do not offer alcohol to minors in this household!" Maddie reprimanded in time with Jazz's "Dad! No! Absolutely not!"

The hulking figure just shrunk in on himself with a sheepish look.

Jazz sighed and grabbed the two spare glasses, handing one to her mom. Locking eyes with her dad as the man turned ecstatic, she clarified, "We're only doing one. No more," before tossing back the shot.

Hagakure started laughing at Jazz's surefire refusal. Gasping in just enough air to speak, she proclaimed, "You know, I gotta say. Even though I'm stuck here, I could not have picked a cooler homestay family if I'd tried."

Riding the high of those words, Danny picked up his own drink and downed it in one go.

Wednesday, September 12th,

9:03 pm

Brushing teeth had never felt so lonely.

Normally the affair was coupled by little drops of toothpaste spittle as Toru-chan animatedly recounted the highlights of her day. But it'd been just over a week of silence and Mashirao Ojiro felt an ache in his chest that wouldn't go away. Tail drooping of its own accord, the boy spat into the sink. Running on autopilot, he rinsed his mouth and flicked through the ever-open news app on the counter beside him.

He had been excited earlier today. The attack should have been some kind of lead. Something to help him crack the case of this never-ending nightmare. But he'd come up blank, the local journalists proving their ineptitude once again.

Sighing, the martial artist wiped his lips on a white towel—no need to get bleach stains on a colored one—and picked up his cell. Tapping on a map icon, the blonde pinched his fingers toward each other to zoom out and clicked on a nearby prefecture.

It was his new routine. Check the articles, find nothing, broaden the search. Every single day since Hagakure went missing Ojiro had read local, insignificant snippets from here to Hokkaido.

Today's news especially had been dominated by near-duplicate stories about the Nomu's attack on UA and his eyes were starting to burn from sorting through them all.

Changing prefectures again, he exited the communal bathroom and nearly tripped. Tail sticking straight out in an act of balance, the teen caught himself before he could fall into the hallway.

Hero Gumball Thwarts Hostage Situation at Kanagawa Valley Mall

It wasn't the title that had gotten him so riled up. It was the thumbnail image that'd only enlarged when he'd clicked on it.

It was hard to see much. Someone had taken the shot in a rush, probably while hiding. The bottom half of the picture was of some kind of desk, and the top half was stuck through with table legs. The camera was also out of focus—everything in the background (the subject of the photo) was greatly blurred.

But the heavy-set woman at the center of the frame had green skin, bright yellow gloves, a pink dress and an apron.

There was no denying it. The Nomu had attacked somewhere else—Mashirao double-checked the details—before the attack on UA this afternoon.

The male could feel his heart pounding.

He needed to tell someone. The teachers needed to—Mashirao stopped that thought in its tracks.

Despite the supposed openness the faculty had shown right after Hagakure had disappeared, they'd been rather close-lipped about everything since. Something was wrong, the tailed man could feel it. Especially with just how close Aizawa had been watching them all. If he gave the school the only clue he had, they might take it away from him…somehow.

But, he couldn't help but feel that he still needed to tell someone.

Ojiro was smart, but he just didn't have the strategic, calculating mind necessary to decode this new clue on his own.

Wednesday, September 12th,

11:15 pm

Crick-du-du-shuffle-clikr

Izuku lay in bed, eyes closed and ears straining as he unsuccessfully tried to keep his breathing steady.

Something was moving on his balcony.

Already running through possible plans of attack in his head, the male tried to make sense of the noise. It was quiet but spread apart—something large creating little sound. When it got just outside the glass door the night fell silent and he stiffened, sheet-white.

Heart stuttering in his chest, the greenet nearly jumped out of his skin when a light tap-tap-tap-tap broke the hush.

It could still be a villain come to attack, but he doubted it.

Even if the one from earlier definitely had a screw loose.

(Izuku understood English pretty well; he had grown up listening to and reading countless articles and video clips of All Might's exploits from America. So although the Nomu's words had been mostly nonsensical, he was pretty sure the reason for that didn't lie with him.)

Another rapid tap-tap-tap jolted Izuku from the tangential thought. Yeah, if it was a villain, they would have attacked by now. Unless, of course, they had a hostage and were trying to lure—the mini-Might shot out of bed, turning toward the source of the noise and throwing back the curtains.

Oh. It was just Ojiro-kun.

Wait. Plain, by-the-book Ojiro-kun was breaking curfew and trying to get Izuku's attention.

The young hero swiftly unlocked the door, removed the dowel from the backside—one could never be too careful—and slid it open. Anxiety crept up his stomach as he ushered the other male in, looking back toward the front entrance of his room as he did so.

Sensei nearly had a heart attack today when the lunchroom Nomu had just appeared from nothing. It wouldn't be surprising if the slightest sound triggered the man's protective instincts.

Before Izuku had a chance to ask what the other kid was doing there, Ojiro whispered, "I found something and I need to pick your brain. The teachers can't know."

Izuku inhaled sharply, doing his best not to make noise.

"About Hagakure-chan? Or something else?" the analyst tried to stall, mentally running through ways to talk Ojiro-kun into keeping the faculty in the loop.

"I found a news story. But you have to promise me you won't tell anyone." Despite being barely audible, the teen's voice was adamant.

Midoriya opened his mouth, but one look—one real look—at the older boy suffocated the protests on his lips. Shadows haunted Ojiro's eyes, made more pronounced by the overly pale, thinner-than-normal skin that clung to his cheekbones and gave his face an almost sunken appearance. His pajamas hung off his shoulders too loosely and Izuku could almost smell the acidic scent of anxiety in the air.

"Okay."

"Okay, you won't tell?"

Midoriya gave a resolute nod. "Nn."

Ojiro studied him a second more before the teen spoke again, "The villain attacked somewhere else before she attacked here. In Kanagawa."

"That's a long way off to make it to UA by lunch time. How do you know it was her?" Midoriya felt bad asking, but Ojiro-kun's appearance suggested he might have extrapolated more details from the news story than it really held.

"Look at the photo," the blonde demanded, holding up his phone with fire burning in his eyes. "It's her."

Izuku's stomach dropped, then pretended to be a whirligig, leaving him light-headed and brimming with excitement.

Ojiro must have seen the recognition in Izuku's gaze, because he bulldozed on, "A woman, late fifties/early sixties was seen using her quirks—permeation and telekinesis—today at the Kanagawa Valley shopping mall. Upon entering the food court the woman was immediately assumed to be a villain by the civilians and many managed to escape. By the time a hero made it on scene, thirteen people were being held hostage at one of the tables. Gumball managed to mitigate casualties until help could arrive but the villain evaded capture and her motive is still a mystery."

"Now listen to this," the teen insisted, turning the volume on his phone way down and clicking play on a short video clip.

It was an interview with one of the apparently English-fluent victims.

When everyone was trying to escape, she kept yelling about how lunch wasn't over yet. She insisted everyone needed to come back and finish their meals. Then when she had me and my dad at that table with the other people, she kept offering us dessert. It was so weird .

"Sound familiar?"

It did.

" 'This lunch room is a disgrace; these children are skin and bones,' " Izuku quoted under his breath. Emerald eyes locked with jet-black and he raised his voice a little so the other teen could hear him.

"So I was right. She's got some kind of strange obsession with food." Ojiro crouched down, running a hand through oily hair as his tail swished back and forth behind him.

"It seems that way. But I'm more worried about what she was doing there. Here, she knew who Lunch Rush was ahead of time, suggesting the attack was premeditated and that UA was the intended target. But what could she have possibly gained from the encounter at the mall? She didn't demand anything from the heroes, right?"

"Nope. Other than telling them to stay away."

"Did she take anything?"

"No."

"Attack someone specific?"

"No…"

"Were the hostages from another hero school?"

"No." Ojiro's voice softened in sudden horror, "You think she didn't have a reason. That she was just there to cause trouble?"

"Yes—" Izuku made a frustrated noise in his throat. "—No. Not exactly."

At the blonde's frown, the theorist elaborated, "She's got some kind of mental illness, which would make sense if she was a Nomu with so many quirks. The League could have ordered an attack on UA. But why order an attack on the mall?"

"If she's as unpredictable as you say, maybe she went rogue and attacked that place on her own. Then the league used Kurogiri to get her back on track. They could have made up something about Lunch Rush to trick her into doing what they wanted."

"Maybe, but I feel like we're missing something." There was a moment of quiet, Izuku deep in thought, before he mumbled, "Why the mall?"

The freckled boy grabbed his own phone. Pulling up the Maps app, he found the shopping center and zoomed in far enough that he could see all the local buildings.

Ojiro jumped up at Izuku's deep glower and peeked over the younger boy's shoulder. Looking at the screen, his jaw slackened. "You think—"

Izuku rubbed at his eyes, a whole new slew of theories and questions flooding his brain. "Yeah. She might've been the distraction."

Wednesday

-Cut Pre-Party Scene-

"SURPRISE!" Several flappy, bugle-like sounds accompanied the shout.

Danny's eyes tracked over his parents and four party-horn-holding guests to Jazz, a look of utter betrayal stamped on his face.

He expected this of his friends, even Haru and Toru who didn't know any better, but his sister? She knew what fate awaited him. She'd been through it herself.

Jazz merely smirked, tilting her head toward Jack as the man came pounding up to him from the couch. Great bear-like arms wrapped the ambushed male, squeezing and swinging him around. As he dropped back down something disturbed his messy, raven locks.

Fingers lifting to brush against what felt like a cone-shaped hat, the boy flashed a pained smile that was nearly a grimace.

"Happy birthday, Sweetie!" his mother called, patting his shoulder from behind as his dad shifted from foot to foot, the epitome of barely contained elation.

Danny's heart sank through his shoes and into the floor.

"Yeah, happy birthday, Man!" Tucker piped up, sharing a look with Sam.

"It'll be the best one yet!" his gothic friend added, chipper attitude at complete odds with the girl's aesthetic and devilish glint in her eyes. Holding up a phone, she snapped a picture.

"I've been waiting for this day for twenty-one years, eight months and three days!"

"You've been waiting since you found out Mrs. F. was pregnant? Dang, that's dedication." Sam pinned Danny with a stare, her smirk just for him.

"Yep!" Jack responded, wiping tears from his eyes as he turned into a blubbering mess. Reaching into a pocket and grabbing a handkerchief to blow his nose, the orange hunter tacked on, "They grow up so fast."

Danny sighed, walked to the coat rack and set his red backpack lightly on the shoe bench beneath it.

"In fact, I've got something extra special planned! I've had this baby ready for six months!" Jack bellowed, turning around and flying toward the kitchen.

When he came back, he held a brightly wrapped package that would make Ol' Boxy green with envy.

"Jaaack. We talked about this. No presents till after the cake." Maddie walked over to the large man and cradled his arm, winking at her son where her husband couldn't see.

Jack and the ghost boy both sagged, but for entirely different reasons.

"Let me at least go change, Dad," Danny pleaded.

"But, but. I've already waited all day," Jack whined.

Feeling like he was the father in this relationship, Danny looked sideways at Kamada, exasperation palpable.

"Are you okay?" chirped from the girl's phone, the Japanese sounding very confused in contrast to the monotone words of the Gabber app.

"Yeah, just…" Danny trailed off, unable to find words that wouldn't upset his father.

"He's fine," Jazz spoke up, coming to her brother's rescue. "He's just got butterflies in his stomach—er, anxiety—because there's a Fenton tradition he has to uphold."

"Sounds ominous," Hagakure commented, intrigue saturating her words while Kamada's brow furrowed next to her.

Danny exhaled, rubbing at his neck.

"You have no idea."

Sorry, but lots of notes this chapter.

-The chapter title is a a nod to when the first Danny Phantom episode aired. The main commercial advertising it had the clip of LL screaming "IT'S LUNCH TIME!" It's ingrained forever in my brain. I watched the first episode as many times as I physically could before the second one even aired. I like demanded to be home when it was on. I had scoped out all the time slots on the TV guide ahead of time.

-I know it seems weird that Lunch Lady is taking so many hits, but while most of Danny's villains use intangibility to fight, she's always been more of a brawler.

-I have no idea how Gumball got so fleshed out for a one part wonder character, but I kind of love him. Lol. When chewing on one of these colors, he gets a particular ability as long as he chews. His ulti is actually a trick. When he runs out of gum, he can chew anything of the correct color to gain the appropriate attribute. As you can imagine, gum is just the most reasonable option.

Red- strength. Yellow- speed. Blue- flexibility. Brown- durability. Green- increased eyesight. Orange- increased sense of smell. Purple- increased hearing

-ojii-san means grandpa in Japanese, and no, Lunch Lady wouldn't have actually cut him. She was just trying to intimidate the people to stay in place. In the show, almost all of her "sharp" attacks "happen" to miss. I'd like to believe that's on purpose.

-WacDonalds is a common anime trope where the creators want to avoid copyright infringement for McDonald's xD

-I actually had pizza in Japan, and I remember the cheese tasting very processed. When asked why, I was told it was because Japan doesn't have many cows.

-The four-armed man was making takoyaki

-Bikes are a very common mode of transportation in Japan.

-Lunch Lady has clairvoyance in cannon. Her first ever line proved it. *comes out of ghost zone* "Oh, somebody changed the menu." Her finding Lunch Rush was like playing a game of "hot-cold".

-fire core ghosts create a "warm spot" rather than a "cold spot".

-Yes, Lunch Lady took a shinkansen (bullet train). XD The air pressure really does change. It's like standing next to a roller coaster coming out of a tunnel

-Shizuoka is the prefecture that Mustafu Japan is in, but they never say where Detnerat is. So I just chose a prefecture nearby that was halfway between Tokyo and Shizuoka, making it a suburb of Tokyo, basically.

-Hound Dog could neither smell nor see Lunch Lady (because when a ghost's atoms are in the astral plane they leave no scent or heat on earth and he couldn't see her because she was invisible. Only specialized ghost hunting equipment could have detected her), so it was an extra big freak out for him when he all of a sudden had the alarm go off, far into campus. That's what the howl was about. On a side note, if he had been near her when she passed by, he probably would have felt something off, much like Nezu.

-anybody else wonder how the heck the cafeteria could be anything but a greenhouse with that many windows?

-the horned girl is Pony Tsunotori

-The main two heroes Lunch Lady is fighting are Aizawa and Vlad King. Yes, I had Lunch Lady turn Vlad's blood into blood sausages. I'm a terrible person. XD

-Pony can detach her horns. So when she was only being held by the horn, and started to protest, the faculty motioned for her to stop speaking before creating a distraction so she could get away.

-Aoyama was the beam of light that hit LL's hand, Tsuyu was the one to pull Aizawa to safety, and Bakugo was the one to try and hit LL.

-Aizawa gets the hand wrap from Momo while behind the ice wall. I initially was gonna have it be Sero's tape, but then I was like, Momo could actually make exactly what he needed.

-The students got told by Aizawa to leave and let the pros handle it, because they didn't want anymore kidnappings. And after all 1A's been through, esp. with Bakugo's kidnapping, you can imagine how they felt about that. They were going to ignore Aizawa, but then Iida reminded them about what happened in Hosu, what taking things into his own hands caused. And that if they buck the demands again they'd be expelled.

-the reason it feels like Vlad doesn't engage again for so long is that the time is a little warped. The whole fight probably only took like 8 minutes. Unfortunately, when there are so many characters and things happening, it takes longer to read about than it does to occur. Lol. When he got occupied by the sausage links, he was fighting them for maybe 4 minutes (Lunch Lady food minions have regeneration, so he had to figure out how to subdue them without destroying them- I imagine he tied them around a table or something- or perhaps Awase used weld to meld them with the floor).

-The reason campus security didn't join the situation as well is that Aizawa noticed that Lunch Lady is mentally unstable (even though he can't understand most of what she said), and fights harder when angered. He informed campus security to set up a perimeter around the building, hoping to get the students out before they tried to subdue her (he actually had the walkie-talkie the whole time as he was on security detail for the lunch shift, Lunch Lady is just a hyper-focused individual and didn't notice it till later). At least until the heroes he needed for a budding plan could arrive from different parts of campus- Namely Nemuri (Midnight) and Present Mic. If Aizawa was more receptive to using the students, and wasn't so worried about them being kidnapped (Lunch Lady trying to catch the students not helping his assumptions) he probably would have been more open to using Kaminari's electricity or Todoroki's ice/flames. Kyouka would have been a good choice but she needs support gear to use sound waves, which she didn't have at lunch.

Chapter Text

The audio for this chapter can be found at
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XlT941lbYMk

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

"This sentence is in English, but shhh." This is for when the scene is from a Japanese character's POV and they don't understand English, or, if they understand some words, those are not underlined.

"Tea wa dokodesu ka?" [Where is the tea?] For scenes from an English character's POV that does not understand Japanese except for any words shown in bold, which may be none. The bracketed translation is for the audience.

"Dialogue in Japanese that is getting translated in real-time." If all words are in bold, and the scene is from an English character's POV, the character can understand everything that is being spoken in Japanese. Or if the scene is from a Japanese character's POV, and they are speaking in Japanese, they can obviously understand the Japanese they are speaking, even if an English character can't.

If a scene is being translated the entire time, and there are no language issues anywhere in an entire scene because of a translation device, the scene will just be written as normal. But you know who speaks what. I believe in you.

-All Drunk Danny™ Bonus Scenes-

Wednesday, September 12th

2:56 pm

The room cheered as Danny swallowed and instantly broke into coughs. "It buuurns us!" The young man screeched, voice different than normal as he clutched at his throat.

Instant concern shot through Haru and she started to stand.

No one else seemed bothered, though; and a second later, Danny straightened and winked.

That whiskey must have been really high proof; Haru could practically see the clarity leave Danny's eyes.

"Wait for me, Dann-o!" his dad called, instantly chugging a portion of the tequila bottle rather than pour himself a shot. Oh, wait. He'd never gotten himself a glass. That had probably been his plan all along.

Danny drew the second package from Kamada's present out and had it open in a heartbeat, his earlier reservation completely gone.

"Another thermos! Thanks!" Her host squinted suspiciously at the container, turning it in his hands. "Where—Where's the 'F'?"

"You dropped it, Danny." Sam barely managed to keep a straight face, elbowing Tucker when the boy tried to give a different response. The technogeek nearly turned purple trying to hold himself together. "Maybe it fell on the floor."

Danny immediately started searching, eyes passing over the white tile with intense focus. A second later, he fixed Haru with a panicked look. "I can't find it!"

The Shiketsu student turned confused eyes toward Jazz and the slightly flushed redhead took pity. "The FentonWorks logo is an 'F'. He thinks you got him ghost fighting equipment."

Ohhhh. "No, Danny-san. This is a thermos—a real one." At the raven male's blank look, she explained, "It was supposed to be a joke, like a Phantom-themed drinking set. The shot glass is for night and the thermos is for the hangover in the morning. You can put tea or miso—" catching herself, she revised, "—coffee or chicken noodle soup in it. I got it from a gift shop."

She expected him to laugh, but the birthday boy broke into tears. "You—you—that's so shweet. Keepnnn' safe after the drunking." Danny sent accusatory stares at his sister and friends. "At least sum people ker'bout me."

Wow. Consumption to slurring in two minutes, fourteen seconds and twenty-three milliseconds. That Fire Snake stuff was insane. Unfortunately, that meant the Gabber app couldn't really translate some words, and neither could she.

Oh well. That's what context clues were for….right?

Jack sat himself on the floor next to Danny's chair, upper torso so large his shoulders nearly lined up with the younger Fenton's despite the height difference. Wrapping an arm around Danny, he proclaimed "I love you, Son! I care about you bunches!"

The hulking man then proceeded to land a big kiss on Danny's forehead. "Now open the rest of your presents!"

Pressing harder into the side hug—to which Jack just melted—Danny held out his hands. "Gimme-gimme!"

"Hold your horses, Bucko. I gotta go grab them," Sam called as she walked out of the kitchen. A moment later the goth returned, purple-spider backpack in hand.

Tucker snatched it from her, ignoring both a sharp "Hey! Don't you dare!" and a swift combat-boot kick to the butt.

Staggering toward the father-son pair, the African American pulled out a thin, flat box and shoved it into Danny's hands before Sam could grab it back.

"You gottme a smoothie?"

Okay, so maybe context clues wouldn't help Haru. She was so confused.

At least until Tucker responded, "Even better than a movie!" and tapped the present in Danny's hands. The man tore it open without needing to be asked again, doofy grin on his face that quickly dropped into puzzlement.

"Tuck. Buddy." Danny leaned forward, just barely reaching his friend's shoulder with outstretched fingers. "I love it. But—But I—I don't own a PSPpspspspsps," Danny ended with a cat-summoning sound that devolved into a giggle.

"Jeeze, Tuck," Sam growled. "It's a good thing Danny's totally zonked or you would have ruined the surprise."

Sam yanked the bag out of Tucker's hands and pulled another present from it.

"I don't like s'prises," Danny grumped, already distracted. "Skulker's a buttmunch."

Kamada was pretty sure that last sentence was just utter nonsense, unable to make heads or tails of it as her phone spat out, "There's a little too much skull hair," In Japanese.

Maddie laughed, apparently hearing and understanding the translation.

"Here Danny, this one's from everyone except Tucker."

"HEY!"

The goth stuck out her tongue.

Brow still furrowed, the black-haired boy opened the parcel. "YOU GUYZ GOT ME A PSP!" Danny stared at his lap reverently, then gaped up at Tucker in awe. "You knew. 'For I even opened it."

A second later he glared. "You did'n tell me you were sickic! I told you I wazz—mphump!" Tucker clapped a hand over his friend's mouth.

"Not here, Danny!" The technogeek yelped, then turned to Toru and Haru meekly. "He was about to say something really embarrassing."

Kamada saw Hagakure's gloves tap on the table next to her, a pose the Shiketsu girl was coming to recognize as the invisible teen's "thinking" tell.

"C'mon, Danny, you's got more presidents!" This time it was Jack who was slurring, the tequila finally catching up with him as he ruffled his son's hair and took another swig of the bottle.

Danny, without any indication that he'd noticed his dad's politician mix up, just held out his hands again.

And was perfectly happy when a cup—plastic, not glass—of water landed itself in his grasp instead of another gift. "Thanksh, Mom."

His father was not so happy about the development, his own booze having been substituted with water as well. Seeing his sour face, Maddie ultimatumed, "Either you drink that now and get your bottle back in a half hour or you're cut off for the night."

Hagakure laughed and Haru indulged a shy smile when Jack tipped it back, guzzling it in an instant.

As Danny sipped at his drink, Sam grabbed into the backpack one final time and set another present in front of him.

"This one's from me," she informed, watching as he set his cup on the table and attempted to pull ribbons off the bat-print gift bag.

The seconds ticked on, Danny continuing to struggle.

"Would you like some help?" the goth inquired.

"No! I jus' need sckizzers!"

Sam took one look at Danny's fumbling fingers and pulled the bag away. Sliding the ribbons up to the top of the handles, she handed it back.

"Witchcraft!" the birthday boy exclaimed before working a small, black object around the twine.

"Well, you're not wrong," Sam commented wryly.

The book nearly fell apart when it came free, spine trying its hardest to hold yellowed parchment together. At its center was a stamped pentagram, no other marks adorning the leather except the brown, time-worn edges.

Danny stared at Sam, tearing up. "Why do you hate me?"

Heavily-shadowed eyelids blinked in response. "I'll probably regret asking this, but…why do you think I hate you exactly?"

"You gotme geometry! I hate math!"

Sam snorted. Kamada could tell she hadn't been expecting that answer. "You know Mr. F., when you invited us over to watch Danny get drunk tonight, you failed to mention how plastered he'd be. I wasn't expecting to have to explain every gift."

"So iss not a geometree book?"

"No Danny, It's not a geometry book," Sam affirmed with amused patience. "It's a herbology grimoire. It took me months to track down and even longer to make sure it was legit. But I finally found what I was looking for."

"You were lookin' for shomethin'?"

"Here, give it to me; I'll show you. I'd hate for you to wreck it just because your fine motor skills are screwed right now." Sam gingerly accepted the tome and flipped to a sticky-note entry.

"This, right here."

A sketch dominated most of the page, a vine that could have been an evergreen honeysuckle showing falsehood by way of a twisting, calla lily-esque head. Beneath the faded red petals was the inscription "Often sought, seldom found," in flowing, embellished script.

"The Selas flower. It's incredibly rare, even by Ghost Zone standards. It only blooms in stray sunbeams deep in old growth forests. Nearly impossible to cultivate. So naturally, I managed to get three clippings rooted in my greenhouse with a little help from Undergrowth."

"...You got me flauers for my birfthday? I—I've never gotten flour-sh before!" Danny grabbed his father's arm where it draped over the back of his chair and squeezed in excitement. Then he shriveled. "Well, unless you count Blud Bloss'ms…"

"Funny you should mention that. Because the Selas flower is the only known Blood Blossom—" Sam cast a covert glance Toru and Haru's way, "—allergy cure. Witches used to inoculate their spirit-based familiars with a cream derived from the petals."

"You founda cyur for Blood Blossom sickness!? Tha's waay better than Tuck'rs gift. SAM! You're so shmart! You should….you should be'a doct'r!"

With a giant smirk in the technogeek's forlorn direction, Sam responded, "I'll get right on that, Danny."

"Okay, Sweetie, me next," Maddie jumped in, handing over a tiny, lime-green-and-silver box.

"A rubiks cube…" Danny's guess made his mom glance at her husband, violet eyes narrow and heated.

"We really should have opened your present last, Jack."

"But we're all havin' fun, Mads! Doeshn't that count f'r somethin'?!" Jack begged through glistening, crocodile tears. The woman sighed and clicked a button on the side of the mechanical box rather than reply.

At the tch-ick-it, Danny flinched, causing Maddie's brow to furrow and lips to turn down.

What a weird reaction.

Kamada didn't have time to give it more thought as a fancy wrist watch lifted out of the center of the device, demanding her attention.

The sleek, bronze casing gleamed with fresh polish, highlighted further by its charcoal grey band and the white velvet lining of the jewelry box.

The strange thing about it, though, was that there was no glass. No analogue clock, or digital display. Nothing to allude to the gadget's true purpose. Only the signature "F" of a FentonWorks device.

"You made m' something?" Danny perked up, the split second of fear dissipating like smoke in a breeze.

With what looked like effort, Maddie schooled herself into a cheerful response, "Yep! It's—"

"MADDIE!? You made somethin' without tell-n me?" Jack looked absolutely crushed, grabbing his son and pulling him in close. "I thought we had somethin—What happin' to a united mrrage."

"Jack, Sweetie. You know you're a blabbermouth about our inventions. I wanted it to be a surprise," Maddie admonished gently.

Jack just pouted harder.

Danny pulled the invention in front of his face, ignoring his parents. Moving it around like it wouldn't stay still in his vision, the ravenet wondered aloud, "What do you do?"

"It's a wireless resource assistant and integrated time handler—or WRAITH for short." Maddie beamed. "It runs entirely on ecto-energy and connects directly to the Fenton Database both here and in the Ghost Zone. It can also pair with your phone through Bluetooth!"

"Wow, Mrs. F. That's pretty sweet!" Tucker came flying around the table, handing the video camera off to Sam as he passed. Settling on his knees in front of Danny, he reached toward the device, hands twitching.

Rather than give up the new tech as per normal, Danny frowned, holding the watch out of reach.

The best friend lunged, trying to tug the tiny computer out of Danny's grasp.

"C'mon Danny—" huff, "—just for a second. I'll give it back!"

Kamada could have sworn her host's eyes got more…blue? vibrant? somehow, and the technogeek stalled, giving up suspiciously fast at Danny's childlike, "No!"

Louder than strictly necessary, Maddie exclaimed, "Danny, look. You haven't even seen the best part!" With lightning fast reflexes, the woman dipped her hand around her son's defensive arms and tapped the device. A second later, a beam of light shot out and lit the air with a three-dimensional display. "As long as you don't block the sensor, the interface is entirely holographic! And—" Another tap, this time on some kind of menu that hung above the WRAITH. "—Tada!"

A host of islands and doors popped out, disregarding logic and any kind of perspective relative to each other. Above them floated the words "Sector 3". Kamada wasn't really sure what she was looking at, but Danny seemed to know if his gasp was anything to go by.

"A port—porta—a 3D map of the Zone!? MOM! This—This's—" Danny cut off, seeming unable to articulate his joy.

"Yep. I worked my butt off. But it was worth it. I want my baby boy to have the best."

Danny didn't seem to know what to do, still floundering for words. Finally some light went on in the boy's eyes and he grabbed his half-finished cup of water off the table, offering it to his mother. "Backwashhh?"

"Aww, Danny." Maddie lifted a hand to her chest.

Kamada knew she'd missed something that time, but couldn't even begin to guess what it was.

"Oh, me next! I think you're gonna really like mine," Hagakure called, picking up a small squishy-looking present from the table in front of her and tossing it toward Danny.

Who promptly swatted it out of the air like a mosquito. Jack threw back his head and guffawed next to the boy before picking the gift off the ground and handing it off.

Danny blinked and took the package, ripping it open and holding up a t-shirt for the room to see. Across its front was the solar system, the words "Back in my day, we had nine planets," written beneath it.

Haru had seen it yesterday when Hagakure had shown it to her, but she had thought it kind of an odd gift at the time. It seemed the UA student knew more about Danny, though, because a downright goofy grin burst to life on their host's visage.

"Okay, Danny, last one," Jazz called, pulling a suitcase-like package out from behind the wall to the living room. The wrapping didn't go all the way to the floor, exposed wheels allowing her to drag it in front of him with little effort. The redhead stepped back, gesturing grandly.

Kamada noticed movement at the corner of her eye and caught Maddie ready to take a picture, only to hear Danny squeal, and zipped her eyes back.

"A KaraoKing! Jazz, yer the besht!" Danny shoved his father's arm off (who deflated at the abandonment), pushed the machine to the side and lunged at his sister. The male flew —there was really no other way to describe the movement—at the redhead, the lighter female barely bracing in time to catch him. As it was, the taller boy shifted to her back and folded around her like some weird, meaty poncho, chin propping on her head.

"Thanx. This act-ack—This's turning out t'be really good birffday."

"Don't thank her yet, Dude," Tucker chipped in. "You're gonna feel different when you're sober."

"If you say so much as one more word, Tucker, I can and will sic Cujo on you." Jazz frowned at the boy, cheeks redder than basic tipsiness would account for, and he quailed. "Danny loves karaoke. He's always loved it. He just doesn't let anyone know because you make fun of it. Why do you think I gave it to him this birthday? So he wouldn't be afraid to get excited."

"WAIT!" Danny stiffened.

Tucker flinched at Jazz's resulting glare.

The room went silent, waiting to hear why the birthday boy was in such a state of shock.

After a moment, the gears stuck in Danny's mind began to turn again, and he blurted, "ISSTILL EARLY!" Forcing his sister to move in time with his excited rocking, he exclaimed, "Jazz! Do you know wha'this means?!"

Danny's face positively glowed. "Th'rrs time today!"

"Time for what, Danny?" Jazz asked, amused.

"TO SING!"

4:29 pm

"Less'playa game!" Danny announced to the room. "This's a birthday p'rty. Therr should b gamez."

"Sure, Danny, what did you want to play?" Jazz asked, humoring her little brother. She half expected him to say Doomed, or maybe Monopoly, though she doubted his brain was capable of doing either of those things.

His face screwed up, like he was thinking extra hard. Twenty seconds passed before he finally came to what seemed to be a weighty decision. "Quit-itch."

Unsure she'd decoded right, Jazz questioned, "You want to play…Quidditch?"

"Yeah!"

"That's not a real game, Sweetie." Maddie spoke up beside Jazz, ever the voice of reason. "It's from a fantasy book."

"But—but…How do'ya know iznot real? 'M friends with'a dragon and godz and 'm practically a wizard!"

"Mom's right, Danny; Quidditch isn't real. But even if it was, it's not really a game we could all play," Jazz stated, making sure her voice came across amused rather than panicked as she risked a glance at Kamada.

When she looked back toward her supernatural brother, the ravenet's eyes were narrowed.

"You Weasleys are all the same."

6:12 pm

I see a Technicolor shadow

Underneath your window

Just in case you don't know

I can see it

You cast an unfamiliar day glow

Different than what I know

Shining like a halo

I can feel it

The lyrics had an echo and volume the living room couldn't account for, the lively melody dipping about the space with haunting acoustics.

Even drunk, Danny had hit every. Single. Note.

Perfectly.

"Wow, I had no idea Danny had pipes," Tucker admitted, rubbing his scalp through a multicolored beret.

"You have nobody to blame but yourself for that," Jazz remarked, voice clipped and just barely audible amidst the singing.

Tucker's eyes flicked toward the redhead but quickly averted, shoulders tensing slightly as he picked at a cracked portion of the vinyl beneath his leg. Shortly after, the younger adult pinkened, clearly uncomfortable that Jack, Maddie and Kamada's presence on the other side of the couch forced Jazz to sit so close.

"Encore!" Sam called from the carpet as the song faded out, the living room's floor recess acting as a sort of quasi-bench for both her and the sheep-patterned pajamas next to her.

"Sing 'Kryptonite' next!" the invisible accomplice chimed in, egging the half ghost on.

"I love that song!" Danny lit up like a mega-watt light bulb, not once questioning how a Japanese exchange student from a different dimension knew the name of an American rock song from the early 2000's. Instead he just tapped a finger against his pants and started bobbing his head in time with the iconic opening riff.

Hagakure enthusiastically cheered for the birthday boy, proving to be an over-the-top fan.

Sam sent a sly, almost-vicious smile Tucker's way, pinning the naysayer in place as if she'd heard Jazz's reproach.

Those amethyst eyes conveyed a clear message: I knew to request this song, so why didn't you, oh Best Friend?

The technogeek flinched, ducking further into a blue, sleeveless hoodie.

7:58 pm

"I'm jus-jussayin. Danny hassn' slurred in leik…ever. He ne'ds nother shot. I'm leavin him dust," Jack garbled from his jellified position on the couch.

"It's true, Mom; Danny hasn't slurred in like,—" Jazz checked her watch, "—two hours. It probably wouldn't hurt to give him another one at this point."

"I guess he did finish that second glass of water I gave him…" Maddie trailed off with a sigh. "Fine. He can have another."

"Sweet!" Tucker nearly pranced over to high-fived Jack, only to yelp and draw back when the collision smacked loudly. "Holy crap, Mr. Fenton. Are you trying to take my hand off?!"

The big man looked down at the hand he had just used and apologized, "Srry, Tuckr. My 'rms not movin' right."

Haru covertly leaned toward Toru at the exchange, "I wonder if he's normally that strong and just holds himself in check."

"Wouldn't surprise me," the UA girl whispered back.

"Down the hatch!" Danny called, tipping back another dose of poison.

The ghost boy's pupils dilated right as a grey figure floated in through the house's front wall.

Hagakure immediately lunged off the chair she'd been sitting on and into a ready stance, nearly tipping the 60's vinyl monstrosity onto its back. The only thing that kept it from toppling was that it hit the wall before it could.

On the floor, Haru froze, petrified.

"Hey, Guys, how's it swinging?" the new male greeted, leather jacket crinkling as he held a hand in front of Danny's face and waved it back and forth. He didn't seem to either notice the girl's reactions, or care.

"You're just in time, Johnny! Danny just had his second shot," Sam enthused, gesturing toward her friend with the video camera. 

Toru slowly sunk out of her pose, apparently sensing the geniality of the atmosphere.

"What do you mean, second shot?" Johnny's eyes went wide and he leaned closer to the drunken boy. Before anyone could stop him, he reached a hand up and tilted the twenty-one year old's head back and forth.

It was like the halfa lost his skeleton, falling limp to the floor.

"Whoa," Danny breathed. "How…m've fast."

"Shit," the biker cursed, then turned to Jack's prone form. "I told you to take quarter-shots, Old Man! Having two Fire Snake shots is like having eight human ones and a strong edible at the same time." Johnny gestured to Danny, who started to roll on the floor with a massive, dopey grin.

"The gr'nd fur so soooooft."

"That shit ignores tolerance entirely!"

Jack frantically shhhed, hands waving in front of his face so fast it unbalanced the intoxicated man and he tumbled off the couch.

"JACK FENTON! YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS!?" Maddie screeched, uncharacteristically livid. "THAT'S IT! YOU'RE BOTH CUT OFF!"

"But Madzzz," Jack whined, "I c'ldn't tell. Wood've sp'il all the fun."

Maddie turned to the Fenton's ghostly visitor. "Is he going to be okay?"

"I—uh, when did he have the first one?"

"Five hours, seven minutes and thirty-four seconds ago," Kamada's trembling voice spoke up, posture showing how much effort it had cost her to utter the words.

"Wow—" Johnny glanced at Sam and Tucker "—That was oddly specific."

"Johnny," Jazz's tone was firm, brokering no nonsense.

"Right. Sorry. It sounds like he'll be fine, but he's in for one hell of a trip," the strawberry blonde assured.

"YOU—YOU!" Maddie twirled away from her son to face her husband. "WHAT IF DANNY HAD BEEN HURT, JACK?! THERE'S SUCH A THING AS ALCOHOL POISONING!"

The woman looked like she wanted to say more, but balled her fists and bit her tongue so hard it bled rather than continue. Stalking past Johnny, who faded out of sight on instinct, the black belt approached the orange man. Sinking low over Jack's shivering body with all the promised violence of a funnel cloud, Maddie's voice went cold, "You're going to bed right now—which currently resides in the shed—and doing Danny's chores for a year. Do you understand me?"

"Maddie, I—" Jack's voice was clearer than it had been in hours, adrenaline flushing the man's brain.

"Do. You. Understand. Me?"

"Yes, Sweetheart."

8:16 pm

"Danny?" Johnny 13 prodded; "You've been starin' at that quiet girl's gift for like three minutes straight. You good?"

"It's so lifelike."

The greasy ginger glanced down at the adhesive-vinyl "wires" running the length of the souvenir thermos. His lips twitched.

"What if—" the younger male paused, face pinched in worry. "What if I mix'm up?"

"I—" Johnny bit back a teasing remark. "I—ah—don't think that's gonna be a problem, Dude."

10:38 pm

Danny sat on the edge of his sleeper pod, the capsule's lid thrown fully open. Next to him, the brown dresser that had once held a clock played host to an entire family of little white feline figurines.

The halfa stared the creatures down, reaching forward to snatch one off the top. He succeeded, but nearly dropped two to the floor in the process.

The dazed man froze in fear, panic wracking him. When none of the pets fell, he exhaled heavily.

Drawing the cat close and stroking its cold, porcelain head, he whispered, "I know Clocky sent you ferr'a reason. Tellme your shreckets."

Thursday, September 13th

11:02 am

"Still think it was a good birthday?" Jazz asked, watching her brother's swaddled form where it lay groaning on the couch.

The raccoon-eyed male lurched up, blankets popping like an overstuffed burrito. Only sparing a second for a weak glare, Danny grabbed a large bowl off the coffee table and promptly vomited.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Another brain cell perhaps?"

A wadded up rag flew across the room, missing Jazz's smirking form by a solid two feet

Chapter Text

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

"This sentence is in English, but shhh." This is for when the scene is from a Japanese character's POV and they don't understand English, or, if they understand some words, those are not underlined.

"Dialogue in Japanese that is getting translated in real-time." If all words are in bold, the English character can understand everything that is being spoken in Japanese.

If a scene is being translated the entire time, and there are no language issues anywhere in an entire scene because of a translation device, the scene will just be written as normal. But you know who speaks what. I believe in you.

Thursday, September 13th

8:42 am

A brunet perched on an office chair, one white-gloved finger lightly tapping a walnut desk in thought. A scruff of faux fur sat across his slender shoulders, the lining of the hunter-green parka tickling his neck and giving the impression of a griffon vulture staring down its next meal. Because, for once, the man's golden eyes did not have the sharpness of a predator, but the keen intrigue of a scavenger.

The computer monitor in front of him was split down the middle, dominated by two largely different graphics. On the left was a paused CCTV recording, the corner timestamped 9/11/83 9:04 am. On the right was some kind of analysis, graphs and numbers interspersing a document.

Reaching over to click his computer mouse, the young head watched as the image unfroze and started to play.

A green woman barreled across a mostly empty cafeteria, heaving her fists at a colorful law enforcer. The lady's bash missed her target, getting batted to the side and redirected to the floor. Her opponent's knee, however, did not miss. It jerked up as she fell and, with a sickening crunch, a viscous liquid splattered the linoleum.

Behind the battle, several civilians fled the room, ushered out by an armored figure.

The woman raised her arms and the local KFC started to rumble, spewing half-frozen chicken toward the fight.

A breeze kicked up, and a single, discarded napkin fluttered across the floor as if caught in the peripheral wind of the meat-nado. It tumbled through the jelly-like substance that coated the ground before sticking in place. Then, (with slightly more force than should have been possible) dislodged itself and danced away, a toxic green staining its surface.

Chisaki's smile rose unbidden, hidden behind a plain-black hospital mask.

Mimic always did do great work.

Thursday, September 13th

11:14 am

Try as she might, Lunch Lady couldn't stop thinking about yesterday. The encounter had left her a swirling, churning mess of emotions. She had lost! Tricked by that underhanded sack of rat droppings into an ambush. And that wasn't even the worst of it; he was starving his children.

There was that hoofed girl, the explosion brat, the two teens that had caught him….and who knows how many other students she'd missed during the battle.

Lunch Rush was an insult to the profession. She wouldn't put it past his cutting boards to carry salmonella.

She had to fix this.

Thursday, September 13th

11:14 am

Staring out the window of a bullet train, Aizawa watched the scenery pass without really seeing it. Brow perpetually furrowed and tired eyes burning, he attempted to use the glass as a pillow. Its soothing chill failed to lull him into anything more than a light doze, his thoughts vociferous as a crow at dawn, screaming down from high branches at a campsite.

Yesterday, at yet another faculty meeting, Nezu had informed Shota (in no uncertain terms and despite much protest) that the scraggy man had to keep his appointment at Detnerat today. The principal insisted the school couldn't take any more blows to its image. Stopping the attack yesterday had been a step in the right direction; but UA was a big-name school for a reason.

Putting its staff on loan for the good of the community was a part of its prestige.

The rodent was adamant, claiming that UA couldn't afford to be seen hoarding teachers on campus or copping out of a commitment made before the attacks started.

Aizawa disagreed. If anything, he was sure the public would take it as a sign that they weren't taking things seriously. Sending off a faculty member that consistently proved he would do everything in his power to protect the students seemed downright stupid.

