Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Danny was not a fan of planes. 

It was hard to have any sort of appreciation for any sort of large flying machine after he’d been pushed out, phased out, and ridden them down into a fiery explosion more times than he could count in the last seven years. 

Vlad had way too much money to throw away.

The knowledge that unexpected intangibility or ghost-induced mechanical failure was a real and present danger while aboard any aircraft that could fly far faster than he could catch up… well, it made getting comfortable a bit of a stretch. 

15 hours into this particular flight, and anxiety still had him checking their ETA every half-hour or so, pacing the cramped isles as often as he could. (Vastly preferring public opinion of a small bladder than allowing even the slightest hint of ghost sense to go unnoticed.)  

Jazz had no such issue, having been spared the majority of Vlad’s weird aircraft-related shenanigans. She’d been sleeping soundly most of the flight, over-salted peanuts limply cradled in her lap. 

Yes, he was envious. 

When the seatbelt notification finally dinged on, Danny made one last rush up and down the cabin isle before squishing himself back into the narrow seat clearly designed by someone who didn’t actually have legs or elbows of their own. 

As Danny’s knuckles whitened on the armrests of his seat with every swooping dip of a jet plane landing through turbulence, Jazz spilled her peanuts in a twitching return to wakefulness. 

“About to land.” Danny clenched through his teeth. 

Jazz just nodded, yawned, and picked the peanuts off of her lap to drop back into their bag. She ignored his nerves, quite used to them at this point, and gathered up her earbuds and laptop back into her bag. 

“Did you get any sleep?” she asked, already knowing the answer. 

“I didn’t phase through anything.” He answered instead. She looked up, surprised. 

“Not even storage? Or to see the cockpit?”

He shook his head. 

“Nice!” 

She took out a tin of mints and offered it to him, calmly ignoring the tremors in his fingers as she shook a few pieces out into his hand. He palmed them into his mouth, focusing with laser-like intensity on the seat in front of him as the plane continued its final descent to the runways below. Swallowing helped ones ears pop when changing altitudes, and any little comfort helped. 

It wasn’t until the two of them were safely landed, peering through rotating baggage to find their stuff that Danny’s ghost sense (and Jazz’s spectral detector) finally went off. 

“It’s weak, I’ll be super quick.” Danny insisted, but still waited for Jazz to check the SD for confirmation. 

“Alright.” She nodded, and tossed him an earbud from her pocket. “I’ll get our bags. Give me a call when you’re finished and I’ll set a beacon to guide you back.” 

Danny had already dumped his bag against Jazz’s shins, Thermos clipped to a belt loop, earbud screwing into his ear as he gave her a thumbs-up and rushed away. 

Jazz sighed and watched him duck between people toward the bathrooms for a few moments. She idly texted their parents that they’d landed and kept an eye on the conveyer belt of luggage. It was better that her brother settle in quickly. Otherwise, jet lag would keep him exhausted and grumpy all day, and he was no fun to be around like that. 

Getting accustomed to the local ghosts should do the trick just fine. 

--- 

“What else should we send? Laser lipstick?”

Madeline Fenton sorted through their older gear, trying to keep things organized by size and function. They’d already decided on what range of their newest inventions they’d be sending as a ‘First Release’ to their Japanese contacts, but some of the older models would be less expensive. An easy upsell, or just a value addition to the cart. 

“I’d go for the Bo Staff, or the portable shield. Maybe introduce the Lipstick another time, it’s a bit kitschy.” 

Danny kicked his feet from where he sat in the lab’s cord-crowded rafters, tablet perched on glowing knees. The adaptor on the side pulsed softly with green light, and the laptop’s ‘Charging’ icon hadn’t flickered since he started holding the thing. 

“Spectral Charging Adaptor is still going strong, by the way.” He called down, and his dad’s excited “Sweet!” could be heard from the upstairs kitchen. 

“Could you-” His mom started. “I’m already noting it in product tracking.” He interrupted gently. 

“Thank you, dear.” 

Maddie stepped back from the final array of weapons and tools, sighing out a deep breath. 

“I think this is good. Did you log everything?” 

Danny took a moment to double-check the list, and took a picture of the spread on the table. 

“Yep, we’re good to go.” He sent both to Jazz before he could forget. 

“Do you need any help loading up?” Maddie asked, already putting the larger weapons into individual hardcases. 

Danny floated down from his overhead seat. 

