Chapter Text
“You haven’t demanded I pull you from the school. I’ll take that as a sign you had a good day?”
Dan ignored Vlad’s blathering, instead leaning his head against the window glass to stare at the passing cityscape and tightly packed suburbs. He let his thoughts wander, still not quite used to keeping his emotions in check, rather than letting them churn into a firestorm to be unleashed on the world.
It left him a bit further toward apathy than was probably normal for a human, but considering his own Frankenstein soul, it was probably as good as he’d be able to get.
“ Give it a good-faith try, little brother. A month of honest effort, and if you really hate it, we can go back to tutoring.”
Jazz had looked so earnest, and even made him pinkie-swear, dammit. So, he was trapped at this stupid, paranormal-infested school for a month, and he couldn’t even blow off his frustration on the students.
The thing that really pissed him off was that he didn’t actually hate it so far.
The children were annoying, but he hadn’t actually finished highschool, and approaching old subjects that once seemed so impossibly complex was somehow way easier to comprehend. He’d completed all his homework assignments on his knee before even leaving school grounds, after all. Vlad was a cheat, and wouldn’t do that goody two-shoes shit, so it wasn’t like it was his influence helping him succeed. Dan could be proud of himself if he wanted. Actually, no. Feeling happiness over getting his homework done was embarrassing.
He wasn’t a child, goddamn it.
“Don’t burn the upholstery.” Vlad spoke to the tablet in his lap without turning around to look at him.
“Fuck you.” Dan replied to the window under his forehead, plasma dancing over his fingers to melt a little splay of fingerprints into vinyl seats, just to be contrary. You should have swung for real leather, Idiot.
Their ghostly chauffeur kept her head down, curly hair obscuring most of her wrinkled face. She did, however, open the windows to air out the burnt plastic smoke now hazing up between them.
“Your stabilization tests are tonight.” Vlad reminded, stylus swiping through several different apps. “I hope you didn’t make plans.”
Duh. Why else would dipshit numero uno pick him up personally? The idea of fatherhood probably got real old, real fast, once the reality of raising a fucked up little monster actually sank in.
Sometimes Dan reveled in how twisted the whole situation was. Vlad’s own ghostly powers, devoured and fused into the soul and
heart
of a depressed, suicidal kid who didn’t actually
die
when he killed himself, so he decided to
kill everyone else
instead. Burn down the whole world, hit by an uno reverse card courtesy of one time god-
and handed over to one fucked up old man, richer than god, who grew soulless husks of a son he wanted only for them to rot away when they realized they were just corpses after all.
Fucked up body, meet fucked up soul.
Congratulations, it’s a boy.
Dan exhaled the smoky irritation building in his lungs, letting it hiss out his teeth and out the window as the car rolled to a stop outside the apartment building that Vlad had purchased before their move.
The building’s doors and vacuums were automated robots, supposedly meant to invoke some sort of disbelief suspension for the other facilities being manned by ghosts. He’d stuck a couple knives to the futuristic roomba that flitted around his own room, satisfied that the ankle-level danger actually did keep him more alert, present, and less likely to spiral off into a depressive rage when stuck inside the building.
As the two of them stepped into an elevator that dropped them down into a subterranean laboratory, Dan mused that this situation was starting to feel far too normal.
The tests felt normal, now that Vlad had figured out non-invasive versions. Only had to melt two or three needly contraptions before Vlad got the message.
Soul-body compatibility tests.
Power-body stress tests.
Body degradation tests.
Hours of dermal submersion treatments, after some ward or spell or artifact he was trying to confiscate burnt the shit out of his body.
Despite the apparent success, his father was terribly preoccupied with making sure this new body didn’t start rotting around him. As if he didn’t have two others, suspended in preservative fluid for ‘ just in case .’
Weirdo.
The only thing that made being stuck with a mother-henning babysitter less annoying was-
“Welcome back, lil’ bro!”
Jazz~
Dan could feel the writhing, undirected anger in his gut just melt at her excited grin, attention suddenly focused on what she wanted and how poorly suited this environment was for her. She belonged in a library, or in front of a classroom. Not in some stark white and chrome monstrosity of an underground hospital.