But as much as the command rankled, he couldn't really fight it. His employment contract was explicit. All teachers had to give at least seventy-two hour notice to cancel or reschedule PR appointments.

Still.

It didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

Especially after what happened this morning.

He'd had to inform 1A that he'd be leaving shortly after homeroom and that Ectoplasm-sensei would be filling in for the rest of the day. Midoriya and Ojiro's expressions both shifted, sending Aizawa's heart into freefall. They didn't trade glances or anything. Hell, their faces hardly moved, but Shota knew something was up. He could almost taste it.

Any time one of his Problem Students™ was involved in anything, all you had to do was rearrange and cut a few letters before it spelled trouble.

Here's hoping he'd be there when shit hit the fan.

Thursday, September 13th

12:25 pm

Invisible and intangible, Lunch Lady floated twenty feet above a familiar, tan wall. Looking at the giant H-shaped building beyond, she mentally ran through a plan.

She had a mission. An important one.

It was somewhat harsh and involved a power she'd normally never use; but that evil bus-boy had it coming.

She couldn't whisk the students away from the school. The ghost wasn't strong enough to fend off all the strangely powerful humans and force feed a ton of kids. So, for once, she was going to play things smart.

If she got Lunch Rush fired, then someone else would have to take his place.

An unrelated morsel of guilt unfurled in her midsection, momentarily overcoming the rage and anxiety.

She just had to make a quick stop first.

Thursday, September 13th

12:32 pm

The room was rather plain, the remnants of a trigonometry equation left half-solved on the electronic board at its front. Class 1A shuffled in and out of their seats in preparation for a now in-room lunch period.

In the corner squeezed a table, UA's second-year math teacher tucked neatly into its side. The imposing blue man dwarfed the furniture, yet withdrew only a small box from one of its drawers. Picking through the meal with all the care of an eighteenth century doweress, the man covered his mouth to suppress a small hiccup. Light mist puffing between his fingers, he reached toward a little rice cat with Ladybug chopsticks.

Frowning at the pro hero's daintiness, Katsuki Bakugo snapped closed one of the kelly-green cubbies lining the side of the room and returned to his desk. Aggressively scooting his chair back and dropping down into it, the explosive male glared down at his own bento as it clanked hard against the tabletop.

It was too bad the seat had wheels, the screech of metal legs across a hard floor was therapeutic in a way he couldn't describe.

Bakugo pulled at a slip knot, the fabric surrounding his meal dropping away with little effort. It wasn't long before a clatter sounded next to him and his best friend—not that he'd ever tell the redhead that—sat nearby.

"Oi, Bakugo. Do you think you could help me with homework tonight?" Kirishima asked, hands up and pressed together in a begging pose, one eye peeking up in embarrassment. "I didn't really get how to find the volume of a sphere."

"Jeeze, Shitty-hair, you're helpless." Secretly, Katsuki was pleased. It'd let him spend time with his friend and give him a chance to show off. He needed something to keep his mind off everything. Last night had been…bad.

"You'd be failing math by now if it wasn't for me. All you gotta do is plug some numbers into the equation and it spits out an answer. What are you gonna do when we get to algebra, huh?" he antagonized.

"I knoooow," the other hero-in-training whined. "But at least I shouldn't need to know too much of this stuff when we graduate, right?" Kirishima added hopefully.

"Maybe not for the work you'll be doing." Katsuki jeered, ignoring a yelped "HEY!" "But I'm going to surpass All Might. Battle strategies and rescue operations require quick calculations; I have to be ready for anything." With a cocky grin, he added, "Just let me use you as a training dummy later and I'll help you pass."

Rather than groaning, Kirishima lit up, pounding a fist on the desk. "All right! Thanks, Man!"

Bakugo's smile got just a little more feral and he twisted around to shake on it.

Swinging back toward the front of the room after the testosterone-induced hand clap, Bakugo's instincts suddenly itched. Then a different sense told him something had changed. The air was sweet. Too sweet.

Yanking his desk drawer open and peering inside, Bakugo's expression turned ugly.

Literally and figuratively exploding out of his chair and past several desks, the blonde shoved the room's third-story window open and blasted out into the sky.

Thursday, September 13th

12:32 pm

Katsuki had been too short-fused and hyper-focused on self improvement to hang with Kirishima lately; and it was taking an obvious shotgun to the face on the other boy's mental health. Eijiro needed to have a talk with his friend ASAP, but knew nothing short of ol' reliable was gonna strong-arm the genius into spending time with him after school.

So with minor chagrin, Kirishima pulled the "I'm too stupid to figure this out; help me, Sempai," trick, fully intending to drag the ticking-time-bomb teen from of the churning depths of his own mind.

As smart as Katsuki was, sometimes he could be kind of dumb. He always took the bait.

Only this time, after the hothead had already swallowed the hook, line and sinker, something spooked the boy and he booked it.

Talk about emotional whiplash. Kirishima had been doing so well, too.

Now he watched with widened eyes as Ojiro sprang after Bakugo, darting through the window a split second later.

Seats rolled and nearly toppled across the classroom as his peers started to stand, but Kirishima was already running, catching Uraraka's gaze just as a dense, white fog started to spill from Sensei's mouth.

When both of Uraraka's hands shot out, Kirishima realized he wasn't the only one who'd caught his classmate's eye. A pink hand clapped the zero-gravity girl's outstretched fingers just as Eijiro's did.

Almost in tandem, Kirishima and Ashido launched from the window, jetting toward both the ground and the sound of explosions in the distance.

Thursday, September 13th

12:34 pm

Damn. How could have he missed that?

Granted, Shoto'd been spacing out a little (thinking about a text Fuyumi had sent him earlier); but his classmates were worlds ahead of him in reaction time. They'd made it out the window before Ectoplasm-sensei could shout even a single threat of expulsion.

He had to suppress an overwhelming urge to call "saaaaafffffeee" like he was at a baseball game.

Okay, minor urge.

Fleeting thought…

Whatever.

Maybe one day he'd be more expressive. Outlandish outbursts were more Mina or Kaminari's style.

Crap. He'd spaced out again!

Trading glances with one ultra-stressed-out Midoriya, Shoto forced his eyes back to the ectoplasmic clones that blocked all the exits.

Nobody else would be getting out; but that didn't mean he shouldn't check and see what had set Bakugo off. Crossing the room like he was the eye of a particularly noisy hurricane, Todoroki approached Bakugo's seat.

Midoriya got there two steps before him, quick to open the desk's drawer.

As one, their eyes landed on an artfully decorated cake.

Uhm. Okay?

Todoroki glanced up and spotted a look of horror on Midoriya's face.

Did Bakugo hate sweets or something? But why would Ojiro and Ashido go after him?

Forcing himself to read the English letters frosting the top, the icy-hot boy accidentally dropped the room's temperature.

Sorry I hit so hard, Dearie.

Heal up well,

-Lunch Lady

Oh.

Ohhhh.

Thursday, September 13th

12:36 pm

Mina Ashido wasn't losing another friend. She took care of her friends and Ojiro was in the headspace to do something reckless.

Glancing over at Kirishima as he ran next to her acid slick, the pink girl saw an expression on the boy's face that she knew mirrored her own.

Agitated yelling replaced the firework pops they followed, catching Mina's attention and drawing the girl's gaze forward as she slid into a well-manicured field. Cutting off her corrosive secretions—no reason to get yelled at for burning the grass on top of ditching safety protocols—the pinkette watched as Katsuki dropped from the air, landing directly in Mashirao's path and forcing the younger blonde to sidestep.

Ojiro stumbled, one of his indoor slippers falling off his foot and the other getting absolutely covered in grass stains.

Grabbing Mashirao by the front of the shirt before the tailed teen could find his footing, Bakugo pulled him in close and growled something in his face.

Kirishima and Mina put on a burst of speed, lunging at their respective charges and pulling them apart like rambunctious toddlers.

"Guys, what the heck?! Ectoplasm-sensei's gonna have our heads when we get back!" Mina yelled.

"Shut it, Racoon-eyes! Piss off back to the classroom if you're so worried about getting in trouble!" the fiery teen spit, tossing off Kirishima's arms with a violent shrug.

Ignoring the comment, Mina asked, "Why are we even here? What was that?"

Ojiro glared at Ashido, catching the acidic girl off guard. Mashirao-kun was always sweet.

Ignoring Mina's question, Bakugo huffed, "Help us find the green bitch or leave!", now more focused on scanning the far trees than arguing.

Kirishima automatically parroted, "...green bitch?" before his brain seemed to catch up and his eyes widened, mouth dropping into an "O".

"She's here. The villain that attacked yesterday," Ojiro clarified with grit teeth. "We have to catch her."

Mina felt her stomach sink.

Before she could ask how exactly they planned to do that, a hero on the far side of the field started to approach the group. The woman's costume was streamlined, the main portion of the fabric a dark green, accented with black. On her head was a set of goggles that looked like they belonged in either a spy show or the military.

The adult only got about a third of the way to them when three things happened at once. The security sirens burst to life; the hero's walkie-talkie crackled; and Bakugo shot off in the direction of the cafeteria, Ojiro and Kirishima fast on his heels.

"UGH!" Mina exclaimed, rushing to catch up with the boys as they darted into one of the many wooded pockets that segregated the campus.

Small branches raked across the bubbly mutant's skin and she found herself envious of her friends' quirks. Bakugo's jet propulsion let him skip the trees entirely, Ojiro was in his element, swinging between them like a monkey and Kirishima didn't get so much as a scratch from their foliage.

Bursting through a row of bushes and back into a well-groomed area, Mina heard a rustle. The pinkette dropped into a defensive stance and turned her body toward the sound. Three meters away, the special-ops lady jumped over the tea hedge, clearing it in a single bound and dead-sprinting toward the cafeteria.

Eyes wrenching back toward her friends, Mina was surprised to find the three had almost made it to the building's closest side.

The entrance was around the corner. What were they—?

Katsuki's flight suddenly veered down and to the right, bee-lining toward a broken window.

It made sense, the frame was only taped closed with a single sheet of flimsy plastic.

But what about the other two?

"I got it!" Eijiro yelled a second later.

Mashirao slowed just enough for the redhead to rush past him, rocky body aiming a punch at a lower pane of glass.

The blow never connected.

All the windows in the building exploded as one and Ashido felt a rush of heat bombard her face, even from back here. Panicked, she watched as Kirishima took the brunt of the glass shower for Ojiro, shielding the slightly smaller boy while Bakugo tightly gripped the windowless frame above, jagged pieces flying away from him like translucent shrapnel.

It was a case of sheer, dumb luck that they didn't get impaled.

Mina had only a second of relief before she noticed the spy-like woman lying on the ground, a nasty gash pooling blood around the pro hero's thigh.

And as soon as her brain made sense of that, a cloud of pink creatures poured from the now glass-free building, swarming in and out of the newly made holes like erratic, angry wasps.

Shrimp.

Flying, humming, reanimated shrimp were protecting the cafeteria like a nest.

"I CURSE YOUR FOOD TO TASTE FOREVER OF ASH!"

This was soooo not good.

Thursday, September 13th

12:38 pm

Aizawa walked through the sliding glass doors of a skyscraper, the warm air of the lobby chasing away the lingering chill from outside.

He was just starting toward the front desk when a spritely ginger broke off a conversation with one of the staff and bounded across the room, positively beaming. "Oh, you made it! Just in time, too!"

The guy was roughly Aizawa's age, but "felt" much younger. It was obvious that the kid had never been forced to make a tough decision in his life.

Even under normal circumstances, Aizawa would have found the man's bright hair and matching energy irritating, but today, it was all he could do to bite back an insult. "Yes. Being late is inefficient. As is small talk." The scraggy man gave the other male a pointed look.

"R-right! Please follow me." Rubbing his neck with a slight blush, the bespectacled guy quickly spun on his heel, lab coat billowing slightly as he trekked back the way he'd come. Motioning toward himself with a nitrile-gloved hand, he explained, "You don't have to sign in at the front desk, but we will need to run a few tests to make sure you aren't an imposter. Standard protocol and all that. My name's Hiroki Mori, by the way."

Aizawa frowned. Tests to prove he was legitimate? What a waste of time.

Instead of voicing the thought, the teacher responded, "Shota Aizawa."

"Well, I should hope that's your name, otherwise we'd have a problem." Laughing, the ginger badged them through a door.

Rather than empty into a hallway it let out into a large chamber with a vaguely medical feel. Various platforms populated the floor, each no more than a shaku in height. Most of the decor was white and one of the devices even looked like a doctor's scale.

"If you'd stand here first, please. I'm just going to take a quick energy analysis." Aizawa shuffled onto the indicated spot and the scientist pushed a lime-green button on the adjacent wall. "Then we'll move on to a DNA test, fingerprint scan and of course a boilerplate non-disclosure agreement for your work here today."

Aizawa went through the motions, not even grimacing when Mori-kun accidentally scraped his skin a little harder than necessary to obtain a sample. It wasn't like indicating pain would do anything except make the man apologize, which would just take longer. Exactly what he did not want to happen. He'd already held his tongue about having to go through security for the same reason.

So he sighed, readying his eyedrops when Mori-kun put in his final request, "Now I just need you to cancel my quirk and we're set!"

"Flexing" his eyes like he was going to unfocus them, Aizawa watched as an orange power evaporated like liquid fire off Mori-kun's palm. As the final embers flickered and died, Shota's long hair settled back onto his shoulders and his abused sclera cried out with tears of discomfort.

"Perfect! Now if you'll follow me again, we can head over to the lab. Ono-san, Nishida-san and Shirai-san are already waiting for us."

"They're the volunteers?"

"Oh! Yes, sorry! I've been in contact with everyone for several weeks through email. I keep forgetting that I'm the only one who knows everyone else. I actually forgot to introdu—" Mori paused his walk, catching Aizawa's agitated look out of the corner of his eye. With a not-so-subtle cough, the ginger opened a door and gestured the dour male through. "It's just down this next hall."

"But yeah, they're the volunteers. We specifically chose low-risk quirks to start. If anything gets out of hand, we should be fine." They entered a small decompression chamber, the final door opening with a hiss as Aizawa's ears popped.

A sterile, white room lay before them, looking like it belonged in an insane asylum. The walls were cushioned and everything appeared heavily regulated, judging by the digital display up in the corner. Temperature, oxygen, carbon dioxide, and humidity levels were just some of the stats across its screen.

Only a single person sat cross-legged in the center of the space, the other two volunteers apparently missing.

Aizawa would bet Shirai-san and Nishida-san were in separate areas. It's what he would do. It'd give Detnerat more control over the experiment and minimize the number of people in the line of fire if things went south.

The elderly woman waved, offering Aizawa a kindly smile which emphasized a prominent set of crow's feet. Next to her seated form was approximately five pounds of river rock and a small, pyramid-looking gadget.

"This is Ono-san. Her quirk allows her to change anything she touches with all five fingers into a rabbit."

"In your emails you said we were here to test unstable quirks. How exactly is this one low-risk? If the rabbit comes part-way to life and she loses control, it could die." Aizawa glared at Mori-kun, mind instantly going to Nezu.

Atrocities committed for the "greater good" were unfortunately something an underground hero saw a lot of; and Shota wasn't about to let this slide.

"Oh, no-no-no!" The obaa-san spoke up, "You have it all wrong, Kiddo! I can't create life. All these little rocks will just turn into figurines. Only another animal would turn into a real rabbit." At the dark man's semi-skeptical look, she tacked on, "Even plants get confused and just end up looking like topiary."

Aizawa finally relaxed a hair.

"We aren't here to create more suffering, we're trying to ease it," Mori defended, giving his questioner a sharp look.

It was the first negative emotion Shota'd seen from the scientist.

"Ono-san has had problems controlling her quirk for a long time. She wears finger covers constantly, afraid she might hurt someone." One nitrile glove gestured toward its twin's fingertips, then over at the wizened woman. It was becoming obvious that Mori spoke with his hands more than most.

"Yes, there were other applicants with better suited quirks;" he went on, "but, this may be her only chance to ever use this machine." The ginger crossed his arms and stole a glance sideways, drawing Aizawa's gaze more closely to the grandma's sunken eyes and prolific wrinkles. "Who knows how long it'll be until it's market ready, if it even makes it that far."

Before Aizawa could mention biased trial selection, Ono spoke up, "I was thrilled when I got the call from Hiroki-san." A fragile hand lifted to the light and the woman's bare fingers shook lightly. "I'd love to hold—truly hold—my granddaughters at least once before I die. And if not, I'd like to make the world a better place on my way out."

A tremor.

Shota should have noticed that earlier. Annoyance and exhaustion must have compromised his normally keen eye.

Gaze narrowing, he said nothing, dragging his focus back to the room's other inhabitant.

"See?! This work is very important! We're out to help people just like Ono-san all across the world." Mori cast a glance toward the obaa-san and nodded resolutely. "We've still got a long way to go; but can you imagine? Everyone able to control their quirks? Using them to their fullest and without fear?!" The words ended on an enthusiastic note, the scientist throwing his hands skyward.

A vague unease tickled Aizawa's neck hairs. Mori's eyes seemed a little too bright, the delivery of his words just a tiny bit…off.

"How long have you been working on it? Is it safe?" NDA or not, Shota would report Detnerat to the Industrial Safety and Health Association if things sounded shady.

Mori stiffened slightly at Aizawa's tone, then, with a breath, the tension eased from his back. Ignoring the blunt, implied-accusation, he explained, "I've been working on the schematics for years, but didn't get to build the first prototype until five weeks ago." Stiff inflection giving way to a chuckle, he admitted, "I can't even tell you how many hours of virtual simulations I've logged."

The first prototype was built only five weeks ago?

Seeing his guest darken instead of lighten as expected, Mori winced slightly, but continued, "It took about three weeks and fifteen iterations to get the prototype running. Then we tested the machine's outputs extensively. As far as we know, there shouldn't be any side effects like radiation poisoning. We can't speak to quirk-based ones, however; not without live test subjects."

So only two weeks of analysis from the first working device to human trials? Way too risky. Aizawa's hate of animal testing aside, there was a reason companies started with it. Detnerat couldn't take that route, as most animals didn't have quirks, but they shouldn't be jumping in so fast. Shota opened his mouth, face sour.

"And that's why me and my cohorts were brought in. Us terminal volunteers are ready to get this party started!" Ono's words once again clipped Aizawa's budding protest.

Hn.

Morbid. But highly practical.

"We even made sure to install the amplifier on Sunday because we wanted to run a lot of additional safety checks before today." Mori's pleading look had Aizawa sighing.

Fine.

Good enough. For now.

Eager to get this over with, the shaggy man asked, "So how is this going to work? You just want me to stop Ono-san's quirk if it starts to act up?"

Beaming at the sudden change of tune, Mori answered, "Well, yes and no. The machine is actually powered by my quirk, Volatilis." At this, the ginger bent down next to Ono and rapped a knuckle against the side of the prototype. "It's an energy quirk that likes to alternate between a gas and a liquid."

"We'd use something else, but it seems to be about the only thing the machine will run on, and the fluctuation only affects output strength. We're actually working on creating a synthetic version and trying to stabilize it with—" Catching his errant ramble, Mori finished sheepishly, "You should be able to shut the device off with a look if things get out of hand."

"Let's hope I don't have to." Shota commented, pinning Mori with a stare before dousing the fire of his eyes in artificial tears.

-Cut from beginning of Kirishima POV scene-

Bakugo had been in a downward spiral ever since Hagakure'd been kidnapped. And as his best friend, it fell to Kirishima to do something about it. The hardening hero had already spent most of last year cracking Katsuki's shell, slowly learning what made the other boy's bomb tick and talking the stressed teen through many an internal struggle.

Some of those talks may have been under threat of death; but hey, when your friend could slip into a coma if he was ever too calm, what could you do?

-Cut Detnerat Testing-

"Enough chit-chat, boys; let's start 'er up! My sciatic can only handle sitting in place for so long," Ono called, shifting to the side and readjusting her pelvis.

"Right, sorry Ono-san! Just give us a second to get to the viewing room!" Mori's pace was quick as he trotted away, shoulders hunched and eyes glaring at the floor.

At least the kid cared about his volunteers.

Aizawa followed the flushed male through a thick door, up some steps and around a corner. Cramming into a small room behind the scientist, the hero glanced at Ono-san through a reinforced window before shifting his gaze down. It felt a lot like one of the few times he'd had to ride shotgun in an aircraft cockpit for work. Several monitors, various instrument readouts and a whole slew of buttons surrounded them.

Mori's green eyes flicked back to check if Aizawa was watching (he was) before the male awkwardly double-clicked a file labeled "pieceOfShit. exe".

Knowing his fair share of programmers, Aizawa didn't comment, but did raise a brow, just to watch the kid squirm.

The red-faced ginger leaned over and cleared his throat, holding down a button and speaking into a microphone. Near simultaneously, his voice echoed in the room below, "Okay, I have the recording equipment running and I'm going to start the machine."

Shota slouched, still exhausted, but redirected his focus to Ono as the device hummed to life.

"The first test is only ten seconds. We will have a minimum of one minute breaks between and gradually increase by ten seconds each time." As the explanation finished the machine shut off, the first round already over.

"How are you feeling, Ono-san?" The loudspeaker called.

"Just fine. Nothing seems off to me. No pain."

"Good. And your vitals look great as well!" Mori's voice was back to chipper. "Now this next time, I'd like you to try and use your quirk. See if you can't morph one of the rocks. Then let me know if it seemed easier or harder than you remember. And make sure to let me know if you feel even the slightest discomfort."

"Besides my back?"

A muffled laugh, then, "Yes, besides your back." Turning in his swivel chair, Mori typed something out in a notes document. "Although I'll record your back pain as well. Just to be thorough."

It wasn't long before Ono picked up one of the river rocks and the machine revved to life again.

Aizawa could only just see the smooth stone shiver from his and Mori's vantage point, taking on a frosting-like consistency as it began to move in jolty, creeping waves. By the time the elder put it down, the twenty second round was ending and a tiny, granite rabbit wiped at its face with frozen paws.

"It was hard…" the shaky words trickled out. "And my control slipped a few times."

Mori's lips thinned and he tapped something into the notes document.

"But I did it."

Eyes halfway filled with disbelief, Ono stared up at the viewing room. "It's been ten years since the diagnosis." Tearing up, she added, "Ten years since my last bunny."

Chapter Text

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

"This sentence is in English, but shhh." This is for when the scene is from a Japanese character's POV and they don't understand English, or, if they understand some words, those are not underlined.

"Dialogue in Japanese that is getting translated in real-time." If all words are in bold, the English character can understand everything that is being spoken in Japanese.

Thursday, September 13th

12:39 pm

Heat.

A shatter.

Hummmmm.

Lunch Rush blinked his eyes hard, trying to realign his thoughts as the air raid sirens competed for his attention with the seafood explosion.

The man had been alone in the kitchen, prepping meals to be carted out to the student's individual classrooms when she'd attacked. He knew he was outgunned, if their last encounter was anything to go by, but he could at least stall.

The chef refocused on the woman, finally shaking off the effects of over-stimulus. Lithely dodging yet another fist made of meat, Lunch Rush activated his quirk to slow his surroundings.

This should be easy compared to preparing thousands of meals in a drought, right? A light spar in thirty-eight degrees? That was nothing.

The villain lifted her arms skyward. A cloud of black, dense smoke billowed up toward the now non-existent skylight as the room rose another seven degrees and the older female's hair caught fire.

No wait. It was fire.

Blue licks of flame shot from the Nomu's scalp as if someone turned up the dial on a kitchen torch, the air shimmering around the unwavering blaze.

That didn't look good.

Securing his metal mask more tightly to his face as the smoke reached him, Lunch Rush snapped open the front of his double-breasted jacket. Several insanely-sharp knives withdrew, positioned between his knuckles like kunai.

UA's head cook sent them flying toward his opponent but it was no more effective than dumping oil on coals. A wall of shrimp rose up, taking the staccato of impacts like toothpicks in a foam ceiling.

Then the woman's scarlet eyes darkened until they were swallowed in ebony, matching the caustic vapor filling the room.

"I CURSE YOUR FOOD TO TASTE FOREVER OF ASH!"

The raucous bellow shook the furniture, setting metal legs and ceramic pots to rattling. Then the smoke started to thin, the sharp, chemical scent of burning plastic dulling considerably.

Relieved that his air filter was finally keeping up enough to cut the smell, Lunch Rush readied himself for the next attack, pulling a pepper shaker filled with mace out from under his hat.

It was only then that his mouth went dry, heating considerably until it abruptly tasted like he'd licked a briquette.

Thursday, September 13th

12:40 pm

Bakugo pushed from the window frame he'd so desperately been hanging on to, launching himself into the hazy cafeteria.

The temperature immediately rose and Katsuki could practically feel his pores open up.

Oh, fuck yeah!

Behind him, Racoon Eyes flocked to the G.I. Jane-kabob while Kirishima and Tail jumped toward a lower window, following Katsuki in.

Lunch Rush was at the farthest corner of the room, hurling something that the villain—Lunch Lady apparently—smacked at. The small object shattered on impact, shooting an orange powder into the air as Lunch Rush jumped back.

The villain started coughing, before the dust around her abruptly caught fire, wreathing the woman in embery will-o-wisps.

Shit. Pyrokinesis.

Bakugo zoomed toward the fight and the Nomu turned at the pops.

Diving forward, Lunch Rush pulled a ladle from…where the hell had that come from?

Katsuki didn't have much time to wonder as the green attacker smirked, holding her hands up like a heavyweight boxer.

"Glad to see you're doing well, Little Firecracker. I was worried. You were by far the most fun to play with."

Bakugo didn't get it. If she really was the one who kidnapped Hagakure, why did her tone bleed equal parts genuine concern and excitement?

"What the fuck is your deal, you psychopath?!" Bakugo shrieked back, words only slightly accented.

Did she think this was a game?

Did she even know she was the villain!?

"Deal? No deal, Dearie. I like your fire! I'd hate to see it extinguished."

An image of Empty Clothes being force-fed at some abandoned factory flashed into Katsuki's mind.

"If you're so worried about me, then why the fuck did you take my classmate?!" the blonde screamed, meeting the woman's incoming jab by blasting himself down and to the left. Lunch Lady's eyebrows drew down in confusion, souring Katsuki's stomach as his right hand rose up under her outstretched fist. Letting loose an armpit-aimed explosion, he watched as a white, soot-stained sleeve swung in from the left.

Both Lunch Rush's ladle and Bakugo's fiery hit missed, the two attacks phasing through their opponent's body and passing each other in a missed, psuedo-high-five.

Jetting to the side when the Nomu's arm lifted, Bakugo was surprised to find that the telekinetic attack wasn't aimed at him.

The first to be hit was Lunch Rush. The man's arms were walled tight over his face, taking the brunt of a shrimp bombardment. Aquatic insects split around his slight body like a rock in a stream, overwhelming the traction of non-slip-sneakers and sending the chef skidding back toward Ojiro.

"Don't you know it's bad manners to interrupt a conversation?" Lunch Lady admonished.

Bakugo evaded a punch, ducking it and sweeping his leg around for a kick while two clouds of shrimp tried to slam Tail. The martial artist just barely dodged in time, luck running out when a carton flew in from above and exploded midair. Milk splashed across his face, creating an opening, and the swarms went in for a body-slam.

Kirishima had even worse luck, still stuck only a couple meters into the building as he swatted at the never-ending crustaceans.

Apparently satisfied with her work, Lunch Lady feinted, using Bakugo's dodge to flee toward the opposite wall's windows. Suddenly looking more solid, but not turning around, she called, "To answer your question, Dearie, I haven't taken anyone. I was just here to—"

Roughly fifteen shrimp thudded into the Nomu's retreating back with enough force to lurch the woman's flight forward.

"Control your tempura, please! There are children present!" Lunch Rush shouted, chest puffed out as he twirled a fry pan next to Ojiro.

When the Nomu turned back, it was in righteous fury.

"GODDAMIT, EGGS DUMB-EDICT! I WAS GETTING HER TO TALK!" Sometimes Bakugo wondered how the hell some pro heroes even got their license.

Lunch Rush sagged, then only just managed to bring his cast iron up in time to parry a shoulder charge, the force tossing him in the direction of the kitchen.

"You know, Dysgeusia was the only thing on today's menu, but you've managed to upgrade your meal to FULL-COURSE PAIN!"

Lunch Lady's arms raised and her eyes lightened from deep crimson to candy apple red.

A rumble started behind Lunch Rush that had Bakugo's battle instincts tingling.

A flash food gushed out of the kitchen.

Ground meat separated from the flying wave, splatting to the ground near Lunch Rush as the rest of the ingredients poured past, curving toward Lunch Lady's spot at the center of the room.

Ojiro and Bakugo both tried to hit her before the food could make it there, but she went intangible, the new, now-more-diversified ammo pushing them back as it began to swirl faster and faster around the villain.

The air pressure changed and a wind whipped Bakugo's hair, sucking what was left of the smoke to the center of the room and funneling it out the top of the vortex like a chimney.

Then, as if things couldn't get any worse, the meat spattered near Lunch Rush came alive.

Thursday, September 13th

12:42 pm

An ice-blue and snow-white mist spewed from Ectoplasm's mouth as he dashed through the front entrance of the cafeteria, a single hiccup ending the exhale. The first clones to solidify (Four and Five) immediately streaked back outside, rushing to pro hero Lock On's aid. The rest (Six through Ten) spread out from him in a fan, three of them almost immediately forced into confrontation with several roving packs of wild shrimp and other animal-based groceries.

Wiping sweat off his brow at the building's boiling temperature, the duplicator took in a massive tornado of rice and vegetables spinning at the center of the room. The villain's sporadically-seen gaze stayed riveted to UA's head chef, ignoring Ectoplasm entirely.

"WHAT'S WRONG!? CAN'T TAKE THE HEAT?!" cackled over the clanking and crashing of upending tables as vaguely humanoid monsters scrambled after Lunch Rush. Their ground-beef feet shlopped wet against the floor, bloody prints telling of a complex and erratic chase.

One of Ectoplasm's clones (Seven) ran toward Lunch Rush, trying to beat the meaty amalgamations to their target. But a monster got ahead of the pack, slamming his colleague's side in a full body tackle.

"Lunch Rush!" every Ectoplasm shouted in hive-minded dismay as the offending minion offered a toothless grin, tenderized gums pulling up at the edges and viridescent eyes slitting in deplorable pleasure.

Kirishima and Ojiro also screamed, but Ectoplasm hardly heard them, viewing Seven's senses on one of ten screens playing in his mind.

The short hero careened past his counterpart's outstretched arms, thumping hard into a magenta pillar. Hairline cracks spread out from the collision, stopping just shy of where the structure junctioned with a set of stairs.

Three of the monsters tried to run parallel to Seven as it approached the downed adult, but the clone kicked out viciously. Ectoplasmic prosthetics, while not nearly as strong as the original's carbon-fiber, ripped the reanimated beef in half in a single, elongated roundhouse.

Dropping to trench-coat-covered knees as it neared Lunch Rush, the duplicate quickly prodded for injuries. Reassuring the hive-mind that the man's neck wasn't broken, Seven leaned in when white gloves tugged weakly at its sleeve.

"Get the kids out," Lunch Rush croaked, eyes sliding closed and body going limp.

Great, prominent teeth sneered their displeasure before the copy picked the cook up in a bridal carry. Careful to support the hero's head, it rushed past regenerating minions toward one of the broken windows.

The original Ectoplasm startled, attention jerked forcibly back to his own body.

Kirishima was spinning Ojiro by the tail.

Oh no.

Why were Aizawa's kids always so foolhardy?!

"Drop back! That's an order!" Ectoplasm's otherworldly voice screeched, the demand drowning out the insect-like drone of evil shrimp.

Red eyes locked on Ectoplasm's own white slits as the human centrifuge that was Eijiro started to slow.

Good. At least they could be reasoned with.

Clone Ten tugged at his mind and Ectoplasm focused on his internal theater. No less than three screens displayed 1A's biggest Problem Student™ blasting straight into the villain's ammunition hurricane.

Ectoplasm was soooo close to swearing when several bangs came coupled with a distinctly burnt scent. If Bakugo survived this, that boy was going to have mandatory, DAILY sessions with Aguni-sensei.

More movement refocused Ectoplasm back on Kirishima right as the boy released a revamped hammer throw, crimson eyes tunnel-visioned on his friends.

Ectoplasm's mouth opened in a soundless scream, breath a blanketing fog.

Three new clones solidified next to Kirishima, one of which tackled the super-powered teen, turning its front somewhat oozy and sticking to the boy like glue. It looked ridiculous, the redhead dangling from the duplicate like a baby from a chest harness.

The rocky hero bucked, only managing to stretch part of his captor like taffy before rebounding back in place.

"Guys! Don't let Sensei touch yo—!" Twelve muffled Kirishima's mouth.

Ojiro was already turning the momentum of his flight into an airborne somersault, splicing the villain's edible forcefield with nearly 1300 pounds of force behind his tail. Using the split-second opening, he dove in after Bakugo as his defense-quirked compatriot was spirited away, the Ecto-shima clone booking it in the same direction Ecto-Rush had gone.

Ashido (who, up until then, had been waiting outside with Lock On and the two medically-helpful duplicates) exploited the pandemonium, dashing inside and trading places with the gluey couple like some dangerous game of musical chairs.

"STOP RIGHT NOW! You are to retreat! That is an order!" the three nearest clones called as one.

Eleven managed to grab the girl's arm as she tried to slide past, while Thirteen raced to engage the meat minions, luring the incoming monsters away from the pink student.

A quick, "Sorry, Ectoplasm-sensei!" was the only indication Mina had heard, gold eyes not once wavering from the spot where her friends had disappeared into the food-nado. A second later, mist erupted from Eleven's hand where it held the girl, and the teen jerked away, sprinting toward the villain.

AAAARHG.

Ectoplasm felt like he was climbing Fuji-san. Every step forward was two steps back with these kids. How could Aizawa-san stand them?!

The tall hero lunged forward, flying at the villain himself and cutting off Mina's path.

Another bang sounded inside the swirling armor and an opening appeared in the wave of rice like degreaser dropped into an oil slick. Tossed out of it like oh so much trash, Bakugo and Ojiro soared toward the kitchen.

"Sorry, Brats! You'll need more than a half-baked plan to stop me!"

Ectoplasm thought fast, switching his focus to Ten's screen as he wrestled Mina to a stand-still.

His clone glommed Ojiro from the air and quickly adhered to the teen, ignoring shouted protests. Blue hands flashed toward Bakugo a split second after, but the firecracker's eyes burst open in a bellicose glare. Throwing up a blast, the teen jerked away.

Ten made to go after, only to trip as Orijo's tail smacked hard at its legs.

Just in time too.

They fell, the clone twisting in place and flipping Ojiro above it while simultaneously shielding the boy as a great gout of flame erupted overhead. An industrial, fire-breathing oven hopped into view, its ungainly movement crashing loud against the floor.

Ten's back hit the white tile, and its link to the hive dissolved, cutting off Ectoplasm's view.

The math teacher winced and anxiously forced his closest clone to run toward the boys, even if it meant leading a swarm of shrimp right to them.

Nine only got about halfway there when several of Ectoplasm's screens showed Ojiro and Bakugo fleeing the kitchen. Funnily enough, the appliances got trapped behind, the opening too small for their clunky frames.

Thank Kami-sama.

Ectoplasm snapped back to himself when his hands started to sting. A light coating of acid covered Ashido's arms, burning straight through his costume and to the pink fingers beneath.

"It would be good for you to know, Ashido-san, that I am the original," Ectoplasm rumbled, tightening his grip to just shy of bruising force.

The bubblegum girl blanched, halting the secretions and avoiding Ectoplasm's gaze in favor of tracking Bakugo's progress.

The angry teen flew around the far side of the villain, shooting off a particularly large explosion at a tendril of rice and zucchini. The edible appendage jerked awkwardly back, outer shell blackened.

Ectoplasm's eyes narrowed at the exacerbated blast.

Forty-five degree temperatures would favor the boy's quirk. Making a mental note to rehydrate Bakugo before he yelled at him later, the teacher started pulling Mina toward the broken windows.

Ashido was a very unfortunate matchup for him. A skin-permeable emitter quirk guaranteed that he couldn't use a weakened form of Bite Detention to restrain her like he had Kirishima. And since someone needed to stay with her at all times to prevent a potential kidnapping, his only option was to hand her off to another hero and get back to the fight, quick.

"Racoon eyes! What the hell are you doing?!" Bakugo slammed another wave of fire onto the shield protecting the lunch-themed villain, then jetted away from a grabby, food-shaped hand. "Melt that clone and get your ass over here!" the explosive teen roared.

It was like Ectoplasm wasn't even here, the way the kids were talking over him. The normally pacific man grit his teeth before ordering Nine to engage the villain with Bakugo.

Sending Eleven after Ojiro, he realized that the highschooler was already thudding toward Ashido and himself.

With a quick pivot ending the run, the teen's tail struck from above. Ectoplasm tried to get a hand up, but the question of whether or not to let go of one of Ashido's arms (there was a good chance she would escape if he did) made him hesitate just a little too long.

The teacher's grip slackened under the hit and Ashido yanked herself free.

Typical.

Ojiro's tail scooped around the pink girl as he pivoted again, using his momentum to fling her like ice cream in the direction of the villain. Coming to a stop facing Ectoplasm and lowering into a Muay Thai stance, he yelled, "Bakugo's got a plan!" over his shoulder.

"How do you know?!" Ashido called back, tripping slightly before turning the tumble into a slide.

"Mashiaro Ojiro! Do you want to be expelled?"

The threat fell on deaf ears.

Ectoplasm kicked out with only a third of his power, trying to dissuade the boy from this foolishness.

Using a combination of tail and arm, the martial artist blocked, redistributing and softening the weight of the blow as Bakugo screamed, "Melt the shield! Her telekinesis has limits. Anything I burned beyond recognition isn't floating anymore!"

Of course. Of course one of Aizawa's top students would have noticed the same thing the teachers had.

Ectoplasm locked eyes with Ojiro's contumacious gaze.

Okay, this wasn't working.

As much as he hated to admit it, fighting against the kids was proving more likely to get them hurt than running damage control against the villain.

Pulling Eleven and Nine in to distract the green woman, Ectoplasm darted around Ojiro. The boy blinked, aghast at his teacher's true speed.

Slamming a kick at one side of the green woman's shield before dashing away, Ectoplasm watched as a huge splash of acid tossed into the air, coating a large chunk of food. As it started to hiss and sizzle, the revelry in the villain's eyes died, replaced by fury.

Rather than panic as her barrier was eaten away, she frowned, the outer edges of the tornado sloughing off and the inner ones zipping close. Tightening and hardening around her, it took on a humanoid shape.

It was some kind of fighting suit. But, at least the pieces that melted were no longer under control. It was curious that she'd chosen to coat herself in something they'd just proven they could destroy.

Ectoplasm dropped out of the way of a flyby tail slam as Ashido readied another wave.

"Ectoplasm. Villain is heading eastbound toward Ground Omega." The hushed words forced the teacher to focus on his internal theater.

Watching Four and Five's screens more closely (Seven and Lunch Rush were long gone), he ascertained exactly where Lock-On's finger pointed.

There was nothing there.

She must be invisible.

Ectoplasm now had a choice to make. He could leave Eleven, Nine and his students to fight the distraction and go after the villain himself (which would likely result in being followed). Or, he could instruct the clones already outside the building to give chase. If the villain kept her rice monster up long enough, he could keep his charges out of the real battle entirely.

Really, there was only one option.

Thursday, September 13th

12:47 pm

Kirishima's vision jerked as the Ecto-shima clone started to jog, pulling the boy's attention away from the spy lady as the woman's own glorified whee—legchair began to move. The third clone was already more than three meters away, jumping over the tea hedge the 1A students had busted through earlier.

They were giving up?

"Sensei! We can't run and leave everyone! That's cowardly!"

His teacher ignored the pleas, and, if anything, put on a burst of speed.

The redhead squirmed and struggled, lurching the clone's gait before snapping back into place. Hand now awkwardly stuck above his head, the teen blew at a loose strand of hair tickling his forehead.

Great.

The legs of Operation Run dashed into and through a thicket of Japanese sweet-coltsfoot, and the colossal, dewy leaves dampened Kirishima's uniform.

Double great.

It seemed they were running toward the main campus, nearly opposite the direction that the two clones and the female hero had gone.

Now, Kirishima never claimed to be the smartest person alive. But even he knew that the nurse's office was back toward the main building. Spy-lady had been hurt. If she wasn't being taken to Recovery Girl, where were they going?

Kirishima wracked his brain. The only thing in that direction was Ground Omega…wasn't it?

As they passed through a small field and down another path, the redhead spotted a hero. The man was racing toward the training forest, too, not the cafeteria.

What was….?

A lightbulb finally went on in the sturdy boy's mind. Eijiro took a deep breath in, ready to shout.

Wait. He wasn't anywhere even close to the cafeteria anymore. His friends would never hear.

Pointy teeth clicked shut with the weight of a spring trap and the building breath hished through them.

Moving his head as much as he could to glance around, Kirishima tried to come up with a plan as his captor ran through another wild area of campus.

Suddenly, he knew exactly what to do. Swinging dangling legs up as the two passed close to a cedar tree, he kicked out hard. The thin soles of his indoor slippers slapped loud against bark; and the already unbalanced duplicate stumbled sideways.

Throwing his left leg out at an angle that hurt more than just his inner thigh, Kirishima's face squinched, but he still managed to reach the ground. Abdominals contracting then hardening in place, the highschooler pitched them both forward and jutted his other foot out to catch the new weight.

Looking like a turtle carrying a flailing shell, Kirishima just managed to keep Sensei's double from touching the ground as he charged backward into a pine. The clone reeled, suddenly changed from captor to captee, and hit hard, puffing into a cloud of mist.

Holy crap, it worked! It was—That was—he couldn't wait to tell Kaminari!

Eijiro did a quick fist pump before swinging around, ready to bolt back to the cafeteria. Oh shoot, it was really far away. Yeah, he could go collect his friends, but the villain would be long gone by the time they rejoined the fight. If Katsuki found out the other teen lost her, he'd blow a gasket.

Running like Bakugo himself was after him, Kirishima galloped across campus, at one point losing a slipper and abandoning it on the ground. Feet soles turning rocky, he kicked the other off and refused to slow as he charged through several patches of foliage.

Two minutes into the break-neck pace, he saw another hero running in a slightly different direction. Altering course, he followed the metallic, crystalline man through yet another patch of woods.

It was obvious Kirishima was in the right place when, "Silence! Lunch Rush earned his lot!" echoed through the dense leaves in front of him.