“Only if you want to.” He swept his hand through the air, a swirling green tear opening up in the path his fingers left. Danny accepted the first case and slid it carefully inside, squinting into the torn dimension to double-check that he’d opened to a space not already occupied. 

He’d gained access to what had been playfully named his ‘Lair’ a few years back - his own door inside the ghost zone. He kept the actual front entrance inside the ghost zone blocked off, and honestly just used it for storage most days. 

Food tended to come back out more alive than when he’d put it in there, but it was a great place to store technology, overnight bags, chapstick… Sam unrepentantly called it his ghost-purse, and at this point he’d mournfully accepted she wouldn’t back down.

His phone dinged. 

“Jazz wants to confirm we’re flying out of the O’Hare airport on Friday.” 

“At 9am.” His mom confirmed. 

“Cool, thanks.” He typed the time, and received a thumbs-up in return. 

“Tokyo Jujutsu High School said they’d send a representative to meet you at the airport.” 

Danny was halfway through typing that to Jazz when the words caught up with him. 

“Wait, Highschool?” He looked up. “What do they need firepower like this for?” 

Maddie smiled pleasantly. “Jujutsu High School, dear. They train the newest generation of Jujutsu users.” 

Danny squinted at her. 

“How do you spell that?” 

“JU, JU, TSU.” she spelled for him. “I trained with them briefly when I was younger, as an exchange program. Can’t say I had much aptitude for the skills themselves, since you need to have innate talent to actually DO most of it, but their concepts for spectral manipulation started my research back in my college days, shortly before I met your father.” 

Danny let that digest for a moment, surprised he’d never heard of it. 

“So you know these guys?”

“The folks at Tokyo? Probably not. I studied in Koriyama. But, when someone at Tokyo reached out about our work, I knew enough to get an invite and be taken seriously. Anyway, you’ll want to brush up on their terminology before you go. They have different names for ghosts, and tend to classify them based on how difficult they are to destroy, rather than their form and purpose.” 

Danny frowned, white sparking around his waist. 

He let himself transform smoothly back into his human form, black hair flopping down around his face once gravity got ahold once more. The green light on the tablet’s adaptor flickered and faded as his own glow did. 

“Should I be worried?” 

“I’ll give you and Jazz a rundown of how to classify yourself before you go, don’t worry.” 

He hummed dubiously, but didn’t pull away as her hand reached up to ruffle the back of his mess of hair. 

“I keep forgetting how tall you’ve gotten.” She sighed. 

“You’re just short. Everyone’s taller than you.” 

The fond ruffle became a gentle swat that he ducked away from with a laugh.

“Dinner in two hours. I’m ordering chicken wings, so let me know what sauce you want.”

“Habanero Mango.” Was his instant reply. 

“Anything more edible than that?” His mom started up the stairs. He trotted behind her. 

“Hmmmm… the ranch rub is pretty good. Do we have any chipotle sauce left?” 

“You’ll have to check the fridge.” 

The week passed faster than he expected, and it felt like only hours later that he and Jazz were boarding a plane to Tokyo. 

----

Jazz dragged their stacked luggage out of the terminals, onto a bus, and out to a walking area thick with people. She set herself up and started peering over the crowds, regularly checking her phone for any follow-up text from her contact. 

Someone named Masamichi Yaga had been her mother’s main point of contact, and had only sent her two texts since she’d introduced herself. 

One ‘Hello’ and one “Maki Zenin for pickup” 

Jazz sighed, and sent a selfie of herself in front of the massive sign that loomed behind her. Even if he wasn’t being helpful, her guide would likely appreciate a visual aid. Then again, she didn’t know how fluent he was in English. 

She looked around, hoping Danny would get back soon. He was useful as a universal translator, and it’d be a shame to get off on the wrong foot.

-- 

The ghosts in Japan were UGLY . 

Danny gained this conclusion less than 2 seconds into his first encounter with one. 

It was some bizarre six-legged amalgamation of a frog and an anteater, with buggy eyes and a mouth that hung wide with teeth. He caught it trying to corner a kid in the bathrooms, and dragged the ugly sucker by its saggy skin into an airplane hanger before it could do any damage. 

He got a spiny tongue to the gut for his efforts, but hey! At least no one else was hurt. 

The ghost had fairly tough skin, and Danny at 14 would have had quite a time trying to batter it down enough to suck into his thermos. 