While Vlad attended the normal rounds of scanning, measuring, and monitoring, Dan sat in his little medical throne and let the robots work as his sister fussed over him.
“Had a good second day?”
“Already got two stalkers.” He admitted, mouth curving into a lazy smirk at Vlad’s indignant muttering over being ignored for the same question. “If I keep this rate, I’ll have a whole class of ducklings.”
“A real stalker, or hyperbole? Got any homework yet?” Jazz didn’t bat an eye at either option, taking the finished worksheet he’d already completed to glance over and hand back with a mild; “Nicely done.”
Dan did not preen, thank you. That would be undignified.
“Once Miss Fenton departs, I can continue to check-” “If you try, I’ll murder you~”
Vlad’s mouth snapped shut, baleful glare doing absolutely nothing to the sunny, fangful smile Dan shined at him. The expression dropped when Jazz bopped him lightly on top of the head.
“No murder.”
Dan wrinkled his nose distastefully, like the concept smelled .
“Maiming?” Another small karate-chop of disapproval.
“Fine, only light bullying.”
“Only if I’d agree he deserves it.”
“You’re both ridiculous.”
Jazz ignored Vlad’s grumbling.
“You never answered - real stalker or no?”
Dan hummed, lifting up his hand to let a robotic strap wind around his wrist, various colored lights pulsing and blinking.
“Just nosy kids.” He hedged, folding his arms and letting his head fall forward for the next robot to roll little sensors down the back of his shirt, wiggling themselves to align over his spine.
“Hey Vlad-” Dan called, remembering something. “Did you remove that thing I told you to get rid of?” The man sighed in irritation, punching a few more buttons. (Cycle 6.333 temporarily disabled’, announced a robotic voice.) Jazz glanced over at the screen, eyebrow raised.
“Do I want to know what that one does?”
“No.”
“It’s an analysis of his-”
“NO, She DOES NOT.” Dan let his voice drop far past what this body’s vocal chords were capable of, the resonance from his ghostly form flashing red in his eyes.
Vlad raised a slow eyebrow at the menace, finger hovering over an ‘information’ button that would make the programmed voice explain the whole thing out-loud.
“We did that last week.” Dan snarled, “Fuck off till next month, as agreed.” His claws were already warping out of his fingernail beds to gouge into his seat’s silicone cover, a threat of violence as clear as he could make it without getting up from his seat and tearing wires out as he went.
“Boys.”
Dan growled under her scolding, flexing his fingers into the chair. His hair was probably doing something , not quite ignited but close , but the threat of humiliation under that man ’s hand was too much to let lie. He continued to glare until Jazz stepped between the two of them, combing her fingers through his hair.
“Still growing it out?” She asked, and he exhaled slowly. Vlad moved away from the screen, and tension started trickling back out of him.
“Yeah. I liked the ponytail.”
She pulled his bangs out from in front of his face, letting them flop back down again.
“How can you even see past these?”
“Ghost powers.” He enjoyed the snort of amusement that got. “Still working on your thesis?”
She nodded.
“There’s a lot of local shrines I haven’t visited, yet. I’m hoping some of them will have people willing to seriously discuss the overlap between externally measurable phenomenon and events that seem to happen in an alternate perception of reality. When you’re done, do you want to join me?”
“Of course.”
Of course, he said, but the reality of a ghost like him walking up and visiting shrines was a bit more complex than that.
Some of them allowed him to approach, no problem. Some shrines were deliberately left for wandering spirits, and invited him to take a load off and think of better times.
Some shrines were warded up the ass , and he got warning sparks hissing over his skin the moment he got close to that first barrier. For those, he idled himself by hanging out nearby, looking at local statues and examining architecture or stonework.
From Jazz’s reports, it seemed like spiritually sensitive people took her questions a
lot
more seriously when he was loitering nearby. Scary dog privileges.
Sometimes, he occupied himself by plucking little curses and angry spirits off people as they walked up to the shrine, stuffing them into his thermos for later. The people got a weight off their back, and he got a tasty snack. Win-Win.
Too comfortable pulling it off, he noticed that Jazz was watching him only
after
he’d put the straw back into his thermos. He bristled on instinct.