There was a great boom and Eijiro heard Sensei's meat grinder voice shout, "Sol! Take her down, now!" just as he broke through fern fronds and out into an expanse of grass. Sparing only a glance for Ground Omega's wall, the teen's gaze zipped back to the person he was chasing as the silvery sprinter raced toward the villain and three other heroes.

Kirishima took the moment to scan his immediate location, spotting the wounded hero from the cafeteria and the ectoplasmic double that carried her. Before he could be noticed he created some distance, jogging quietly down the tree line but keeping his eyes on the battle.

The metallic hero came to a stop between Ectoplasm (probably a clone) and someone Kirishima didn't recognize. The dark-haired female slunk to the side to make room, deadfish eyes only sparing the newcomer a quick glance from behind thick, black liner, before refixating on a ginger to their left.

The exceedingly Caucasian male started to glow, a tiny, dark strip over his groin the only thing visible through the fierce glare. Sunbeams flocked to pale skin like moths and the power turned downright blinding before the ultra-white man released the energy in a powerful ray.

Kirishima hunched down, grey jacket sliding up and over red hair. Sparing a glance to make sure he wasn't being watched, the teen took advantage of the flash, dashing across the field and toward Ground Omega's wall. Nearing one of the sporadic trees growing close to the barrier, he launched upward and started to climb, still sneaking peeks at the fight.

The flare had finally died, revealing both the pink-dressed Nomu's semi-translucent form and her opponent's more-than-a-little-ridiculous Speedo costume.

Raising an unimpressed brow, the villain dove toward the man with a fist cocked back, only removing intangibility at the last second in prep for a punch.

Kirishima dashed out to the edge of an elm branch as a living doll capitalized on that second, body-slamming the green lady from the side and pushing her back with kimono-draped arms. Maybe-Ectoplasm was close behind, kicking the Nomu in the back. Staggering and falling hands-first toward the earth, the villain surprised everyone when she kept going and disappeared into the ground.

There was another loud crash from his left, but Kirishima couldn't risk looking this time, using the last two steps to gain speed before jumping toward the wall in front of him. Luckily, the branch didn't snap when he pushed off, but the landing did turn rough when his feet fell just shy of the cement. Breath whooshing out of him, he latched to the top with scrambling arms.

"Shit! Where'd she go?!"

"Did we lose here?"

"No, she's ten meters away at my 2 o' clock. Two meters off the ground."

That last voice Kirishima recognized as Sensei's.

Pulling himself up like a kid from the side of a pool, the aspiring hero straddled the wall, watching just a bit longer.

"You call that a hit?! PATHETIC! There was hardly any weight behind it!"

The air suddenly smelled like Sato-kun's room.

"You know what's great for gaining weight?!" the Nomu's arms raised. "LUNCH!"

No less than four hundred cookies materialized above the combatants and started to spin in place.

SHE COULD CREATE THINGS, TOO!?

"I'll even start you out with JUST DESSERTS!"

The sugary bombs dropped from the sky in a discus meteor shower, some of them going so far as to catch fire.

Thinking fast, the newly arrived metal hero grabbed an arm and snapped it off at the elbow joint, flinging it up in the air. It exploded, silver shavings radiating straight out and hardening into an umbrella-shaped sheet of steel.

Holy crap, how manly!

Like a tin roof in a hailstorm the resulting impacts were deafening; but, other than a few minor dents, the confectionaries bounced harmlessly off.

That was the last thing Kirishima saw before he promptly tipped over the far side of the wall. Dangling for a second, he let go, making it the last several meters to the ground with a da-thud.

His plan was a long shot. But so far, he hadn't seen anything to indicate that the Nomu could see through objects. If he could sneak up behind the group, he might be able to land a sucker punch if the villain tried to retreat into Ground Omega. Or at least jump in from close by if someone needed defense.

Several more explosions sounded from the other side of the wall as Kirishima started to run. At one point he even heard one of the heroes try to prod their attacker with questions.

Unable to make heads or tails of the words besides knowing they started with "why", "what", and "where", Kirishima mostly ignored them. What could he say? His English grades were not stellar. So he shoved through the underbrush toward the battle, only knowing that the woman didn't sound all that cooperative.

Scuttling up another tree, Eijiro was just in time to see the villain increase exponentially in size while the living doll from before jumped at her.

The giantess promptly swatted the iki ningyo away like an annoying mosquito. Twisting her wrist so her palm flipped around, her arm swept the back the other way and she roared.

Kirishima's eyes widened in horror as little dots of white started to condense in the air, seemingly from nothing.

Distressed shouts screamed from across the barrier, warning each other of the incoming attack while a new, tiny (yet somehow creepier) doll leapt up, grabbing at the giant's apron with desperate, clutching hands. Scrabbling only a meter or so more, it exploded in a fountain of burning splinters.

The Nomu remained unfazed, a terrible smile creeping onto her face as the rice finished spawning overhead, the massive cloud so thick it cast the meadow in shadow.

Kirishima was only two-thirds up the elm. There was no way he could make it back over the eight meter wall in time! This was a terrible plan!

Heaving himself up to a higher branch with a racing heart, Eijiro watched the metal hero sling individual-sized shields at his allies.

It was like time stilled as Kirishima got one branch higher, stood, and dashed out on the limb.

Only, wait. He was still moving at normal speed.

Pushing off, he realized the thing that had stopped moving was, in fact, the Nomu.

The look frozen on her face…uncertainty?

Kirishima's eyes widened as all the rice in the air came crashing down as one; and a tsunami of grain swamped the heroes, washing them off their feet and pushing them back.

The Nomu drastically shrunk in size and dropped from the sky as Kirishima cleared the wall, his arcing flight serendipitously aimed at her plummeting form.

Rearing his fist back for a stiff cross punch, he nearly faltered when the villain saw him coming. Fuzzing at the edges, she frowned, then disappeared from sight.

Oh CRAP!

Not sure what to do, he finished the action.

What felt like a gloved palm stopped his fist before combat training with Aizawa-sensei kicked in, instinctively bringing the teen's other hand up in a left hook. Something gave under rocky knuckles and the villain reappeared, now bloody-faced as she slammed to the ground in slow-motion. Kirishima landed awkwardly, then straightened, feeling as if he had just completed a quick-time event in some first-person video game.

Focus torn between his shaking, green-coated fist and the Nomu flickering in and out of semi-opacity behind it, Eijiro forced himself to reassociate. Shaking his head to clear it, the teen wrapped the older lady in a grapple from behind, cementing his muscles in place as three heroes popped from the surrounding field of white like vengeful daisies.

Had that seriously just happened…?

Thursday, September 13th

12:55 pm

Five blinked, listening for Original's thoughts as it picked its way through the rice-covered lawn. Four was gone, washed out by the deluge, but Five had been back by the tree line with Lock On.

Speaking of its passenger, the woman winced when Five's prosthetic slid on the shifting ground. Trekking over loose grain was no better than walking on dry sand, and the duplicate found itself readjusting the hero in its arms more than once as it approached the villain and her captor.

The other heroes already ringed Kirishima and the Nomu, as it was imperative that they hold and distract their volatile aggressor as long as possible.

Power Loader had yet to come up with a containment device for ectoplasm—it was apparently quite tricky to work with—so they were on their own until Yamada-san, Nakano-san or Kayama-san got here.

Five flicked its eyes away from their captive, taking the security detail in again. "Steelirion, can you make restraints? I do not wish to have my student so close to the Nomu."

Before the metallic hero could accommodate the request, a voice devoid of emotion spoke up, "Wait. It's peculiar that she hasn't used permeation to escape. Something about the boy's composition may be preventing her from phasing away."

"I don't believe so, Lifeless. It seems more likely that her quirks are disrupted in some way," Five refuted, watching closely as the green lady disappeared from sight only to reappear a second later. "You could not see from your angle, but she fell from the sky before young Kirishima even hit her."

"Ectoplasm's right," Lock On added, "Even if she dropped on purpose, she should have been able to avoid the boy's hit."

"Kirishima?" Five addressed, causing the stead-fast kid to flinch. It seemed the teen's plan had been to hold so still everyone forgot his existence.

"It'd make sense." Kirishima admitted, awkwardly trying to turn his head toward his teacher's clone. "She seemed freaked out before she turned invisible…"

Steelirion grabbed the half-grown nub of his forearm and resnapped it off at the elbow. Kneeling, he laid the chunk on the Nomu's side, just to startle backward when a large flame blew from the downed villain's mouth like a dragon. Nearby rice seared and popped, undergoing pyrolysis before the blaze guttered and sputtered out.

"I'm right here, you know." The Nomu lifted her girthy neck with a glower, face half-covered with white granules where it'd been pressed to the ground as the metal spread and warped around her. Her audience was quick to move out of range of her mouth when she added, "It's rude to talk about others behind their back."

"Kirishima, to me," Five shifted Lock On to gesture with a hand, relieved when the boy finally released his hold and jumped up to comply.

It was about time Ectoplasm got listened to.

"Sorry, Sweet Cheeks, but you gotta earn respect to get it," Sol responded to the captive, pointing down at the cafeteria lady like a naughty child. "Now how about you answer a few questions to get that process started,"—the sunburn hero's hand waved flippantly—"kay?"

"HA! Like I have anything to say to you, Pedo! I mean really! A speedo? At a school!? You should be in jail!"

The irony of the situation was not lost on Original, and Five could feel mild amusement from the hive mind listening in.

The ginger frowned hard, looking like he'd smelled something rotten. "Hey! The more skin I show, the brighter I glow. So just shut yer trap, ya old hag."

"OLD HAG!?" The woman's hair caught fire, keratin-like ectoplasm morphing into flame. Around her, little bits of white grain began to levitate as well. That is, until a second later when they spazzed out, forcing the paunchy telekinetic to drop them. Breathing hard, the villain glared at the group, lips scrunched in displeasure and hair crackling.

Relief flushed Five's telepathic link. Thank Kami-sama that Kirishima was no longer in the line of fire.

Lock On shifted in Five's arms, drawing the clone's attention back outward. The tracking hero's compound eyes were riveted on their captive, unwavering despite a slight tremble starting in the female's impaled leg. "Nomu. What aru yuu doing hiiru? Who sentu you?"

"Sent me? Nobody sent me. If anyone sent me it was that damn Lunch Rush. The imposter! Copycat! OVERCOOKED NOODLE!" As the words rose in volume, tiny fires winked in and out of existence in the rice field beyond.

The villain was most certainly fixated on their resident chef; but why?

"Lunch Rush sent you?" Five traded a glance with Sol while Steelirion and Lifeless remained motionless, the two monolinguals unaffected by the news.

"That cretin practically stole my name and smeared it through griddle grease! He claims to make nutritious food, but you've seen his kids. They're wasting away to practically nothing! They need more MEAT to grow healthy and strong."

This was getting them nowhere. The answers were so vague and mostly nonsensical. Ectoplasm had been told that the Nomu was mentally unstable, but her responses were really bringing that point home.

Explosions sounded in the distance and Five didn't have to look back to know who was arriving on scene. Original's eyes told it exactly what to expect.

"Steelirion!"

Clang!

Bakugo's fist smacked hard into a metal palm, the pro keeping the hothead from hitting their captive.

"YOU FUCKING LEFT ME FIGHTING AN EMPTY SHELL!" The blonde screeched, held back as Ectoplasm's strong arms laced around the furious boy from behind. From its vantage, Five could actually see the veins straining on the teen's temple as it idly took note of yet another hero arriving on scene.

The eagle-human hybrid just nodded, alighting nearby before fixing a predatory gaze on the villain, content to remain on standby while Original got their student under control.

"Sorry, Little Firecracker, it was time to scram," the Nomu replied, apology sounding particularly authentic.

Five expected the short fuse kid to keep screaming accusations, or maybe a few cuss words, but was surprised when Bakugo instead asked a pointed question. "Can you create portals?"

"Portals? BAH! I am THE LUNCH LADY! I am but an entity, a conduit, of the five food groups!"

Ectoplasm bit his tongue and the need to pull Bakugo away floated around the hive mind, tingling Five's own fingertips. But, the clone felt Original soon squash the urge. The woman had actually answered in a way that almost made sense. If Bakugo knew the secret to getting real information out of the Nomu—out of Lunch Lady—while she was fully restrained and guarded by many heroes, it might be worth the risk.

Heavens knew Aizawa would never allow it, were he here.

There was a slight pause, before "Do you know anyone who can make portals?"

"Know? Of course." Sol sucked in a sharp breath. "But I wouldn't say I'm friends with them. Portal users tend to be old and boring."

Them? …she was acquainted with multiple portal users?

"How did you get on campus?" was the teen's next demand.

"Isn't it obvious? I flew."

Bakugo looked like he swallowed a lemon. It was palpable how much it took the boy to be patient, but no one dared interrupt the conversation lest they break the cooperative spell. "Where do you normally live?"

"My haunt in the Infinite Realms, not that it's any of your business."

Haunt? Infinite Realms? It was official. She was a schizophrenic.

Five tensed as three, five-centimeter-tall rice minions formed behind the green female, only relaxing when the creatures started to attack each other.

Feeling a mental ping, the double stepped in close to Original, maneuvering Lock On to a single-armed hold as it did. Bakugo eyed the clone, glaring but otherwise doing nothing, as the duplicate reached past the boy and into the real Ectoplasm's trench coat, withdrawing a small cell.

"Where is the—" Bakugo stumbled slightly over his next words—"Infinite Realms?"

"What kind of a hare-brained question is that? Are you addled?" Lunch Lady's voice turned mocking as she resituated like an inchworm, looking more directly at the blonde. "Where is the Infinite Realms? HA!" The figures around her tensed, ready to spring forward. "The Infinite Realms can be anywhere it darn well pleases."

No flambé attempt was made, but the heroes stayed on guard, the villain's mouth just a little too well-aimed for comfort as they stared each other down.

Five used the slight pause to flip open its phone, dialing a number.

As soon as the ringing stopped and the line clicked, he intoned, "We got her," only staying on a moment longer before ending the call.

"Who are the League of Villains?"

Why would Bakugo ask that? Everyone in modern day Japan knew that name.

"League of Villains?" The Nomu's expression was positively perplexed, that is, until it disappeared in another flicker of invisibility. "Are you talking about that brain-rotting video game Technus plays?" echoed in the empty air.

Bakugo latched on, "Technus? Who's Technus?"

The Nomu reappeared, lips suddenly tugged up in a coy smile. "Welp, I think I've answered enough questions for today, Dearie."

Winking, the villain plunged down through the earth, leaving her metal restraints behind.

"NO!" Bakugo slammed the rice where Lunch Lady disappeared, the white grains flinging out like water disturbed by a dropped rock. "GET BACK HERE, GREEN BITCH!"

Five's instincts flared, and the clone hurled itself backward, pulling Lock On close to its chest. It seemed everyone had cleared away from the emotionally unstable teen, everyone except—dread tore at Five's ectoplasm. No one had grabbed Kirishima!

Bakugo detonated, an eruption of fire and rice exploding out from the teen and flinging the steel cage away like a tumbleweed.

Body going cold, Five searched the clearing smoke for a splotch of bright red.

Kirishima stood braced, scorch marks across his cheeks and clothes in tatters, but otherwise relatively unscathed. In barely a moment, the teen was lurching forward, losing his hardened physique and jogging the last few meters to his classmate.

Crouching down, the redhead took in the seething, screaming form of Bakugo. Without a word, his softened hand reached out, settling lightly on his best friend's shoulder.

Thursday, September 13th

1:01 pm

Testing was going well. They'd been at it for seven minutes and it looked like Ono-san had at least another ten or so left in her before she'd be too tired to continue. It was becoming more and more obvious that the machine's Achilles heel may end up coming down to the power source.

Ono-san was doing splendidly, but every control slip she had almost perfectly coincided with Volatilis' shift into its gaseous form.

Other than that, everything seemed very promising. No ill effects from using the machine, Ono had successfully created four rabbits and the device actually did what it was supposed to.

Man, he really should name the dang thi—

Ring, ring.

Mori's thoughts cut off and he glanced over at Aizawa-san's vibrating pocket, seeing a rectangular glow through black pants.

Ring, ring. Ring—.

Click.

"What's up?" The dark man's intensity did not match the casual demand of the question. But, in barely a moment, Aizawa's face took on the ferocity of a grizzly bear. Voice gravelly, he grit out, "I'm on my way," before tearing down the stairs and toward the exit.

Just as the erasure hero made it into the testing room, but before he jumped through the door to the decompression chamber, he roared, "I have to go! I won't be back!"

Sighing, Mori turned the machine off and spoke into the intercom, "Well, it looks like we'll be calling it quits for today. Phase one trials will probably be delayed. Sorry, Ono-san."

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, Mori-kun. It's not your fault." The glare the grandma sent at the exit made it obvious exactly whose fault she thought it was.

"At least we got some good data to work with!" Mori appeased.

The way Ono-san perked up made the ginger envious. Then again, she wasn't about to inform two out-of-town volunteers that they'd made the trip for nothing.

Thursday, September 13th

4:17 pm

A sluggish Lunch Lady oozed through a concrete wall, exhausted from the day's activities.

Going back to her haunt was apparently off the table, so instead she popped out into a cavernous room.

The place had clearly been abandoned for decades, evident by the thick layer of grey-brown dust that coated everything, the pigeons nesting in the rafters and the large, rusty hole in the far side of the roof.

The heat of clairvoyance shut off and a feeling of lethargic contentment flooded the woman's ectoplasm.

Ohhhhh. A derelict cannery was a great place to recover and recuperate.

Lowering to the cool, cement floor, she let her legs collapse into a criss-cross beneath her, back leaning against the wall.

What a great reward for a job well done.

Well…

Mostly well done.

These power issues were really starting to get on Lunch Lady's last nerve.

Scowling, the ghost consoled herself with the fact that Lunch Rush should be getting fired soon. Once the school replaced him those kids might actually be able to put on some weight. Then hopefully she wouldn't have to go back.

After using so many big-time powers and being chased half the day by that bug-eyed human, she'd tapped out her reserves and was well and truly spent.

The Ghost Zone castaway forced herself to relax, eyes scanning over the industrialized robots and conveyor belts that lay still as death around her.

This Eye-neigh-bah warehouse was perfect.

All it needed was a good cleaning and a couple boxes of groceries and it'd perk right up.

A sharp twinge tugged at the ghost's core.

Yes, it definitely needed some boxes.

Chapter Text

Thursday, September 13th

1:45 pm

A beady-eyed gaze surveyed UA's principal's office from atop Ectoplasm's shoulder. It meandered away from a small nameplate perched on a dark, wooden desk to the green filing cabinets flanking the room. Trailing along a line of faculty portraits heading the back wall as if it couldn't quite bring itself to settle, it slid down, crossing the periwinkle linoleum to finally fixate on four students.

Kirishima hunched in on himself (a common posture for the boy these past forty minutes) while minute trembles shook a pale Ashido at his side. The currently light-pink teen shifted in place, stealing repeat, furtive glances at their math teacher.

In stark contrast, Bakugo didn't seem particularly apologetic, eyebrows drawn together and gaze fastened to a pair of lightly charred hands. One of them flexed open and closed while the other stayed tightly clenched around a water bottle, eliciting slight crackle-pops.

Then there was Ojiro. Mild mannered, thoughtful Ojiro. Who's glare was nearly as scathing as it was defiant.

Nezu's furry shoulders sagged, the mouse seeming almost…resigned, before a deep inhale cut the fragile silence. "Your behavior today was unbefitting a UA student. It was reckless, dangerous, and if I must say, idiotic. I hope you understand that I have no choice but to take disciplinary action."

Kirishima flinched, but no one argued, the crinkling of squeezed plastic the only thing to disturb the air.

"Assaulting a teacher is no laughing matter," Ectoplasm spoke, his gravel-in-a-cement-mixer-meets-autotune voice particularly jarring in the silence. Pupil-less eyes somehow made it obvious they were focused on Ojiro; then the duplicator's stance shifted and Ashido and Kirishima were included in the scrutiny. "Even if you think you are only attacking a clone."

"There will be real consequences to your actions," Nezu chimed back in, tone serious. "Outright ignoring a pro hero, not to mention your teacher, could get you killed." The rodent's lips started to draw back, but he caught himself before his teeth could fully manifest. Nose wrinkles smoothing and face going carefully blank, he added, "In light of current circumstances, and despite my better judgment, you will not be expelled."

Bakugo tensed, wide eyes shooting up to meet Nezu's as the three other students showcased various states of disbelief.

"If we sent you home now, you would become easy pickings for any villain that might want to take a swing at UA. But that does not mean you are off the hook," Ectoplasm added. "You four have great potential. But this insubordination cannot continue. Therefore, we have determined appropriate punishments for each of you."

"Kirishima; Ashido." The blue man nodded stiffly at the two, appropriately chastised kids. "While your intentions to help your friends were noble"—surprise splashed over the pair like cold water—"Ashido-san will be in charge of cleaning 1A's dormitory every day for a month and Kirishima-kun will be working two weeks of construction duty with Ishiyama-sensei."

Kirishima licked his mouth a few times as if adding moisture, then asked, "Construction duty, Sensei?"

"As you are aware, Ishiyama-san regularly repairs Ground Beta, Gamma, and Gym Gamma for our hero course. Much of what he works on is not made of cement. You will aid him in whatever manual labor he choses."

"But that's like fixing a miniature city!" Kirishima exclaimed, eyes saucer-wide. "Every day!"

"It is." This time, a hint of amusement threaded the words. "Maybe you will come to respect the work your teachers do for you outside of the classroom."

Kirishima's gaze dropped and the indignant surprise left him.

"Ojiro." The teen went rigid as Nezu spoke up, inflection harsh. "It is my understanding that you attacked Ectoplasm with the full knowledge that you were, in fact, attacking the original. Even if you were mostly on the defensive, and have taken Hagakure-san's kidnapping particularly hard, this is inexcusable."

"Bakugo." Nezu's gaze snapped over to the hothead. "Without a Provisional Hero License what you did was highly illegal and an act of vigilantism." Katsuki's default sneer dropped and his face went slack with a sudden, horrified clarity.

"I have spoken with Tsukauchi-san. While I have managed to prevent legal action, both you and Ojiro will be dropped from UA's hero course. Notify me on whether you want to be transferred to general education or support by the end of the day."

There was a sharp pop and water exploded out from near Bakugo's hip. Mangled plastic dropped from the space a second later while the soot-stained fingers of his right hand shot up to clutch at his chest. Next to him, Ojiro nearly snarled, tail flicking back and forth behind the boy like an irate cat.

"This decision is final," Ectoplasm cemented, voice as deceptively calm and collected as always.

"Bakugo." Nezu softened, the full force of the man's empathy and exhaustion leaking through his words, "I understand that in your mind, this is the worst possible outcome. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Thursday, September 13th

2:30 pm

On that day I chose I would protect you

That promise it still resides in my heart

Mitsuki Bakugo frantically whipped sideways in her chair, the swivel mechanism groaning in protest as she grabbed a purse from the floor of her office cubicle.

Even though I'm losing everything, I know

If now, there is any life that I can save

I would be happy to—

Shuffling through the bag anxiously, she snatched at her phone. After the attack on UA yesterday, she'd been trying to keep the sound on. Which, of course, made her accidentally leave it on FULL VOLUME at work.

It fumbled in her hands a second before she managed to slide the screen open. Not even bothering to look at the caller ID, she chirped a frazzled, "Moshi-moshi!"

Hello, Bakugo-san? This is Ectoplasm from UA. There has been another attack on the school. Mitsuki couldn't help it, her breath hitched. The teacher must have heard it, because a split second later he finished with, The students are safe and no one needed more than a quick trip to Recovery Girl.

I am calling because I need to talk about Bakugo-kun. He escaped the safety of his mathematics class to pursue and engage the villain across campus, despite explicit orders to stand down. As you know, this an act of vigilantism and could have gotten him seriously injured.

It was as if a great weight pressed down on Mitsuki's shoulders, folding her forward and slouching her elbows down to rest on her knees. Brushing blonde bangs back as they dropped over her face, she breathed, "I understand," normal fire totally absent.

We have managed to get all charges from the prefecture dropped—

A bubble of hope that very nearly felt like indigestion pressed hard against the woman's ribs, and she dared interrupt, voice cracking, "So he'll be okay?"

I think the answer to that may depend on you.

Well didn't that just sound ominous?

"What do you mean?" The words came out sharper than Mitsuki intended and she flinched, swiftly adding, "Ectoplasm-sensei."

I mean that Katsuki-kun has forced our hand. He is being removed from the hero course.

A dichotomy of emotions hit the youthful woman with the weight of a sledgehammer. Extreme concern battled with rage for her son's headstrong actions. It was a good thing her quirk was Glycerin, or she'd have a thousand wrinkles by now.

After a short pause, Ectoplasm continued, We are transferring him to another course, and keeping him at UA. But his mental health has been less than optimal lately. I have signed him up for daily sessions with our school therapist, but I am worried that may not be enough to keep him from doing something reckless.

The words hung in the air like a poised tree snake, ready to snap at anything that dared move.

"What do I need to do?"

We, at UA, officially extend an offer for you and your husband to live on campus with the students.

"Done."

Should you accept—Done? You haven't heard the details.

"It doesn't matter. Whatever I have to do."

Like hell Mitsuki was going to lose Katsuki to over-hyped teenage angst.

Thursday, September 13th

2:54 pm

"Kamada-san! Can you hold this in place for me?"

"Yes, uhm. Just a second, Fenton-san." Kamada, decked out in her new grizzle-grey jumpsuit, hurried across the lab. Leaving the spot where Maddie and Hagakure hovered over a green-filled dropper, two metal petri dishes and an arc welder, she approached a hulking form.

Jack stayed hunched, fingers pinching two antennas that jutted from the top of what looked like a gutted CRT monitor—or maybe an old TV since it even had antennas. She'd seen pictures of these kinds of things in textbooks, but had never encountered one in person, so it was hard to tell.

Trivia about the relic played in her mind until she remembered something unnerving and subconsciously leaned away.

The proper disposal method for one of those things was to be buried six feet down, in cement.

Anxious, black eyes cast about for any of the infamous cathode-ray tubes that gave the device its name. Seeing none, the girl's slender shoulders relaxed. HAZMAT was great, but it might not be enough to protect her from a broken tube if the fluorescent powders and chemicals got airborne. That could spell disaster without a filtration mask.

"Come on, Kamada-san!" Jack whined, awkwardly scratching at his nose with an arm while simultaneously trying not to move the antennas.

In her haste Haru not-quite-lunged forward, causing a dull ache to shoot up her side.

"Woah, there! Don't hurt yourself!"

That dang portal. It couldn't have dropped her on a mattress or somewhere equally as soft. No, it had to be a curb.

Kamada caught the eldest Fenton surveying her with calculating eyes. Paying particular attention to her outer thigh, he commented, "Haggacurry-san can always help me if you're not up to it?"

"No!" Kamada squeaked, then, embarrassed, followed it up with a quieter, "No. I'm fine, Fenton-san. Jazz-san taught me some stretches while Youngblood-kun and Hagakure-chan sparred, so I'm doing better. I'm just bruised is all."

Brows furrowed, Jack eyed Haru a moment longer, causing a heavy discomfort to settle in the girl's stomach. After what seemed like ages, but was only a few seconds, he seemed to come to a decision and responded, "Well, get over here, then. My arms feel like that time I used the Fenton Fisher on a Behemoth. Even after I caught it, the whopper fought me for a solid five minutes!"

Motioning with his eyes and head, he instructed, "Just grab these antennas and keep them in place. Try not to let'em move, or I'll have to recalibrate this doohickey all over again."

Kamada reached past Jack's arms to comply, careful to keep the little wires at exactly eighty-three and twenty-seven degrees respectively.

Freed up, Jack pulled the goggles of his suit down over his eyes. Rotating the outside of the frames like one would a camera lens—to the magnification setting, Kamada realized—the scientist bent over and picked up a different device.

The thing looked suspiciously like a survey meter. And was that a Geiger-Muller tube equipped?

Even with all the high-tech stuff in the lab, the Fentons sure liked to kick it old school.

For that matter, why was he having her hold this? They could easily just—Kamada froze. Jack was looking at her like she'd done something interesting. Wait. She was frowning, wasn't she?

Kamada smoothed her face and looked away like she'd been caught with her hand in the mochi dough.

"What's on your mind, Kiddo?" The man went back to unscrewing a set of fasteners that affixed the meter's cover, but somehow Kamada knew she had his undivided attention.

"N-nothing."

"HA! It takes a lot to be a worse liar than Jazz." Steel blue eyes regarded Haru with a twinkle. "Lay it on me."

It was strange, how genial the big guy was. The Shiketsu student had yet to see him get mad. Even after Maddie hid his fudge stash in retaliation for forcing Danny to take a second shot of Fire Snake Whiskey, he'd only sulked for like, ten minutes, tops.

With that in mind, she found herself actually speaking up. "I…Well. During the lesson on Tuesday, you and Maddie-san mentioned that ectoplasm could be hardened in place to trap ghosts." Stealing a look at one of the many canisters glowing around the room, their signature, unearthly green somehow fortifying, she asked, "Couldn't you just use it to hold the antennas in place?"

"That's a great question! The short answer is no!"

The reason hit her a second later.

Duh. The device was for reading radiation! If they encased the antennas in ectoplasm, which was radioactive, it'd mess up their readings for sure.

Kamada's whole body flushed.

"But we Fentons don't like short answers, because then you don't learn anything!" Jack lit up like someone mentioned Christmas. "The main reason we can't is because of interference. Having radiation so close to the Geiger wand would throw off our data."

Called it.

"But it was a great idea!"

Haru felt her face screw up in a way that must have made her look constipated. He was wrong. Her idea didn't help anyone and would have earned a disapproving scowl from a teacher back home.

"The ectoplasm would have shrunk in a couple hours, anyway. I really didn't think that through," Kamada refuted, tone self-deprecating.

"Wrong again, Kiddo! You just made the biggest mistake a scientist can possibly make!"

Kamada's heart ached and her face deadpanned. "Thank you fo—"

"Assuming any of us know anything!" Jack raised his screwdriver for emphasis, waving it around in an accident-inevitable way.

"Shrinkage wouldn't be a problem," Maddie piped up, apparently having listened in on the conversation. "The ectoplasm we use in our work is, for lack of a better term, domesticated. It's been stabilized; and, unless we add in a specific catalyst, it'll keep indefinitely."

"See?" Jack agreed, giving the girl a lopsided grin that Kamada recognized from Danny's face. "You never know what information you just don't have."

"But you know what's neat about that? Science is about exploring the unknown!" The overweight man motioned grandly at the lab. "Never be afraid of a bad idea, because discovery and failure go hand in hand! Take us for example. Half the stuff we make blows up!"

"Half the stuff you make, Dear," Maddie added, dry amusement suffusing the words.

That was an unnerving admission.

Eying the invention in her hand, Kamada forced herself not to abandon her post.

Outright ignoring his wife's comment, the boisterous speaker continued, "Some of the best stuff I ever made was on accident! Like Ecto-Dejecto! Or the Fenton Crammer!"

"What do those do?" Hagakure asked, cradling a cartridge of basil-green ectoplasm as she and Maddie wandered over. White flashes refracted through the liquid's depths like static in a dark room while the teal woman next to her just held a…baseball bat?

"I'm glad you asked!" The words were obviously not lip service: Jack was positively beaming. His wife's own lips pursed in amusement, but she stayed quiet, letting him have his fun. "Ecto-Dejecto was supposed to weaken a ghost so that it'd be easy to beat in a fight. Wanna know what it did instead, Kamada-san?" The giant turned to her, expectant.

Well, if it was supposed to weaken them, maybe it lightly poisoned them? Diarrhea? Or perhaps acid reflux? Did ghosts even have a larynx? They could talk, soooo…

"Uh…It made them throw up?"

"Ha! Nope! Even better!" Looking like he was holding back the punch-line to an exceptionally good joke, he exclaimed, "It made them stronger!"

"You used to be ghost hunters, though. Wasn't that a bad thing?" Hagakure inquired.

"It was! Keyword being was. After we joined ranks with Phantom, we learned that one of my biggest flops as an inventor helped save a little girl's life." Jack's voice cracked at the end and his eyes watered. "Apparently, a young ghost had been destabilizing; and Phantom used our Ecto-Dejecto to bring her back from the brink!"

"That's awesome!" Hagakure exclaimed, at the same time that Kamada heard "Really?!" slip past her own lips.

"Yep!" Jack jumped up, rushing across the room. Returning with some kind of cross between a Gatling gun and a handheld vacuum cleaner, he closed one eye and aimed it at an imaginary foe. "Now look at this baby!"

"This one does even more than I expected it to! It was just supposed to shrink ghosts in size and threat level, but when we fired it up, we found out it works on anything! Including humans and non-living things!"

Kamada couldn't help it. Her jaw dropped.

The Fentons could shrink matter? And they found that out by accident?! She was already boggled just imagining how something could shrink an energy-based lifeform. This was sci-fi made real!

"There's even an uncram setting!" Jack toggled a switch in front of the girls like a show-and-tell project. "So when you're done, you can just make things big again!"

Rather than take it back to its home, Jack put the device on the floor, sliding it under a nearby workbench with a shoe. "You would not believe how many trips to the chiropractor the Crammer's saved me. I use it for all my heavy lifting now."

The Fentons could revolutionize modern medicine. Living conditions in overpopulated areas. Travel. Agriculture. There were so many applications for that kind of tech! Instead, he used it for menial labor?

Kamada gaped like a carp.

"Don't forget the Fenton Anti-Creep stick!" Maddie cut in, holding out the baseball bat like she saw nothing wrong with her husband's statement. "It's coated in an anti-ghost resin that increases durability and allows us to hit ghosts even if they go intangible." She smirked, turning to snatch Toru's cartridge away with her free hand and replace it with the aforementioned blunt-force weapon. "But these days it has an even more important function!" The inventor pivoted on her heel again, this time to address her other half. "Ready, Sweetie?"

"Just a sec!" Jack grabbed a soldering iron off his workbench with one hand and a stranded wire with the other. Holding the twenty-two gauge filament up to a pin on the now-coverless meter, he welded it in place. "Okay! Good to go!"

Maddie followed the other end of the wire over to a large, clunky device. "Hagakure-san. We're going to turn the Doorway Detector on. Any time you hear this"—she gestured to the machine—"make a God-awful, whir-clicking sound, I want you to give it a good whack." She bent down, pointing at the back, left corner. "Riiiight here."

There was no way. This was so ridiculous. The Fentons had to be messing with them, right?

Maddie lined up the cartridge with a depression on the machine, slotting it into place.

"BANZAI!"

Jack was slapping a button on the side of the CRT TV before Haru could even process the American's use of a Japanese word.

A-guitar-pick-moving-across-bicycle-wheel-spokes harmonized with the cry of a dying-airplane-propeller, the eerie sound usurping the room's normal hum.

"Oh great; an early misfire." Maddie grumbled, as Jack bellowed, "HAGGACURRY! GO GO GO!" voice laced with suppressed laughter.

The paralyzed girl scrambled forward, raising the bat in prep for a swing.

Hardly two steps into the run, the cartridge detonated.

Green goo shot out with the force of an exploding tire and everyone's jumpsuits inflated around them like startled puffer-fish.

The humming calm of the lab returned a moment later, taunting the colorful humans that now decorated it like round, stubby-legged berries.

Hagakure's glove squeezed tighter on the Anti-Creep stick as it started to fall from her clutches, a particularly large glob of green slicking the teen's fingers. Trying to catch it, but only succeeding in looking like a fat bird trying to fly, she pitched forward.

The suit's foam filling took the new weight like a champ, sending the invisible girl rolling head over heels until she bumped into the Doorway Detector's CPU, bringing Toru to a semi-bouncy stop.

As Kamada surveyed the damage, she repeatedly thanked Kami-sama that it was Hagakure over there, and not her. Questionable proximity to a CRT television or not, antenna duty now seemed like an infinitely better trade. Risking a reluctant peek at the most-likely-furious Fentons, she was surprised to find them SMIRKING.

How could they—They just—.

Kamada heard a giggle and glanced back toward Toru. The teen had apparently managed to get herself stuck upside down.

"Don't forget, Jack; for the next year, Danny's chores are your chores~" Maddie sing-songed, smile particularly devilish. "That includes lab clean-up."

The father glanced around, taking in the electrified-ectoplasm that coated everything.

"Ah NUTS!"

Still, after a second, his face brightened, "But at least the Fenton Inflatafoam works like a charm!"

As the lab devolved into laughter, Kamada found it hard to argue that maybe, just maybe, failure had the potential to be a good thing.

Thursday, September 13th

3:31 pm

"Okay, Ghostkateers. Are you ready for round two?" Jack exclaimed, in surprisingly good spirits despite having spent the past half hour cleaning ectoplasm off of nearly every surface in the lab.

Hagakure stood poised, gripping her Fenton-themed bat tighter. There was no way the CPU was going to catch her unawares this time.

The machine whirred to life, but the seconds ticked by, the centralized unit only offering a light hum.

Well that was anticlimactic.

The invisible girl lowered the bat, unnecessary strain ebbing from her arms even as she continued to keep an eye on the Fentons' invention.

"Kamada-san, I think we're ready. Can you come over here, please?" Maddie leaned down, picking a high-tech, instrumental wand off a nearby countertop as Haru settled into place.

The Shiketsu teen had, until then, been lounging in a computer chair while everyone else cleaned, her leg still sore and previous task taken up by a fancily-bent coat hanger.

Maddie raised the empty-Push-Pop-shaped wand and lined it up with Haru's torso, causing the shy girl to tense.

"Relax, Sweetie. This just reads radiation. We're going to use the energy you give off to try and pick up your universe's signature."

Kamada stayed frozen a second longer before she abruptly took an extra long breath in, held it for five seconds and slowly released. The anxiety in her muscles escaped with the air and the grey-haired teen's voice came out even-keel. "I know. I just needed a second to remind myself. Everything kind of blew up, last time."

"True!" Nodding in agreement, Jack walked over to Hagakure with a second wand in hand. Both of the Fenton's instruments sported the same sleek, green-and-silver circuitry; but the eight meters of cord coiled at Jack's feet and the large, funnel-dish-end made it obvious that his was the side made for probing the Ghost Zone.

Putting the wand on a counter so he could rummage around in the cupboard below it, Jack asked, "How about once we get this bad boy set up, we get back to working on Haggacurry-san's invisibility issue? It'll take the Doorway Detector a while to collect the data we need and I bet we can wrangle some ghostly help in the meantime."

"Really?!" Toru couldn't believe her luck! She wasn't exactly expecting to make progress, but it was nice that the Fentons remembered.

Plus, she'd get to meet another ghost! Youngblood had been enthusiastic and childish. Johnny had been sweet and too-cool-for-school. But both of them had been completely unabashed about using their qui—powers. They moved, reacted, as if it took conscious thought not to. Maybe help from a ghost was the answer to her problems after all. It was worth a shot.

"Yep! Mads, can you ring up Dani? I bet she could use a day outside the Zone."

Phantom was coming!? Wait. No. Jack-san had said "she". Just how many Dannys did the Fentons know?

"Ah-hah!" Maddie's hand raised to her face in delight. "Great idea, Sweet-heart! I can make goulash for dinner! It's been a while since we've had it and it's her favorite!"

"Who's Danny?" Kamada asked, shifting from foot to foot like standing was becoming uncomfortable.

Maddie noticed, eyebrows drawing down as she reassured, "Don't worry, this'll only take a bit longer," before answering, "Dani is Phantom's sister. They share the same name, but her full name is Danielle, not Daniel."

"Doesn't that get confusing?" the soft-spoken girl questioned as Hagakure deadpanned, "I swear you just said the same name, twice."

"Absolutely! It's awful!" Jack jumped in, face immediately dropping into a frown. "Especially on April Fool's!" Without missing a beat, he pulled a large section of duct tape off of its spool, the adhesive screaming as it unrolled. Biting down aggressively, he ripped the polythene to size and started using it to wrap part of a miniature inner tube.

The April Fool? Was that some kind of folk hero? Americans had those, right? For some reason, a blue ox flashed into her mind, only to be replaced by an Easter bunny and a tooth fairy. Toru glanced over at Haru, just to see her own confusion mirrored in the other teen's face.

Jack missed the exchange, too focused on using his layman's multi-tool to affix a table-top tripod onto the inner tube.

Seeing her husband's obliviousness, Maddie took pity on the girls: "April Fool's Day is an American holiday where on the first of April, people are allowed to play pranks on each other for fun."

"Jack's being a sour ectopus because the Phantom siblings managed to dupe the whole town the year before last," Maddie chuckled. "Between the two, their three duplicates and a shapeshifting friend, they got half the residents of Amity to believe they'd lost their minds. Us included."

WAIT. HOLD UP.

PHANTOM COULD MAKE CLONES, TOO? And he used them to play pranks? Could the dude get anymore awesome?!

A quick glance at Haru's star-struck eyes proved this was the girl's first time hearing about the quirk, too.

Hagakure had been so sure cryokinesis had to be the hero's strongest power. She'd been dumb-struck when she'd seen his control far surpass Todoroki's in an online video.

It was too bad Mashirao-kun wasn't here. He would have loved researching things about Phantom with her! He always supported her eccentric fixations.

A small pang tugged at Hagakure's heart as Maddie pulled a smartphone from her jumpsuit. Opening the lock screen while staying mindful enough of the wand in her other hand to keep it pointed straight at Kamada, she thumbed through the cell's gallery and stopped on a picture.

Toru accepted the device with fumbling hands, putting her homesickness to rest with a pillow. Over the mouth. For an extended period.

Six versions of Danny Phantom stared back at her from the screen, making various faces at the camera. Two of the shorter ones wore bulky hats and had a slightly more feminine build, but there wasn't much difference between them at a glance, otherwise.

Hagakure peered closer, searching for other tells when she noticed that one of the taller Danny's faces was slightly contorted.

What was—?

Oh.

Toru's directionless heartache broke like a wave and she laughed.

Another tall Danny was starting to drop ice cubes into the neckline of the startled Danny's jumpsuit.

That must be the "friend" Maddie-san was talking about.

Toru turned the smartphone around, facing it toward Haru's stuck-in-place form so that the other girl could see too.

The quiet female gasped, subconsciously leaning in but refusing to move forward, probably trying not to appear overeager.

A full minute passed before Kamada reluctantly dragged her eyes away. Face red and staring hard at the floor, she commented, "Sorry, I'm done."

"No reason to be sorry!" Maddie assured, "Passion isn't something to be ashamed of!"