His current level, though?

The thing took about two glancing blows as it tried to scuttle away, and one solid blast to the face before its outer form shivered to pieces. Danny snatched its core before it could dissolve completely, popping that into the thermos for later. 

He started gliding back to baggage claim when his ghost sense went off again . 

This time, it led him to a snake-centipede looking thing, coiled around the shoulders of an exhausted-looking woman. 

He invisibly yoinked it off her, crushing its head while she exclaimed to herself about the sudden weight off her shoulders. 

And thus he lost track of time, exploring the airport and clearing the place of low-level ghosts clinging to passengers and dark places where the fear of flying and fear of losing one’s home clung to corners and grew fangs. 

Along the way, his conclusion about the sheer aesthetic grossness of the ghosts cemented itself. 

There was, at least, one very good ghost dog who waited at one of the terminals for her person to return. 

He left that one alone with an ear scratch and a quick belly rub. 

Distracted as he was by a constantly-hissing ghost sense, he missed Jazz’s beacon flaring up in the distance.

Chapter Text

Summer Cicadas buzz as loudly as the traffic of a hundred-thousand people packed into the spaces between towering buildings. 

It’s impressive, the cacophony they’re able to reach. 

Yuji Itadori was enjoying one of the few days he had free of the school’s (read: Gojo’s) constant training marathons. The school (actually the school this time) was expecting a special guest - some sort of hot shot tech company from America, so the students were free to study on their own until the demonstrations that evening. 

Itadori and Kugisaki elected to spend their new free time exploring the Tokyo shopping district, though their third First-Year peer had put his foot down, citing the sticky heat as an excuse to stay indoors. The two tourism enthusiasts rather preferred to make the heat a good excuse to grab some ice cream. 

Itadori was nearly finished with his cone (Mango), when something strange prickled on the edge of his senses. He caught a flash of white and twitched instinctually, too used to Gojo-sensei leaping out of nowhere to test his reaction time. 

No such attack occurred, but the unsettling sense of being watched didn’t leave, either. 

In the depths of his mind, he could feel Sukuna’s dark awareness sharpen, the cursed spirit’s mind rising up to perceive the world. 

Something electric hovered in the air, like a thunderstorm about to break. Like the sky gone still as a hurricane passes overhead - green-tinted air and muted roaring just out of earshot. 

“What’s up?” 

Itadori blinked back into the present, and the hum of cicadas and passerby dialed back into his ears. 

“I… don’t know. Thought I saw someone.” 

“Oh?” Kugisaki turned, keeping her feet tucked around the handles of several brightly colored bags she’d already acquired. “What do they look like?” 

Itadori squinted through the crowd, wondering if he’d imagined it. 

“White hair.”

Kugisaki made a thoughtful sound around her ice cream. (Mint chocolate chip)

“You know, I never met anyone with crazy dyed hair until I started hanging around other Jujutsu people. Inumaki-san, Gojo-sensei, that one girl with blue hair…Kusu-something”

“Kusumi-san?” Itadori offered. 

“Mm. I guess when you’re dealing with curses all the time, being looked down on because of your hair color isn’t an issue.” 

“Out of everyone you listed, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who dyes their hair.”

Kugisaki gave him a slow, skeptical look. 

“I’m serious! I bleach my hair, and dye it pink.” Itadori tugged a tuft of his spiked undercut to make the point. “But Gojo-sensei’s hair is the real deal. His eyebrows and eyelashes are the same white!” 

Kugisaki slammed her hands down on the little table they were sharing. Itadori leaned back in his seat as he tried not to drop the last of his cone.

“YOU SAW HIS EYES!? WHEN?!” 

“You havent?!” He yelped back. 

“DESCRIBE THEM! NOW!”

“I dunno, maybe you should wait to see them yourself. Make it a special event!”

Itadori gulped the last of his cone, ready to scramble away when the air stilled again. 

This time, Kugisaki stilled as well. 

The two of them made eye contact over the table, mint-chocolate ice cream melting between the crushed bits of cone in Kugisaki’s fist. 

“What level, do you think?” Itadori asked, forcing himself to smile. 

“My phone’s dead.” Kugisaki murmured. “How’s yours?” 

Itadori nodded, slowly slipping his hand into his pocket to draw out the cell phone. 

The chilling feeling grew closer, stronger, and it was hard to make himself keep his eyes on the screen. He wanted to run, to fight, to do something other than sit here helpless, terrified to move. 