“Disgusting, right?” He smirked, lips twisting it into a self-depreciating snarl. He reached to drink from it, despite the angry clenching of his jaw.
“Proud, actually.”
He paused around the sip.
“Living is already so hard,” she continued, turning to lead the way down a rice-paddy lined road. “So taking a bit of that burden away for others is kind of you.”
“I’m just hungry.” he deflected, stirring the straw around to clank loudly.
“You could always grab wandering ghosts. There’s more of them.” She gestured to an odd sort of dragonfly-bird ghost that was flitting from fencepost to fencepost, vibrating and turning circles when one of them wasn’t quite aligned with the rest. Dan passed it with a sulky glare, free hand crammed into his pocket.
“Here’s the next one-” Jazz nodded to the Torii gate at the end of the fencerow, red columns nearly glowing as sunset just began to bloom color into the sky. She paused under its shadow, glancing up at a slim ofuda tagged just inside the gate.
“They must have had trouble, lately.” She murmured. Dan grunted his agreement around his straw.
“You go ahead,” he muttered, turning away so he could shuffle over to look at whatever was growing in the runoff ditch across the road.
“Sorry, I’ll be quick!” Jazz ruffled his hair, ignored his disgruntled glare, and knocked against the Torii gate.
“Hello! This is Jazz Fenton - I had an appointment at seven?”
He ignored their murmured conversation, sharp ears still catching something the lines of don’t worry about him, he’s under my care .
Fucking Mediums, pegging him for what he was on-sight. Shrine Maidens, Priests, most properly trained seers took one look and started throwing anti-ghost shit at him. It was annoying, and a waste of time.
Having Jazz there to smooth things over helped , but anyone paying attention wouldn’t let him pass the gates unhindered, let alone enter a shrine - regardless if the place had proper wards or not.
There were a few little shrimp in the ditchwater, nibbling on decaying grass. A single silver minnow, swimming leisurely against the current. It darted away in fear when his shadow passed over it. This runoff must not dry up often. Maybe it was actually a streambed?
Shrimp didn’t actually see more colors than people. Mantis shrimp had better nuance in telling certain colors apart, but birds actually had way cooler sense enhancements. Seeing UV, sensing the lines of magnetic fields, and whatever the fuck was going on with Osprey eyes, it kicked ass. Possessing a shrimp just gave him a weird taste in his mouth, and more information about water parameters than he really wanted to know.
Jazz kept telling him it was good to focus on nonviolent hobbies. Stuff that made him feel relaxed, and less anxious. Avoid stuff that pissed him off. Passing as a human was a pain in the ass already, but actually living as one was on a whole other level of frustrating.
Bugs didn’t give a shit, they just chilled. Super zen.
His ear twitched.
Something was clicking gears, gravel grinding as it came slowly up the road. A bicycle’s wheel, which slowed to a stop as someone’s shoes hopped off. Her bike crashed to the ground.
“What are you doing here?”
Dan tilted his head, glancing up through his bangs at the brown-haired girl. One of his stalkers, who kept watching him instead of minding her own business. She stood with her feet apart, knees slightly bent, hands open like she was ready to grapple him. Something wavered on the edges of his senses, warping the air around her. He could taste the alarm she was putting out into the air, sharp and- Ah, she was a natural medium, wasn’t she? She could see what he was, but didn’t know what she was seeing. He probably looked spooky as shit, all stuffed inside this little body.
“Lookin’ at shrimp.” he replied, turning away to continue doing just that.
“You’re- what?” Anger faltering into confusion was such a funny sound.
“Shrimp.” He repeated, keeping his face and voice carefully deadpan. Dan pointed into the water, satisfied that his stillness had coaxed some more grey and brown marbled shrimp to emerge from their hidey holes, along with a little water bug now speeding around.
“You’re not trying to go inside?”
“Nope.”
He heard her stand there for a moment, then the gravel scuff as she picked up her bike and wheeled it inside. She paused somewhere around the gate- probably checking that the barrier was still up.
“Thank you so much for your time, I’ll be in touch!” Jazz's voice rang out, along with the quick slide-click of a paper-frame flicking open.