Kamada's blush deepened, spreading and darkening to look more like a sunburn than embarrassment.

Taking the phone back, Maddie exited the gallery and opened a text thread. As the redhead typed a quick message a small ding went off nearby. Glancing up at Kamada with a gentle smile, she informed, "You're free to go, now. The meter's done recording."

The injured highschooler instantly sagged, hobbling back to her seat with a sigh that was as much a sign of social pain relief as it was physical.

Toru appraised her new friend. She'd have to remember to grab some aspirin and an ice pack later. And something for Danny-san, too, now that she thought about it. The poor guy probably still had a massive hangover.

A light buzz jerked Hagakure's attention back to Maddie as the woman exclaimed, "Dani's agreed to come! And she's bringing a guest!"

"That's great! I can blabber on about the Doorway Detector during dinner!"

Maddie just rolled her eyes as her husband carried his hodgepodge contraption (dish-shaped wand now in the tripod's microphone holder) over to the Fenton Portal. The cable slithered across the ground behind him as he went, unfurling like some great, lazy snake.

"You girls ready to catch your first glimpse of another world?!" The words boomed, drowning out the light tinkling of metal sheathing over linoleum.

"Aren't we already in another world?" Toru teased, grin goofy (not that anyone could see it, but still).

"That doesn't count!"

"How so, Fenton-san?" Kamada countered.

"Our world's too similar." Jack readjusted his tripod-floaty until it snuggled into just one of his meaty arms. Locking gazes first with Kamada, then Toru, he proclaimed, "You'll see! You girls ain't seen nothin' yet!"

A sharp, "Jack!" didn't stop the eldest Fenton as he slammed his free hand against the authorization panel with the same zeal he'd used to start up the Doorway Detector.

An alarm like a garbage truck blared through the lab and the hexagonal doors of the Portal started to open.

Toru froze as green, almost liquid light trickled into the room like water around the rocks of a mostly dry stream bed. The crack widened and a dull, familiar static just at the periphery of awareness tickled along her arms. Hair attempted to raise like hackles, but was forced flat by dense, rubberized fabric as shadows danced around her, unable to decide if they were coming or going.

The girl's eyes bugged, spine slicking with sweat when directionless dread suddenly doused her. Even a sharp gasp a few feet behind couldn't shake Toru out of paralysis, past traumas parading through her head as fear sloshed in her stomach like ice-burred water.

Something heavy and decidedly ancient eased back from her mind and Toru instantly gulped in a breath.

She hadn't even realized she'd stopped breathing.

It was then that the light finally made up its mind, plunging everything into viridescence. Uneven glare spread out along the walls of the lab like refracted sunlight on the bottom of a pool and Toru found herself shaking in a breeze that wasn't there.

The static disappeared, replaced by a soft thrum that soothed like a sun-warmed cat, rubbing and purring against a leg as it stretched. Even the violent fog churning beyond the portal's caution-striped gateway seemed more welcome, "chaotic undulation" a now-more-appropriate descriptor.

Toru smoothed her thumb over the soft polymer tape of the Anti-Creep stick, the hand gripping the invention surprisingly warm compared to the rest of her. The sensation, full of reality, and feelings that were her own finally rallied her legs and she staggered back.

No wonder the Fenton's were so careful with the Portal; the Ghost Zone was alive.

That phantom presence wisped along her brain again as if to say you called?, touch feather-light.

No.

Not alive. It was like a hollowed tree, an echo, a mimicry of life that was no longer there.

She shivered again and the tendril withdrew.

"Jack!" Maddie reprimanded again, "I can't believe you!"

"What?! Just look at them! They're too excited to speak!"

Toru turned to catch Haru's expression and the other teen looked about as shaken as Toru felt.

"That isn't awe, you dolt! They're scared stiff! Remember your first time seeing the portal? You threw up all over Jazz!"

Jack's halfway-to-indignant glare faded and the man sagged.

"I'm sorry, Mads. Easy to forget when the portal's been open for seven years."

"Don't tell me, tell them."

Maddie gestured Toru and Haru's way, and before Toru could deny any need for apology, Jack was speaking, "I'm sorry, Girls. I know I can get pretty excited when I show off the lab. I didn't mean to scare you." Avoiding looking in their direction, the scientist listlessly tossed his inner-tube-tripod and the cable slack that went with it into the portal.

In lieu of an "It's okay," Kamada asked, "Does it feel like that every time?" The Shiketsu student eyed the wormhole with barely-disguised mistrust, watching the cord unravel into the vibrant, eerie world. When the cable reached the end of its slack and pulled taunt, it started to float, but Haru's eyes never left it.

Jack hunched in on himself as he walked over to the wall and turned a dial near the authorization panel. A second, inner layer of overlapping sheet-metal slid over itself like the blades of a camera shutter, shrinking the center opening until it was only large enough for the cable to pass through.

With its source blocked, Toru expected the green light to disappear; but it stayed, the color receding from the rest of the room until it coalesced into a bubble-shape around the portal.

"The Zone is a strange place. Almost with a mind of its own. But once it accepts you, it never asks again. We don't really know what it's looking for, but I've never heard of anyone being rejected," Maddie assuaged.

"Yeah, but how many people have even seen the Ghost Zone?" Kamada shot back, not losing her tension. "Ten? Fifteen?"

"Oh, Sweetie, you misunderstand. When I say anyone, I mean anyone or anything that has ever been inside the Ghost Zone. That includes ghosts, creatures of legend and humans. I asked our friend Clockwork about it once, and he said not to worry. That 'humans are exempt from the Ire of the Infinite Realms.' "

"Clockwork?" Toru questioned, curiosity fighting its way back to the forefront.

"You might know him as Chronos. He's Phantom's mentor in the Infinite Realms and the Greek God of Time." Jack grinned, apparently glad that the topic had angled away from his blunder with the portal. "Kinda an odd duck. Good man, though."

Kamada made a strangled noise in her throat.

Maddie glared at her husband, "Really, Jack?! We're trying not to overwhelm them, remember?" Sighing, she turned to Haru, "Clockwork is a family friend, but mostly visits the living realm to mess with Phantom or teach him a lesson. Before you ask, yes, Phantom already asked about you guys but Clockwork just sent him on his way. He prefers to lead Phantom to the right path in a 'butterfly effect' kind of way, if he helps at all."

Toru felt her lips start to twitch upward in sudden realization.

"CW stands for Clockwork, doesn't it?" Before anyone could affirm or deny the claim, she began to speak again: "When I first got here, I happened to find a coat someone left on a bench. It was right before my first night and kept me from freezing to death." Black gloves rose up, subconsciously rubbing at pink-covered arms in memory. "I thought I was just ultra lucky, but apparently not. 'CW' was written on the tag in marker."

The Fenton parents exchanged a glance that seemed to border both relief and vexation while Haru lost all color, looking close enough to an aneurysm that it was making Toru worried.

"Sweetie?" Maddie directed at the distressed girl. "Are you okay?"

"A literal GOD gave Danny-san a birthday present?!"

Jack barked a laugh. "I'm surprised you caught that. You're one smart cookie, Kamada-san."

Oh yeah. One of Danny's gifts had been from a "CW", too, hadn't it?

That's what Kamada-chan was stuck on?

HAHAHAHAHA.

"AND IT WAS A KNICK-KNACK!?" Haru added, voice turning shrill.

Internal laughter spilled out from Hagakure's mind to lodge itself deep in her belly, taking over until the invisible teen felt tears streaming down her face.

"Told ya he was odd," Jack agreed. "Pandora's present was way cooler!"

"Jack!" Maddie nearly groaned, glancing pointedly from her husband to Kamada. The poor girl swayed like she was ready to pass out. "I think we've had enough time in the lab for now." The matriarch hovered over Haru like an anxious helicopter. "We can work with Hagakure-san later. After Dani shows up. For now, I think Kamada-san could use a nap."

"Right! Let me just set everything to record and we'll head out."

"Sweetie, we can't just—"

Jack was turning toward the Doorway Detector's central processing unit, half listening to whatever his wife was about to say, when a-guitar-pick-moving-across-bicycle-wheel-spokes harmonized with the cry of a dying-airplane-propeller.

Hagakure's feet were moving before she even recognized the sound.

WHACK.

Whir-click-click-clunk-clack-sputter-huuuuuuuuummmmmmm.

"NICE ONE, HAGGACURRY!" Jack belted, face alight with pride.

Maddie turned a thankful smile on Hagakure before pinning Jack with an unimpressed look. "As I was saying, Jack, someone has to watch the Detector. We can't just leave it alone."

"And that's where you're wrong!"

Bolting across the lab with exuberance, Jack threw open the door to a closet. Extracting what looked like a dusty box-fan-minus-the-box, a heavy-duty, homemade stand, a small surge protector and an old boot, the man bounded back.

Too curious to interrupt, Toru watched as Jack kneeled to set the base down, positioning it so that when he inserted and stabilized the fan it sat perpendicular to the Doorway Detector. Sliding the size-fifteen hiking shoe over one of the fan blades, he bolted the footwear in place using a set of pre-drilled holes Toru hadn't noticed earlier. After a quick survey of it all, he simply plugged the surge protector into the wall and hooked the fan up to it.

"I call it the Reboot 9000!" Jack popped to his feet, knees cracking as he did, but he barely seemed to notice. "It may not look like much, but the switch is a pretty fancy bit of tech." Gesturing at the surge protector, he elaborated, "It keeps the power to the fan off unless it 'hears' "—at this the inventor air-quoted—"the CPU act up. Neat, huh?"

"Couldn't you just fix the CPU?" Kamada asked, voice a little shaky, like she was struggling to use it.

"Nope! No can do! I wrote the code to the Detector last year. Only God knows how it works, now."

Haru's flabbergasted expression quickly devolved into exasperation.

Maddie put a hand on the seated girl's shoulder. Voice soft, she disclosed, "Jack has dyslexia, Kamada-san. Writing code isn't exactly his forte." The support student tensed, bright, splotchy color lighting up a too-pale face as the teen's black eyes fixated on her knees.

"I make him add a counter to any code he writes that tallies the number of hours he's wasted on each project," the redhead added wryly. "That CPU alone's sitting pretty at two hundred."

"Fifty hours over my allowed limit!" The words came out strangely proud, even as Jack rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment.

Kamada seemed to study Jack as if she couldn't decide what to make of him, brow furrowed like he was a puzzle to solve.

"Yep, the dysgraphia and the dyscalculia make syntax errors a bi—iiig problem." Jack cast a few hasty looks at Maddie.

Toru recognized the hesitation for what it was and snickered.

"Luckily, dyslexia might as well be a superpower for a hands-on inventor! I can think in 3D, I excel at mechanics and I'm great at problem solving! Mads, on the other hand, is way better with the fine details and tedious stuff that I can't stand. It's why we're such a great pair! I build outrageous things and she gets 'em to work!"

A small, loving smile crept onto Maddie's lips as she watched Jack's animated chatter, but it evolved into a full grin a second later as Jack thumbed in her direction.

"Sharp as a tack, this one!" He paused a moment, noticed his error and clarified, "Er, she's real smart."

"Aww. Thanks, Sweetie." Maddie crossed the space, standing on tip-toes to land a kiss on the much larger adult's cheek. "But before we leave, you're sure the Reboot works, right?"

"Absolutely! I'm ninety-five percent positive that I've worked out all the bugs."

Maddie's wince was subtle. Five percent of a wince, even, as she commented, "Maybe I should take a quick peek at the code before we head upstairs."

Jack squeezed his other half close, grin blinding as he turned his head to look at Kamada.

"See? Sharp as a tack, this one!"

Thursday, September 13th

6:13 pm

"Okay, so, for me it feels like I just want to hide. Then, my powers do the rest." Dani's ghost form shrugged, looking mildly apologetic. Forking a big helping of what was essentially homemade Beefaroni into her mouth, she elaborated, "I don' reary hink abou' iih. I jus'—"

"Translation error: no English detected," interrupted the halfa, coming from a phone at the dining table's center.

The ghostly teen rolled her eyes and closed her mouth to swallow. "I don't really think about it. Anytime I don't want people to see me, a little cold spreads out from my core, and 'poof!' I'm gone." Dani turned to a younger ghost floating a few inches above the chair next to her. "What about you, Lukas?"

Looking like he'd been caught pestering Ember again, the little magician hastily pulled a bright yellow kerchief in front of his white tophat.

Dani eyed her charge with a raised brow. "That was a big bite, ya big pig!"

An intense amount of chewing and a gulp sounded from inside the headgear, then Luke defended, "Whaaat? It's not like it'll kill me. And it's good. My mom was a terrible cook."

Dani froze, and a second later, so did the younger spirit before a big grin split the clone's face. Dishing another heaping spoonful onto the boy's plate, she watched as the kid angled shyly away.

Across the table, Hagakure's fuchsia-pink jumpsuit leaned forward in her chair. "So, Myway-san, about your invisibility…?" The words came out boarding impatience.

"Oh," the boy croaked, "Right! Sorry. Uhm. I don't even feel the power draw from my core. Maybe 'cause it comes so naturally to me? I just think or say the words 'Hocus Pocus!' and I'm invisible."

A snort sounded at the head of the table and a pair of ice-blue eyes danced.

"Shut up, Sir Ph—Fenton!"

"Sir Fenton?" Kamada questioned, voice not really intended for anyone else.

The male halfa stiffened, eyes locking onto Kamada before jerking away. Luckily, neither Haru nor Toru seemed to notice, too occupied by Luke's follow-up whine, "It was an awesome movie, and you know it."

"Awww, Jack; Hocus Pocus. Didn't the kids used to watch that every October?" Maddie cut in, too-sweet smile aimed directly at her son like she already knew the answer.

"Watch it?!" Jack barked next to her. "Dann-o was obsessed with it! I remember when he went as Max for Halloween."

Danny's face darkened, freckles becoming noticeable.

"HA! See?! You like it too!" Luke huffed, sinking a few inches before touching down on the chair, coattails bunching beneath him.

"Danny did make a cute Max." Jazz's voice came out tinged with repressed smiles. "One time, he stole this nasty cold medicine Mom was trying to make me take and just downed it, yelling, 'Now you have no choice. You have to take me!' and just booked it out of there. He ended up throwing up all over the carpet like two minutes later. It was hilarious."

A groan came from the end of the table as everyone laughed, but Jazz somehow managed to keep a straight face. Continuing as if she hadn't just ousted her brother in an incredibly embarrassing way, she suggested, "Hey, Dani, you should try taking away Hagakure-san's invisibility. You can make other people invisible, so why not the reverse?"

"Oh yeah! I can't believe I didn't think of that!" The female ghost stretched forward through the table and her meal, offering a hand to the invisible highschooler.

Hagakure didn't even hesitate, shoving forward so fast her own goulash nearly knocked over.

The room went silent as a second passed where nothing happened. Then two, then ten.

Hagakure's jumpsuit sagged, and a black glove retracted despondently.

"Weird. I could feel her power, so I'm pretty sure it's possible. But like, it felt like my power was under a blanket. I knew if I could just get on the other side, I'd be able to see what was happening. But the blanket kept moving with me," Dani explained helplessly.

"Sounds a lot like how our testing went," Maddie mused. "Every time we made a tiny bit of progress, her quirk adapted, and we had to start all over."

"What did it feel like for you, Hagakure-san?" the older Danny asked, eyes holding an intensity that a human's probably shouldn't have been capable of.

"Chilly. Like when you test pool water with your toe, but it's way colder than you thought, so you jerk back. Only it was like the water was touching me, but like, randomly and all over."

"Hmmm. You guys could just be a bad match up. Dani's powers are ice-based. Maybe you feeling the need to jerk back was why it didn't work."

"Huh! You know, that could be it, Cuz—" Dani awkwardly rolled the word forward, continuing a sentence that should have ended, "—zz it felt like her power was avoiding me on purpose."

"Hey Luke, you up for the challenge?!" Jack called, startling the kid as he snuck another bite of tomato-y macaroni under his headwear.

Luke coughed, hitting his chest with a satin-gloved hand before abruptly stopping. Chuckling replaced the hacking and the boy's white suede hat plopped down into his palm like he could have had a V8. "Man, I keep forgetting I don't need to breathe. But yeah, I'll give it a shot."

Instead of floating across the table to touch Hagakure, the boy grabbed a wand out of a sleeve. The carved hawthorn branch—that most definitely should not have fit in there—swished and flicked in Toru's direction as he called "Abracadabra!"

Hagakure's pink jumpsuit disappeared.

"Whoops! My bad!" Luke frantically gestured again, "Shazam!"

The invisible teen returned, a scrunched up nose and pursed lips just vaguely outlined by warping color as if her face was water that had been sprayed with WD-40. Closing in around the features, locks of stray, flippy hair ran wild.

In a wink, the impression was gone.

"Crap! Sorry, Hagakure. I almost had it. Let me try again!" Luke waved his wand before the girl could respond. "Your power was letting me in until I added a bit too much magic!"

Nothing changed.

"No! No, no, no, no!" he called, the branch's movements turning more and more erratic with every swing. "It shut me out!" Luke turned toward his frosty caretaker, voice wobbling, "It won't let me touch it now!"

Dani's hand landed lightly on the magician's shoulder, patting it reassuringly. "It's okay, Lukas, I'm sure the Fentons will figure it out somehow. They're geniuses." Shooting an unimpressed look at her original, she added, "Well, most of them."

"Hey!" Danny yelped on reflex, but quickly quieted. Hagakure still hadn't spoken and a few drops of liquid plip, plipped onto the table below the girl's face, beading on top of the hardwood.

"I'm so, so sorry, Hagakure! I didn't mean to! I messe—"

"I felt it!" Toru cut him off, voice cracking with emotion. "My quirk! It's always just been…there. But when you first started, I felt this pressure along my skin; but it was also in my bones, somehow!"

"That's wonderful, Sweet-heart!"

"Hagakure-san?" Danny spoke up, the medium timbre of his voice disarming and coaxing. "Can you try and focus on that feeling again? You might be able to learn to control it."

"I can't. It never works." The words came out with the reflexive bitterness of a familiar argument. "I've-I've tried."

"Toru," Kamada stressed, jarring her new friend out of the soon-to-be mental spiral. "You've never had a starting point before."

Hagakure took a shaky breath before going utterly still and quiet.

Everyone stayed silent with her, no one daring to even scrape their bowls on the off chance it might ruin the UA student's concentration.

They stayed like that for five minutes, everyone exchanging glances with each other except for the star of the show.

Before finally.

"Nothing."

Frustration leapt in like a tiger, claws bared. "UGH! I knew it was—!" Hagakure cut herself off, the black hood of her jumpsuit angling at Danny before dipping back toward her bowl. She took another breath in, but her shoulders stayed rigid.

"You might be too in your head."

The invisible teen didn't answer, but whether that was because she couldn't outright deny Danny's accusation or because she didn't understand the idiom was ambiguous.

"I've heard of this happening to other ghosts before." This time, Hagakure's head whipped back toward the youngest Fenton and stayed, the girl's attention caught. "Sometimes a power doesn't work if a ghost has convinced themselves that it shouldn't."

"You're talking about Queen Dorathea, aren't you?" Luke asked, curious. "I heard rumors, but…"

A surprisingly sharp glare from the female halfa next to him had the magician's mouth clicking shut.

"Hey, now. It's okay. He didn't know how rude that was; he's just a kid," male Danny defended, explanation causing Luke to flinch more than the glare had.

"Actually, we talked about this just last week during Circle. He knows better."

"Luke, it's okay," Danny reiterated. "But in the future, try not to oust another ghost's vulnerabilities, okay?

"Kay." The boy went invisible on reflex.

"Luckily, Queen Dorathea has given me special permission to share this particular story, because she, and I quote,"—Danny's voice took on a high pitch clearly not made for his throat—" 'found it perversely funny once I stopped spitting flames.' "

Hagakure relaxed at the prospect of a diversion, leaning toward Danny's end of the table as the boy started his tale.

"Queen Dorathea is a close ally of my family and can turn into a dragon using an amulet she wears around her neck." Danny inclined his head toward Kamada, and the teen's eyes widened before she nodded at the clarification.

"During a coup her brother tried last year, the amulet was broken and she lost her abilities. She was furious. She tried everything to fix it, but nothing worked. Frostbite—another ally of ours—tried to suggest that she may not need the amulet to transform. It was a good thing she couldn't change at the time, because she probably would have bitten his head off."

"She went a whole month with only basic ghost powers before she finally gave up and went back to the Far Frozen for help. It ended up being a simple fix. Turns out, the amulet wasn't the source of her powers, it was just a way to help her focus. Frostbite made her a new necklace out of reinforced ghost-ice and she was good to go the next day."

"See, Kiddo?" Danny addressed Luke, taking a page from his father and half aiming his words at Hagakure. "Everyone makes mistakes. You just have to decide whether you plan to repeat them or not."

"That's really cool!" Luke jumped up, flipping in the air before twirling his pseudo-staff like he belonged in a color guard. "I bet my wand's just like Queen Dorathea's amulet!"

"Maybe," Danny agreed, smiling at the boy's enthusiasm.

"Can I try something after dinner?" Jazz spoke up, head turned in Hagakure's direction.

"I—" Toru paused, before pushing her dish away and collapsing into her arms like a pillow. "Yeah, sure."

Jazz smiled encouragingly. "I'm thinking guided hypnosis might help."

Chapter Text

Dani, Luke and Gryphon at the Lost Holm!

Warning*** Part with Present Mic briefly references domestic abuse.

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

Friday, September 14th

7:18 am

Shell-shocked.

That was the best way to describe Izuku's state of mind. It was like white noise filled every murky corner of his brain when he thought about Kacchan, shutting off any and all intelligible thought. He'd talked to Aguni-sensei yesterday (in a serendipitously pre-scheduled session) and the therapist had assured him it was a natural response to trauma. That the mind could put things on hold that it wasn't quite ready to process.

He'd wanted to protest that this didn't qualify as trauma, per se, but found it hard to argue when his brain just kept…liquefying.

Kacchan was a brash fountain of infinite strength. He couldn't just…fail. Lose everything. All at once.

If only Izuku could hold—comfort, cry with—his friend. He knew Katsuki wouldn't allow it, but anything was better than this.

The greenet risked a bloodshot glance across the communal bathroom's sink well, past Kaminari to where Bakugo listlessly brushed pearly teeth. The boy who normally scrubbed at plaque like it was a mortal insult to his soul was gone, replaced by an automaton. In fact, Kacchan's movements were so sluggish, he could have been mistaken for a cold-climate lizard that had yet to sunbathe.

Izuku's eyes jumped past his rival, taking in Kirishima. The redhead was staring at Kacchan's hand with pinched brows.

Looks like Midoriya hadn't been the only one to notice Bakugo's slowness.

Suddenly, Eijiro's eyes were on Izuku. Pleading.

A cold sweat crept along his back but he found his spine steeling anyway. Antagonizing Bakugo was daunting, but it was a way to actually help. If the nitroglycerin-quirked teen didn't get his blood pressure up, he was going to pass out. Izuku'd never forgive himself if Kacchan slipped into a coma just because he couldn't take a few burns.

"K-kacchan."

Everyone in the bathroom froze, toothbrushes hanging half out of frothy mouths. Katsuki, however, didn't so much as twitch, blue bristles maintaining a circular motion against his teeth as his eyes kept their hundred-yard stare.

Izuku needed something more irritating than Bakugo's childhood nickname to get a rise. Something that wouldn't ultimately make things worse.

Spitting minty foam into the sink, he followed with, "I heard that Baku-chan is going to be moving in. It'll be nice to see her."

When several pops exploded down the way, Izuku knew he'd succeeded in getting Kacchan's attention.

For some reason, now that he had it, an idea popped into his mind.

A good chase might raise Kacchan's spirits.

Turning on the faucet and cupping his hands under the water, Izuku acted like he was going to rinse out his mouth. Halfway to his face, he threw his arms left, arcing the liquid into a projectile.

Denki squawked, hit by crossfire as the provoker pivoted and flashed out of the bathroom.

A split-second later, a smoke of pursuit obscured and smothered an afterimage of green sparks.

Friday, September 14th

7:42 am

Harsh breathing filled the air as Midoriya peeked around a corner. Poking at Kacchan had gone a little too well.

Black scorch marks peppered Izuku's grey jacket, the dark teal of one of his shoulder accents hanging by a thread.

Luckily, he'd lost the other boy when Aizawa had cocooned his pursuer in a capture scarf. But that left a bigger problem.

Aizawa-sensei.

Izuku half expected the man to come ghosting around the main campus building like an angry ogre, eyes glowing red and aura threatening.

When he didn't, the greenet sighed, but not in relief. That meant the Erasure hero would be more like a funnel spider, lying in wait for Izuku's inevitable return to Homeroom.

The bedraggled teen checked his phone. Forty-five minutes until class.

He couldn't go back to the dorms, for obvious reasons; but he could hardly stick around here. If he walked around campus without a supervisor for that long, there's no telling what Aizawa-sensei would do.

Midoriya's cell phone went off, startling him enough that he almost dropped the device. Checking the screen, he found his lips lifting at a text from Kirishima.

Thanks, Man! You're the best! Bakugo's already dropped six f-bombs in the past four minutes. :)

Thank goodness.

His phone chimed again.

Don't worry about your books and stuff. I'll bring em with to class.

Even better. Now he just needed to figure out what to do about killing ti—

Another ding.

Midoriya-shounen. Are you okay? Aizawa-sensei just called me.

All Might!

The mini-Might nearly scratched his screen with a fingernail in his haste to reply.

Yes! I'm fine! I'm just outside the main building.

Did you want to talk about it? I'm in my office right now.

Midoriya had already typed No, don't worry about it. I'm fine, and was ready to hit send when he paused. Hadn't he just been thinking he needed to find a supervisor? And he really did need to talk to All Might about something else. Holding down the backspace, he rewrote, Be there in a minute.

Stepping out from the corner he'd been hiding behind, Izuku approached one of the H-shaped building's main entrances and ducked inside. As tempting as it was to take the stairs, the athlete ignored them for the elevator, riding the lift up to the ninth floor where the faculty offices were.

It wasn't long before the motion-sensor lights led him down the hallway to the plain brown door of Yagi's office.

Slipping inside, Izuku wasn't expecting the lengthy, frail arms that instantly dragged him into a hug or the fresh tears that spilled down his face before he could stop them.

"I'm so sorry, Midoriya."

Great, ugly gasps rasped from weak lungs as he struggled to breath, throat closing and snot oozing from a red nose. The world faded and his thoughts floated away until a woolly suit jacket roughed his face enough to anchor him, tethering him to his sanity like a kite tied to a windy bluff.

The distraught student opened his mouth, a hissing wheeze escaping instead of the words he'd wished to form. Another shuddering breath and he tried again, this time with marginal success, "Kaccha—" hic "—n needed it. I—" another shaky breath "—had to get him worked up."

Izuku was reminded once again exactly why he loved Toshinori as the adult just gently nudged him toward the office's couch. "You aren't in trouble. Aizawa-san suspected you were trying to help. He called to see if I would check in on you."

For some reason, that brought more tears which Izuku frantically wiped away as he settled onto the green furniture. The cushions dipped next to him and he caught the tail end of his mentor leaning back, one hand still lightly holding Izuku's shoulder even as he coughed to the side.

"Sorry, All Might. I know I need to stop being such a crybaby."

"I think I'll let it go, just this once." The skeletal man raised his free hand, a finger going to thin lips as if to say "shh".

Izuku released a choked laugh, but it was enough to remind him why he was actually here.

All Might-sensei needed to know about Lunch Lady's attack on Kanagawa. The curly-haired boy had promised Ojiro-kun he wouldn't say anything, but seeing his tailed friend come home from the punitive meeting yesterday had changed his mind.

The blonde had never been so still. (Not literally. He'd moved. He'd talked. He'd interacted. But something had gone from the boy that "motion" just didn't cover.) He'd seemed so blank, smile reassuring as a Nopperabo donning a Noh mask.

Still, Izuku had to be smart about telling.

If Ojiro-kun found out he had, the greenet wasn't sure the other teen would ever forgive him. But, if All Might came across the article on his own, through some well-timed hints, well, technically he'd be keeping his promise.

"Thanks. Everything just really caught up to me all at once." Izuku carefully extracted himself out of the taller male's personal space, scooting a couple inches away so that their thighs were no longer touching. "I feel better."

"Can I get you anything? Water? Juice? Tea?" Yagi asked, already turning toward a small mini fridge in the corner of the room and pushing off from the couch.

"No, thank you. I was actually hoping to talk to you about setting up a field trip for the class. Things have been really rough and I think it might be good for everyone to get a day off campus. I hear there are a lot of temples near the Kanagawa shopping mall that would be great to do research on for our upcoming Kamakura project. Maybe we can go there."

"Do I really need to remind you that UA is in lockdown?" Toshinori lifted a (mostly hairless) brow ridge and popped open the door to the fridge. Spindly fingers clamped down over a small juice box, drawing it out like an arcade claw before closing the fridge and puncturing the container with a straw.

"We could bring a ton of security! It doesn't have to be unsafe! I've just been seeing a lot of articles lately about how cool the area is. I really think it would help us get our minds off the green Nom—"

"—Midoriya-shounen, you know why we can't do that." Izuku winced as All Might plopped back down on the couch with a sigh, sucking at his sugary drink until the laminated cardboard dimpled.

Izuku took a breath, blowing out frustration. "Can you at least just think about it? Look into the area a bit? I bet if you did some research, Nezu would have to listen to you."

"I'm sorry, Midoriya. You have to understand. There's really nothing I can do to change the staff's mind on this."

Izuku's jaw clenched, then relaxed. This was going to be harder than he thought.

He'd have to try again later. If he kept pushing it'd be suspicious. And if All Might didn't stop being so dense, he was going to say the wrong thing and incriminate himself despite his best efforts.

Friday, September 14th

8:57 am

Carl Johnson's lanky frame shouted up at the auditorium, reminding his students that the assignment on identifying RAM types was due Monday.

Danny slouched, holding a throbbing head as he uncapped his thermos and took a swig of the peppery, nutmeg-lemonade flavor he associated with ectoplasm. A nearby student gave a weird look, nose crinkled, but after Danny's mechanical-pencil-ray misfire last Friday, she refused to comment. Not worth getting involved with a "Fenton", he was sure.

Normally, he'd find that level of shallow behavior mildly annoying, but right now he was just thankful he could nurse his hangover in peace. It was pretty funny watching her endure the scent of "antiseptics and chemotherapy chemicals" in self-imposed silence, though.

"Okay, Class! Enjoy your weekend and I'll see you all Monday!" As per usual, Mr. Johnson was the first one out the door.

Danny rose, grabbed his red bag and started down the aisle. He hadn't bothered unpacking anything today as it had taken all his effort just to listen beyond the pounding in his ears. Pushing by peers that leaned aside to let him pass, the halfa ghosted toward the door.

Huh. That'd been surprisingly easy. Normally there was at least an iota of resistance for anyone trying to leave right away.

Oh. Whoops.

Danny sucked his aura back into himself, removing his "pain" from the air. Several students at the end of the row nearest him visibly sagged and he ducked through the door feeling somewhat guilty.

The second he got to the other side, his two best friends fell into step beside him.

They were here early. Especially Sam.

Danny eyed the goth suspiciously until she queried, "Soooo. How are you feeling?" The words were considerately quiet, barely a murmur, and the pieces clicked into place.

"My head feels like it got hit by a sledgehammer." (He'd know.) "But other than that, I'm good. No more nausea, at least. Things are still a bit bright, but at least the sound sensitivity's gone."

"Oh sweet! That means I don't have to whisper," Tucker called loudly, grinning at the other boy's discomfort.

Sam elbowed the technogeek's side and rolled her eyes as Danny stepped in front, leading the two down the stairwell and outside to a set of empty picnic tables.

Danny felt a hum in his chest as he sat down that caused him to look over at his friends. Their breath frosted the air and there wasn't a speck of winter gear between them. Not even Sam, who normally had an array of fleece-lined, print-covered leggings for Fall. Stealing glances at the bright, formless cloud cover above them, he offered, "We can go inside, if it's too cold."

"Nah, Man. This is fine," Tuck assured, plopping on the other side of the table and pulling out his phone. "You wanted to complain about something ghostly, right?"

"How did you know that?" Danny whined, hiding his head in an arm cradle. "I haven't even said anything yet."

"Oh I don't know. Maybe the fact that you took point on our walk and led us to a place devoid of people?" Sam teased.

Tucker just shook his head, commenting "Clueless," before absentmindedly opening a Digimon emulator and tacking on, "Don't forget a Scrambler."

Scrambler. RIGHT. Danny lifted his head and a sharp jab to his brain reminded him exactly why he'd forgotten to use the power.

Hurrying to flood the area with technopathy, he nudged all nearby machines to "ignore" outside sights and sounds.

"So? What's up?" Sam's arms were already wrapped around herself, but she didn't comment on the chill.

Ice-cold energy crept from Danny's core, pouring up his throat and out his eyes in a way that turned their normal blue ethereal. The temperature surrounding his friends skyrocketed fifteen degrees at the same time that fat snowflakes began to fall over the school's baseball fields.

Bile suddenly rose in his gullet and he turned around, vomiting into the grass.

"Danny! We said it was fine! Don't overextend yourself!" Sam scolded, her tone telling him just how exasperating he was to be around even as he felt a slender hand start to rub circles on his back.

"Can I just—?" The ravenet looked pleadingly at the stinking pile of neon-green-oatmeal.

"No!" came at the same time as, "Please, Dude, or I'm gonna hurl too."

Danny spread intangibility through his shoe to the ground and the vomit disappeared into the grass like magic.

"Tucker!" Sam seethed, steadying Danny through another wave of nausea.

"Hey, don't be too mad, Sam. At least my powers actually work today. Yesterday was awful! I had to move to the Ops Center after I burst a pipe just getting water. Thank God the girls were in the lab."

"It's probably just a side effect of the whiskey. You do have one heck of a hangover," Tuck reminded, as if Danny had even a chance of forgetting.

"You don't understand. Yesterday was bad. I lost my pants. And set my shirt on fire. At the same time," the supernatural boy deadpanned.

"Well, have you made any headway on why everyone's powers are acting up?" Sam inquired, grabbing Danny's thermos out of his bag, uncapping it and handing it to him with a no-nonsense expression.

Danny accepted it without a fight, sucking in a gulp of the viscous liquid before responding, "Not yet. But Frostbite said he's looking into some weird radio wave that's been broadcasting in the Zone. He seems to think it might be related. Some kind of discourse thing."

"Ask if it got stronger yesterday or something," Tucker cut in. "That'd give you a pretty good idea if it's the source of the problem.

"True," Danny acknowledged, tipping back the rest of his drink. "But I don't want solutions right now. I want to vent! You should have seen the size of my—"

"EW! No! Gross! There is no way that you can end that sentence that will be okay," Sam cut him off.

"Whaaaat? I was just talking about a ghost shield," Danny responded innocently, blinking big baby blues at his disgusted friend.

"Suuuure you were," Tuck laughed, looking up from his game with a grin as Danny fought his own smile.

"It's true! I sneezed! Blasted a fifty foot ghost shield. Right out of my nose!"

"WOW, would you look at that?" Sam made a show of rubbing her arms. "Goosebumps. I'm officially cold." The goth pushed herself up from the table and extracted herself from the bench. "Time to go inside!"

The boys shared a glance before following Sam's lead, snickers chasing her brisk-paced form all the way to the Arts Center.

Friday, September 14th

10:33 am

Tokyo Central Trauma Center. How may I help you?

"Hi, I'd like to speak to Hoshizora-sensei. Would you be a dear and transfer me to him?"

Are you a patient or family member of his?

"No, I—"

I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you won't be able to speak to him unless you have an appointment or have been admitted to our ER.

Color bloomed in Chiyo's cheeks and she pursed her lips. Now that was just downright rude. Was this how Central hospital treated people these days?

"My name is Shuzenji, Chiyo." The grandma kept her tone even and soft, like she was talking to someone particularly slow. "Also known as Recovery Girl. I am neither a patient, nor a moocher. I need to speak to my colleague about a work related issue." An edge hardened her next words, sharp as an obsidian blade, "If you would be so kind."

Shuzenji-sensei!? An office chair suddenly creaked in the background,the wheels thuddering along something plastic, possibly a floor mat, before the receiver muffled and the person on the other end called out something indistinct. Someone else apparently answered, because a second later the phone returned to clarity and she breathed, He's with a patient right now, but if you leave your number with me I can have him call you—oh wait, he just got out. HOSHIZORA-SENSEI! Chiyo pulled the phone away from her ear at the yell. Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to—I just—here! the receptionist squeaked and clattery static filtered through the line.

Uhm, hello? The words sounded more than a little confused. This is Hoshizora.

"Ryuji-kun! Hello, Dear. This is Shuzenji." Chiyo let warmth into her tone. The reason for her call might be grave, but she wouldn't let it interfere with genuine happiness at talking to an old resident.

Shuzenji-sensei?! the chicken-dinosaur hybrid squawked. How have you been?

"I'm sorry Sweetheart, but I don't have time for a social call right now." Chiyo easily pushed regret into her voice. "I wouldn't mind one when I'm less busy, but I'm on a mission right now."

Oh, of course! Sorry! What-What did you need?

"A direct line to reach you in the future would be much appreciated, for starters. Your receptionist is a bit like Shiitake-kun used to be, before I set him straight," the elder chuckled.

Ah…

"Second, I need to do a patient sweep. I'm sure you've heard about the missing students. Hagakure Toru and Kamada Haru."

Yes. I'd heard. My condolences.

Chiyo could have corrected him, reminded him that the girls could still be alive and well. But this was her old student. They both knew the statistics.

A few mouse clicks and keyboard taps later, Hoshizora answered Chiyo's request, No patients have come in under those names. And no invisible Yamada Hanako's.

Hair and eye color of the other student?

"Grey for both."

Any mutations?

"None."

It was a good thing Chiyo was a doctor and a hero. Otherwise bypassing PPC wouldn't have been near so simple.

No one's coming up. But I'll let you know in the future if that changes. My number's—

Chiyo hurried to scribble down the string of digits, glad she'd had a pen and paper nearby for notes.

"Thanks, Ryuji-kun. Sorry to have our first talk in a long time be all business."

No, not at all. I remember how you operate. It was good to hear your voice, at least.

"Yours too. I'll call again another time, but I have to go for now. Lots to do."

Talk to you later, then.

"Bye."

Chiyo sagged in her chair, eyes scrolling over a long list of hospitals in the area.

Placing a check near Central, she exhaled.

Work to do, indeed.

Friday, September 14th

11:17 am

Hizashi Yamada rubbed puffy, dark eyes. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, knowing what the staff had been forced to decide on. Removing students from the hero course for misconduct was something UA did not do lightly. In fact, the last time it'd happened, Hizashi had been a student.

It also didn't help that the decision came on the heels of two voluntary unenrollments from the hero course.

Yamada took a slow breath, counted to seven and released it.

Dwelling and moping wasn't going to help any of his students, but continuing to go through fanmail might help Hagakure.

The talk show host looked over at a mountain of papers next to him, its jumbled slopes stark white against the forest green of his office couch.

He was in the hour between periods, so he had some time. Best to get to it.

Tying his hair in a ponytail with a black elastic band, he grabbed an envelope at random from the chaotic mess and tore it open. A letter withdrew and green-yellow eyes scanned for a red mark. Seeing scarlet crayon above a sloppy scrawl of hiragana, the hero grimaced, already bracing himself for what news this little listener might have to share.

It was always harder when children used the SOS notation.

Their problems could be as simple as a stray cat not showing up for dinner. But sometimes, sometimes they were much worse. Those letters and voicemails always broke his heart no matter how quickly he could get child protective services involved.

Luckily, this one seemed to be mismarked. He should probably feel annoyed that the kid didn't understand the importance of a red tag, but all he really felt was relief.

Hi Mr Pres൭Nt Mic.

My -m- naMe iss Sou-chan. I found anew fri൭nd that might B coOl -2- TOo HAVe on you're sho-uu-w. No 1 is lice him. He iz licE A NEW aniMle.

PS pleez have HIm on! He is so coOL!

Below the heartfelt note was a drawing that wasn't a stick figure, but may as well have been. Yellow circles framed out a disproportionate body with nine strands of hair and a smile in brown. Beside the figure (labeled with an arrow as "Me") was a lime green circle. Big red eyes looked out from the blob that was aptly named "Watrmellen".

Yamada felt a smile creep onto his face. He might just have to have Sou-chan and his pet watermelon on the show. But not right now.

Standing up and walking to the far wall, the celebrity pinned the letter to a cork board full of favorites before turning back around and eyeing the couch.

He should probably switch to voicemails. They tended to be a lot easier to sort through and had more recent information.

Strolling over to his desk, Hazashi opened a drawer and grabbed out his "tip line" work phone. Swiping the lock screen open, he held the "1" on the device's keypad until the cell started to ring.

Please enter your password.

1365.

You have_ twenty-seven_ new messages.

There were a lot today. Hopefully, that meant actual news on the missing girls.

Thursday, September thirteenth, 9:02 pm.

"Hi, Present Mic. I wanted to report a possible drug dealer in the Minato ward near block twelve. Petite female with short black hair, pale skin and some kind of toad-controlling quirk. She often meets with—"

Hizashi skipped the message, noting the timestamp and "drug dealer" on a nearby notepad for his secretary. She could go back over the message later, but right now, the Voice hero had bigger fish to fry.

Friday, September 14th

1:03 pm

A rush of heat and hazy smoke escaped the door that Snipe opened, swirling out into the chill Autumn before drifting away on a breeze.

Today he wore his underground hero attire, standard cowboy threads replaced by a gothic-steampunk bodysuit well suited to a shitty vampire movie. His face was exposed for once, right half displaying a mottling of shiny pink skin. It didn't matter though, he fit right in.

Before even stepping into the seedy establishment, the sharpshooter scanned between grungy bar stools, posters, dartboards and a pool table, spotting no less than three low-level villains each with their own set of scars.

His own contact stayed hunched in the shadow of a booth, full cowl drawn up over a yawning darkness.

Snipe strolled over to the bar, lifting a hand in a casual, two finger salute. Shortly after, a pair of shot glasses clinked down in front of him, filled to the brink with a clear liquid.

"You want that on your tab, Bullet?"

A quick nod before he snagged the drinks and strode purposefully toward his "friend".

Red vinyl creaked under Snipe's weight as he slid into the booth and peered through the shadows of his contact's hood, not at all surprised when a variety of eyes looked back.

"Grave Robber." Snipe inclined his head.

An apt name for someone who accumulated extra body parts from corpses.