He found Gojo-sensei’s number, but before he could hit ‘call’, someone sat down at their table, and the pressure became suffocating. 

“Oh, shoot, sorry.” 

As if the sky suddenly cleared, the pressure lifted. 

Itadori gasped in a sharp breath and turned toward the stranger - the foreigner, who wore a sheepish smile and a wrinkled button-up. Black hair and a terrifying amount of cursed energy buzzing under the surface of his skin. Blue eyes more reminiscent of Gojo-Sensei's Infinity  than any true blue he'd ever seen. It captured, refracted light... wrong.  

And an aura that was currently pulled in and at the ready. 

“You two are from Tokyo Jujutsu High, right?” The young man tapped the side of his chest, and Itadori realized he must be gesturing to the uniform jacket he still wore. He gave a jerky nod. 

“Mind guiding me back there? I was supposed to meet my sister, but I got a bit turned around. Your wards must have canceled what I was tracking.” 

Itadori could tell Kugisaki’s thoughts were racing. She had that pinched, determined look on her face, like she was ready to pull some risky stunt involving a whole lot of nails. 

His own thoughts felt sluggish, Sukuna’s wariness putting him more on edge than he could remember being. Yet, there was nothing to fight . The man (curse? Was he even human?) seemed perfectly cordial. 

Gojo-sensei would know what to do. There were endless wards on the school to help fight Special Grade Curses, and a staff of powerful sorcerers. They would… they would know what to do. 

“Yeah, sure.” Itadori feigned calm, stood up, held his phone awkwardly. He didn’t want to set the guy off early by showing mistrust, but maybe Kugisaki could call for help. 

“Kugisaki-chan, your phone-” He held out his phone to her, but she was already looking down at her hand, suddenly utterly clean of ice cream. Her expression was carefully blank. She ignored him, robotically leaning down to gather her bags while the mysterious man watched them. Yeah there was no getting out of this. 

He let his hand drop, pocketed his phone, and felt the dread settle into his gut. 

“Sorry to pull you away, I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” His apology almost sounded genuine. 

Kugisaki’s grin really did look natural. 

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all! I didn’t catch your name. I’m Nobara Kugisaki.” she gave a polite bow around her bags. 

“Danny Fenton, pleasure to meet you.” The man gave a shallow bow in return. Itadori couldn’t tell if it was mocking or just unfamiliar. He bristled as the guy turned to him curiously. 

“Yuji Itadori.” As if he didn’t know. Curses could sense other curses, and the higher level ones seemed to know about Sukuna more often than not. 

The man didn’t react one way or the other, just letting Itadori start ahead before falling in step beside him. He followed, quiet as a ghost into the train station. His feet didn't scuff on the cement, and he didn't partake in the forced conversation the two teenagers attempted to keep up. It was a bit hard to, with this unnatural feeling of cold wafting over them from his direction, like a sputtering air conditioner oozing off his skin.  It would have been pleasant in the heat, if not for literally everything else. 

He somehow got past the barriers without paying, waiting for them on the other side of the turnstile as if he’d just phased through them.

No need to pay for an extra passenger. 

Thankfully, the train was only somewhat crowded, and no one bumped into their guest. 

Just before they turned the corner to reveal the first look at campus, Danny perked up. 

“Oh! There she is!” He exclaimed, and between one blink and the next, abruptly vanished. 

Itadori and Kugisaki didn’t even have to look at each other, waiting a single beat before rushing toward campus. 

They needed to alert someone, Anyone , before this ‘Danny Fenton’ could do any harm. 

Of course, had they actually managed to invite Fushiguro at the start of the day, all of this upset could have been avoided. He was, after all, the only one who paid attention to the guest announcement beyond ‘You’ll get the day off.’ 

He would have recognized the FW logo on Danny's shirt, and the name Fenton. 

Ah well.

Chapter Text

Jasmine Fenton had toured Japan exactly one other time in her life. 

Back in her first year of college, a Japanese exchange student who she’d hit it off with invited her back to visit. She’d taken her up on the offer, and stayed with her friend’s family for two weeks. 

All in all, it had been a lovely experience to compare the everyday life of her host family, against the brightly lit whirl of tourism she’d heard about. From the summer festival to the swarms of deer on Nara island, to the huge variety of statues and myths that dated back further than her country could claim its founding. 