“Of course, of course! You stay safe out there. Tell your brother not to get into any trouble!”
“He knows, don’t worry- Hello there.”
Dan stood up and turned, brushing off his pants. Ward or not, he was ready to interfere if the kid decided to start shit with Jazz.
“Are you… Masters’ sister?”
“Oh- Are you one of Dan’s classmates? Yes, I’m his sister, Fenton Jazz, here to do some interviews. And you?”
“Ayase Momo. Student. Nice to meet you.”
“Seiko-san’s daughter?”
“Granddaughter, actually.”
He stood idly, watching the back-and-forth as his hands absently pushed his straw down and sealed the thermos cap back over it. He’d wash it out later.
“Ah, excuse my rudeness-” The grey-haired woman stepped out from their little group, shooting him a reserved smile. She tugged the warding paper off from the Torii gate, tucking it neatly into her blouse.
That was a first. It had been either in or out, all day. No one had actually lowered their barriers for him, though a few put extra ones up.
He took a few steps forward, passing under the red gate and glancing up at it.
“Nice to meet you.” He bowed neatly, glancing sideways at the possessed cat statue peeking out from one of the main house’s sliding doors. It
eeped
, darting back inside.
“Masters Danny. Nice to meet you”
“And I’m Dodoria Santa.” That didn’t match what she told Jazz. The older woman cocked an eyebrow at his slow blink in her direction.
“Grandma!” The girl from school hissed at her, glancing anxiously in his direction. Some dust and small pebbles kept floating around her ankles, lifted and held up by something invisible and solid . Not just a medium, then - some sort of manifest powers, as well. Interesting.
“Is that a stage name?” He asked, amusement piqued.
“Yep.” She shifted the cigarette from one side of her mouth to the other, free hand empty on her hip. “I do divination on broadcast TV. You?”
“Attending highschool as a student.” He answered, similarly underplaying himself.
She huffed a small laugh. He wasn’t blind.
“Yeah, I walked into that one. Alright, clear out you two, shrine’s closed for the night. Come back tomorrow.”
Dan glanced at the girl on his way out, noting the way she didn’t actually take her eyes off him.
“I’m putting the ward back up!” Dodoria Santa called out, just before the barrier pulsed back up to life.
Jazz glanced over her shoulder.
“She was really nice the whole time, I’m not sure why she didn’t introduce herself at the end, there. Sorry for that.”
“S’fine.” He dismissed the issue, glancing up at the fully colorful sunset-lit clouds. “They both could see me, though.”
“Really?”
“Mm. The little Ayase tried to fight me outside the gate.”
He saw the widening of her eyes, then the way she deliberately reeled back her first reaction into a sigh. He could practically see the gears in her brain whirring out ‘the girl’s alive’ and ‘so it’s okay’ as possible conclusions.
“I wonder if she and Vlad would hook up.”
Yeah, sputtering outrage was a great sound.
“They’re the right age for each other,” He added. “Both total bitches.”
He accepted the thwap of a curled notebook against the top of his head.
“Don’t call Seiko-San a bitch, she’s a very nice lady.”
Momo followed the two with her aura sensing until she was certain they’d left the area. By then, her grandmother had already started up the grill, and was piercing chicken onto skewers.
“Why’d you take the barrier down for that guy? He’s obviously got something freaky going on!”
“I let your ‘Okurun’ inside, don’t I?”
“That’s different!”
Her grandmother sucked on her cigarette, exhaling a big sigh of smoke.
“If he’s polite enough to wait at the gate, we’ll be polite enough to not light him on fire.”
“If the barrier’s up, he can’t enter anyway!”
“Like how Turbo Granny couldn’t enter the warded bathroom, when we were both there?”
Momo’s next protest died in her throat.
She remembered the thrill of fear she felt, when she saw blood dripping out of her grandma’s nose and years that time, the horror of knowing the world was frozen around her. The dread of facing something she was entirely unprepared for.
“Anyway, stop giving your real name to ghosts. You’re gunna get in trouble with that, one of these days.”
“YOU stop inviting creepy ghosts into the yard, FIRST!”
“Mouthy brat!”