A mass, in-tandem blink returned the greeting before a raspy voice replied, "I called in because I found something on one of my 'walks'. It seems I'm in possession of a hot commodity right now. That is…to the right buyer."

The less than law-abiding citizen reached into his cloak.

Beneath the table, Snipe drew and aimed his gun in one smooth motion, posture remaining deceptively lackadaisy.

The dim light of the table lamp caught and highlighted the edge of something distinctly electronic before his informant hastily tucked the item back away.

Snipe found himself leaning forward, curiosity piqued. "Oh, and what leads you to believe I'm the 'right buyer' for this particular piece?"

"Haven't you heard?" Grave Robber's multi-colored eyes twinkled and his voice lowered, "Things have been disappearing lately. Important things. In impossible to reach places."

The underground hero's eyes narrowed, focus intensifying on the person in front of him even as his ears strained for possible eavesdroppers.

Words coming out even lower than his companion's, Snipe demanded, "And what, exactly, does this have to do with your product?"

"Thing's've been going missing…" A tentacle slithered onto the table, tracing a slimy circle on the wood. "But they've also been turning up." Grave Robber's hood tilted back, just enough that a hint of light made its way onto the lumpy flesh of what should have been a chin. "Unnatural things."

A thrill shot up Snipe's spine as a serrated smile bloomed on marred skin, overflowing with entirely too many teeth.

Friday, September 14th

2:00 pm

Jazz Fenton lounged on top of her little brother's bed, the dark purple comforter hiding a set of NASA themed sheets. Hair twirling around a finger, she flipped through The Beginner's Guide to Counseling and Therapy. It'd been a while since she'd read it and she was due for a refresher.

A sharp tug to the scalp pulled her attention away from the book and she glanced over at her hand.

"How the heck did I manage that?" Jazz breathed, mildly cross as she frowned at a tangle of red hair.

The difference between an intentional and compulsive lie would have to wait.

Tucking a bookmark into place, Jazz leaned over a small, white dresser to the side of the bed. Lifting several sheets of paper, she frowned, finding only a bracelet nestled beneath the stack. Putting it on and ignoring the tinkling charms, she opened the top drawer.

Where the heck was her hairbrush?! She knew she left it here.

Ugh.

Maybe someone moved it.

Jumping to check the upstairs bathroom, her lips pursed when the vanity yielded no results either.

She sure had been losing a lot of stuff lately.

Either the girls were hoarding her things, Dad was pilfering again, or there was a ghost involved.

What was her life that she even had to include that last theory?

The front door of the house creaked open before thumping closed and Jazz turned toward the sound.

Must be Danny. Mom and Dad were already on the plane to Switzerland and wouldn't be back until Tuesday. Maybe he'd know who was taking her things. She'd bet good money on Youngblood.

As she headed toward the staircase and past her room where the girls worked on homework, she heard shoes flop to the floor and the fridge open a moment later.

Straight to food and no footsteps. Definitely Danny. A fond smile cracked Jazz's scowl and she crossed the living room. Slowing to a stop at the cased opening to the kitchen, her eyes landed on the ravenet as he rubbed at his temples in the light of the fridge. Her own problems faded to the background.

He still had a headache?

Danny's eyes suddenly winced shut and Jazz froze halfway through a turn toward the medicine cabinet. A swirl of green had appeared above her little brother's head, just barely missing his hair.

Was that…a portal?!

It vanished.

Taking a breath and cracking his eyes back open, Danny reached into the freezer.

What was a portal doing—

The tall male tugged at some frozen vegetables that someone (probably Dad) had crammed in; only for the bag to rip, sending broccoli and carrots spewing to the floor.

Danny jumped back with a hiss and another little current of ectoplasm formed on the kitchen table at his back, the salt shaker vanishing through.

No WAY.

Starting forward, foot raising to accept her weight, Jazz announced, "Danny! I figured it—"

Her brother startled badly, a much larger portal opening between them.

Jazz's eyes popped wide as her step disappeared into air.

Chapter Text

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

"Tea wa dokodesu ka?" [Where is the tea?] For scenes from an English character's POV that does not understand Japanese except for any words shown in bold, which may be none. The bracketed translation is for the audience.

"Dialogue in Japanese that is getting translated in real-time." If all words are in bold, the English character can understand everything that is being spoken in Japanese.

If a scene is being translated the entire time, and there are no language issues anywhere in an entire scene because of a translation device, the scene will just be written as normal. But you know who speaks what. I believe in you.

Friday, September 14th

2:12 pm

"—AAAZ—!"

Jazz's foot just barely cleared the portal behind her before her brother's shout abruptly cut off.

Stumbling slightly from what was apparently just a six inch drop, the redhead managed to catch herself on a piece of wicker furniture. When she looked up, it was to an expanse of potted squash plants colonizing a serene rooftop. A gentle breeze tickled her face, and the chill added to her mood despite the sun.

"Gosh darnit!" Jazz fumed, stomping over to the edge of the building as she mussed her hair in frustration. Raising a fist at the sky and shaking it, she yelled, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!"

She found out Danny was the cause of the portals and now she couldn't tell anyone?!

AAARGHHHH!

Danny must have done something to piss the universe off. That was the only explanation she was willing to accept at this point. He had to have broken too many mirrors fighting ghosts over the years, or something, because this was ridiculous.

Gazing out over distinctly Eastern style architecture, she worried her lip. The people with mutations in the crowd below meant it was possible that this was Hagakure and Kamada-san's dimension. But what if it wasn't? What if she was trapped somewhere else entirely. What if—?

"A-a-ano. Hello?" [U-u-uhm, H-hello?]

Konnichi wa? Definitely Japan.

Jazz snapped around, greeted by the sight of an elderly gentleman hovering half-out of the door to the building's stairwell. His sage-green shirt was mostly visible, but only a single one of his legs poked through the door, the other still inside and clearly ready for a quick getaway.

Jazz's normally milky complexion paled to paper-white.

Right. This was somebody's residence.

Suddenly self-conscious, she reached up to touch at a nest of now thoroughly-ratty hair.

Despite the twenty or so feet between them, the man flinched.

CRUD. She must look like a crazy person that had climbed onto his roof to have a shouting match with the voices.

Cheeks doing a 180 from lack of color to full-bloom red, she stilled, halting her hands from their automatic urge to hide her face. Taking a breath, she shifted her posture to non-threatening, dropping her arms until they hung loose at her sides and relaxing her shoulders.

"I'm sorry; I'm stuck up here. Can you help me get down, please?" Jazz asked, slowly pointing to herself a couple times before down at the sidewalk below, hoping her tone would come across even if the words didn't. "Help. Please," she repeated, when the man's thinning eyebrows scrunched down in confusion.

"Sumimasen, I don't understand," [I'm sorry, I don't understand,] he shrugged helplessly.

Well, at least with how often Hakagure-san liked to say wakarimasen, she'd understood most of that sentence.

Man, this would be a heck of a lot easier if—

OH DUH.

This was one of those rare times Jazz could just feel how closely related she was to her brother as she held up a finger in the universal sign for "wait a minute".

The guy relaxed as she drew out her phone, seeming to understand that she was having trouble communicating because she was an English speaker, rather than someone with a neurological disorder. Pushing the door he'd been hiding behind the rest of the way open, he stoppered it in place and stepped out on the roof.

Jazz felt her heart skip a beat as the grandpa emerged from the shadows, his other sweatpant leg coming into view.

A decal of a man posed proudly on the light-tan fabric, flashing a smile as his massive hands gripped a set of bulging, muscular thighs.

All Might.

Kamada had gushed about the blonde hero enough times in the past week that Jazz would recognize the rip-off Fighting America anywhere.

He even looked the same age as he did in the pictures on Kamada's phone.

It seemed things were looking up.

Friday, September 14th

2:12 pm

-Simultaneously-

"JAAAZZ!" Danny's scream echoed through the house, shaking the large, black canister light near the ceiling and rattling the kitchen cabinets.

The kidnapper took his sister FROM RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM!

It had to be a revenge scheme! The villain knew Danny was getting involved with the girls. And Jazz—

"Danny! I figured it—"

Oh God. She knew who it was. She'd made a breakthrough, and was coming to tell him.

The person took her to silence her.

"They took her!"

They were going to kill her.

Danny's core railed, condensing in his chest like a snowball into ice.

He had to go—He had to save her. He—!

Suddenly there was warmth.

Arms?

Human. Mine. Protect.

The cold sucked back into his core so fast he felt dizzy, rapidly reheating a chilled room.

"DAANNY-SAN! Danny-san!"

The halfa tried to focus on the voice as he turned his head, angling it down as he went.

The person attached to him was so small. So…fragile.

Danny's eyes wandered over a rounded chin, past a button nose, and up to a pair of almond eyes guarded by thick, long lashes.

They were trying to tell him something. But what?

Danny snapped back to himself with sudden clarity as another person stumbled into the room.

A weird energy trickled away from his eyes like sand from an hourglass and he blinked, the image of the first girl disappearing like a lost dream. Only a pair of hollow jeans and a shirt remained, the ebony sleeves of a sweater clasping him in a hug.

Hagakure.

Danny gulped in a breath that sounded entirely too much like a wheeze and his heart lurched in an unnatural beat.

When did he start sweating?

Oh. He needed to—he needed.

Focusing on his breathing, Danny inhaled.

One. Two. Three.

Exhale.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

The air was cool on his face. His converse rubbed at the back of his right heel—he needed to glue one of the worn edges back down. Focus.

Keep counting. Even breaths.

The cabinet across from him had a chip in it. He should buy touch-up paint.

His body felt tingly, like all his hair had been tickled.

Gooseflesh.

Rubbing his fingers together, he noted the rough of callus skin and fingerprints.

His clothes were cold.

Hagakure was warm.

Danny opened his eyes.

Just when had he closed them?

"I'm—I'm okay." A shuddering breath; then, a rapid, "They took Jazz."

"Ano—watu about Jazz-san? Tuu faastu," Kamada asked, watching his lips closely.

"Mou ichido, onegai shimasu," [One more time, please,] Hagakure agreed as she finally let go of the tall male and stepped back a few feet.

Danny played the Japanese back in his head. Wait. He knew that phrase. Duh. They needed the Gabber.

Numbly grabbing into his pocket, Danny slid out his phone and turned on the app.

"They took Jazz. The kidnapper caught her with a portal when she came to tell me something." It was like a fresh bucket of ice dropped down Danny's back at the recount. His breath hitched and its successors immediately turned shallow.

"I don't—I've looked into everything I can. I don't have any more leads." Danny buried his face in his hands. "Clockwork won't help. I need to save her, but—but how can I if I don't know where she is!?"

Hagakure's voice was even as she admonished, "Danny-san, calm down."

The halfa's hands dropped in a snap and his resulting glare was sharp. "Calm down? You want me to calm down?! SOME PSYCHOPATH KIDNAPPED MY SISTER!"

"Danny-san, I think what Toru-san is trying to say is that panicking doesn't help," Haru broke in, soft voice more jarring to Danny than even Hagakure's steady one. "We should call Tucker-san. Maybe he can track Jazz-san's phone."

"And we should check the residue from the portal while it's fresh," Hagakure chimed in.

The anger left Danny in a rush, and suddenly, he was just so tired.

What was wrong with him? Snapping at people who were trying to help? With sound advice, no less.

He hadn't let his obsession so thoroughly trounce him in years.

"I'm sorry." Danny was going to elaborate, but saw he didn't need to. Kamada's face and Hagakure's body language told him they understood.

And they would. Better than anyone.

Standing up straight, Danny opened his contacts and dialed Tucker.

Friday, September 14th

2:27 pm

Jazz strolled down an urban sidewalk, running fingers through bright orange hair in an attempt to remove the plethora of knots. Getting it somewhat under control, she reached into her back pants pocket and grabbed out a phone, opening it to the Notes app. A document labeled "FDR" filled the screen and her lips turned up automatically.

"Jazz, get the POTUS plans!" a younger Danny yelled, watching as FentonWork's kitchen went up in green flames.

"The what?!"

"Execute order 32!"

"Danny, this is no time for jokes!" Jazz retorted, throwing the door to the fridge open and slamming her hand on one of two buttons next to the ham. Blue showered from above, covering everything in what looked like men's shaving cream. "I don't even get it!"

"C'mon Jazz, you're the history buff," Danny whined, hand visor protecting a pair of ice-blue puppy eyes, "If you don't, no one will."

At her little brother's pleading, Jazz groaned, scooping a glob of foam off the floor and plopping it on her chin to stroke in thought.

It had ended up being a joke about Franklin Delano Roosevelt. For the sole reason that his initials shared an acronym with the Fenton Disaster Response plans.

Danny was such a dork.

Smile fading with the memory, Jazz swiped through the document's pages until her thumb stalled over "So You Fell Through a Natural Portal".

That was probably the closest she was going to get to her current predicament.

Weaving around a colorful, A-frame sign, Jazz huffed a laugh. The instructions started eerily similar to the Prime Directive, which meant Dad must have written them. Although…maybe it was a joint effort, seeing as cute, precise doodles peppered the margins. The ninja hiding behind the words "be stealthy" definitely had her thinking of Mom.

Looking through the "possible outcomes" section, Jazz winced, reminded just how lucky she'd been. She could have portalled anywhere or anywhen. There was no fail-safe to keep her from winding up as a corpse-sicle in outer space or a splatter mark on the ground after a mile-high drop.

Yet somehow, she'd ended up entirely uninjured and in a non-hostile environment, able to pass as a typical resident (albeit a quirkless one) using knowledge she'd gleaned from Hagakure and Kamada-san. She even had a freaking translator, for goodness sake, a map and a coat. It was practically a guaranteed recipe for success.

The last two items were even new.

Ito-san, the gentleman who'd owned the garden, had been the one to give them to her. He'd been very adamant that she take them after he learned how she'd been stranded on the roof by an overzealous prank.

She felt bad about the lie; but she really did need the work jacket (it was chilly), and her Google Maps was not only outdated beyond belief, but couldn't connect to the internet.

Besides, a prank had been pulled on her. One that technically involved a "quirk". It just so happened that the universe, or perhaps Clockwork, was the instigator rather than some fictional girl from her sight-seeing tour.

Finally reaching the end of the block, Jazz maneuvered her phone between her last three fingers, leaving her pointer and thumb free to unfold the travel brochure.

Was it this corner? Or the next? It was so hard to tell when none of the roads had names or signs.

Apparently sensing her confusion, a pedestrian approached, his seamless, concrete body making little noise as he shifted several plastic grocery bags from one sculpted arm to the other. "Tetsudaimashou ka?" [Would you like some help?]

The surprisingly smooth voice had Jazz scrambling to minimize her Notes in favor of the Gabber app. "Uhhhh. Just a second, I didn't catch that." Then, "One more time, please."

"Oh, an American! I was asking if you wanted any help." Squinty black eyes crinkled in a smile as they glanced at the map.

Jazz found herself mirroring the expression. "That would be wonderful."

After only a few minutes of back and forth, blue pen covered the paper—a path and several landmarks inking it.

With another smile and a quick, "Arigatou!" Jazz was off, on the hunt for a minimart.

It didn't take long to find, but she still felt compelled to duck inside. It wouldn't do to start her journey with the wrong Lawson, which was, apparently, a fairly common chain around here.

The owner was thrilled, asking for pointers on how to pronounce several English words and insisting the interaction be in Jazz's native tongue. Somehow, the foreigner left the store with a warm riceball shoved into each coat pocket.

Japanese people were just so…so nice.

What was their secret? Their culture? How they were raised?

Even completely ignoring the superhero aspect of their society, this place was fascinating.

The young psychiatrist's brain worked overtime, half keeping an eye out for a yellow building while the other half people-watched in search of answers.

MUSTARD.

The garish color pulled the American's attention away from a toddler helping his dad sweep the sidewalk.

Stone guy had said the yellow building would be hard to miss. But wow. Jazz didn't even know that brick came in that hue.

Orienting herself off a nearby parking garage, she set out again, this time for a WacDonald's. A smile sprouted on her face and the traveler shook her head, keeping an eye on the far side of the street.

Alternate dimension indeed.

When a set of inverted, golden arches finally came into view, Jazz sidestepped a bird-headed man in a business suit and pressed the button for the crosswalk.

It was a left before the WacDonald's, not after.

The light turned green and a small pod of humans rushed to absorb her, depositing her on the other side of the road and leaving the girl to continue straight on her own.

Within several blocks, foot traffic slowed to a trickle, then disappeared entirely, this section of the city proving far less interesting than the shop-lined district behind.

Jazz pocketed her map and grabbed at her bracelet, sorting through its charms before finding the ones she wanted and wiggling them free.

Taking the silver band off, she held the jewelry parallel to the horizon and called, "Ecto heckto!", satisfied when the ring lit neon green.

Hmm. This was going to be tricky without a table.

Spying a short, cobblestone wall nearby, she strolled over, holding the glowing band an inch and a half over it. A quick drop through the hoop like a basketball had her "earring charms" growing in size, revealing their true identity to be Fenton Phones.

Jazz wasted no time, snatching the comms system up and fitting it in her ears.

"Testing, testing. One, two, three." Sliding her bracelet back into place, she listened, disappointed when not even the static of the Ghost Zone came through as feedback.

Well that was a bust.

Deflating, she slipped the Fenton Phones into a zippered pocket that sat above her chest and continued on.

It wasn't long before she approached a three-story building, the windowed walls of the second and third floor catching the sunlight and reflecting it into her eyes. The redhead looked away, blinking down at the concrete path below.

As the spots in her vision faded, a community notice board slowly appeared in their place.

Holding her phone camera up to the kanji, Jazz was pleased to find "Musutafu Public Library" floating on the screen.

Cracking a grin, she started toward the building.

It was important she find a way to take care of herself until Danny could get to her.

The thought stalled her good mood and anxiety gnawed at her stomach lining like some acidic monster.

With how dense her brother was, it might take him weeks to realize he was the problem. Heck, it already had been weeks and he still hadn't figured it out.

She was fine, obviously; she wasn't worried about herself.

But Danny's obsession pretty much guaranteed that his health was in for a nosedive.

Friday, September 14th

2:42 pm

"I'm sorry, Danny. Phantom's signature is the only one here, and I can't get a lock on Jazz's phone," Tucker apologized from his crouch near the living room-kitchen border. "She might have turned it off to save battery." The technogeek shifted on the balls of his feet, holding out a PDA with his right hand while the other one automatically steadied the Fenton Finder on his left knee.

Danny surveyed the screen from just a yard away, making no motion to take the device even as his foot practically vibrated with nervous energy. Kamada and Hagakure hovered further in the kitchen, staring anxiously at their host.

"Check again." Face drawn, the ravenet's eyes lowered to the tile in front of his best friend.

"Danny, I've already looked three times. This isn't getting us anywhere. We gotta do something else."

Gaze darting up and turning severe, the halfa briefly caught a set of teal eyes before zipping back down. Opening his mouth, Danny paused, then hissed out a long breath. His next words were bland, carefully controlled, "What else can we do?"

"Maybe we have to open the portal downstairs," Kamada offered tentatively, keeping an eye on the red splotching over Danny's cheeks like rosacea.

"That's a great idea, Kamada!" Tucker praised, setting the quiet girl into stuttering deflection as Danny muttered, "If the portal that took Jazz used the Zone as its midway—" his voice sped up, gaining emotion, "—opening the Fenton Portal might act as a conduit and allow us to reach her!"

Snatching at Tucker's arm, Danny pulled his friend up. The boy yelped, only just managing to grab the Finder before it could crash to the floor. The relief was short-lived, as a second later, he was half-led, half-dragged through the house toward the lab.

Startled, Hagakure and Kamada rushed after, trying to keep up with the boys' much longer strides. The invisible teen took point, the support student trailing behind with a still-stiff leg. It was a good thing, too, because halfway through the dining room, Danny bumped a chair in his haste, toppling in front of the girls. Toru's fast reflexes were the only thing to save her from a nasty bruise.

Their host didn't notice, bulldozing ahead and yelling "Danny!" at the voice authorization panel like he hadn't just slammed a hip into hardwood.

Exchanging a silent glance with Kamada (who tried her best to meet the other girl's unseen eyes), Hagakure just picked up the chair and pushed it in, walking through the still-open door to the basement. After a short pause, Haru steeled her shoulders and followed, pressing a button when she passed the threshold.

As the security lock dinged and the metal doors slid shut behind them, the pair started down the stairs.

"—sorry, Man. There's still no signal."

Green bathed everything, the tell tale, fluctuating light an obvious sign that the portal was already open.

"There has to be!" Danny snarled, forcing Tucker to either lean back or get spit on. "I have to help her!" Hands clenched into fists, the ghost boy started to pace like a caged tiger, nearly invisible, ectoplasmic flames wisping off his exposed skin.

Tucker covertly glanced toward the stairs and set his electronics aside before stepping into his friend's path. Grabbing the larger man's arms in a no-nonsense hold and stifling a wince, he demanded, "Dude, calm down!"

The fire snuffed out just as Hagakure and Kamada reached the base of the stairs.

When no exclamations or accusations came forth, Tucker sagged and pulled his hands away, immediately hiding them in his hoodie pocket.

Danny stared at the younger boy's sweatshirt, eyes showing a little too much white, before wrenching his gaze side-ways toward the girls. Teeth clenched and face turning decidedly pasty, he watched Hagakure approach.

When she got close, a black sleeve rose up like a snake and a divot appeared on Danny's nose, causing him to go cross-eyed. "Danny-san! Stop panicking for a minute and think! Kamada-chan and I both fell through a portal, but we're fine."

"Hagakure-san's right," Haru tacked on, bringing up the rear, "We weren't captured, just transported. She's probably just wandering around lost somewhere."

"I bet she's not even lost!" Tucker grinned, latching on to the reasoning with forceful confidence. "You know how resourceful Jazz is. She can handle anything that comes her way." A blush reddened his darker skin. "She's strong, capable and brilliant with people. I wouldn't be surprised if she's thinking more about you than herself right now. What are you gonna do when she comes back and the only thing wrong with her is an ulcer from worrying about your sorry ass?"

Danny's eyes flicked from Tucker's cocksure face, to the portal and back again.

Like a pile of drapes held up wholly by rumpled creases, Danny finally sagged.

"You know. I really hate it when you're right."

Friday, September 14th

3:27 pm

A mechanized belt lay unassuming on a metal welder's table, its silver circuitry overlaid in several places by pathways of electric green. Various cords led away from the device, hooked up to all of the best instruments UA had to offer.

Beside them, the school's principal stood high on a stool, looking down at the gadget before turning his gaze to survey the rest of the support course workroom.

A ding cut the silence and Higari Maijima grabbed up a nearby tablet, scrolling to the bottom of the readouts and measurements supplied by the surrounding machines. Sharp air whistled past his lips. "You're right, Kocho-sensei. The ectoplasm powering the device has the same signature as the portals."

With that verification, Nezu ground his teeth. Luckily, he didn't have to worry about the wear on his incisors (they'd grow back), but he did have to worry about the small bald spots developing under his sweater-vest.

This mystery was leaving him equally confused and frustrated. Every new thing they discovered made his original theories drift farther and farther away from reality.

Nothing was adding up. Not a single thing.

What villain left a trademark etched into their nefarious device? He'd assumed at first that it was stolen tech, with how official the "FentonWorks" logo had appeared. But the company didn't come up in any system he had access to—legal or otherwise—and now that they knew the signatures matched, it was obviously made for the villain. Not to mention the fact that the name was written in English, the same language that "Lunch Lady" spoke.

And why a belt? Higari had managed to makeshift a key for the center clasp to activate it and all the accessory had done was coat itself in ectoplasm.

It was hardly a doomsday device, so it must be some kind of support item meant to power up the wearer. But why?

The residue of energy from the initial portal site had been formidable, but maybe that had been a result of the belt. Maybe the portal user couldn't make enough ectoplasm on their own to keep this up?

But why get rid of the belt if that was the case?

Why make things appear at all?

Was it a trap? An SOS from a kidnappee? Or was it something else entirely?

Maybe the portal user was an unwilling participant—the belt did have a lock on it—or the villain didn't have as much control as UA believed?

That last could be true. The green Nomu had shown signs of major quirk instability in her most recent fight against the faculty. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume ectoplasmic Nomu shared at least some pitfalls.

A light knock sounded at the door and both Power Loader and the rodent turned to it.

"Kocho-sensei. It's Ectoplasm," came almost totally muffled through the metal. The individual study rooms were heavily soundproofed, so it was no surprise.

"Come in!" Maijima ushered and Ectoplasm obliged, sidling through the opening before gently shutting the reinforced door behind him.

Covering a gaseous hiccup, the duplicator fished, "You requested my assistance?"

"We have acquired something from our opponents," Nezu informed, cutting to the chase. "I'm going to be frank. We're not sure exactly what it does, but we think it's a power booster of some kind. We've run various tests over the past hour and it doesn't seem to be a weapon, but it may require an ectoplasm user to understand its purpose." The principal let the words rest in the air like dough, hoping that his employee would rise to the occasion.

"We thought you might give us some insight," Maijima added, gesturing with a hand. "We don't expect you to try it on unless you want to, but it's possible you'll catch something we didn't."

Dark blue head dipping down, the math teacher crouched in front of the device. "I am not opposed to having a clone test it in the future. But I would like to thoroughly look it over first. I assume you've already tried hacking into the software?"

"We have." Thinking about the inaccessible code that only returned the letters T and F no matter what they did, Nezu's muscles tensed. "But there's a firewall we can't seem to bypass."

One of Ectoplasm's eyes widened, giving the illusion of a raised brow to his smooth forehead.

"It's particularly…adaptive. We suspect an advanced AI," Nezu explained in response.

"Impressive. It is rare for any code to best you two."

"You're telling me. For a fashion accessory, it sure packs a punch," Maijima conceded, walking over by Ectoplasm and dropping onto a spare stool with a sigh. "I'm worried we might not crack the code before the ectoplasm fades."

"Speaking of. It doesn't appear to be shrinking. At all," the kneeling male commented. "I know it looks like ectoplasm, but are you sure it is?"

"We're sure. Its signature matches the portal user's."

"Check the decay rate. Something's off."

Maijima opened a new app and ran one of its programs. A whirring disturbed the air as a nearby electronic angled toward the belt, a dish-shaped sunflower turning towards its green-hued sun.

"It's stable," Maijima pronounced a second later, tone filled with awe as he tapped a number on his tablet and held it up. "There is almost no sign of radioactive decay."

Silence greeted the statement.

Someone had not only managed to make a device that ran on ectoplasm, but they'd also managed to stabilize the incredibly volatile substance.

Just who the heck were they dealing with?

Friday, September 14th

4:30 pm

"Irasshaimase. Nanika osagashi desu ka?" [Welcome. Are you looking for something?]

Jazz set her phone on the counter between the middle-aged woman and herself, tapping on the device's screen as she mimicked a phrase Hagakure liked to say during English practice, "Mou ichido, onegai shimasu." [One more time, please.]

Hesitantly, the librarian repeated herself, jumping slightly when the Gabber app parroted her words in English.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you were American." The slightly chubby female ducked her head, eyes sliding away under Jazz's focus and down to her own pink shirt.

"It's fine. I seem to be hearing that a lot today," Jazz responded with a grin. Keeping her voice soothing, even though the app couldn't convey tone, she tacked on, "I mean, I am in Japan, after all. Assuming I'm Japanese is hardly an insult."

At the other woman's answering smile, the psychiatrist redirected the conversation back around, "Now, would it be possible to get a log in for the computers? They seem to be locked."

"Absolutely. May I see your ID?" A plump hand reached out and the woman tilted her head, unaware that the simple question had sent Jazz into a tailspin.

The Amity resident's purse, and therefore wallet, were stationed where they always were when she was lounging at home—on the coat rack by the front door of FentonWorks. There was a back-up picture of her driver's license on her phone, but Hagakure and Kamada had described a rather negative political climate due to the League of Villains and the FDR plans had explicitly warned against finding her way onto any government's radar. Having her real information in a public database sounded risky.

Who knew if her hometown even existed in this universe? Or what if her ID was flagged for something mundane, like lacking a quirk description? Heck. If by some miracle she didn't get tagged, they'd still have her name tied to what was going to be a very peculiar browsing history.

She wished she could say she was being paranoid, ridiculous even—she was at a public library, for Pete's sake—but experience had taught her that her brother's terrible luck tended to be very transferable.

"Hello? Miss?"

Jazz was startled from her thoughts, and she blurted out the truth. Well, a version of it. "I forgot it at home—I mean, the hotel." The foreigner winced, before looking up sheepishly. "I didn't know I'd need it."

"Oh!" The other person looked panicked, shuffling around behind the desk. "That's okay. Let me just—Ack! Sorry!" Dark-green eyes watered as the woman momentarily sucked on a red thumb-tip, using her other hand to hold out a clipboard and pen. Taking a breath and dropping the injured hand, she explained, "You can just use the sign-in sheet. ID's aren't mandatory, they're just easier to use because we can scan them."

Jazz's shoulders dropped minutely and she gave a thankful smile.

Beaming in return, the librarian added in a rehearsed tone, "Please limit computer time to an hour when the library gets busy. If someone is waiting to use the computers, whoever has been on the longest will be asked to log off. But if no one is waiting, feel free to stay on as long as you want."

That…actually was a really good policy. Jazz would have to suggest it to the Amity library when she got home.

The American glanced up at an analogue clock on the far wall, jotting down "Jazz Smith" and the time, before relocking gazes with the woman's dark eyes. "Uhm. Would you mind helping me log in to the computer? I have a feeling I might need help switching the keyboard and operating system over to English."

"Oh, of course! I don't know how, but I'm sure we can figure it out together."

"Team work makes the dream work," Jazz agreed automatically.

"I'm sorry?"

"Uh, nothing. Don't worry about it."

Dang it, Danny. Her brother needed to stop being so contagious.

Thin-plucked brows drew together in confusion, but the librarian didn't comment, stepping out from the centralized help desk and leading Jazz toward a row of computers along the back wall.

Daintily tucking a blue skirt under her legs as she sat down, the sweet lady accessed one of the monitors and grabbed out a smartphone. "Let me just check Bang—" Bang? Jazz's lips twitched, "—real quick, but I think you can hold a series of keys to switch the keyboard over."

Only a few seconds passed before, "Yep, here we go."

Satisfied when a quick document test proved the fix viable, the plump woman started navigating the computer settings.

"Do you mind if I take a video?" Jazz had learned a lot at college. Like the importance of instant, visual notes.

"Oh, not at all." The librarian leaned to the side, pine green hair sliding over a shoulder as she allowed Jazz's phone camera access to the screen.

"Let's see…time and language…language…Oh, that's nice! It looks like English is already on here. Now we just need to sign out and sign back in and you should be good to go!"

"Thanks for the help—uhm, I'm sorry, what was your name, again?" Jazz asked, fairly certain the other woman hadn't said.

"My name?" The lady seemed flustered, cheeks going red as she peeked back at Jazz. "Oh, it's—" she paused, eyes widening before squinting in a smile, "You can call me Inko."

"Thank you, Inko-san. You've been a big help."

"You're very welcome." The librarian stood and did a slight bow, then threaded her way back through the bookshelves to the help desk.

After her assistant left, Jazz turned back around, taking Inko's place in the chair. Fingers interlocking and palms stretching outward until her joints cracked satisfyingly, the ginger shook out her hands and grabbed the mouse, opening the internet browser.

When the homepage popped up, she couldn't help but snicker.

Time for a "Moogle" search.

-cut from end of "Jazz getting asked for ID" spiral-

She could just see herself trying to talk her way out of being arrested when this somehow went sideways: Oh, hey, Guys. No, I'm not a part of the League of Villains; I swear! Yes, I came here through a portal, but I'm just an average, everyday girl. Well, yeah, I know Hagakure and Kamada-san, but I didn't kidnap them or anything! My brother just happens to be outlandishly powerful and didn't know he could tear holes in reality. Crazy, right? Well, turns out you can accidentally trip into another dimension.

Surprise! The multiverse is real.

That'd go over well.

Chapter Text

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

If a scene is being translated the entire time, and there are no language issues anywhere in an entire scene because of a translation device, the scene will just be written as normal. But you know who speaks what. I believe in you.

Friday, September 14th

4:42 pm

HUUaaagggHHHH!

Sharp, acidic vomit slicked a normally elegant boy's throat as he hung over one of class 1B's dormitory toilets. Gone was the well-built teen's typical pretty-boy status, eaten away by dark circles around his eyes and a sheen of oil covering his skin. Ironically enough, the very same orbs that stared in misery at the toilet seat were, at the moment, his most striking feature, their blue-grey irises emphasized by his sickly, ashen tone.

Neito Monoma groaned, bonelessly sliding off the side of the porcelain. He needed to get back to bed, but the thirty feet of flat, hardwood floor between him and his mattress might as well have been a sheer cliff.

This flu had really laid him out flat.

Literally.

The cool tile of the bathroom floor soothed his overheated body, the nausea finally ebbing under the reprieve. Monoma rallied, rolling just enough to get his knees and hands under him.

A crawl seemed doable.

Starting in the direction of his room, the feverish teen squinted against the bright lights of the hallway.

What he couldn't figure out was how this bug had just come out of nowhere. No one he knew was sick right now and everyone had been stuck on campus for lockdown. Just how the heck had he gotten it? And why the heck wouldn't his shoulder stop itching?

Scratching at the stinging ache for what felt like the hundredth time today, Monoma finished a slow, three-legged shuffle into the bedroom. As he approached his pillow-top destination, the tinkling of wind chimes caused him to look over at his nightstand.

His phone.

Wow. How long had it been since he'd looked at it?

He drew a blank, the answer eluding his befuddled mind.

Most of the last twenty-four hours were just a blur of crazy dreams and people coming to check in on him.

Hauling himself into bed with his arms like some great, winded ferret, he flopped over, grabbing his cell and opening his class' group text thread.

Handful of Fun

I still can't believe he got kicked from the hero course. The faculty knows how much he's been through lately. It doesn't seem fair.

Vine Priestess

Life is not always fair, but it is what we make of it. Perhaps God has a plan to help him move past this. I will pray that he learns to embrace this hardship and come out better for it.

Man of Steel

I feel bad for him. Kirishima-kun got worried enough that he canceled our endurance spar today.

Haxorus 2.0

I don't feel bad. Karma just finally caught up with his crappy attitude.

Monoma jolted forward into an upright position, sickness completely forgotten.

What!? Somebody got kicked from the hero course?!

Gentle Giant

Isn't his mom going to be staying on campus?

And someone from Ojiro-kun's family, too?

Maybe that will help cheer them up.

You Give Me Split Ends

What? No way! Are they gonna be staying in the dorms?!

Man of Steel

Just a sec.

Man of Steel

Okay, thought so. Kirishima-kun says Ishiyama-sensei and him were up all night working. It looks like they'll be staying in a small duplex in front of his dorm.

Thumb jerking down, Monoma watched the comments whirl away, rapidly replaced with older texts.

The antagonistic teen's eyes took on a manic sheen and a massive smirk split his face.

Scrolling down, a short giggle startled from his lips like a thunderclap, antagonizing his lungs and sending him into a coughing spree.

Two students from 1A had been dropped from the hero course?!

AND ONE OF THEM WAS THAT COCKY BASTARD BAKUGO!?

Tossing back his head, Monoma's hand rose to wipe sweat-plastered bangs from his brow.

Another fit of giggles burst forth, quickly ramping up into full-blown hysterical laughter.

Suddenly, he just felt soooo much better.

Friday, September 14th

5:09 pm

"Oi, Slouch! Your muscles are strong enough to hold up your angst, I know they can lift some furniture. Get off your ass and grab the other side of my dresser!"

"You'll have to wait a fucking second; I'm busy!" Sitting in the middle of a brand-new dining room floor, a cross-legged Katsuki Bakugo sneered at the screwdriver in his hand. "You know, Old Lady, if you'd just accepted UA's offer to furnish the apartment, we wouldn't have to be doing this shit."

Behind him, what was essentially a middle-aged, gender bent version of the boy soured and glared hard.

The explosive teen was in the process of reattaching a leg to a disassembled table. The ungainly thing hadn't fit through the front door, so they'd had to temporarily amputate.

"Get over yourself. If I'm gonna be here babysitting your dumb ass, I'm gonna be comfortable doing it." Swaggering up behind her son, Mitsuki smacked him hard over the back of the head. "Now, I asked for help; and as you so kindly pointed out, I'm old. So suck it up, Buttercup. The table can wait."

"Fucking slave driver." The room abruptly smelled of heavily burnt sugar as smoke sizzled off Bakugo's hands, but he set the table leg (now with a blackened hand print charred into it) down, teeth grinding as he jolted to a stand. Stalking over to the small nightstand that his mom "couldn't" carry on her own, Katsuki reached over to heft it up, grumping, "Where do you want it?"

Even with the tension flickering through the boy's muscles and the upside down v his lips made, Katsuki's ruby eyes were softer than they had been in weeks.

Friday, September 14th

5:21 pm

"You really think your mom's going to make you drop out?!"

Two gen ed students sat together on a dorm couch, their feet just shy of touching as they angled toward each other on the green cushions.

"Maybe." The second speaker, a small girl with dark braids woven into her curly brown hair, hugged spindly legs to her chest and peeked up at the masculine female in front of her. "She's just so upset about everything that's happening. You know that petition to make a faculty oversight board? She drafted it. And I know she's been to at least one protest." Burying her face into her knees, the teen whined, "Our teachers are going to hate me."

Saline coated a set of thick, furry lashes and gorilla-like hands reached over, picking up and cradling the smaller girl's in solidarity. "Our teachers aren't petty. They won't hold what your mom's doing against you."

"I really want to tell her off—you know how hard I worked to get into UA—but all these attacks on campus kinda prove her point." The feminine brunette shrunk down, hands still held in her friend's grasp and air leaving in a whoosh. "Maybe I should transfer."

"But you can't just leave me here by myself!" the beefy girl cried in response, "I only came to UA to follow you!"

"Then come with me again!" Seafoam eyes brightened at the prospect and the petite kid yanked one arm back, repositioning it so their mismatched hands were clasped instead of her own just being cupped. "How about Ketsubutsu Academy? They have a pretty good general studies program! We could go there?"

"Pfft. You'd be stupid ta transfer," a lilting Kansai accent piped up behind the couch, scaring the two commiserators. Ignoring their shouts of surprise, the tall, musical boy wrinkled his nose. "It ain't gonna be safer somewhere else. Or are you forgettin' Shiketsu? More than jus' hero studies have been gettin' hit. At least UA's kicked that green monst'a lady to da curb both times she showed up without ah single death." He eyed the girls, raising a brow when they winced. "Ya think anywhere else could throw hands with such a' overpowered Nomu and win?" The teen scoffed in a way that sounded almost like a strummed banjo. "As if." The eavesdropper turned, head shaking as he sauntered back toward the kitchen.

Trading looks of trepidation, the best friends wilted.

"At least now you've got a decent argument to use against your mom."

Friday, September 14th

5:45 pm

Jazz glanced at the library's clock.

Fifteen minutes until closing. She'd have to sign off for now.

Surfing the web for an hour had been a fortuitous, if tedious, endeavor. Despite needing the Gabber App to read most of the sites she'd visited, she'd managed to gather a decent amount of intel.

Like how to earn money without an ID.

The first option she'd found in the classified ads of an online newspaper. A local school's English teacher had been bad enough at his job that it had caught the attention of several parents. Outraged, they'd taken matters into their own hands and were trying to set up after-school study-pods, going so far as to shell out good money for a private (preferably native-speaking) tutor.

The other option she'd actually come across in a TEFL blog. The most recent post had been filled with recounts of the writer's early days in Japan, a time where job stability was a myth and loitering in bars was the best way to make extra cash. Supposedly it was not uncommon for a flustered businessman to approach in hopes of practicing English, more than willing to pay premium for the opportunity.

Both options seemed reasonable, but the bar might require ID just to prove she was over twenty, and a tutoring job had more consistent income.

The rest of the computer time was spent looking into support companies that specialized in communication (in case the Fenton Phones stayed nonfunctional), a few local laws and customs (apparently not carrying a passport could be grounds for arrest—yikes), and some basic history. (Luckily, her prior knowledge on that last was already pretty solid—thank God for Hagakure-san's chatty nature).

New information swimming in her head, Jazz got up, getting a drink from a water fountain before casually wandering over to one of several reading nooks. The one farthest from the help desk.

Ducking into the squirrely hole, she wedged herself between a bean bag chair and several square pillows, rearranging them so that the squishy seat was between her and the "door".

She waited, pretending to read a book.

After a bit, she checked for onlookers before burrowing under the cushions like an octopus into sand.

When the "lights out" call came just five minutes later, she was well hidden. Going perfectly still, breath stalling, the loiterer easily escaped the notice of a person making final rounds.

Everything plunged into shadows, helped along by the setting sun, and Jazz heard keys jingling in the front door before the entire library fell silent. Dark shapes loomed at her from beyond the small room, their full-bodied, ink-and-paper scent reminding her of their status as bookshelves, even as they gave the impression of stalagmites in a high-ceilinged cave.

It was bitter-sweet. It reminded her of Amity's library. But more than that, it made her miss Ghost Writer's. There was something incredibly charming about work tables closed in by walls of hundred-foot, floor-to-ceiling shelves. Knowing that flight (which was possible for humans in the Zone) was the only way to access its treasures made its appeal just that much greater.

Jazz shook herself out of her thoughts. She needed to set up shop for the night, not indulge minor homesickness.

Grabbing out her phone, she checked the top right corner.

Only ten percent battery, even with power saver mode enabled. Looks like charger setup was top priority. She only had a little juice left before the cell would take away flashlight rights.

The reading nook lit up under the glare of LED's and Jazz flipped the phone over, leaving it screen-down on the carpet. Next, she pulled her charm bracelet off, squinting her eyes against the omni-directional blinder at her knees. Speaking the magic words, the ring shone green, and she passed what looked like a cat-o-nine tails wrapped around an emerald broach through the opening.

Hooking the now-full-size ecto-battery up to the many-adapter charging cord, she plugged her phone in, ignoring when the device gained its own viridescence.

Okay, now she could check the Fenton Phones.

Hand grabbing into her chest-pocket, Jazz pulled out the communication system.

Dead silence was the answer.

Double checking that the Fenton Phones themselves were fully charged, Jazz tried changing a few of the settings.

Still nothing.

Crud.

Danny might have been able to get them to work, but Jazz had never been all that mechanically inclined. Unlike her brother, she'd inherited Dad's clumsiness, not his handy-man skills.