But her favorite part of it all, and one she was delighted to experience once more? 

The architecture of traditional buildings. 

Swooping roofs, huge columns built to withstand earth-swallowing storms and floods, wrap-around porches and open spaces with elegant decor….. Jazz loved it. 

So it was a happy surprise to find Tokyo’s Jujutsu High School still used these styles of buildings. 

After all, from her knowledge most schools had been adopted to, or reconstructed with more western shapes. 

“It’s beautiful.” She heard herself murmur, and her guide cracked a small, fond smile. 

“I suppose it is. Living here, It’s easy to forget.”

Maki Zenin seemed like a straightforward teen, easily making small-talk about the flight and comparing native foods as the two of them traveled from airport to school. Her English was quite good, and Jazz regretted only knowing a few basic Japanese words in return. 

Their conversation naturally stopped as they crossed the school grounds, Jazz’s head swiveling this way and that to soak in the buildings around them. Crossing a small threshold between two low walls, she heard the beacon on her belt give a plaintive beep ! 

Jazz paused, cradling it in her hand to examine. Miss Zenin paused to wait for her. 

“Does this place have shielding, or something?” Jazz asked. 

“Oh, yes. The area is heavily warded. Sorry for not warning you.” She looked worried. “Did something break?”

Jazz smiled reassuringly. “No, nothing broke. My brother might run a bit late, is all. He normally follows my beacon when we get separated, so if it’s being muted by the wards, he’ll figure out another way.” 

“Should I send someone to gather him? He wasn’t at the airport with you…”

“He’ll be fine.” Jazz nodded her confidence, and Miss Zenin chose to believe her conviction. 

“Well, I can show you to the rooms you’ll be staying in… unless you wanted to share a room?”

“Two rooms is great. Very generous, thank you.”

Miss Zenin smiled, “We have plenty of empty rooms, since so few join the school each year.” 

“Oh? Why is that?” Jazz fell into step behind her, trailing through hallways and stairways until they reached a corridor of dark doors and pale walls. 

“Well, you need natural talent to use Jujutsu techniques, after all.” Miss Zenin’s smile was strained. “Someone like me, who can’t even see curses without aid, rarely even finds out curses exist, let alone decides to fight them.” She sighed. “Here, the Principal gave me your room key. Your brother’s is right next door, but I’ll leave the key with you for now.” 

Jazz stepped into her temporary room, wheeling her luggage into a corner to disseminate later. 

“I know the feeling. Just about everyone in my hometown can see curses, but not many of them want to take up arms. It’s easier to let someone else handle it.” 

Miss Zenin furrowed her brows. 

“Everyone?” 

“Hm?” Jazz turned, mind already swept up in how she wanted to start the presentation tonight. Miss Zenin repeated herself. 

“You said, ‘Almost everyone can see curses.’ - How is that possible?”

Jazz hummed, shoving the wheels of her suitcase so it tilted how she wanted it. 

“Well, there’s an incredibly dense saturation of curse energy in the area, so everyone ended up with a bit of energy in them as well. We’ve done a ton of tests, of course, and it’s all harmless. Some people end up having a bit of extra strength, or can jump a bit further than they could before. Ambient energy doesn’t have the transformative effect that-” Jazz glanced up, realized her audience. 

“Anyway, FentonWorks has a range of perception-boosting tech, and sensors, so even those who can’t normally see a curse, ought to be able to track one down if they can pin down its signature.” 

Jazz sat down on her bed, watched the teen hug her own stomach. 

“All of our tech - weapons, shields, everything-’ Jazz began gently, sensing something amiss in the easy conversation that once bounced between them, “was originally designed to be used by people who have no ability to use Jujutsu techniques. Little to no energy of their own. Whether you can shape energy, or see curses - that doesn’t matter to our tech.” 

Miss Zenin didn’t answer directly, but her expression brightened. Frustration morphed into sharp interest. 

“Your presentation, when is it?” 

Jazz pulled her phone out to check the current time. Just past noon. 

“Well, as soon as Danny gets here, we can introduce ourselves to the folks in charge-” Her beacon blipped three times, then dimmed at her side. “Actually, we could start heading toward Mr. Yaga now. Danny will be here in a second.” 

As if summoned by her words, loud footsteps raced down the hall. Danny bounced into the room in a whirlwind of breathless energy. 

“I’m here! Sorry, I got turned around.”