For all she knew, the Phones were working fine, and this place just didn't have a permanent connection to the Ghost Zone.

Uuuugh. If she could just talk to Danny, she could prevent his inevitable melt-down.

Jazz tossed the Phones to the side, and they landed on the nearby bean bag chair with a small pufft. Both palms sliding down her face in exasperation, she groaned. As they continued down and flopped uselessly into her lap, the throaty sound morphed into a sigh and she leaned over to grab up the charm bracelet.

It was a great Christmas present, but even Mom couldn't have accounted for this.

Still, Jazz plucked off another charm, this one in the shape of a capsulized drug. Peeling off the outer of its two shells, she dropped it on the floor before unplugging her phone and using its light to guide her to the drinking fountain. Coming back with a loosely cupped fist, she stuck the hand out over the capsule and unrolled a finger.

A single drop of water trickled off, landing neatly on the pill.

In an explosion of purple polyester, a sleeping bag materialized on the floor, filling roughly half the reading nook with its size.

Just because Mom couldn't predict every mishap that might befall her children, didn't mean she didn't try.

Taking off her coat and plugging her phone back in, Jazz retrieved one of her rice balls and settled onto her side. Idly chewing, she also pulled a nearby throw pillow under her neck.

Several hours until bedtime with no games or internet.

This was gonna be a long night.

Rolling so that she faced the nook's exit instead of the wall, Jazz peered out over rows upon rows of books.

Or maybe not.

Friday, September 14th

6:12 pm

Hagakure snuck a glance at Danny where he hunched over his homework on the coffee table. She was currently tucked up on the Fenton's curved couch with a tablet, one ear half-listening to English through an earbud, while the other focused on the living room around her. Had she been paying much attention to the subtitles in her lap, she may have laughed at the Impractical Joker's antics; but as it stood, her thoughts were too busy crowding each other like rowdy, shrine festival attendees.

Danny was Phantom.

There was no doubt in her mind now.

Nearly getting iced to keep him from exposing that secret during a panic attack was admittedly pretty stupid, but it was obvious how much stress he'd been under. It wouldn't have been fair to have Kamada find out when his mind was already tearing apart at the seams.

Distracting the support student from the literal fire coating Danny's arms had been trickier, but apparently she'd managed, seeing as Haru had yet to comment. Thank Kami-sama the portal gave off a distorting light of nearly the same color.

The real question was, what did she do now? It was one thing to have something resembling a conspiracy theory floating around in her brain, but another to have it proven right. Should she confront Danny about it head on? Passively let him know?

The UA girl glanced down the couch again. Her host just continued to stare with glazed eyes at his chemistry worksheet, foot perpetually tapping. Beyond him, Tucker pressed against Danny's side in silent support while rapidly typing away on a laptop, a pair of gloves covering his most-likely burned hands.

No.

He was obviously trying his best. It wasn't like her officially knowing about Phantom really changed anything. She'd just continue to play it cool. Pretend she didn't know anything for his sake. He had enough to worry about.

Mind made up, Hagakure zeroed back on the tablet in her hands, staring hard at the corner for a moment while a dull pressure rolled up her body and out her fingertips.

The small spot became fuzzy, as if the black edge was slightly out of focus, and the highlight darkened, shifting a few millimeters up.

A grin blossomed on Hagakure's face and she looked up excitedly.

She did it! Jazz was going to be so proud of—!

The smile withered and died.

Friday, September 14th

6:12 pm

-Simultaneously-

Danny was PHANTOM.

HOW HAD SHE NOT NOTICED THAT?!

It was so obvious, in hindsight. What with how fast he was, how silent he walked, how unnaturally still he could be.

Then there was how evasive the Fentons were about meeting him.

And the things Danny'd said on his birthday.

How he'd reacted to the shot-glass.

How awkward he was talking about Phantom.

OH KAMI-SAMA.

Haru had been obsessing over him. All week. TO HIS FACE.

Toru-san had even called the hero hot. And Haru had all but agreed.

Horror tore through the shy girl, the heat of her cheeks threatening to melt her into a puddle.

Danny looked nearly IDENTICAL to Phantom.

How on Earth was she ever going to look him in the eyes again?

Kamada fixated on a set of complex schematics in front of her rather than risk a peek at either the object of her anguish or the black sweater and jeans half-reclined on the couch next to him. Moving her phone's camera right, she watched the Kanji on the screen shift and jotted something down in the notebook beside her on instinct, the entry coming out shakier than its forerunners.

If Danny found out she knew, that'd be the end of her. She couldn't take that level of mortification.

OH KAMI-SAMA.

What if Hagakure found out?

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH.

Only one week with Toru-san and Haru already knew the prankster would never let her live it down.

She had to keep the invisible teen in the dark. No matter the cost.

It was already an absolute miracle that the other girl hadn't seen the fire on Danny's arms, or the incriminating ice prints his shoes had left on the basement floor.

She could do this—she just had to—

Hagakure's frustrated cry tripped Kamada's racing mind as surely as if someone had shoved a stick between her running thoughts.

Shame churned in the quiet highschooler over her selfish musings and she forced her eyes up.

"If only we were at home!"

Huh? Toru was worried about going home? Right now? Did she miss something?

Noticing Tucker and Danny's startled looks, the teen's brow furrowed.

Apparently not.

Hagakure's sleeves lifted, shuffling back and forth erratically as if mussing her hair.

"I feel so worthless here!"

The shock left Danny's face and he immediately straightened, a mantle of calm settling on his shoulders. It was like watching one of the many videos Haru'd seen of Phantom just materialize before her eyes. The self-assuredness, the regal aura—Seriously, how had she not noticed?!—came as naturally as a breeze but was as drastic a change as a gale-force wind. "You're not worthless, so don't even talk like that. You know Jazz would be all over you if she heard."

"But I'm basically dead weight!" Hagakure gestured vaguely at the rest of the house. "I just sit around studying all day while you guys work on fixing everything. At least at home I could be helping you back."

"Hold up. You think you haven't helped?" Tucker piped in, looking at Toru like she'd suddenly turned visible. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to pull Danny out of a bad panic attack? And you did it in what—twenty seconds? You're worth your weight in gold, Toru-san."

Feeling her own vexation at the other girl's statement, Haru frowned and put down her phone. "Hagakure-chan. You talked me down from a panic attack when I first got here. And you know we haven't only been studying. We've been helping the Fentons in the lab and in the field. Did you already forget that you stopped the Doorway Detector from blowing up yesterday? Just because we haven't had good luck doesn't mean we aren't doing anything."

"But—urrgh!" The teen jumped up, tablet frisbeeing into her vacated spot before a sleeve rose like she was running a hand through her hair. "If we were home I could recruit people smarter than me to help. With better quirks than invisibility," she bit out. "Midoriya-kun would know what to do. Or Kocho-sensei! Yoayarozu-chan could make anything we needed. Or the support department. There's even someone from Isamu Academy named 'world' or something that has a dedicated tracer quirk." The sweater's woven collar wrinkled on the side closest to Kamada, and suddenly, Toru's voice projected more directly at her, "Let's face it, between the two of us, the only one who's going to help the Fentons make a breakthrough here is you, Haru-chan!"

Ehhhh? But Haru was nothing special. Toru was the outgoing, competent one.

The support student opened her mouth to say so, but Tucker was faster, "Hagakure-san, that's it!"

A guarded "What's it?" came from the empty clothes before the self-deprecator's arms lifted, crossing stiffly.

"Ghosts are basically our version of quirk users!" Tucker exclaimed. "We need to look for someone with specialized powers! A tracker, or something! Maybe Cujo can help sniff out Jazz!"

"Or Wulf! I—er—Phantom was already going to meet up with him tomorrow!" Danny caught the fervor, lunging to his feet to pick the invisible highschooler up and swing her around.

Seeing panic flash through Tucker's eyes in the background, Haru blinked.

HOW ON EARTH HAD IT TAKEN HER SIX DAYS TO REALIZE DANNY WAS PHANTOM?!

Friday, September 14th

9:17 pm Central (Illinois' Time Zone)

Jack felt a yawn crack his jaw as his bloodshot eyes passed over a nearby baggage claim. Promptly walking past it, wife at his back, he patted the thigh of an incredibly uncomfortable pair of jeans, smiling when the pocket jingled.

Fenton Tech was the best. Nothing compared to having all your luggage AND your gadgets (that never would have made it through security otherwise) fit in your pocket like miniature toys.

The smile faded as Jack furiously scratched at the neckline of a plaid shirt.

Now if only they could have worn their suits on the plane. He was already developing a rash.

Sighing as he shuffled onto a descending escalator (Maddie two steps up because of Jack's size), the man grabbed out his phone and turned it on.

9:17 flashed for a moment, before the screen turned more orange and the numbers changed to 4:17.

Gross.

How was he supposed to accept that it was morning when he hadn't even slept yet? He'd need a nap or this jet lag was gonna chop him off at the knees.

Constant vibration pulled Jack's attention back down to the phone. Service must have finally reconnected. The escalator bottomed out and he and his wife exited to the first floor, only for Maddie's cell to take up the chorus as she turned hers on, too.

Cold fear lanced Jack as surely as one of Danny's ice-spears as he met his other half's gaze. In a heartbeat, they were rushing to the side.

URGENT!

EMERGENCY!

Kidnapper took Jazz.

Call as soon as you land.

Friday, September 14th

11:56 pm

Mashirao Ojiro frowned out a window, arms propping the back of his head off a floor futon. He paid little mind to the night sky just barely encroached on by dark treetops outside, too consumed by vicious thoughts.

What was he going to do? He'd lost his spot in the hero course.

Everything he'd been working toward was gone. Destroyed in a single day.

And all because his teachers were tight-lipped, incompetent assholes.

Searing rage for the faculty burned up Ojiro's body, sending him into a cold sweat.

UA'd been lucky. If the League had truly wanted to kidnap anyone else, they would have done it by now. The ease with which the Nomu trespassed on campus was a glaring sign of just how true that was.

The school's security was an absolute joke.

Just like him.

All that anger redirected, turning inward and amplifying as self-hatred.

He'd royally fucked up capturing the Nomu, spending almost ten minutes fighting an enemy that'd already left. It was laughable.

How the hell was he even supposed to help Toru-chan at this rate?

Ojiro wracked his brain, trying to come up with anything, absolutely anything that he could possibly do next.

The martial artist grit his teeth and the end of his tail tapped little thwacks of agitation onto the floor beyond his feet.

He could ditch lockdown and make a trip up to Kanagawa. Maybe he'd find something out in person that his internet searches had missed.

From what he'd read, there wasn't anything noteworthy going on at Detnerat, despite Midoriya-kun's theory. Clothing and accessories seemed to be the company's main focus this quarter.

It was possible, however, that whatever had snared the League of Villain's interest wasn't public knowledge or was still in its infant stages of development. (If Shigaraki had engineered a distraction just to steal self-repairing denim, Ojiro was going to tear out his hair.)

Mulling the idea over a bit, the blonde frowned.

Maybe it wasn't a good idea to sneak off. A single trip that would probably get him expelled wasn't worth it. Not when he was set to transfer into support, anyway.

If he was going to hear anything about up-and-coming technology fresh from Detnerat, it would be there. The whole department constantly had ears to the ground for gossip of that nature. Not to mention that it was possible he might overhear the faculty talking about Hagakure in or near the workshop. Power Loader hardly left his domain and was sure to be an integral part of Kocho's search, after all.

Maybe he should—

A small spot of green flashed in the sky behind the duplex.

Mashirao's focus slammed back into his five senses and the lean muscle of the boy's tail tossed him to his feet with as much effort as a coiled spring.

The far-off color winked out, locking all of the fighter's muscles in dread until he noticed a small glint of something plummeting toward the forest floor.

Mashirao made it three heavy steps toward the bedroom door before his brain kicked in and the teen stumbled to a stop. Kazuko was in the room next to him. He froze, listening hard for his sister.

As sweet as it was that she'd dropped her life to come be with him, the super-hearing of her Fennec fox ears was rather problematic.

Grimacing, he leaned over, palms touching down on the floor and tail sticking out behind him. Lowering the fifth appendage gently to the hardwood, he started crawling like some large, ungainly starfish. Upon reaching his shoji-style door, Ojiro slid it oh-so-carefully open and started out into the hall.

It was a good thing this was new construction. Squeaky boards were way less likely.

Saturday, September 15th

12:00 am

A buff, bestial man stalked the dark of UA's campus, unperterbed by the deep shadows cast over everything. Moonlight reflected off a layer of cells at the back of his black, lozenge-shaped irises, sending it forward into a set of inky slits that allowed him to see the row of dorm buildings on his left in fairly good detail.

Ryo Inui, also known as Hound Dog, was headed toward his on-campus apartment. As head of security, he had to be accessible; and what better way than to live right next to his charges?

Lifeless had relieved the hunting hero of his shift a few minutes early; but after the day he'd had, he wasn't about to quibble.

Removing the muzzle of his costume, the burly male rubbed at a sore forming along the side of his snout. All the extra shifts were brutal, but he refused to stop signing up for them.

What kind of guidance counselor was he? So many students had come to him terrified, angry and hurt today. And he had no answers for them.

A growl started at the back of his throat, building until it rumbled down through his chest, vibrating the man's whole body.

His pups deserved to feel safe, and he had to ensure that they were.

Bright green flashed in Inui's light-sensitive eyes, and his head jerked up.

What was that?!

Whatever it was, it was a ways off. And it was gone a second later.

The hero reached toward his waistline, only to grasp at nothing.

Grrrrr.

He hadn't made it home yet, which meant he didn't have any comms. He'd given his walkie-talkie to Lifeless at the shift change and had forgotten his work cell.

How could he be so stupid as to not bring a back-up?!

Teeth baring, Inui took off down the main path by the dorms, loping parallel to where he'd seen the now-absent light. He couldn't just cut directly into the forest or he'd lose his bearings. His night vision was good, but it still wasn't great for distance. He needed to keep his trajectory as reference until he got closer and had a better idea of his heading.

The striped man thumped down the path for a minute more, approaching both the general area of interest and the new duplex that'd gone up last night.

Well, that was as good a landmark as any to orient himself off of. Dipping into the forest, he dropped to all fours, running like he was made for the woods.

Until he nearly tripped on a root as a too-strong, familiar scent caught his attention.

Ojiro-kun?!

Bounding toward a pine, he threw his hands up and catapulted off of it, using its rough bark to turn on a dime.

The smell gained a sour, biting undertone and Ryo increased his pace. He'd been noticed.

Abruptly it lessened, the odor dissipating just a hair and the canine hybrid switched to a bipedal run, raising his nose as he went.

The scent became stronger.

Well-developed leg muscles bunched, sending Inui rocketing skyward and allowing him to catch a tree branch ten feet up. Pushing down hard, he launched himself over it and into an even higher position.

If his quarry was trying to escape by climbing, he'd follow.

The hunter gave chase, putting on more speed until not two minutes later when he started to hear the heavy breathing and wild crashing of panicked prey.

He was almost on top of the boy now, he could see it. Smell it. Practically taste the sharp, acidic fear in the air.

Ryo's unmuzzled jaws stretched out, intent on snapping shut over the goading tuft of yellow that flipped so tantalizingly in front of it.

Pupils shrinking at the last second, the man's gnarled hands shot out instead, closing around the thick cord of muscle that was Ojiro's tail and yanking it backward. Snatching the younger male into a grappling hug, Hound Dog inhaled deeply and landed with a resounding thud onto a thin floor of leaf litter.

Spicy. Tickling. Warm. Heavy.

The new aroma twirled and teased, weaving anger into the fear.

"What are you doing out here?!" Inui's own terror and rage barrelled forth, garbling his speech, "Couldjrooou get a'y more rrrreckless?! I can't believ—" his next words came out more akin to a rockslide than Japanese, growled as deeply as they were.

"Get the fuck off me!" the teen howled, voice nearly matching in timbre and roughness as he flailed hard against the canid man's steely arms.

Ryo tightened his grip, shaking his head against the ringing in his ears.

Did Ojiro just swear!?

Thick saliva developed at the sides of Hound Dog's mouth and he closed his eyes.

He needed to calm down.

Push away the instincts.

Whatever had caused the light might still be out here. His student was in danger. He had to get the pup out of here.

Bracing against a tail-whack, Ryo turned around, about to run back the way they'd come. Ojiro instantly shouted a protest and the hero shoved his hand over the smaller male's face.

"Quiet!" Inui whispered, a mini wire brush scrubbing asphalt. "It's not safe out here. There might be something dangerous nearby."

The sharp sting of a bite didn't deter the larger man as he continued to cover Ojiro's muffled curses, listening hard for any disturbance in the surrounding environment.

"Enough." Ryo's voice lowered even more, turning so deep a human's ears would have a hard time perceiving it, "I'll knock you out if I have to."

Suddenly, mercifully, the boy stopped squirming.

"Now," he breathed, "Do I need to keep you gagged, or will you stop giving away our position?"

A slow shake of the head moved the bestial human's hand.

This time, when the kid spoke, it was incredibly hollow, "You saw the portal, too, didn't you? You're going to take this away from me. Hide whatever you find. Leave me with nothing."

What? What on Earth was the boy talking about?

"I'll never see Toru-chan again, will I?"

A sudden clarity tore through Hound Dog's mind.

No wonder the boy was acting out so fiercely.

Ryo felt the air escape him, and he answered, "We can talk about this when we get back. I'll listen. But right now we need to be quiet and get out of here."

"There's no one here. No one came through the portal unless they were—" the teen's voice hitched, cracking over "invisible."

Tilting his head back, Inui took several rapid, short sniffs. Nothing.

Ojiro was right. If there'd been anyone within a five kilometer range, whether the wind was against him or not, he'd have known.

He'd let the chase cloud his judgment.

Feeling acutely embarrassed, the older male blushed, but refused to let go of his charge. The boy was still a flight risk.

Volume raising to normal levels, he verified, "You saw the portal form. That's why you're out here." Voice softening, he let his chin plop down on the tailed child's head. "You could have come to me, you know."

Heat crept back into Ojiro's tone, and he stiffened "No. I couldn't."

Forcing himself not to wince, the counselor rolled his options over in his head. He could turn the kid in, but then it would just cement Mashirao's distrust, ultimately worsening the situation. It was clear, at least to Ryo, that he wasn't some spy trying to wheedle out information for the League.

He was just a pup in pain. One with a big enough hole in his heart that he was willing to throw his life away for a chance to suture it.

This boy didn't need discipline. He needed to know someone was on his side.

Mind made up, the empath opened his snout. "If you speak a word of this to anyone," his toothy jaws slid off the top of Ojiro's head and down the side, clacking sharply together near the younger male's cheek, "We're gonna have a problem."

The boy twitched slightly in the large man's arms, but didn't protest, so Ryo took that as a sign to continue, "You're right. Hagakure-san was snatched by a portal. And not just any portal, an ectoplasmic one." Ojiro started shivering, the scent wafting off him hinting at extreme distress.

"We've been trying to piece everything together but none of it's adding up. Elite tracking quirks have been stumped. Everything seems to be related to some English speaking benefactor. Ectoplasm is being used in ways previously thought impossible. We can't tell if our opponent is sloppy or a genius. It's like we're trying to put together a puzzle, only to realize that there are three different sets mixed together, and some of the pieces are missing."

"Why are you telling me this?" The smaller blonde's words were choked.

"Because you needed to hear it, and I trust you." Shifting one of his burly arms to take the full weight of the teen when Mashirao turned boneless, Inui let his other hand settle lightly on the kid's head, petting softly. Ignoring the wracking sobs that started, the dog-hearted man murmured, "Just don't let me live to regret it."

After a while Ojiro relaxed, only offering an occasional hiccup and Inui let him go. Even as he was set on his feet, the child's tail stayed sagged, coiling just slightly on the ground like it didn't have the will to lift.

"Now, your turn." The hunting hero's voice was back to gruff. "You saw the green light. Well enough to identify it as a portal. Explain."

Ojiro's brows furrowed, but he didn't protest otherwise, instead offering, "It had to be a portal because something fell through it."

Inui wuffed the air, senses on high alert. Metallic. Citrus. Sterile. Chemicals.

Ectoplasm.

His body swung left, apricot mane bristling and arms positioning in front of him like a combative bear.

"I couldn't see it well, but it looked small and skinny, maybe forty centimeters long."

The smell was faint. At least a hundred meters away.

Too close to the dorms.

Mashirao watched Inui snarl with guarded interest, but the canid hybrid couldn't pay the emotion any mind.

Slitted eyes jerked back and forth between the boy and the scent before the hunter demanded "STAY!", dashing in the direction of what might be a bomb.

Saturday, September 15th

12:02 am

Danny, sitting with one leg tucked sideways under him and the other splayed out on the floor, leaned forward to accept something that Tucker dug out of the Ops Center Weapons Vault.

Vault was a bit of a misnomer, as this particular stash was just a bunch of cabinets cram-packed with FentonWorks gear, but it did have some weapons in it.

Not that those were what the pair was after; they were looking for anything that might be helpful in finding Jazz.

A collection of rejects already fanned out behind the ghost boy, a testament to the fifteen minutes they'd already spent sorting.

"Fenton Skateboard?" Tucker asked, tugging particularly hard on the edge of something flat and silver. When it suddenly dislodged, he lurched backward, arms pinwheeling to catch his balance.

Danny's hands flew up, pushing against his friend's back to steady the other male. "No." Plucking the childish invention out of Tucker's bandaged grasp, the halfa rolled it toward the bathroom.

"Fenton Foamer." This time there was no question, the combination carpet-cleaner/goo-gun immediately heading for the discard pile.

"Boo-merang?"

"Doubt it," the gloomy hero huffed, begrudgingly accepting the obtuse-angled tracker known for knocking him around. "Jazz would have to have something with an ectoplasmic signature on her. Which means not only would we have to find out which signature to look for, we'd also have to figure out how to key the Boo-merang to it. You know how many times we've tried to reset this stupid thing."

Tucker's brief smile flickered and vanished. "We could check your room to see if she left her bracelet behind. I bet she has it with her; she wears it all the time. Maybe we can track it with the Finder. Doesn't it have an emergency beacon built in?" The darker man leaned back down, ducking his head inside the cabinet while the lighter male grabbed up a screwdriver, using it to remove a side panel from the faintly glowing "weapon".

"Yeah, it does! I forgot about that! Let me just fix the Boo-merang real quick and we can go look!"

An errant wire poked from the circuitry in Danny's hands and he lifted it up, rubbing the frayed end between his thumb and forefinger until it twirled more tightly around itself. Wrapping it back beneath the conductive screw where it belonged, he tightened the fastener down.

A burnt plastic smell wafted from the Australian-style device a second before it caught fire.

Danny yelped, tossing it forward like a hot potato and flash freezing it with his eyes, missing the green mist that swirled at his back and whisked an old Thermos away.

Thump!

"HhhhSSSSHHHH!" sounded just after and Tucker clasped the side of his head, the white of gauze-wrapped fingers stark against black hair as he stumbled back from the cabinet.

"Oh, jeeze; are you okay?!" Jumping up and grabbing his friend by the shoulder, Danny led the smaller boy over to his sleeper pod even as Tucker tried to push him off with a long-suffering "I'm fiiiine."

"Maybe we should call it quits for tonight. It's past midnight and you look like you lost a fight." Danny's gaze magnetized to Tucker's hands, guilt churning in his stomach.

"I'm sor—"

"LALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" To emphasize his point, the technogeek covered his ears with the flat of his palms. "LALALALA—!"

Danny grimaced, then sighed. "Okay, I get it. No more apologies."

Reading the halfa's lips, Tucker lowered his hands with a cheeky smirk. "Good boy. I'll have those excessive 'sorries' trained out of you yet. Now let's go track that beacon."

Saturday, September 15th

12:21 am

Stay?

Stay?!

Not likely.

Mashirao took off after Inui-sensei, the other animal-hybrid practically melding through the trees in front of him. It was obvious the man was in his element.

But so was Ojiro.

The tailed boy threw himself at the nearest elm, swinging up into its branches. It was a blessing that so much of the campus forest was old growth. A smaller tree would have snapped beneath him.

Ears straining hard and focus dead set on keeping up with Hound Dog, Ojiro's reaction delayed when the adult skidded to a stop, spraying pine needles and semi-orange leaves into the air. Hand jutting out, he managed to grasp a trunk, but the kinetic energy was so strong it nearly dislocated his shoulder. Biting down hard to keep from crying out, the teen watched through heavily shadowed branches as the vague shape of UA's guidance counselor crept forward.

If only he had night vision. It was too bad Howler monkeys weren't known for it.

What was Inui-sensei looking at? It was obvious that the older man was stalking something, but what?

Ojiro wished he could get closer but knew that his presence hadn't gone unnoticed. If he approached without permission, Inui-sensei might really just knock him out.

Well, there was no one else around.

"What is it?"

A sharp growl responded, and the boy suddenly felt less sure of himself, flinching back.

Hound Dog hadn't been wearing his muzzle. There was a reason the man had it.

The golden tuft on the end of Mashirao's tail twitched as he remembered just how close he'd come to losing it.

Maybe expulsion wasn't the only thing he should be worried about.

The rumble got louder.

Which could have been because Inui-sensei was furious, but more likely had to do with him flying straight at Ojiro.

Jerking back to the point where he almost fell out of the tree didn't stop a clawed hand from wrapping around his face, holding him out over the edge like some weightless mannequin. It was only his prehensile tail, hooked around the branch in front, that made the pressure on his neck bearable.

Great, partially yellowed teeth glinted in the hint of moonlight, only so visible because of proximity.

"I—rrrrr—sajed," spittle flew directly into Mashirao's left eye and he blinked rapidly, "—SHTAY!"

Grasping tight around a striped arm for leverage and starting to sweat, the boy's weak voice refuted, "I'm going to be expelled anyway. Things couldn't get any worse."

"Yryuuuuu don'tch shrrrink—" the already large whites of Inui's eyes increased in size as the adult's pupils shrunk down to pinpricks, "—irrrt crooourdrt harrve—" he started to shake, stopping twice to gnash at the air before gritting out his next words, "beeerrrrn WUUURRRSSSE?!" Finally, with a massive vein popping in his temple, the Hominidae Canis tossed his head to the side and took a giant bite out of the tree trunk.

Watching the man crunch the wood apart like so many toothpicks, Ojiro felt his stomach drop out from under him (more than it already had) and his instincts forced his gaze down.

It was the right move, because suddenly, he didn't feel quite like he was balancing on a razor's edge.

It was silent for at least a minute while Hound Dog's angry trembles and hyperventilation slowly dissipated, neither willing to speak a word.

Neck aching, Ojiro finally felt the world move and a branch materialized beneath his feet, the giant hand retracting from his face.

"I thourght—" Inui stalled, taking a slow breath. "I thought it was a bomb."

Ojiro couldn't breathe, throat swelling mostly shut.

What if he had distracted Inui-sensei?!

What if the man's worry for Mashirao caused him to make a mistake?!

What if it had been sound activated?

The young blonde's head swung left, gaping at the sable-shaded world like he could see the dorms beyond.

He could have caused the death of his friends.

…

Kazuko.

His sister.

"You finally understand." It wasn't a question.

Ojiro felt himself nod, but the feeling was far-off.

"Your teachers care about you. Enough to make the hard decisions." Inui's head turned in the same direction as Ojiro's, following his gaze. "If anyone was going to die tonight, it should have been me, and only me."

Vision turning blurry, Mashirao was vaguely aware of cold tracking down his cheeks before a broad hand pressed firmly against his back, sending his numb feet into a shuffle.

"Let's get you back to the duplex. You've only got one day off to sort yourself out before your support classes start."

The smaller male stumbled over a stick and the larger one grabbed him by the back of a pajama shirt, only allowing a second for the kid to get his feet under him before letting go.

Chapter Text

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

"Ĉi tio estas en Esperanto." [This is in Esperanto.]

If a scene is being translated the entire time, and there are no language issues anywhere in an entire scene because of a translation device, the scene will just be written as normal. But you know who speaks what. I believe in you.

The audio for this chapter can be found here:

Saturday, September 15th

7:27 am

Inko Midoriya slid her key into the lock of Musutafu Public Library and jiggled. After a short battle, the door clicked free and she pushed inside, stomping her feet against the chill.

It was an average Saturday for her. But that was okay, Inko was partial to working weekends.

While most of her colleagues still had young children in school, the forty-one year old was a bit of an empty nester. It wouldn't be fair for her to take the parent-friendly shifts when Izuku was living on UA's campus. Besides, this way, other businesses were open during her free time and she could complete her work week in three days instead of five.

Removing lemon-colored mittens and a light chevron patterned scarf, Inko relocked the door behind her.

The library didn't open for another thirty minutes, so it wouldn't do to have strangers wander in. The computers and lights still had to be turned on, go-backs needed returning and it was vital she sign-in to her own station before she could even think about opening the doors to the public.

About three-quarters of the way through her morning routine, a feather-light sound whispered several aisles away and Inko froze, the book in her hand hovering just outside a gap in the biographies section.

Shhhrrrf-le. Shwiish.

There it was again.

Something was moving.

The librarian shook slightly and slid her free hand into a pocket, wrapping pudgy fingers around her cell phone.

Should she call one-one-zero?

As the only one here it was her job to investigate; but the thought terrified her.

Listening hard and finger hovering over the dial button, the skittish woman finished all the close-by returns (nonchalantly avoiding the ones in the kid's fiction section where the strange sound originated). Through it all, things stayed quiet. Nothing moved; nothing attacked.

Maybe she was just being paranoid.

With all the things happening at UA she hadn't gotten much sleep lately and had been almost constantly on edge. If she called the police for something that turned out to be a rodent problem Inko was sure to be reprimanded.

Taking a steadying breath, she closed her phone, mentally preparing to finish the library's opening procedures without the police on speed-dial.

Saturday, September 15th

8:22 am

The library had been open for nearly a half hour now and several people had already started to trickle in. Things had been calm, with nothing too out of the ordinary. Well, other than the fact that the sweet, red-headed foreigner from yesterday was back.

Inko hadn't seen the girl come in, but she'd been a bit preoccupied calling clients about late fees. Resolved to try and pay closer attention, the librarian offered a friendly wave and a smile when the front doors rattled and a thin man with eye-stalks shuffled into the building.

Knowing Nakamura-san would be fine on his own—he was a regular, after all—Inko went back to typing up this week's newsletter. He was probably just here to pick up a couple books for his family's Sunday Story Time and would most likely just head straight to—.

Inko stiffened, a slight sweat building in her armpits as she glanced toward the children's section.

Maybe she should return those go-backs before he got over there.

Just in case.

Lurching to her feet, the mother squared her shoulders and started off, a scattering of thin, brightly colored books forgotten on the wheeled cart behind her.

As she weaved around shelves, Inko thoroughly inspected them for "rodents", only sighing in relief when the area appeared empty. Satisfied enough to head back to her desk, she pivoted on a heel and immediately lost momentum, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

Had someone left one of the nook pillows out?

Despite aging joints, Inko got down on her knees and reached under a shelf, groping for the throw.

Except wait. The library didn't own anything purple. And the fabric beneath her fingers was too silky.

Inko's trembling hand dragged out from under the shelf in slow motion.

…A sleeping bag?

Flinching and going deathly white, the plump woman shoved it right back where it came from.

Saturday, September 15th

8:31 am

Anan Kurose, better known by her hero name, Thirteen, pushed open the entrance to UA's support department building. Stepping to the side, she flattened the front of her puffy, astronaut-inspired suit and let the school's nurse, Chiyo Shuzenji, pass.

It was rare for Kocho-san to request Thirteen come in on a day off; so whatever Maijima-kun had cooking just down the hall had to be something very special. And very dangerous, if it required Black Hole on standby.

Releasing the door, she gestured for Recovery Girl to take point. The grandma's short legs shambled forward and Thirteen kept pace, gaze drifting over several overly shiny splotches on the silver wall to their right.

A prime example of spot-check cleaning if she'd ever seen one.

As they came up on Power Loader's personal workshop, two students sporting earplugs and goggles stepped out from a room opposite. The thick steel that shut behind them cut off the rhythmic ting of a hammer on metal and the rat-a-tat-tat of slapping pistons.

"Don't worry about the noise, we'll set you up with proper PPE tomorrow," the taller blonde reassured, tossing a set of thickly curled locks over a shoulder. With a wink, her hand lifted to heavily painted lips and she stage-whispered past the back of it, "We even have a special suit in the works for that tail of yours! Can't have you catching your fur in any gears; the paperwork would be abysmal!"

The girl's follow-up chortle came out more gender-bent-Santa than anything natural, leaving Thirteen glad for the dark tint of her space helmet.

Don't get her wrong. Anan cared about every UA student equally. But some of them were more obnoxious than others and she'd had over two years to get acquainted with that particular laugh.

Lacking a convenient way to hide a grimace, the girl's companion just gauchely rubbed his neck in response, mouth pulled into an obviously fake smile.

Shuzenji suddenly stopped just shy of Power Loader's workshop and Anan almost tripped over her. Turning an unbalanced sidestep into an awkward lean, the disaster specialist reached past the healer and rang the room's doorbell.

As they waited, the boy shifted under Recovery Girl's sharp, beady-eyed stare. Thirteen raised a brow, but quickly lost interest when a buzzer sounded. Lunging to get the door before it could relock, the spry female held it ajar and waited patiently for Chiyo to shuffle through on her syringe-like cane. Just before all outside sound went dead, a small, explosive breath released behind them, quirking the grandma's slight lips.

"Kurose-san! Shuzenji-sama! Perfect timing!"

The shout had come from a sheet-metal table toward the center-right of the room. Maijima fiddled with something on the other side of it, peeks of electric green gleaming through gaps between his, for once, fully covered fingers. When their brick-red, alloy-coated tips moved to pull a fine wire mesh away from the thing he held, Anan finally caught a glimpse of it.

...A soup container?

Curious.

"I'm just about ready to turn this guy on." Skirting the work island, Maijima strode toward the back of the room with a slight spring in his step, passing shelves lined with shamrock-green bins and a wall-mounted board filled by hanging shop tools. Making his way to a caution-striped door, he grabbed a half-meter tall robot off another shelving unit and pushed through the entry.

A gurney soon appeared from the gloom, kicked out by a grey boot.

Thirteen moved closer, peering inside to find Maijima setting both the droid and the luminescent thermos down in a two by three meter room. The kitchenware's eerie, consistent glow revealed scorch marks and pooling shadows on every surface, belying dents in the high-carbon steel.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Just wait on standby for now. I want to make sure this thing's harmless before I extract the ectoplasm. It has an easily accessible fuel canister, so I'm hoping to prioritize disassembling it over the belt." Power Loader stepped out, flicking the switch for a repulsion field as he went.

As the walls of the lead-insulated room took on a light hummm, the man reached over, snagging a black gauntlet with silver wire running down each finger off the robot shelf. Switching his left work glove for the unconventional controller, he did a succession of hand symbols that lit the palm cobalt.

The support department head then ushered his audience to the far side of the room, herding them over to a sleeping computer. Quickly waking the dual monitors, he used his right hand to log in and open a program on the desktop, while his other stayed closed in a loose fist tucked by his chest. When the program loaded, it expanded to reveal a plethora of camera angles recording inside the safe room.

"When I count down to zero, I want you primed to activate your quirk, Kurose-san! Don't do it yet. Just have it ready in case things go sour. I'm fairly certain the interior lining of reflective lenses means that the thermos is meant to project something. But whether it's a weapon or a holographic device, I have no idea." The thread of excitement and wonder in the mechanic's rough voice surprised Thirteen; but then again, it was fairly typical of him to reverse-engineer most new toys in a matter of hours.

These ectoplasmic inventions were really something to keep his mind so stimulated. And as much as Anan hated the circumstances, it was good to see her friend's old spark.

Power Loader started the countdown, working his way back from ten as his front two fingers mimed walking. The droid—that looked like a miniature, highly dexterous version of the school's battle-bots—sprang to life on the first monitor, trundling closer to the thermos on caterpillar tracks. Using more fancy hand signs, Maijima instructed the mechanical golem to pick up the thermos and aim it at the building's exterior wall.

In response, Anan pointed her own index finger (the tip of its glove popped open in preparation) toward the room, waiting with braced feet as the countdown reached zero.

At the final, binary call of its ancestors, the droid pressed a lime-colored button.

Nothing happened.

"Maybe you need to take off the lid?"

The wry words near Anan's feet cause her to flinch. She'd forgotten Chiyo was there.

By the time her eyes flicked back up, the cap was already gone and the robot had pressed the button again, causing a fluorescent beam to flood the test chamber. Shoulders dipping in surprised relief, Thirteen spared a chuckle for Maijima's frozen state beside her and teased, "Quite an impressive flashlight."

After a solid ten seconds, the man's Tonka-Truck-meets-T-rex headgear finally moved, cocking slightly as Maijima held and depressed the button several more times. When this just caused a strobe of brilliant blue flashes, he turned the robot around, making it point the open thermos at itself before trying one more time. Its metallic, cylindrical face lit from below like a camp counselor telling spooky stories; but otherwise, nothing changed.

"I don't think you're dealing with a weapon there, Maijima-kun," Chiyo commented, the extra skin around her eyes stretching tight as her brows hitched up. "Unless it's a weapon that only works on living things; I think you're fine to take it apart."

Anan snapped her finger cover closed and relaxed her stance as Maijima pulled the camera footage over to his second monitor and opened a new program on the first. Checking the logged output from the beam, he sighed, the set of his shoulders and the tightness of his mouth telling Anan he was feeling a bit derisive.

The mechanic then directed his robot to grab a panel on the side of the thermos, popping it off with as much efficiency as he would a battery cover on a tv remote.

Just how many hours had her friend been working on this? For that matter….how much sleep was he getting? Was he even taking care of himself?

Nonchalantly removing her helmet and placing it on the desk beside her, she studied Power Loader as he extracted the ecto-cartridge. The thin man was even more gaunt than normal, each rib clearly visible beneath his tight, black shirt. As he finished checking another reading and walked past her to the safe room, she took a covert sniff of the air and frowned.

Intense motor grease and diesel.

That wasn't good.

Maijima was normally vehement about showering daily and heavily encouraged it around the development studio. (To the point that he even managed to harass his prized student—the pink terror—into making an effort to this year.)

Thirteen looked down at Shuzenji, ready to bring up her concerns when she found the older woman already staring back like "it took you long enough".

The school nurse—doctor—slightly inclined her head, carnation-colored headgear bobbing with the motion. Readjusting it, she called, "Maijima-kun, Dear, you're due for a check-up."

"What? No! I'm doing fine!" the haggard man replied, quickly flicking off the containment field and diving inside the safe room as if that would protect him from the elderly woman outside. "I ate breakfast! I swear! Kenranzaki-san brought it to me."

Considering they'd just seen Kenranzaki in the halls and it was morning right now, it was possible he was telling the truth. But somehow, Anan didn't think so. "What's today?"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Maijima griped, stalking out of the small space and bringing his prize over to an industrial 3D printer. Opening the case and yanking out what looked to be a miniature Eiffel Tower, he grabbed a metal file and started removing burs. To the untrained eye, his quick, precise movements may have supported the "insulted" claim his voice was trying to make; but to Thirteen, who'd known him forever, they told a different story.

He was scared, anxious. Didn't want to be taken off the project, even temporarily.

"What's today?" she repeated.

Maijima busied himself with scurrying to another desk, quickly threading several thick wires up his lattice structure before hedging, "...It's after Thursday."

"Okay. That's enough. You need a break, Higari-kun," Thirteen stressed, taking a step toward the man who instantly tensed, gathering the wired tower into his left arm and holding it in front of him like a shield. His other hand dropped behind him, guarding its glowing green cartridge as if the two women had plans to take it. Which, fair.

"You need sleep. Food. A shower."

The man's mecha-helmet tilted down and Anan knew he'd just done a sniff check.

"Just a bit longer," Maijima pleaded, his voice not quite a whine, but close. "I think it'll work this time, now that I have direct access to the ectoplasmic molecules. I think if I can overcome the electrostatic barrier I can figure out their exact ionic charge."

"How long?"

"Just ten more minutes. Please. If I'm right, I can get the tracker up and running."

Saturday, September 15th

8:35 am

Okay, okay. So there was a sleeping bag hidden over by the children's section. There were lots of normal, rational reasons someone could have left it there. Maybe a kid just wanted to get more cozy in the reading nooks. Or it was part of some old sleepover event Inko forgot existed. Even if it was someone breaking in at night, they might just be a homeless person trying to sleep in a heated building.

She hadn't seen anyone this morning, but it could be a more recent thing. Or they were so good at vanishing by the time the library opened that hearing them had been a fluke. They hadn't left a mess, whoever they were.

It wasn't necessarily someone watching Inko's workplace, trying to figure out her day-to-day patterns.

The internal dialogue did little to quell a sinking feeling as Inko compulsively rubbed her hand against a yellow skirt.

During all the recent invasions of Izuku's school, portal quirks had been the main form of villain transport and more than a few of the attacks had involved preemptive stake-outs.

Feeling the sharp, burning heat of an anxiety cramp ripple up her belly, the greenette took a deep breath in. She needed to finish answering this email, not get herself worked up.

The woman got as far as Let me check and see if we have that book in stock, before her brain shocked her with an idea so sudden it felt like static.

What if the person never left? They might be here. Right now. Watching.

Dark eyes zipped up and scanned the library's inhabitants.

Nakamura, Takahashi, Suzuki and three strangers. Well, two. Jazz-san wasn't exactly an unknown. And it was doubtful that an American tourist had ties to a local terrorist group.

Switching her attention over to the new pair, Inko studied them. Two girls. Early twenties. The first was tall and slender, the fabric of her zip-up hoodie loose and ragged over toned muscles. Hair tied up in a messy bun, she glared daggers at the textbook propped in her lap from behind puffy eyes. The second girl was shorter than the first and fared much better. Her skin was clean and healthy and her collared shirt and capris were wrinkle-free. Green eyes referenced a notebook as the curvy girl quizzed her friend, tucking a bright blue streak behind an ear to join an otherwise chestnut head of hair.

College students, if Inko had to guess. In fact, were she a gambling woman, she'd bet that the worn girl's thermos held more than just water.

Making a mental note to check on that in a minute (coffee was a big no-no in the library), Inko pulled her gaze away. She doubted the two were stalkers. They just didn't seem the type.

This was stupid. The squatter was probably long gone.

Sighing, Inko finished her email and sent it away.

Maybe she should go check on Jazz again. The redhead was deep in some kind of research project and might have more questions.

The greenette smiled and hefted up, stepping out from behind the help desk. Circumventing one of the study tables that stood between her station and the computers, Inko idly appraised Jazz's outfit.