He shot Miss Zenin a wild grin, and grabbed his own bag from beside Jazz’s suitcase. He tossed it on his bed and started rummaging through it. 

“You good to go?” She asked mildly. 

He gave a thumbs up, and quickly exchanged his grubby tennis shoes with a pair of dress shoes. Jazz rolled her eyes. Her own flats had been carefully chosen to combine both professional aesthetic with travel comfort. 

“Alright! I’m ready!”

He gave her a cheerful grin, and obligingly let her try to sort his unruly mop of hair into something less flyaway. Jazz noticed him glancing at Miss Zenin a few times, the tension in his shoulders relaxing a bit when he noticed- something. 

“Is anything wrong?” she murmured under her breath, absently trying to flatten a cowlick. 

“They can sense my ghost half.” Dany muttered, ducking his head away. “Okay!” He exclaimed, “I’m fine! Let’s go!” 

“Right this way.” Miss Zenin chuckled, and Jazz noticed how her brother trailed behind the two of them by a few steps. She sent him a look over her shoulder, and he slouched harder. 

-- 

Masamichi Yaga was not what Danny expected. 

He was… younger, for one. He’d always assumed principles ought to be much older than their students.  This guy looked to be in his early 30’s, at best. Hardly older than the two of them. It was kinda weird to experience. 

Miss Zenin lead the two Fentons into a long room decorated by smooth red pillars, ending in a low stage and a series of pillows. Jazz smoothly sat in one of the pillows, and Danny mimicked her.

Mr. Yaga stared the two of them down for a few minutes, and Jazz seemed content to let the silence lay. Danny turned several icebreakers over in his mind for maximum impact. 

Before he could, Mr. Yaga finally spoke.

“Fenton Jasmine.” He rumbled, in a voice deeper than Danny expected. “What is your intention, by bringing a Special Grade Cursed Spirit into our school?” 

Danny didn’t catch on immediately. It took nearly 30 seconds before he read the heavy silence between his sister and the principal and understood they were talking about him. 

Jazz smoothly tilted her head in a show of confusion. 

“The use of Shikigami and Cursed Corpses were outlined in the information you sent to Fentonworks, I didn’t think it’d be a problem.”

“He looks like a man possessed, not a puppet.”

Danny elected to keep his mouth shut. 

Jazz’s pleasant expression smoothed into something more serious, words spoken as if they’d been carefully rehearsed. 

“My brother created his own curse due to an unfortunate accident. He was able to tame it, and now uses it as a Shikigami to help with exorcising other curses and developing Fentonworks technology.”

It was hard to tell where the Principal was looking with those dark sunglasses, so Danny decided to offer a pleasant smile, trying to give off the vibe he was as harmless as possible. 

From the man’s deeply furrowing brows, he wasn’t doing a great job. 

“If you have full control over the Shikigami, why are you letting it manifest enough to spread cursed energy?”

“He-” 

“I asked your brother, Fenton-san.”

Danny’s eyes widened, and he crunched his aura tighter into himself. The ambient ‘feeling’ of the world around him suddenly muted. 

He tipped his head in an awkward bow, not really used to the gesture. 

“Uh, sorry about that? I’m kinda used to being around my family, who are familiar with me, and people who can’t sense... curses.” 

Jazz winced at his language. He tried to clean it up a bit, and straightened his back. The terms were close to equivalent, but it was so weird to say something other than 'Ghost.' 

“My… shikigami is sensitive to other curses, and can alert me when one enters a certain radius. The cursed energy you felt was habitual perception, nothing else.” 

The man hummed, low in his throat. 

“And why do you fight, Danny Fenton?” 

Danny glanced at his sister, wondering why the conversation had shifted so heavily onto his personal background. 

“I promised  vowed” 

Danny scrunched his face as he felt the words come out overlapped, tangled and half-scrambled as the translation split between two meanings. 

“I made a vow.” He repeated, and offered a sheepish smile. 

“I see.” 

The man looked more wary than understanding. Danny mourned the meeting already falling to pieces, and hoped Jazz would interfere to clean things up. He just didn’t have her way of words. 

“Then, this ‘Phantom’ can act without your commands, having such an ability?” 

“Ah-” Danny looked to Jazz, who shot him several concerned glances that he supposed must have been an attempt to communicate. He didn’t get it, though. 