Without her work jacket, the foreigner looked quite cute in a lavender t-shirt and Carolina blue jeans.

Although.

Inko's eyebrows slowly creased together.

Those were the same clothes she'd had on yesterday, sans the coat. Granted, she was probably living out of a suitcase. But they were also very rumpled. Almost like she'd slept in them.

Lips tugging down to complete the frown, Inko scrutinized Jazz more closely. Her hair was definitely shinier than yesterday, more oily. And had the look of being hand-combed instead of brushed.

It was possible she was just busy, as involved with research as she was, but that just didn't sit right with Inko's instincts.

Eyes flicking over to the computer, the mother had just enough time to read "Little-Known Impacts of a Quirked Society: How Meta Abilities Redefined the Modern Building Code" before Jazz noticed her with an "Ah!".

The exclamation was enough to trigger the phone in Jazz's hand and it lit up, ready to receive input.

"Inko-san. I didn't see you there. Did you need something?"

Panicking, the librarian responded, "Oh, I was just coming to see if you needed anything." Hand gestures fluttering around like a nervous finch, she added, "You've been very focused. Like you had a project due. So I wanted to see if you needed any more help."

"Awww. That's very sweet of you. No, I'm good. Thank you for keeping an eye out for—um, watching over me." Jazz beamed back, shoulders relaxed and eyes crinkling slightly.

"Well let me know if that changes. Don't push yourself too hard."

"I won't."

Nodding acceptance with an anxious smile, Inko turned around, slinking away toward the college crammers.

Articles on building codes, history, self-repairing denim? What was Jazz-san studying, anyway? It didn't seem nefarious. Just…unrelated.

The one time the American had even asked for help, it'd been to draft a response to a classified ad.

Inko's gait faltered.

The ad had been for a tutoring position.

A job.

The sleeping bag invaded the mother's mind again and the concern that came with it had a distinctly new flavor.

Saturday, September 15th

11:15 am (AKA 6:15 pm in Switzerland)

Maddie Fenton's eyes blurred as she looked at a paper in her left hand. External Gravitational Forces and their Effect on Static Wormholes was a dry subject, made even worse by a lack of sleep. The cup of coffee in her right hand was the only thing keeping her going, its fabricated energy allowing her to push through jet-lag that wasn't likely to go away. Not when she could barely catch a wink of sleep.

All flights home on Sunday and Monday had been booked. All except for first class.

The Fentons were well off, but even she couldn't swing fifteen thousand dollars a ticket. Sam had offered to pay—despite her Platinum flier card having a deals exclusion for flights booked less than a week in advance—but Maddie couldn't accept such an expensive gift from a twenty-year-old. It wasn't right. Not when they'd be coming home on Tuesday anyway.

A sudden growl tore up Maddie's throat and she had to stop herself from tossing her mug to the floor, its brown liquid sloshing over ceramic sides as the intrusive thought almost won.

Damn the Infi-Map! Of all the times it could have decided to have issues!

Maddie sighed, putting the astrophysics article down on a mosaic-tile bartop and cupping her now-free hand under the coffee before it could drip to the floor. Walking around the kitchen peninsula to grab several paper towels, she dabbed the mug clean before placing it aside, too.

All she could do was pray that her baby girl was doing fine. That the martial arts, weapons and survival training she'd drilled into Jazz would be enough to get her by. That, and her charm bracelet. The boys had confirmed it was missing, so Jazz probably had it. Hopefully.

Maddie glanced across the room to where Adrian and her husband sat across from each other, squished into a breakfast nook's creaking, wooden chairs. The shabby-chic white paint was as worn as their faces while they traded vehement whispers, each pointing at different passages of a textbook on the little, literature-burdened table between them.

Well, nothing to do now but follow Jack's lead and double down on research. If Maddie was going to be stranded here with a theoretical physicist, she might as well absorb as much knowledge as possible.

Sudden pain stabbed behind Maddie's drooping eyes and she frowned down at the mug beside her. Picking it up, she dumped its contents down the sink.

If she retained nothing and couldn't come up with valid hypotheses, there was no point in staying up.

Squaring slight shoulders, the careworn scientist marched straight to bed.

Saturday, September 15th

11:52 am

"Are you sure you didn't get the times mixed up?"

"He'll be here."

"Okay."

"He will. He's just running late."

The Red Huntress eyed the half ghost next to her. The man faced away, too intent on searching crowds of semi-transparent people to notice her gaze.

A portcullis stood at the pair's back, large bars of black pig iron recessed into the scarlet face of a keep like decaying teeth. Towers of stone and mortar rose within the inner curtain wall, sculpted to defy physics and emphasize the structure's sharp, aggressive form.

Valerie's eyebrows knit together as she continued to study the halfa. Phantom's soft light was fluctuating worse than a pendulum and his back was ramrod straight. Wulf's arrival was important, especially after the hunt for Cujo had turned up a big fat goose egg, but Danny was hyperfixating.

"Relax, Danny. You don't have to be so stiff. I offered to babysit a ghost, not a corpse." Val gave the taller man's shoulder a light squeeze, ignoring the boy's flinch and a surprised shout from nearby. "We'll find Jazz."

"Yeah, but in how many pieces?" Danny snapped back, the muscle and bone under Valerie's hand suddenly giving way like memory foam. "And I don't need a babysitter!"

Face scrunched in disgust, Val extracted her fingers from the pliable surface and retorted, "Uh, yeah; clearly you do, if you're gonna act like a toddler."

"It's not like I'm going to spontaneously combust if you guys leave me alone," Danny huffed, turning his eyes back to the bourg. "Despite what you, Sam and Tuck seem to think."

Oh hell no. This pissy crap was not gonna fly.

Reaching out, Val snatched Danny's shoulder again; and this time, before he could soften it, she spun him around to face her.

"Danny. Look at me." Staring him dead in the eye and pulling on her exceptionally good memory, the hunter paraphrased, "An obsession is a ghost's greatest weakness. It can make you counterintuitive and single-minded. But it's also your strength. The people you care about love you back and will be your pillars when you can't stand alone."

Danny's face twisted into greater agitation. "That's not fair."

"Life's not fair. Get over it."

"Can't I at least have a half-pass, then? Since I'm only half alive?" Danny quipped, the bite to his words more of a nibble.

"Sorry, but if anything your double-life ups the ante."

"Figures."

Danny looked up, blowing wispy bangs (that had chosen that moment to embrace gravity) out of his eyes as three tears opened in the world in front of him, spilling green light like entrails from a wound.

"Mi pardonpetas pro malfruo," [My apologies for being late,] a husky voice growled through the air, preceding a hulking figure of sleek, black fur. Nails clicking on the hard stone beneath his paws, the wolfman stalked out of the bridge between realities like a predator ghosting amongst trees. Until a second later, when his eyes met Phantom's intense ones and immediately deflected away. Ears swiveling back, he offered, "Miaj ungegoj ŝajnigas obtuzecon. Ili ne Disŝiras kiel ili devus hodiaŭ." [My claws feign dullness. They do not Rend as they should today.]

"Viaj potencoj ankaŭ agas?" [Your powers are acting up too?] Dismay tinged Danny's soft words and his arms crossed, right hand flexing tight over the black fabric coating his bicep. Soon after, the halfa's feet lifted from the ground and the air in front of his mouth started to fog in little puffs. Lips turning down, he glanced at his breath, then over at Wulf whose claws elongated and retracted at the beast's sides.

Danny's face morphed into "oh crap" mode a split second before fire erupted up his suit like tinder, the green licks of flame so intense Valerie had to take a step back.

"Uh, Danny, you good?"

The huntress never got an answer as her own suit contorted, taking her with it to avoid an ectoblast that seared the black gate behind where she'd just been.

"Who the hell?!" Valerie shouted, jumping into the air and smacking her heels together to form her hoverboard. Instantly turning back toward the marketplace behind them, she surveyed the frozen crowd where the blast had originated.

There was only a heartbeat of quiet before pandemonium erupted. Ghosts fled and tore away from somewhere in the main throng, pushing and shoving each other in their panic. Only a few turned incorporeal to escape.

Val assumed at first it was because they were smart, but maybe they were just lucky.

Ghost rays and blasts of all kinds exploded from everywhere in the mob, seemingly at random. Then the waves of specters thinned enough for the huntress to catch a glimpse of the town square some hundred feet away. She could just make out several ghosts slowing as if flying through syrup before hardening into stone. Behind them, a series of statues already peppered the piazza in similar, terrified poses.

Valerie got all of two feet closer to the fight before Phantom snagged her around the waist.

"NO! Val, you can't!"

"The hell I can't!" White-hot rage burned through the full human as she tried to break away, but Danny's arms were a band of steel.

"It's a gorgon. The ghosts will thaw. Eventually. We won't. We have to let the guards handle this one."

Valerie whipped her head around, ready to tear Danny a new one when she saw his face. Then noticed the trembling of restraint in his own muscles.

Letting loose a gryphon-esque cry, she dropped her shoulders to let her friend know she understood.

He didn't release her, tugging toward the portcullis instead. That is, until he dropped like a stone, deadweighting against Valerie's back and instantly pulling a muscle near her spine.

It was the hoverboard that saved them both from a several yard fall, banking sharply as its rider lurched backward, keeping the spasming woman straight and her feet stuck fast.

Rebalancing, Valerie peeked down at Wulf. The friendly lupine shuddered in place, his own aura flaring and shifting the light around him.

It seemed her suit's tech was somehow impervious to whatever was afflicting the natural ghosts. Getting them all to safety was going to have to be up to her.

Telepathically redirecting her ride, Valerie dipped closer to the ground. Taking the hint, Wulf leapt up, grabbing the board to either side of her feet and hanging on like some giant, fuzzy ornament.

They crested the wall and the rope-like grip around her middle slackened, sliding low on her hips and prompting Valerie to glance back. Locking eyes with her now oozy-sweater-belt of a friend, her features lit in a savage grin. "I don't need a babysitter, he says. I won't spontaneously combust, he says."

Danny's semi-garbled, "Quiet, you," had her laughing so deep her hoverboard swayed to keep them upright as the cavernous mouth of the keep swallowed them whole.

Saturday, September 15th

12:01 pm

Writing down an address and phone number on a piece of paper to join three others, Jazz rubbed at her temples.

Well, that was one task done.

There'd only been a few apartments that fit her needs in this part of the city, but she was fairly confident in her choices. They were slummy enough that they'd probably rent without ID and she was pretty sure she wouldn't get murdered in her sleep. Now if only that want ad would get back to her (at her newly created email address), she'd be sitting pretty.

Getting up with a sigh, Jazz got a drink of water. Her fourth one today. She'd been trying to trick her stomach into feeling less hungry so she wouldn't need to eat as much. The charm bracelet contained several weeks worth of freeze-dried rations and Fenton Jerky, but Jazz wasn't about to take chances, refusing to eat anything so far today but the perishable rice ball.

Jazz was all about preparing for the worst case scenario. If she had to live exclusively on rations for a while, they better count.

Lips pursing and eyebrows cinching, the ginger eyed the computer.

Maybe she should make a list of back-up apartments...

As she sat back down, peripheral movement caught Jazz's attention and she glanced over a shoulder.

Inko was approaching for the second time today, skittish as a wild animal. In her hands was a small plastic box painted all black except for the single cherry blossom branch that decorated its side.

Nonchalantly switching tabs on the internet browser to a decoy Yotube video, Jazz offered a smile.

Like a sunbreak in a rainstorm, Inko returned it before her face reclouded and her dark eyes flit sideways to the red pandas dancing on the screen. "Ano, Jazz-san?" Seemingly baffled, she dropped her gaze down to the sheet of printer paper covered in Jazz's notes. "Would you like to have lunch with me?"

Hand twitching slightly, the redhead quashed an urge to cover the addresses. No need to bring extra attention to them. Besides, her Japanese penmanship should be nearly indecipherable to a native writer.

"I would love to! But I didn't bring a lunch and I don't have any money on me."

"Oh, uhm, that's okay! I'm dieting right now anyway. We can share mine!"

A quick assessment of Inko's expression told Jazz the woman was full of it, but free food was free food. Any way the dimensional castaway could stretch her rations increased her chances of survival.

"Are you sure? I feel bad mooching off you."

"Absolutely!" Inko blanched. "I mean, you aren't mooching! I'm—What I meant was—I'm absolutely sure! Please! Take some!" The older woman practically shoved the box into Jazz's hand in an attempt to correct the faux pas before slumping and blushing bright red.

Jazz couldn't help it; she laughed, the sound light and non-abrasive. "Thank you, Inko-san. You're really a wonderful person, you know that?"

The librarian turned even brighter as Jazz removed the lid of the bento box to peek inside.

"Oh, sorry!" Inko's hand shot out over the lunch as if to take it while the other pointed toward the library's side door. "I forgot to say, we can't eat inside! Only water is allowed in here so people don't ruin the books."

Standing up, Inko led the way across the library and through the glass door, Jazz trailing behind. On the other side was a little canopy sheltering an outdoor couch, coffee table and armchair. Taking up station on the chair, Inko smoothed her skirt into place and waved toward the polyester bottom of the love seat beside her.

Jazz settled nearby, unsure what to do now. "Did you want your half first?" she offered, holding out the lunch box.

"Oh, no thank you. I'm a mom. Kids always eat first," Inko replied, showing something that nearly resembled a confident grin.

"I'm twenty-three." Jazz's lips twitched up. "I'm hardly a kid." Taking off the lid and seeing that the lunch box weenies had faces and were cut to look like octopi, she added, "But I'm starting to feel like one."

Following Jazz's gaze, Inko floundered, her thumbs starting to twiddle. "Ah! Sorry! My son used to love those, so now I make them before my mind even knows what my hands are doing."

"Oh, you have a son? What's he like?"

"He's the biggest softie you've ever met. Headstrong when it comes to helping others, though."

Somehow, the tone of that last sentence came with a strange connotation. There was definitely a story there.

"Sounds like he takes after his mother."

Inko's eyes widened then shot up to search Jazz's face.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Something tells me I was going to be eating half your lunch whether I wanted to or not," Jazz responded with a chuckle.

Inko's gaze slunk away again as the woman started picking at a stick that had come apart from her wicker chair's weave.

"...It's not that I'm not proud of Izuku…" she murmured, running a pudgy finger back and forth over the stray twig like it was the most interesting thing in the world. "It's great that he loves to help people—it really is! And I want to support his dreams. But he's always in danger and I'm not sure my heart can take it."

A familiar feeling stabbed through Jazz's chest and she offered a sad smile, chopsticks slowly sinking back toward the bento where the next bite of rice lay forgotten.

"You know my brother's a hero." Eyes gentle with understanding, Jazz observed Inko's idle hands. "Seven years I've watched him run head first into unimaginable dangers, wondering, worrying, if this was the time he wouldn't make it back."

The was a moment of weighted silence, heavy and smothering, before, "He almost didn't, once."

No matter how many times she told the story, the words still stuck in Jazz's throat and the heat of tears pricked at the girl's sclera. "You know—" her voice cracked, "—I asked him to put aside heroing after that." Taking in a shaky breath, she reached the back of her hand up to rub at a runny nose. "And he did; just for me."

"Other people took over for him. He was finally safe. He hung out with his friends, got homework done on time, was able to do some much-needed networking for his job. Things were great."

"But then a villain attack happened right in front of him and there were no other—" a slight pause, "—heroes around."

"A dog slipped its leash to protect its owner. Chased after the villain." Inko's expression turned pained and she leaned forward, hanging on every word as if witnessing a car crash.

"Now if you knew Skulker, you'd know he's a real piece of work. Easily annoyed. It took all of three seconds before the blade came out."

"Danny couldn't just watch and I don't blame him. I wouldn't have been able to either. But he wasn't the same after that." Jazz lifted her head to stare directly into Inko's eyes, ignoring the older woman's quickly deflating form. "Some people can't just watch. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"But—that doesn't mean they need to go looking for danger," Inko refuted, voice small and quivering.

"In my experience, they don't get a choice. They're Murphy's favorites." Shrugging apologetically at Inko's broken expression, Jazz averted her gaze upward, studying the wooden beams that supported their small canopy. "And I, for one, would rather know my brother isn't out of practice the next time trouble finds him."

Inko's expression was lost, but there was something else there, too. Just the tiniest furrow between her pencil-thin brows and a tightness around the bridge of her nose.

"Looks like you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Izuku's school keeps getting attacked..."

The information slotted into Jazz's mind like notched wood and with it came sudden clarity. Inko's son went to UA.

"I'm scared."

"I know." Dredging up a smile despite the pit in her stomach, Jazz continued, "But you know what I did when I realized I couldn't stop Danny? I got stronger. Learned how to fight. So the next time he was in trouble, I could do more than just watch."

"Here." Jazz held out the half-finished lunch box. "It's your turn."

Inko's disquieted expression made it obvious the woman hadn't missed the double meaning.

Hesitating only a moment, she took the bento.

Saturday, September 15th

1:17 pm

Inko wasn't sure why she'd told Jazz so many personal things. Things she'd been reluctant to voice even to close friends. There was just something about the girl. She understood. Listened. Helped even when she wasn't talking.

At first Inko had suspected it was the girl's quirk.

But then at the tail end of lunch, Jazz had casually mentioned she was quirkless and studying to be a psychiatrist.

Somehow, it didn't surprise Inko. It should have. But it didn't.

Except now she had a lot to think about.

Things she didn't want to.

She was a nervous, meek, overweight librarian and she had to fix that. Her quirk wasn't even particularly strong. How was someone like her supposed to protect anyone?

But Jazz-san was quirkless. And she kept her brother safe.

It was doable.

It had to be.

Inko walked past Jazz's workstation on her way to return a horror book. A concerned frown marred the American's face and the librarian peeked over the girl's shoulder in curiosity.

Huh.

Apparently Inko wasn't the only one who'd learned something troubling from their discussion.

The Nomu who'd attacked UA glowed brightly on Jazz's borrowed computer screen.

Saturday, September 15th

2:37 pm

Snipe glared down at the infernal device clutched in his glove. The prototype clearly wasn't working right. There'd been six pings just in the last three hours, spread out over the tracker's five hundred mile range. And of the two so called "portals" that had been close enough to check out, neither had shown hide nor hair of suspicious activity.

It was possible something big was going down. But with Maijima currently sedated in Recovery Girl's office and the machine being the first of its kind, he seriously doubted it.

Honestly, this wouldn't be so bad if he could just verify whether any of the spots had even had a portal. But the school's resident engineering genius had managed to get himself put down for a nap before he could teach anyone how to use his homemade EMF reader.

Feeling like a little fish when another chirrup sounded from his hand, Snipe ground his teeth and grabbed the bottom of his rust-red cloak. Quickly tying it around his waist, he mounted a Kawasaki motorcycle that waited just off the curb and glanced around the busy heart of Tarishu Ward. Turning on a siren and a set of flashing purple-green lights, the cowboy signaled with an arm and jumped back out into traffic, following the sonar-like screen pulsing near his handlebars.

Saturday, September 15th

2:42 pm

Three hours.

THREE FREAKING HOURS of feeling like fire ants crawled under his skin to play Ratatouille with his powers.

Danny was exhausted.

His body had put him through such a wringer it squeezed out abilities he didn't even know he had.

Turning green, Danny burped up a gas that either came from his lungs or was his lungs—he couldn't be sure; cause apparently, vaporizing was a thing for him now.

Resisting the urge to cry when the itchy burn finally stomped its way out of his muscles, Danny drug himself up into a seated position, hands acting as stabilizers on the polished marble floor. He'd been basking his overheated body on the cool, fireproof surface for the better part of twenty minutes.

At least he hadn't Wailed. Small mercies.

Forcing his gaze up, he noticed Valerie. Despite several pleas for her to get to safety, she hadn't left, even after the first time he'd Blast Burned the room like a freaking Typhlosion.

Eyes trailing over a well-barbecued area rug, a floor that looked like it had just hosted an ice hockey tournament and a string of shredded tapestries at the far side of the room, Danny finally spotted a half-caved-in door.

It led to the great hall, which, as far as Danny was aware, still held Wulf. The lupine had been much less head-strong than Valerie, turning tail the moment Danny had yelled at his friends to run.

"Is it finally over?!" Val's voice echoed from above, drawing Danny's eyes back up to the mezzanine that overlooked the ballroom.

"I think so," he responded, throat as unpleasantly scratchy and dry as sand in a beach towel.

"You okay?!"

No.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Can you check on Wulf?"

Valerie eyed him skeptically, but still vaulted over the stone railing, her hoverboard forming beneath her feet and pulling her out the door.

Jellifying—not literally this time, thank Clockwork—over the marble again, Danny groaned and cracked his neck, eyes sliding shut of their own accord. Every muscle in his body was sore.

A rushing cascade of scratches skittered across the room and toxic green eyes popped open. Just in time to squeeze shut as a massive tongue slimed across their lids and about fifty percent of Danny's face.

Gross.

"Amiko! Ĉu vi estas bone?!" [Friend! Are you okay?!]

"Jes, mi fartas bone. Kio pri vi?" [Yeah, I'm fine. What about you?]

Danny was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that, seeing how spry Wulf's greeting had been, but he needed the affirmation.

"Mi fartis pli bone ol vi. Vi aspektas kiel trisemajna kadavraĵo." [I fared better than you. You look like three-week old carrion.]

"Multaj dankoj." [Thanks a lot.] Danny rolled his eyes, tone dripping sarcasm even in another language. "Mi nur ŝajnigos, ke tio estas komplimento, ĉar vi tiom amas rubon." [I'll just pretend that's a compliment since you love garbage so much.]

"Tuŝi." [Touché.] Smile feral, Wulf grabbed Danny's arm and yanked the halfa to his feet.

Somehow managing only a slight stumble despite wobbly knees, Danny returned the sharp grin.

"Okay, now that we've established no one's gonna cease, what the heck was that?! I know that was more than just a ghost cold!"

Oh crap. Had he really forgotten to tell Valerie about the Ghost Zone?

Danny wracked his brain. Between Hagakure and Kamada, the portals, his parents being gone and Jazz's kidnapping….Yep. He had. Whoops.

A glowing gun slotted between his eyes with a resounding, "Spill!" and Danny threw up his hands in surrender before it lowered.

"The Ghost Zone's been acting up lately. That's why we aren't using the Infi-Map right now. And ghosts have been having it rough with power disruption, too; so they're probably related. Frostbite seems to think there's an outside factor causing it but with Jazz missing I haven't had a chance to look for the source."

"So let me get this straight. The Zone's been having problems. You have a lead to fix it…and you prioritized Jazz?"

She was seriously about to lecture him?

"Yeah, I did." Entire body shaking with what was equal parts rage and muscle weakness, Danny lifted a finger and shoved it against Valerie's chest. "You got a problem with that?! You aren't the only one who's allowed to be selfish sometimes!"

Instead of taking the bait for a fight, Valerie leveled Danny's glare with an "are you serious right now?" look and swatted the offending hand away.

"You just said the Infi-Map's not working. And neither are ghost powers." Valerie's tone was just shy of condescending. "And yet somehow, to you, that equals 'don't fix the thing causing them not to work'."

"Hey, I'm not stupid!" Danny growled with as much energy as he could muster before throwing a hand toward the wolfman next to him. "It's not like I knew for sure that Wulf was affected. Besides. We're in the Infinite Realms. Do you have any idea how long it could take me to track down some omnipresent radio signal?"

Valerie sighed, rubbing her temples like she was dealing with a tantruming puppy which prompted another spike of irritation to stab at Danny's core. "At least tell me that there's something salvageable in this mess."

"The power disruption has only been intermittent," Danny defended. "And this is the first time it's lasted this long!"

"Okay, fine. How long was the last bad episode?"

"Maybe ten minutes? Tops," Danny answered suspiciously.

"When?"

"Thursday." (He didn't like where this conversation was headed.) "...Why?"

"It sounds like it's getting worse as time goes on. And more frequent."

Yeah. He really didn't like where this was going.

"If you're gonna fix things, it's gotta be soon, Danny. As much as I love Jazz, this may have to come first."

Danny nearly hissed like an irate blob ghost, anger swirling through him as he spit, "I will not give up on Jazz!"

How could she even suggest that?!

"I didn't say you should. Just that you can't avoid one problem because another one cropped up."

"I'm not!" Danny screeched, the room growing cold around them. Only this time, it was all him.

A pressure on his shoulder had Danny swinging around aggressively, vibrant eyes quickly boring into Wulf's softer green. The furred man looked back apprehensively, ears folded and a light whine escaping his throat.

"Amiko, eble ni devus trakti kial vi serĉis min? Vi scias, ke mi helpos kiel ajn mi povas." [Friend, perhaps we should address why you sought me out? You know I will help any way I can.]

Uuuugh.

He hated this. Why did he always have to set an example?

Drawing his feelings back in, Danny firmly latched them away.

Being an adult sucked.

Letting out an explosive breath, he explained, "Mi ne certas kiom da tio vi ricevis, sed Jazz mankas. Ŝi estis kidnapita de portalo." [I'm not sure how much of that you got, but Jazz is missing. She was kidnapped by a portal.] Wulf stiffened and the grip on Danny's shoulder tightened significantly."Mi demandis vin ĉi tie antaŭe por vidi ĉu vi povus trovi la hejman dimension de Hagakure kaj Kamada kaj malfermi portalon por resendi ilin; sed nun mi ankaŭ bezonas helpon por trovi Jazz." [I asked you here before to see if you could find Hagakure and Kamada's home dimension and open a portal to send them back; but now I need help finding Jazz, too.]

"Ĉu vi portas personan kvaliton?" [Do you carry a personal quality?]

"Uhhh…"

Personal quality? What was that supposed to mean?

Danny could feel a headache coming on from all the Esperanto; but after a moment the lightbulb finally went on. "Oh, wait. Yeah, we do. Val?"

"What?" she barked.

Right. She never learned the "nerd" language.

"We need the headband and stuff."

"Oh." Valerie didn't quite look sheepish—it wasn't her nature, after all—but her shoulders did hunch slightly as she tugged off her Red Huntress backpack and rooted around inside. Slipping out a teal cloth, a tiny braid of lemon-yellow hair and another of grizzle-grey, the feisty woman passed the items off to Danny.

Who handed the first to Wulf when the anthromorph's meaty paw slid off his shoulder to rest expectantly in the air nearby.

Without retracting it, Wulf commented, "Trovi vian idanon prenos pli da tempo." [Finding your littermate will take more time.]

Reluctantly, Danny dropped the rings of hair into the waiting palm as well, the scraggly weaves partially obscuring his sister's headband.

Delicately pinching the grey lock up and holding it to his snout, Wulf inhaled several short, wet wuffs. Putting it back down, he did the same to the blonde one. Then sniffed the air again, free of opposing scents.

Danny watched Wulf closely, trying to discern something, anything. But it was futile. What crept behind those solid green eyes was not human.

Then Wulf picked up Jazz's headband for inspection and Danny's soul sank.

"Mi ne povas helpi ĉi tiujn infanojn. Ilia regno estas tro malproksima." [I cannot help these. Their realm is too far.]

"What do you mean, too far?" Danny retorted, dropping back into English in frustration.

Valerie eyed them both, clearly still annoyed with Danny. "Correct me if I'm wrong," she snarked, "but 'too far' is the opposite of 'close enough'. Which means we probably have to get near the right doors in the Zone to pick up any scents, Genius."

As Danny opened his mouth to respond, Wulf cut in, a slight warning edge to his tone, "Ne. Malĝusta. Ili venas de…" [No. Incorrect. They come from…] A rumbling grated deep in the ghost's chest. "Ne apuda. Malproksime." [Not adjacent. Far.]

"Odoro funkcias strange en la Senfinaj Regnoj. Mi ne havas vortojn por klarigi; ĝi estas sciado." [Scent works strangely in the Infinite Realms. I have no words to explain; it is a knowing.] Locking apologetic eyes on Danny, he slashed the air beside him and gestured toward the forming portal.

Inside, a young boy—the dude couldn't be more than ten—lay on a bed, idly tossing and catching a white ball covered in stitches. A pink cap rested on the headboard behind the brunet and a worn mitt covered his left hand, completing the kid's "little league" ensemble.

Danny found himself blinking in surprise when eerily familiar—though he was sure he'd never seen them before—blue eyes turned his way. But rather than freak out as the half-ghost expected, the buck-toothed boy shouted "Danny?!", tone mischievously delighted.

"It can't be," a shrill voice echoed in shock from somewhere Danny couldn't pin-point. That is, until two miniature humans—with garishly bright hair, holy Hades—"poofed" into the air next to him. "Jorgen closed all travel to the Zone after we—"

The scratches vanished, taking their peek of the other world with them.

What the heck was that?

You know what. Nope. He was not unpacking that right now. There were already enough questions in his life he didn't have answers to, and that seemed benign enough, whatever it was.

Offering a quick shake of the head to Val's quizzical expression, Danny's eyes traced back to Wulf and the lupine spoke again, "Viaj odoroj venas de la Malproksimo. Mi povas nur Disŝiri la Proksime. Sferoj kiuj limas niajn." [Your scents come from the Far. I can only Rend the Near. Realms that border our own.]

Understanding finally clicked into place, and Danny deflated.

But before his gaze could fully drop in defeat, the Ghost Zone resident shook all over as if dispelling a phantom water from his coat. "Ne ĉio estas malbona novaĵo." [It is not all bad news.] Flashing a tongue-lolling grin, he added, "Mi scias pri iu, kiu povas paroli al la Malproksimo." [I know of someone who can speak to the Far.]

Saturday, September 15th

5:23 pm

It was seven minutes until closing and only two humans remained in the library.

One was gone from sight, quiet and hidden away in a reading nook. The other had just finished vacuuming and was currently winding up the grumbly machine's cord.

Eyes fixed downward, the mousy woman stayed overly focused on the task at hand. In fact, as she finished closing procedures, she rarely looked up (and never in the direction of the children's section). Not until she was outside the building, locking the door behind her.

Saturday, September 15th

10:23 pm

Jazz turned over in her sleeping bag, unable to get comfortable. She felt like the princess and the pea, irritated by even the slightest wrinkle in the silk lining beneath her.

How had Lunch Lady, of all ghosts, ended up here?

She was no Fright Night; but Lunch Lady, really?! Talk about a bad match-up for this world.

When had Danny even gone near her? She'd been living exclusively in the Zone for the better part of a year.

Did that mean not all of his portals had a distance limit? Could he make portals far away? How did it even work?

Jazz's brain stuttered.

Just how long had Lunch Lady been trapped here?

Nobody would have noticed her missing except maybe the Box Ghost. Kitty mentioned the two had been spending more time together just last week, so it had to be within a couple months. But that was still a long time.

Ugggh. Jazz wasn't going to get any sleep if her thoughts kept circling this mental drain.

She needed real answers. The kind that only came straight from the horse's mouth.

It seemed it was time for a social call.

But, like, tomorrow.

When she wasn't locked in.

Chapter Text

All scenes with only MHA characters will be written in English, for ease of reading, but the characters are actually speaking Japanese to each other.

"Ĉi tio estas en Esperanto." [This is in Esperanto.]

If a scene is being translated the entire time, and there are no language issues anywhere in an entire scene because of a translation device, the scene will just be written as normal. But you know who speaks what. I believe in you.

Sunday, September 16th

4:45 am

-Two Weeks Since Hagakure Went Missing-

Danny's powers slipped his skin, oozing out like algae-filled water from a pond at creek's edge.

Slogging across the Ops Center in the pitch black of early morning, the sleep-deprived boy autopiloted toward the bathroom. A fallen canister light and broken glass blocked his path, but he jumped over them with just a hint of weightlessness. Scratching at several millimeters of rough stubble along his jaw, he touched down and ducked inside before heading to the sink. Water doused Danny's face, trying to dissuade the slimy feel of another "episode" from clinging to his skin as he looked up at the mirror. Dripping bangs and dark bags framed a set of apathetic blue eyes, creating a gothic-tier look that quickly disappeared behind a rough towel.

A quick check of a cracked phone screen—4:48 in the morning.

Might as well call Mom and Dad. It was…the math of a seven hour time difference escaped Danny and he settled for the knowledge that it was somewhere near midday in Switzerland.

Tapping on an app he'd recently downloaded for his parent's trip, Danny watched as a picture of them—dressed for disco night at the Material Grill—pulsated with white light. The obnoxious dial tone playing on loop coupled with a bright blue background had him feeling like a fish trapped in an upbeat aquarium as he waited for the call to connect.

Dann-o! Perfect! his father's excited voice boomed over the phone and the screen transitioned to a grainy image of black, tan and orange. We were going to call, but your mom didn't want to wake you! We have good news!

Danny's heart stopped—which would have been concerning if it didn't happen nearly every day—and he squeaked out, "What'd you find?"

Is that Danny?! yelled from the background before Jack could answer and shuffling footsteps whispered through the speaker. A second later, his mom squished into frame with a brilliant smile. Sweetie! Guess what?! We found a way to adjust the Fenton Portal! As long as the jump's not too big, we should be able to switch the endpoint away from the Zone and re-anchor it to a neighboring dimension!

At the words, Wulf's deep voice filled Danny's head, "Viaj odoroj venas de la Malproksimo. Mi povas nur Disŝiri la Proksime. Sferoj kiuj limas niajn." [Your scents come from the Far. I can only Rend the Near. Realms that border our own.]

Deflating just as the video quality sharpened, Danny watched his parents fall silent and trade disquieted looks.

…Danny? his dad prodded.

"I saw Wulf yesterday." The phone screen cricked under Danny's fingers and the cracks covering its face splintered just a little bit more. "That's not gonna work."

Sunday, September 16th

8:07 am

"Okay, Cosplayer. We're ready." On Nezu's right, Power Loader threw a thumbs up to a short, pixie-cut blonde beyond a pane of hurricane glass.

Clad in a gold tiara and what looked like an american-themed swimsuit, the woman in the testing chamber nodded and sparkled bright. The magical girl transformation that trickled away left the hero significantly taller, blue eyes staring at the observation deck with arrogance. Gaze dropping, she peered down through long strands of wavy, black hair to fiddle with a mechanized belt at her waist. Clicking it into place, she turned a key in the device's center lock and adjusted the dial around it.

When a green tinge radiated from the invention, Nezu felt the fur of his back rise. But whether it was from anticipation or close proximity to the portal user's ectoplasm, he didn't know.

Maijima and himself had finally deemed the belt safe for human testing. Still, it was nice to know that Cosplayer's costume protected her from most damage and would even kick-started her own healing if anything did happen.

Ten seconds passed and the comic book character just stood there, rubbing at her lower back with a yawn as the belt's glow remained cheerfully bright. In the monotonous grey of the room, it mocked Nezu like a festive Christmas accessory.

Checking the output from the chamber, Nezu rubbed at his brows.

So it wasn't a weapon.

But, just to be sure….

"Cosplayer-san. Would you please repeat the test?"

"Okay, but I only have enough time for a few more tries before I'm on cooldown." True to her word, four iterations later the woman was shrinking.

Nezu just sighed.

That cinched it.

This device had to be a support item for the portal user's own use. But if that was the case, then what kind? They still couldn't get past the firewall. It was just too adaptive. Even the technomancer they'd hired—the same one that had upgraded the school's security system—had been stumped.

"Thank you, Cosplayer. Please exit the chamber and head toward the decontamination unit," Majima instructed. "Ectoplasm-sensei, you're up."

Fog spewed on Nezu's left and condensed into a duplicate of UA's math teacher as the woman beyond the glass finished removing her belt. Handing it off to the clone that entered the room, the blonde raised her arms in a full body stretch and sashayed out the door. Now alone in the chamber, Ectoplasm's double held it offhandedly, patiently awaiting instructions.

Nezu leaned toward his control panel, using his front paws to support himself as he saved the previous data and started a new recording in a separate file. (Living in a world made for larger people never bothered him. He'd been even smaller, once. Before the genetic splicing.)

Pulling away from the desk-like computer, he tilted back to look upside down at the original Ectoplasm near his shoulder. "Are you ready?"

The blue man hummed an affirmative and his clone in the next room clipped on the belt, sliding the key into the lock.

Nezu was just bringing his head back down when an intense, cheese-grater-meets-chalkboard scream sounded, shocking him so badly that only a broad hand at his back kept the mouse upright. As he barely managed to stay on his stool, the unholy cry abruptly cut off and white mist exploded through the test chamber, followed quickly by a hard thunk.

"Are you okay, Dearie?!" Shuzenji's weathered voice demanded from another stool just past Ectoplasm and the tall man nodded grimly in response.

"It appears that, perhaps, it is a weapon after all," Ectoplasm pondered with a wince. "One designed specifically for ectoplasmic quirks." The gentle giant tilted his head back and forth as the test chamber cleared to reveal the belt—still illuminated—on the floor. "I am all right. Just uncomfortable. I have never felt a clone's pain before. This was…a unique experience."

"Let's get you to the infirmary. I want to make sure you're actually alright." The school nurse grabbed her cane from where it leaned against a desk and slid off her stool, supporting herself with the syringe like a pole vaulter as she dropped.

"I'm fine. It was no more than an echo of the emotion. I was simply not braced for it," Ectoplasm knelt down despite the assurance, bringing himself to only twice the height of the healer so she could check his vitals.

After fussing over him for over a minute, Chiyo begrudgingly looked away from the man's pupil-less gaze and Ectoplasm rose again.

"It could be a weapon," Majima agreed. "Definitely packs the same punch as one. But I also wouldn't discount it being a support item so soon. It could have a self-defense mechanism built in for anyone who tries to use it without an authorized signature."

That was reasonable. Probable, even.

But…

Nezu's mind circled several old hypotheses.

These new Nomu had quite a bit of autonomy.

Too much.

He couldn't shake the feeling that it really was meant to shock the user. To control them. That would be a good reason why it ended up here, portaled away.

Or for that matter…

Nezu climbed down his chair like a fireman's pole and darted across the skinny room, skirting the line of control consoles on his right. Opening the door of the observation deck and leaning out into the hallway, he yelled, "Cosplayer-san! Please come back. I have another test I'd like to run."

"But I just started decooooon!" the shapeshifter whined. "You couldn't have asked a minute ago?!"

"Sorry. I know it's a hassle, but it's important."

"Fiiiine," Cosplayer groaned. "Don't get your whiskers in a knot. Just give me a sec. My cooldown's not quite up and I gotta get dressed again."

A short while later and Nezu was back at his station, watching the hero pick up the FentonWorks belt with an unimpressed look before starting to put it on.

"Wait just a moment, please." Turning in his seat, he addressed Ectoplasm again, "If you're up for it, could you create another clone and have it touch Cosplayer-san when the belt activates?"

"WHAT?! You had me come out of decontamination and you hadn't even asked him yet?!"

Ignoring the outcry, Maijima mused, "Oh, good call. I didn't even think about that," while Chiyo leveled Nezu with a prickly look.

"Do not worry, Shuzenji-sensei. I will be prepared this time," Ectoplasm reassured in response.

"Oh? And what about Cosplayer-san?! Will she be prepared, too? She's the one wearing the belt. What happens when you're both zapped?"

From within the testing chamber, the Wonder Woman wannabe refuted, "Don't worry, Grandma! Hazard pay's where I make the big bucks! A little zap and I come out of this with a seventy inch flat screen!"

Eyes tracking from Cosplayer to every face on the observation deck, Chiyo grumbled, "For the record. I'm against this."

"Noted." Nezu dipped his head.

Ectoplasm took that as his cue, creating another clone and sending it into the testing chamber where Cosplayer had just finished transforming. Nezu tensed as the belt turned on and the duplicate reached out.

There was no scream this time; but the eruption of steam was as startling as ever.

"I'm good!" yelled from the fog a heartbeat later, followed by, "Didn't even hurt!"

As visibility quickly returned to the chamber, Cosplayer raised one hand in a gleeful fist pump. "New TV, here I come!"

Chiyo sighed next to Nezu; but the rodent's own relief was short-lived as his mind got to work and a weight settled in his chest.

"I'm not sure this belt is a support item for the warp user. Not unless it's made to function as a shock collar." Nezu glared into the other room, black eyes clouding with an old memory of a TENS machine and peanut butter. "But with Cosplayer completely unharmed I'm inclined to believe that it is instead meant to keep some kind of jailer safe."

"I'd entertained the idea previously, but set it aside as implausible. Now I'm not so sure."

"That would make sense if the new line of Nomu are all ectoplasm-based. Having support items on hand to control them isn't particularly far-fetched," Ectoplasm agreed.

"Oooo, we should redo the thermos next!" When the room fell silent and regarded Maijima strangely, the mechanic rubbed at his neck. Tone smoothing into something way less eager, he elaborated, "If the thermos really is some kind of weapon that only works against an ectoplasm user, Kocho-san's idea has way more weight."

Sunday, September 16th

8:40 am

"The Catch of a Lifetime: Local fisherman, Uozumi Souta…"

Nope.

"...Uraraka Construction set to renovate the Shimizu Parks and Recreation building in wake of Uravity's rising fame…"

Nadda.

"...the heist left the staff terrified. Investigations into Mori-san's disappearance are still underway and…"

Doubtful. Not unless it happened at a bakery. Or a grocery store.

"How to be Taken Seriously as a Powerful Female: Mt. Lady's tips for surviving…"

Definitely not.

Jazz sighed. Looked like she wouldn't be finding any more last-minute hints to Lunch Lady's whereabouts. Oh well, she probably had enough leads anyway.

Eyes dropping to the desk next to her, Jazz scanned a collection of triangles ("Nomu" sightings) and circles (possible haunts) that covered a map. Logging out of the computer, she shrugged on her work jacket and stood.

Quickly checking her breath to make sure it wasn't too atrocious after a few days without a toothbrush, Jazz winced and made her way to the bathroom. Cleaning her teeth with a finger as best she could, she rinsed her mouth and grabbed a paper towel to dry it. As the brown, scratchy thing dampened, she looked down at it in contemplation before wetting it under the sink more and bringing it over to the soap dispenser. Using it to wipe the smelliest areas of her body, she rewashed her hands and exited the bathroom.

Just because she was days from a shower didn't mean she needed to smell like it.

Freshened up, she made her way over to the help desk and offered Inko a smile, penning her timestamp down on the sign-in sheet's "out" box.

"Going somewhere?"

"Yeah; I have a couple errands I was hoping to run today. I should be back later though."

"Oh! That's good. I—I mean, you can spend your time however you want! I—I was just hoping to have lunch with you again today."

Jazz felt her heart warm. "When's your lunch?"

"The library closes early on Sundays—" Well that was good to know. "—So not until after I get off work at two-thirty." The woman's eyes looked sideways. "I have to lock the doors at two, though."

Interesting that she'd add that last bit. But Inko probably just wanted Jazz to know that if she came back early the library would be locked up for the day and she'd have to wait outside.

Which. Was a problem.

How was she supposed to stay the night if she left with Inko to have lunch after the doors were closed.

A slight crinkle developed between Jazz's brow.

"Ano—Jazz-san?"

Jazz "hmm'd?" distractedly, mind racing with valid excuses as to why she couldn't have lunch after all.

"I know this isn't my place, but…" The chubby woman paused, taking in a breath and straightening her spine. "Would you like to come stay with me? At my apartment?" As Jazz's aqua eyes zipped up and locked with Inko's darker green, the woman quailed, composure breaking down like compost at a mushroom farm. "N-not forever. Just until you g-get back on your feet! I saw you were looking for apartments, and I thought, maybe, you know, since you said you knew how to fight, that you'd be willing to teach me in exchange for rent?" Ending the ramble with shoulders hitched high, Inko peeked up through the half-closed eye of a wince.

Had her homeless status really been that obvious?

Jazz appraised the other woman.

The offer was almost too good to be true. Were it anyone but Inko, the answer would have been a hard "no".

Instead, "Are you sure you want to offer me that? You barely know me." Probably not the best approach when confronted with such a perfect solution, but, "What if I'm some crazy person? Or a terrible slob? I could rob you in the night and disappear, never to be seen again."

The woman almost faltered then and there; but as Jazz studied her, "You won't," came out quiet and surprisingly resolute.

Feeling her shoulders lower, Jazz's piercing gaze softened.

It was official. She was going to have to teach Inko self-preservation.

"Well, okay then."

Right after she brushed up on the subject, herself.

Sunday, September 16th

8:51 am

Mashirao Ojiro pushed into Gym Gamma, shoving the blue door open with so much force that it slammed against the wall. Ignoring a disgruntled shout from Kirishima—who was painting fresh lines on the cement floor nearby—the tailed boy dashed further into the room. With only a slight favor to his sore leg, he sprinted past training dummies and weighted equipment, eyeing several muscle-bound students as they tagged off between exercising and sparring.

Sounds of battle came from all over the gym, interspersed between outcroppings of artificial cliffs. It was expected, since the school had recently opened joint reservations—the lockdown had sent demand for gym slots skyrocketing—but it made finding Midoriya-kun more difficult.

"Ojiro-kun! This time is fully booked! You can't be here!"

The call stopped the martial artist dead and he turned to his right where Cementoss stood next to a huge floor mat. The dark blue pad was thick, covered in an outer neoprene lining. On it was an upperclassman (who looked somewhat like a shark and seal mixed together) doing a strange, t'ai-chi-esque pose, patiently waiting for his teacher to resume instruction.

"I'm not here for the gym, Sensei. Midoriya-kun doesn't have his phone and I needed to ask him a question about—" What was something Midoriya-kun would know? "—Hastume Mei-san."

"Why not ask one of your classmates in the support department? Or perhaps young Iida-kun?" Cementoss scratched at the non-existent border between his neck and face. "He's interacted with Hatsume-san on several occasions."

"Uh, sorry. This question's…personal."

The older man's eyes somehow moved toward each other in skepticism to make up for a lack of eyebrows and Ojiro felt himself start to sweat. But a second later the mason waved dismissively toward Mashirao and turned back to the aquatic teen behind him. "Just check back with me before you leave. I have to keep tally of everyone here."

"Thanks Sensei,"Ojiro responded, jetting off before the teacher could change his mind.

Surveying the landscape, he sprang toward a set of boulders where a long tongue disappeared, a thick, grey plate ensnared at its tip.

If Tsuyu-san was over there, more of 1A was probably nearby.

Dipping around the side of the rock field, Ojiro grinned when he spotted Midoriya and Ochako next to her.

Called it.

Sliding to a halt in front of the trio, foot stopping just shy of some kind of specialized discus thrower, he greeted, "Hey, can I borrow Mido for a second?"

Tsuyu and Ochako traded glances, strangely suspicious. More than just his arrival would account for.

Oh.

The smile fell off his face like a skier meeting a cliff side in a snowstorm.

As the girls offered "Go ahead," and "Sure…", the blonde waved for Izuku to follow him across the field, movements once again stiff and edgy.

"Did you see the article?!"

"Which article? I've been here tweaking Shoot Style all morning so I haven't had a chance to look at my phone in a while."

"There was a break-in at Detnerat."

"WHAT?!" Midoriya instantly covered the whispered shout with both hands, having the grace to look embarrassed. "What? When? What did they take?" came out next, in a much quieter voice despite being equally as insistent.

"The article just dropped an hour ago but it happened yesterday. The League took some kind of top-secret invention, so the story didn't have a bunch of details. But get this. They didn't just steal the prototype. The main employee heading the project's been kidnapped as well."

Izuku hissed in a jagged breath.

"I think if I can get ahold of someone I knew from junior high, I can bribe him to—"

"Ojiro-kun," the other boy cut him off. "We need to tell someone. This is beyond us."

"I know," and "Every moment we waste—" overlapped, before Izuku's words died and his face sagged into stunned relief.

Watching a million thoughts bounce around behind his friend's eyes, all Ojiro could think was that the teachers better figure this shit out. He'd handed over his best lead on faith alone, so if their help turned into another mirage that vanished the second the staff gained ground, there'd be hell to pay.

Fixing the younger boy with an exigent gaze, he steeled, "But that doesn't mean I'll stand by useless."

Sunday, September 16th

9:16 am

"Inui-san. Would you please repeat what you told me?" Nezu's voice rang clear around a conference room where teachers squished in to every open space and then some. Several additional chairs had been wheeled in for the occasion, littering the spots around a U-shape configuration of desks.

Only Cementoss, Power Loader and Recovery Girl remained missing from the line up, already caught by tasks that couldn't be delegated.

Hound Dog grunted roughly in acknowledgment and pushed out of his own office chair, striding across the soft-purple floor to the open end of the tables. Straightening, he recited, "I've received an anonymous tip about our situation. It sreeemmmrrrrrrrms…" The canine's growl petered off and he took a deep breath. "Somehow, we missed an important article from The Daily Kanagawa."

"Kanagawa?" Several concerned and confused looks shot around the room before Toshinori's deep voice followed up with, "I've been hearing quite a bit about that place lately." Threading his fingers together, the emaciated man rested his chin on the top of his knuckles. "Young Midoriya's been pestering me to take the class there on a field trip. He thinks it would be good for the upcoming Kamakura project, but obviously that's—"

"Uh, Toshinori?" Midnight cut in, one eyebrow raised. "Ishiyama-san and I finished that unit last year. We're on the Edo period now."

Aizawa's eyes shot over to the paralyzed Symbol of Peace, black pupils shrinking in horror as his teeth grit.

It was official. All Might was a complete and total idiot.

Hound Dog and Nezu both frowned but stayed silent as the principal held out a remote and the wall behind the security guard lit up. The left half of the projection was a block of text, but the right half showed a blurred image that was still easily recognizable.

Aizawa's masseter tensed so hard his right eye twitched, twinging the scars around his reconstructed orbital floor.

"The green Nomu, Lunch Lady," Inui began, "caused chaos at a shopping mallrrr in Kanagawa just hourrrs before the first attack on UA. There were injurrrries, but no casualties, and the reaserrn forrrr the attarrrrrck was unknoooooaaaOoo—"

"Until now," Nezu's soft voice stepped in. The mouse waved a calming paw and both Hound Dog's head and gaze lowered as if someone had touched the back of his neck with cold fingers. The principal's small eyes then switched over to Aizawa, boring into the tired hero and putting him even more on edge.

The projection flickered to a new article where an employee picture sat front and center, the smile beaming from it branding the inside of Aizawa's stomach like hot iron.

Hiroki Mori.

"That particular shopping mall is located just one block from Kanagawa's main Detnerat branch. Where a theft and kidnapping has just occurred."

He'd been at Detnerat. Right there. These kinds of high-profile heists always required weeks of in-depth research to pull off.

He should have noticed something.

A second later, a memory paraded through the dour man's head.

"Listen up, everyone. Despite what you may think, mock battle analyses are still due today. As heroes, you will be expected to continue your routines as normal, even in the face of villain attacks. Either turn your notes in now or Ectoplasm-sensei will take them during combat training later."

As Iida furiously scribbled a reminder in a spiral book, several papers passed toward the front of 1A's homeroom.

In the shuffle, Ochaco raised her hand.

"Yes, Uraraka-san?"

"You won't be here?" The gravity manipulator inquired.

"No. I have prior obligations at Detnerat." Movement caught Aizawa's eyes and he squinted suspiciously at both Izuku and Mashirao. The boys' expressions had shifted. They didn't trade glances or anything. Hell, their faces had hardly moved, but Shota knew something was up.

Aizawa's mind reeled back in sudden epiphany and his mouth soured.

They'd known.

"As distasteful as I find it, it's important for heroes to remain unruffled. Showing an attack has caused damage is an invitation for trouble."

Ojiro and Midoriya had been acting strange that morning and he'd brushed it off.

He wanted to blame them. Curse them for not speaking up. But this was his fault. He'd been so tired and high-strung over what was happening inside UA's borders that he hadn't forced the information out of them before he'd left or followed up when he'd returned.

As annoying as Mori-kun was, the ginger didn't deserve to be kidnapped for Shota's mistakes.

If it rained or spears fell, he would fix this.

"It's possible the attacks on UA were a red herring. A way to keep the media attention diverted from Kanagawa. As we know, anything that happens at our school is almost guaranteed front page material."

Anger seared Aizawa's brain. He'd fallen right into the villain's hands, just like everyone else.

Black hair rose as the erasure hero barely refrained from breaking the table, rage partially activating his quirk and turning his eyes crimson.

"Nezu, get Tsukauchi-san on the phone. I have a non-disclosure agreement to break."

Sunday, September 16th

1:42 pm

"I wudo rlike to worlight yuu a rletta."

Kamada, Danny and Hagakure were currently in Jazz's room. The extradimensional teens perched next to each other at the edge of a pink bed while the Amity local sat criss-cross on a two-toned area rug in front of them.

"No, here. Watch my mouth." Danny pointed to his teeth, sharp canines more prominent than normal as he bit down. "Rrrrrr. Write has a hard 'r' sound and a silent 'w'."

As Hagakure wordlessly followed along, she nudged Kamada. The other girl was repeatedly glancing down, rather than study their teacher's scruffy face.

When the Shiketsu kid ignored the hint, eyes staying evasive and cheeks turning rosy instead, Toru frowned.

Danny had chosen not to abandon them to an empty house, even though he was dying to look for his sister; the least Haru could do was pay closer attention.

"Lrrrrrr," Hagakure tried again, focusing on making sure her teeth stayed together and her lips drew back to mimic Danny's.

"Better, but I can hear you curling your tongue inside your mouth. Pull it back and out of the way lihhk hisss."

Maybe she shouldn't be too hard on Kamada-chan. Jazz's kidnapping had thrown them all off their game. It wasn't fair to expect her to pretend everything was normal.

"Rrrr."

"Perfect!" Satisfied, the Fenton shifted toward Haru. "Kamada-san, you've been pretty quiet; why don't you give it a try?"

Directly addressed, the teen next to Hagakure froze, keeping her gaze adhered to a pair of fidgeting hands. "I wouldo like to write you a letta."

"Oh, wow, Kamada-san! I can't believe how much your pronunciation has improved in just a week. Your practice is really paying off!" Danny's tired smile lifted into something resembling real cheer and Haru's entire face darkened to match her cheeks.

"S-sank you."

"Thank you," Danny enunciated. "Just remember to bite your tongue for the 'th' sound." This time, Kamada's eyes were caught by the dark, pink muscle that slipped from their host's mouth, holding her like a charmed snake as her color leached away.

"Thank you," Hagakure jumped in, trying her luck and saving her friend from paralysis.

"There you go! Nice one, Hagakure-chan!" Danny praised, leaning forward to fist-bump the invisible teen's glove. "See, Kamada-san? Easy-peasy."

This time, Toru ignored when Haru studied her knees instead of answering.

It was probably best to just give the shy girl space for now. Toru could always have a heart to heart with her later if things didn't improve.

Danny stretched, back popping as he leaned away from the bed, arms high in the air. Slumping into a relaxed pose that held just a little too much tension to be real, he pulled out his phone and turned on the Gabber app. "Does anyone want a snack? I'm gonna go grab a glass of water."

"No thank you," Hagakure managed in English, grinning with pride (not that anyone could see it, but still).

"Kamada-san?"

"No thanks. I'm not hung-rrri," Kamada's emphasis on the last word came out jolted, but every part of the sentence had the correct sounds.

"Ooooo. Naisu wan!" Toru cheered, copying Danny's earlier phrase as the boy got up and headed toward the door. Now alone, the preppy teen looked around the room awkwardly, unsure what to say. A silence took root, only broken when Kamada cleared her throat into a hoodie sleeve.

It wasn't aggressive. Definitely not made to get attention or start conversation, but Hagakure latched on to the opportunity. Switching to Japanese, she asked, "Are you sure you don't want anything to drink? I can grab you something, if you want!"

Kamada blinked in surprise, looking anxious before her shoulders lowered slightly and she offered a tentative smile. "Ano, do you know if there's any lemon ginger tea left?"

Hagakure was already pushing to her feet. Padding out the door, a thought occurred and she leaned back in. "Did you want honey? It's great for a sore throat!"

"Sure."

When Haru's lips rose just a little bit more, Hagakure nodded to herself and slipped back out into the hall. Whatever was up, things would be okay between them.

Turning her attention to the other nervous wreck of the house, she quietly trekked down the stairs and across the living room. As she approached the kitchen and her eyes found Danny, the young man exploded into green smoke.

A split second later, a glass shattered on the tile, pouring water across the floor in a tiny deluge.

WHAT THE HELL?!

Toru dashed forward in search of the missing superhero, ignoring the moisture wicking into her socks and being careful not to step on any errant shards.

HOLY SHIT, DANNY'D BEEN KIDNAPPED!

Was it the villain who'd taken Toru and Haru?

No. There hadn't been a portal.

A friendly? Like Clockwork?

Toru waved at the air, trying to clear the last of the weird, wispy particles that tried to cling to her gloves.

Wait.

She'd seen this before. From Ectoplasm-sensei AND videos of Phantom.

A clone. It'd been a clone.

Hagakure put a hand to her chest and breathed out a deep sigh, trying to calm the hyperactive drummer performing band practice on her rib cage.

It seemed their host hadn't stayed home after all.

But when would the real Danny be back?

A few minutes? An hour? A day?

"Hagakure-chan?! Danny-kun?! Is everything okay?!" echoed from the second floor as footsteps thumped down the hall above.

Eyes twitching from several kitchen utensils, to the fridge, then over to the front door of the house, Hagakure made a small sound in the back of her throat.

She had all of a few seconds to come up with a legitimate reason why Danny would ditch their English lesson. For an indeterminable amount of time. Without saying so much as a word to either of them.

This was FINE.

"I'm sorry, that was me! I just dropped my cup!" she yelled in response, hoping that would stop the other girl's advancement.

Hearing Haru start down the stairs, Toru felt herself gulp.

She couldn't tell Kamada that she'd seen Danny leave. As soon as he got back he'd spot her lie. (Toru was already on thin ice saying she'd broken the glass.) But if she said she never saw him at all, Kamada-chan would worry until he got back.

If that only took a few minutes, that'd be fine. He could pretend he just went to the bathroom or something.

But if he was missing for longer than that, she'd need an excuse as to why she wasn't freaking out. Or she'd have to pretend that she was freaking out.

That'd probably be the best way to go. It wouldn't be too hard to fake.

A sudden buzzing of her jean's pocket made the invisible teen flinch and she pulled out an old smartphone the Fentons had lent her.

There, in the household chat, was, Sorry guys. Ghost attack across town.

Everyone's gone so I have to take the call. Should be back in a few hours. I'll bring Chinese food home when I'm done.

OH THANK KAMI-SAMA!

Toru barely got out a quick reply before Kamada reached the bottom of the stairs.

Sunday September 16th

1:48 pm

Tucker looked down at a cracked phone screen, sighing in relief when a Star War's sonic boom shook his hand.

Okay! Chinese sounds great.

Thank God Hagakure-san had been paying attention to her phone.

Refocusing on the scene just beyond the Specter Speeder's window, Tucker winced in sympathy as his best friend continued to grow an unsettling number of additional body parts.

Sunday, September 16th

3:04 pm

Despite her earlier confidence, Inko was spiraling as she led Jazz up the final flight of stairs to her third floor apartment.

What was she doing, inviting a literal stranger into her home?

This was a horrible impulse decision. Jazz was right, Inko barely knew the girl. Just what had possessed her into thinking this was a good idea?

(Okay, so obviously her maternal instincts, especially with Jazz being quirkless, but still.

Even that was suspect; most quirkless people weren't this well-adjusted.)

"So here we are, home sweet home. It's not much, but it's comfortable." Inko's voice was shaky as she pushed open her front door, revealing a small mudroom that stepped up into a short hallway.

Here's hoping she hadn't just bought a fast-pass to Murderville.

Letting out a nearly inaudible whimper, Inko toed off a pair of black flats and pushed them over to the side. Like a shadow or baby bird Jazz copied her host, neatly tucking her own into place near several other pairs of shoes—even with the encumbering sleeping bag rolled up on her shoulder.

"The bathroom is straight down the hall if you need it," Inko commented, grabbing some house slippers off a rack before hanging her coat on a wall hook just past the washing machine.

With her redheaded guest looming at her back and tracking every move she made, Inko felt akin to a rabbit that'd somehow made friends with a fox.

Hanging a left just before the bathroom door, the nervous woman explained the layout of the apartment—bedrooms to their left, living room/kitchen to their right—as she entered the longer half of the L-shaped hall.

The light changed and the towering presence at Inko's shoulder disappeared, prompting her to glance back to where Jazz was squinting down at her phone.

Oh good. With how fancy her translator was, Jazz could be disabling cell service right now. Or checking for surveillance cameras. Who knew what other technological wonders her future killer had on hand?

"Oh-mah-neh-key ee-tah-dah-key ah-ree-gah-toe go-z-eye-mah-su!"

Inko blinked. Then blinked again.

Omaneki itadaki arigatou gozaimasu.

Thanks for having me.

Awwww.

Yeah, inviting a stranger into her house was stupid. And she was right to be a bit paranoid. But she was being ridiculous.

Even now, Jazz was just trying to be a good house guest.

Inko let herself smile and like a sunbeam through an icicle, the prior cold made her shine that much more brilliantly.

"You'll be staying in Izuku's room. That's the first bedroom down." Inko walked forward, pushing open the door to her son's abode and gesturing inside as Jazz's flustered voice replied, "Oh! That's okay! I can stay on a couch or something. I don't want to take anyone's room!"

"You won't be. He's living on campus for school right now."

"Still, I hate to intrude on his private space. You should ask him if he's okay with it, first."

Despite her words, Jazz poked her head in behind Inko, betraying a quiet curiosity as she surveyed the walls.

"Wow….uhm…" Jazz trailed off, going oddly quiet and avoiding Inko's gaze.

"What?"

"N-nothing! It's nothing."

Raising an eyebrow, Inko looked around the room.

What could she be—?

Oh.

Inko snorted. "Izuku's always been a big fan of All Might, ever since he was little."

"I think 'fan' might be a bit of an understatement. I feel like I'm looking at a shrine," Jazz responded, leaning back out into the hall with a crease between her eyebrows. "Have you ever—hmm—" After a pregnant pause, Jazz's voice lowered and gentled. "Does Izuku-kun obsess over anything else to this degree? Or is it just All Might?"

Face scrunching into something split between a scowl and an exasperated smile, Inko admitted, "Izuku loves All Might. Probably more than he should. But it's because of what he represents. Izuku's always, always wanted to be a hero." Inko's voice thickened. "And All Might was the one who inspired that in him. But unfortunately that means he tends to go overboard with anything Toshinori-san's involved with."

"Toshinori-san?" Jazz's stare was so inquisitive that Inko mentally replayed what she'd just said.

Did Jazz not know who that was? How? Since his retirement, All Might's civilian name had been everywhere.

"That's All Might's name. His real name."

"Oh. Yeah—Haha! Sorry; I forgot! I've been hearing so much Japanese lately my brain's bogged up." Jazz rubbed at her neck in embarrassment.

It was still a bit odd, with how much time All Might spent in America, but Inko'd heard that traveling abroad was very taxing.

"So—uh, what do you mean, he tends to go overboard? Just with decorations and stuff?"

"No, he—" now it was Inko's turn to falter. She'd just been worried about Jazz being a spy and now she was spilling her guts again. "Eeee-to. Izuku tends to push himself really hard, and it's only gotten worse since Toshinori-san became one of his teachers."

"Wait, All Might's your son's teacher and doesn't force him to take care of himself?!" Jazz bristled as if personally offended. Crossing her arms, she grumbled, "I'll bet he doesn't sleep enough, and forgets to eat, too, doesn't he? His muscles are probably all sorts of chewed up without a rest day."

Something about the way Jazz said that…The other woman was definitely thinking about her own brother, Danny.

Inko didn't want to elaborate, since she'd been trying to redirect the conversation; but, then again, most of what she wanted to say could be found with a simple Moogle search…

"They are, but not for the reason you think. Izuku's quirk was a sleeper; he didn't get it until just a few years ago after a villain attack. Since then he's been working diligently to get it under control. But because it's super strength and his body didn't grow up with it, there's been a lot of backlash to him using it."

Inko's gaze flitted around her son's room, glaring at every pair of All Might's familiar blue eyes that she could find. (Which, between the posters, book spines and action figures were quite a few).

"Toshinori-san has a very similar quirk, so he's been trying to give Izuku special attention;" frustration bled into Inko's tone, "but all the coddling has made things even worse. Izuku's been hurting himself more trying to meet his hero's expectations."

Dragging her stare from her baby's room, Inko looked over at a face that showed nothing but understanding.

"Danny's twenty-one, now. But his quirk didn't come in until he was fourteen." Jazz reached the hand not holding her sleeping bag out and it landed lightly on Inko's shoulder. "Because of the accident…that forced it to manifest, no one in our family has a quirk that's even kind of similar." Breaking eye contact, the American looked down. "He had a real rough time of it, teaching himself from scratch while worrying that if he didn't get things under control fast—" A pause, "people might get hurt."

"I know it can be really frustrating, feeling like the bad guy. Like you're the only person in the world who really cares. The only person who pays attention. Who nags." The hand on Inko's shoulder squeezed even as Jazz continued to study the floor. "But trust me, you're not. And you might not see it now, because only hindsight is twenty/twenty—er—things seen in retrospect are clearest, but I bet Izuku-kun has a lot of people in his corner. And none of them want to see him get hurt. Especially not All Might."

"I promise he can feel that. Those expectations to stay safe. They're probably the only thing keeping him alive."

When Jazz was finally willing to raise her eyes, they looked positively haunted.

"Trust me, as bad as things seem, sometimes what looks like the worst case scenario right now could very well be the best."

For some reason, those eyes coupled with those words made Inko remember her son, before he'd gotten his quirk.

Covered in bruises he refused to talk about.

Crying alone where no one could hear.

The light leaching from his eyes just a little more every day.

Sometimes what looks like the worst case scenario right now could very well be the best.

Those same eyes, older, filled with utmost determination as Izuku held out a handwritten note from a boy named Kota, showing, proving, that he wasn't just training to be a hero, he was a hero.

Sunday, September 16th

7:19 pm

"Thirty-four! He managed to drop thirty-four before Mrs. Hallstrom banned him from handling fragile lab equipment."

Pudgy hands stilled halfway through chopping an onion into eighths and Inko Midoriya chuckled, glancing behind herself. Relaxing on a lavender couch just beyond the dinner table was her new guest, sharing "late-bloomer" mishaps about her little brother.

"I forgot to ask, are you allergic to anything?"

"Only starfruit, as far as I know," Jazz replied, shifting so her chest leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossing lazily over top of it.

The two were currently in Inko's apartment, finally settled in after a quick trip to the grocery store. (She'd forgotten that her fridge was more or less empty—cooking for one just felt so hollow.)

Jazz had been a good sport about the whole thing, assuring that it was no trouble to go back out for the missing ingredients.

With every new interaction, Inko couldn't help but feel she'd made the right choice about the homeless girl. Even if having a stranger in her house was still incredibly anxiety-inducing.

Putting down her knife and opening a bag of carrots in the sink to her left, Inko selected out a few and started to wash them.

The instant the water touched her hands, a techno-tune burst from her apron and the woman tossed the roots up in surprise. Lunging for the orange troublemakers with an "Ah!", she juggled a second before managing a firm grip, saving them from hitting the sink's stainless steel bottom.

"Are you okay?" Jazz called from the couch.

"Yes; sorry! My phone just spooked me!"

Rinsing the carrots in record time, Inko set them in the drying rack to the left of the sink and reached into her apron's kangaroo pocket.

"Izuku!"

Hey Mom.

Kami, it was good to hear her son's voice.

"Sorry, my hands were full. I'm making dinner right now."

Oh that's great! I'm glad you're cooking again. The boy's tone morphed from relieved to sheepish, I know things have been hard without me there, and now with everything else going on…

Inko's heart convulsed.

"Don't worry about me, Baby. I know I've messed up a lot in the past—" A toddler Izuku, held in her arms as they both cried. All Might's fragile form, begging up at her from the kitchen floor. "—but I think I finally understand what it means for me to support you with everything I have. I'll do better. For both of us. I promise."

Mom….The watery sound in Izuku's voice cracked the dam in Inko's own eyes, and she found herself tearing up.

"And the first step of that is getting in shape," she declared. "I'm going to start dieting. And I've hired a personal trainer."

Really?! The sheer astonishment in the word left Inko mildly amused.

"Hey! I'm not that bad, am I?" As her son sputtered a panicked odyssey—that managed to touch on how beautiful she was and how happy it made him that her health and mobility were about to improve—Inko switched her phone to a shoulder hold.

Moving the carrots to her cutting board and chopping them into one inch chunks, the mother allowed herself a coy smile.

Poor thing. She shouldn't have teased.

"Honey, I was joking."

The muttered ramble petered off, replaced by an indignant, Mom!

"Sorry. I couldn't resist."

Using her knife to scrape the carrots and onions into a large pot on her right, the cook turned the burner on medium heat and added oil.

She should probably take this lull to tell Izuku the full story on Jazz…

Stomach churning, Inko queued two potatoes to the chopping block.

"So how are things going at school? I know you said you've been spending more time at the gym, but what about your classes? Are you still having trouble with electric currents?"

No! I got it figured out! Yaoyorozu-chan walked me and a few other students through a bunch of the homework problems with visual aids. It was super fun!

Like for one of the questions, she made an aquarium and wire with her quirk—it's insane how many things she just knows how to make, Mom! She's an absolute prodigy. I can't even imagine trying to remember all the molecular formulas she's got floating around in her head—

"Izuku…"

Oh, right. Uuuhm—yeah. After we filled the aquarium, we submerged the wire and got Kaminari-kun to run different levels of electricity through it while recording the water's temperature.

Joule's Law made a lot more sense after I saw it in practice.

"Oh that's good! I'm glad you have so many classmates you can rely on. I know I don't say it enough, but I'm really proud of how many friends you've made since coming to UA."

Before Izuku could blubber out an embarrassed reply, Inko continued, "Speaking of friends, how is Mitsuki-san adapting to life at the dorms?"

Baku-chan? I haven't seen too much of her yet. Her and Kacchan live in a separate building. You know that path that follows the forest? You get to it from there, even though they're right behind the 1A dorm. They share it with Ojiro-kun and his big sister.

Tossing the potato cubes, some mirin and water into a smaller pot to boil, Inko grabbed several spices out of the upper cupboard on her left.

"Oh, I suppose that would be good for them. Do you know how Kastuki-kun's doing? Is he any better since she moved in?"

Inko heard a deep inhale on the other end of the line.

He's not greAt—at the crack in her son's voice, Inko went dead silent, turning down and covering the curry slurry that had just started to pop and sizzle from heat. He's officially transferred to general studies, and he's doing better since Baku-chan moved in, but it's like he's lost his drive. I want to help him, but I don't know how…

Inko hummed in concerned acknowledgement, walking over to the dining room table as she tried to think of sound advice. Picking up a pack of chicken thighs, she angled back around, inadvertently putting a head of bright orange hair in her line of sight.

"You know, you should ask Mitsuki-san to give me a call. I think I might have an idea."

Monday, September 17th

1:24 am

"And next up, we have an unprecedented nominee in our midst. Jas*ine Fent*n has done the impossible. This intelligent, young psychiatrist has been put forward for four separate categories. A first here at the Heinz Awards."

"Not only has she found a way to harness renewable ecto-energy with zero environmental impact, she's also implemented a peace treaty with the denizens of the realm where it's sourced."

"And her brilliance doesn't stop there! Through this perspicacious lady's efforts as ambassador, she's enlisted several members in both communities to provide mental health aid and jobs to the less fortunate of her town, dropping unemployment and mental illness rates in the area to record lows."

"Let's give it up for Jas*in* F*n*on!"

"Jas*ine, would you please come up here?"

—Ja*mi*—

—C*me in, J*sm*ne—

Jazz forced her eyes open, the clinging warmth of her dream fading away as another Ca*ling Jas*i*e Fe*ton. Do *uo c*py? Over, finally echoed past the barriers of her subconscious.

Something incredibly similar to radio static filled the woman's brain and she felt her mind crackle with random, broken sound bites. Lurching up in bed, Jazz threw off her blankets and frantically surveyed Izuku's room as Jasmine Fenton, please QSL. Over, now came through clear.

She didn't recognize the rough, sunny voice with its slight Southern twang; but this definitely wasn't a dream and this person knew her last name.

Her real last name.

Danny? she called back, making sure to project the thought outward. This was, after all, not her first telepathy rodeo.

After an extended silence, Jazz felt her stomach flop.

Maybe she had been imagin—

You're supposed to say "over", or I might step on you, Ma'am, the voice grumbled,before ending the transmission with, Over.

Step on? Er. Over.

Cross signals. Double. Interrupt each other, snapped cheerily back, before, Am I correct in assuming this is one Jasmine Fenton? Over.

Oh, yes! I'm Jasmine Fenton; who are you? Over.

Alastor Williams, he announced proudly, ninth Field Battalion, Signal Corps. Call sign: Radio Ghost.

Please stand by for a relay from one Danielle Phantom.

Dani?

Not hearing the word "over", Jazz waited, tamping down all the questions that tried to escape her brain like rabbits from a broken hutch.

Jazz! The voice was still jarringly middle-aged male, but its inflection was obviously a mimicry of Dani's and Jazz felt her chest explode in tiny, spastic fireworks. Are you okay? What happened? Where are you? Over.

Jazz rolled her eyes at the rapid-fire questions, but responded, In that order: yes, Danny's got growing pains, Musutafu, Japan, Hagakure's dimension.

Several seconds of silence passed, before Jazz hurriedly added, Over, with a blush.

Danny's got growing pains? What the heck is that supposed to mean?! Over!

Uhhhhh. Danny can make portals now and I got caught in one. But because he's Clueless with a capital "C", he doesn't know he's the one making them. At this point, I'm not even sure Hagakure or Kamada-san were kidnapped. I think they just fell through like I did…

Anxiety spiked in Jazz's stomach, and she added, How's Danny doing? Over.

HA! PRICELESS! This is literal yeaaars of blackmail in the making!

Oh-oh, whoops. Sorry.

Danny's a wreck. But when I tell him I found Alastor and got to talk to you, he'll cheer up! Besides, other than Sir Obsessions-Can-Be-Managed worrying himself half to death—Jazz snorted—things have been quiet. Everyone in the Zone caught wind of your disappearing act so Amity's basically on travel-ban. Not offiiiiicially, or anything; but like, even Skulker's on a VERY pressing hunt in sector seven, according to Ember, Dani/Alastor snickered. Over.

Jazz sighed in relief, feeling lighter than she had in days. Good. That's good.

So what's my eta on getting rescued? Over.

Knowing Gramps? Anywhere from two to two hundred business days. Give or take. Over.

Jazz rubbed her forehead, soothing a mild ache that was slowly building behind her eyes.

Just don't let him push himself too hard. Over.

Don't worry. Everyone's already been on DannyWatch, retorted back. He's being a little baby-bitch about it, too; but we're keeping him in line. Over.

Hmm…Maybe you don't have to. As an idea formed in Jazz's head, she leaned back down into her pillow, feeling slightly better. Tell him this world is fascinating and that I've already started writing a paper on how social dynamics and laws have evolved to accommodate various power types. She hadn't, but Danny didn't need to know that. That should keep him from rushing too much.

And make sure he knows I've already made a friend that I'm staying with, too. So he doesn't worry about me hobo-ing it like that time he got stuck in the twelfth century. Over.

Will do; but there's no way I'm not paraphrasing that, echoed in Jazz's head, followed quickly by, Oh shoot, my ride's here; I gotta go. Love you, Cuz. I'll hit you up again soon.

Danielle, over and out.

Alastor's inflection changed, once more turning disgruntled as he reprimanded, Over and out, what tommyrot. That girl don't have the good sense God gave a goose! A second later, he stressed, This is my final. Radio Ghost, jumping off.

As the strange stress of a telepathic conversation folded away, Jazz sent a goofy grin into the dark. "Roger that."

Sunday, September 16th

2:37 pm

-cut plot-irrelevant scene that was too slice-of-lifey/had too much fluff-

"So it's the train on the right?" Jazz asked, looking down from a stairwell onto a subway station absolutely packed with people. Above her head was a giant, purple sleeping bag, rolled into an overstuffed arm.

(It wasn't like she could do much about it. Her Fenton Bracelet could only enlarge charms, not reshrink them.)

"Not quite. It is on the right, but ours—did you see—quite here yet. —your new outfit—board for another ten minutes." As Jazz tried to parse Inko's words from the Gabber's highly confused babble—yay crowds—her guide smiled up from several steps below.

Inko was in her typical attire, save for a big, yellow purse hanging from one arm and a reusable grocery bag on the other. On the tote's semi-waterproof side was a summer cottage print, doing its best to combat the drear of the drizzly day.

Assured of Jazz's attention, the greenette waddled down the stairs that lead to the turnstiles, looking for all the world like a chilled flamingo as she pushed through the crowd in a fluffy, pink coat.

Jazz smiled, covertly snapping a picture with her phone before rushing to catch up.

Wishing her own jacket had a hood, she ducked further down into her olive green collar, trying to keep warm as she swiped the ticket Inko had bought her over a glass surface.

Hearing an affirmative "ping", Jazz pushed against the rotating bar and trudged up next to the older woman, stopping just shy of a thick yellow line painted on the grippy-bumped floor.

"Don't—want for your birthday—quieter on the train."

Jazz raised an eyebrow, then held up a "just a second" finger, changing the settings on her translator to only detect English.

At least she could help Inko understand her.

"It's hard to hear you with all the side conversations, but you think it'll be quieter on the train?"

Instead of answering verbally, Inko just nodded, not at all concerned when the metal behemoth next to them lurched forward and trundled away.

Seeing nothing better to do, Jazz took the moment to people-watch.

Despite the bustle of heavy traffic, things were oddly calm. The platform ran like a well oiled machine, its users more than adept at navigating the station's moving parts. It was almost…cathartic, in a way, seeing everyone go about their day.

Over by a support beam, a man made music with his elbows, looking for all the world like a cricket as a cup slowly filled with spare change in front of him.

A tranquil jingle played over the loudspeaker, ending with a chipper announcement in Japanese.

A blustery wind blew down the tunnel, flipping strands of hair into Jazz's eyes.

Okay, mood ruined.

Shoving them out of her face with a "Pftht, pffttt," Jazz jumped when a train HISSED to a stop just a few feet away, taking the place of the one that'd just left.

Clutching at her chest, the foreigner gaped at the new arrival.

Holy cannoli! It'd only been two minutes! Weren't they worried about a collision!?

Suppressing a giggle with a hand, Inko called Jazz's name and tilted her head toward a set of freshly opened doors. Starting toward them, she glanced back; and, upon seeing Jazz follow, disappeared inside.

A sudden influx of people swept Jazz forward and she maneuvered herself over to an open seat next to Inko.

Plopping down beside the librarian, the redhead raised a brow when Inko reached forward to tap Jazz's phone. "There's still a ton of background noise. I don't think it's gonna work."

The local just smiled mysteriously, even after the doors to the train slid shut and the clamor remained.

Jazz was clearly missing something.

It was a gentle rocking that finally alerted her to the subtle change. When their ride started forward, like magic, passengers around the compartment began to nod off, sending everything into a hush.

Eyes bugging out of her head at the power nappers, Jazz switched the Gabber settings over to demand, "Aren't they afraid of missing their stops?!"

With a shake of the head, Inko replied, "Japanese people spend a lot of time on trains. Everyone takes them. Even important people. It's why our subways are so punctual. But it also means we've developed a kind of sixth sense for knowing when we need to get off."

"Wow!" Jazz's face must have been something because Inko straight up laughed."I've waited over an hour for a late train at home. It feels like I'm in another world."

Well, for even more than just the obvious reasons.

Instead of poking further fun at her new pet American, the mother asked, "Are you ready for lunch?", reaching into her bag and pulling out a familiar plastic box. "We have just enough time before we get off."

"Oh, that'd be great!" Jazz's stomach gurgled at the reminder. "Would you like to eat first, since I did last time?"

"I told you before. Kids always eat first."

Jazz felt her cheeks heat up, but before she could respond, Inko was grabbing inside her sunny cottage tote again.

"But I wouldn't worry about that too much right now, anyway." Withdrawing a second bento with a blinding grin, Inko held it out. "Speaking of food, would you like curry or something else for dinner?"

Chapter Notes (Lots This Chapter):

-The Material Grill is the name of the place that hosts 80's night in DP. Legitimately. And it took me 10 minutes of searching to find that information cause I couldn't remember the episode it came from. Arrrrgh.

-The app danny's using to place the call out of country is Skype. XD Since it used to be really popular for international phone calls. Way better than the old method of buying "international minutes" on what was essentially a gift card from a store. Then dialing the number for the country and the gift card and the actual person's phone number. By the time you were done you had like a string of thirty digits to make your call lol. Huge hassle. It was like a dollar a minute or something like that, too. But still way cheaper than the like 5 dollars a minute it would have been without the gift card.

-I feel like I need to address why nezu and power loader can't crack the code on the thermos or specter deflector. It's not just that Tucker wrote the firewall. It's also that Danny supplied the ectoplasm that runs them. Because of so many attacks by technus over the years, Danny practiced with his own technomancy. Which shows in previous chapters by him being able to make the Scrambler. It also means that the AI's that tucker comes up with run on technomancy-viable ectoplasm and are specifically made to keep out technopathic opponents like Technus. The AI's that run the belt and the thermos aren't ghosts in their own right, but they're dang close. Kinda like Val's suit. Any technology quirk user going up against it would have to be better than Technus at coding to break through.

-Cosplayer sounds like an OP character until you understand how her power works. Basically, her achilles heel is that she's limited by how powerful her costume is. The stronger the character she's imitating, the shorter the time limit on transformations. She also has a flat, 5 minute cooldown between uses of her quirk. That's why she was only able to maintain Wonder Woman's form for a little over a minute and why when she came out of decontamination she still had a little time before she could restart the experiment.

She could potentially switch costumes during hero work, but then she has to carry them around with her and take the time to change.

How many times she can transform in a day depends on how active she was during a transformation.

For instance, it'd be smart for her during a natural disaster to just keep on a bear costume; because as an animal with no powers, she can spend several hours in that form while still utilizing its keen sense of smell and occasional muscle power. If she went as superman, and was very active in that like 30 seconds she could maintain his form, she might only manage 3 transformations in total for the entire day, giving her a measly one minute and thirty seconds of hero time. (And if she worked too fast she could potentially harm anyone she was trying to help. Organs impacting the internal walls of a body can be very dangerous. Ergo, super speed is not always super great.)

-Cosplayer calling Chiyo "grandma" isn't exactly an insult in Japan. Like, it kind of is, because she's owed a title of sensei, which means doctor or person of high learning/esteem. But also, in Japan, people will sometimes call each other "big sis" or "aunty" or "grandma" without being related? And it's kind of just a vague title for someone you think well of that fits that age group? If Chiyo'd been younger it'd definitely be an insult. Like when Bakugo called his mom "old lady" in the second half of chapter 13. Obaa-san. Same word. Different intent.

-The Kanji for Uozumi has the character for fish in it. Why did I choose that for a fisherman? Because I can.

-THANK YOU JAMIE. Your article suggestions were so freaking perfect.

-Shimuzu is a town in Shizuoka in the direction of Kanagawa. So it's vaguely a neighbor to Musutafu.

-The Edo Period comes after the Kamakura period. Idk if it's directly after though. Might be two periods later.

-Cementoss is UA's modern literature teacher and Midnight is the modern art history teacher. So I figured they were the most likely people to also teach the historic versions of those two subjects.

-Even if it rains, or if spears fall is the Japanese equivalent of come hell or high water

-L's and R's are combined in Japanese speech, so it is notoriously hard for a Japanese speaker to learn to separate the sounds.. I've actually taught a couple exchange students how to separate the sounds, and they only ever "get it" after you physically show them with your mouth. Then it just kind of clicks.

-Danny growing body parts is because he had a clone active while his powers acted out. The disruption latched onto the ability and took it to the extreme. When Danny yelled that he lost his clone, Tucker, thinking fast, grabbed Danny's phone and pretended to be him.

-Omaneki itadaki arigatou gozaimasu is a phrase Japanese people say kind of….automatically? As they enter someone else's home? It's kinda like how they say "thanks for the meal/looks delicious" before they eat, and "it was a feast" after they finish. Saying phrases like that is an acknowledgement that you appreciate the host.

-"sleeper" is a headcanon term that I've decided means quirks that manifest way late because of intense stress/pressure, a la x-men style. It's super rare, but can happen. Otherwise, how would Inko have been so…okay? With Izuku just suddenly gaining a quirk? To me that's super sus.

-Jazz has gotten really good at lying by omission. Technically, everything she said was true. All the pauses were from her thinking how to phrase things the right way.

-Jazz was thinking about the Dark Dan incident when she referenced things could be way worse. When you think about it, it's perfect for this scene because the reason Danny turned evil and killed his human half is because he lost everyone who supported him. Everyone that kept him from abusing his power and abandoning his humanity, even in grief.