“Not really. I stopped accidentally phasing through things when I was 15.” 

“Then, you wouldn’t be adverse to wearing seals while you’re here.” 

He met the man’s eyes, and through Phantom, Danny could taste the low current of fear in the room. 

Chapter Text

Something cold clung to the younger Fenton. 

It was one thing to understand it was a curse, but sensing the creeping energy was something entirely different. 

It seeped through the room, like winter air drafting under a door. When the cursed boy pulled his “sense” back in, the world seemed to warm up by several degrees. A heavy presence lifted from his shoulders. 

He remembered Yuta Okkotsu, and the people he had harmed - killed, even - before the school got ahold of him and helped unravel that curse. Peers crushed, limbs twisted and breaking until they would fit four bodies into one locker. A curse’s idea of justice. 

How many deaths had the Fentons covered up for his sake? 

Principal Masamichi Yaga considered the two. Jasmine Fenton, sitting perfectly calm and attentive. 

Daniel Fenton, somehow both giving off an expression of utter boredom and long-suffering resignation. 

“Of course.” Daniel said, the cheery smile as fake as his harmless guise. “I'd be happy to.” 

Used to being seen with suspicion. Used to submitting to restrictions. He didn’t trust it. 

“Excuse me.” 

Jasmine spoke up, and Yaga turned toward her. 

“I don’t know how powerful your seals are, or how they would affect him. We do have a device that can block access to his- curse, until it is removed.” 

Daniel visibly grimaced. 

“You have it with you?” Principal Yaga asked. 

They both paused, sharing a glance. 

“I’ll admit-“ Jasmine started slowly. “I didn’t expect this to be such an issue.”

“Your brother already agreed to wearing seals.”

“Yes, but most of the items we brought are still kept in a pocket dimension he has access to - and won’t have access to if he’s cut off.” Yaga opened his mouth to protest, but Miss Fenton cut him off. “-I just mean that I would like to remove the equipment from there first, before any binding happens. Then you can proceed as planned.”

The cursed Fenton still didn’t look pleased, arms crossed over his chest in a silent gesture of displeasure. 

“May we?” 

They were still asking for Yagi’s go-ahead. 

Icy blue eyes still nearly shone with undercurrents of light, piercing through the dim light of his meeting room. It was hard to tell if that was just his face, or if the young man was glaring. 

But the cold hadn’t returned. 

That was the only reason he nodded ‘yes.’

He still readied several puppets, mind you. Still signaled to Gojo, who had been listening from the hallway, all-seeing eyes tilted toward the room. 

But even steeling himself for battle didn’t quite overcome the soul-cutting wrench of seeing the young man lift his arm and tear a line through the world with a sound that jittered like electricity just inside human hearing. 

Acid green split behind his dragging fingers, hanging in the air. It spilled cold and fear and the sharp tang of ozone and blood like a rushing flood to fill the room. Its not-green light seemed to invert the nearest pillar, turning warm red into a menacing purple. 

Yaga’s heart stuttered in his chest, mind leaping to wonder if they’d made a terrible mistake - that this was a Domain Expansion beginning. 

His puppets were already moving. 

Then, Fenton reached into the tear with all the exasperated leaning of trying to fish a box out from under a bed. 

All the way to his shoulder, then he pulled out and handed over several silvery cases. He didn’t even twitch at the puppets as they stuck against a green dome of energy, rebounding back up onto a pillar. 

His sister accepted them with a small flinch, ignoring the green fog (could she even see it?) that clung to the boxes like smoke or cobwebs or airy slime. It sizzled, evaporating from her fingers within moments. 

She gave her brother a pointed look, carefully not looking at the puppets now encircling the two, blades and claws and teeth bared for attack, held still by Yagi’s technique. 

Daniel sighed, and dragged one last thing from the tear that slithered into his lap like a collapsing chain. 

The tear trembled, and wrenched itself closed.

The shield remained for a moment longer, until the young man dragged the silver thing around his waist, clipping it shut with a cheery ‘ beep!’ 

His teeth clenched, spine straightening as the meta belt adjusted itself tight over his shirt, electricity sparking bright green. 

The barrier collapsed into threads of green mist, and the aura of resentful energy vanished . Jasmine Fenton asked her brother something, and he nodded. Daniel’s shoulders slowly relaxed. 

One of the dolls struck him on the crown of his head. 

The younger Fenton yelped, twisting to kick at the monkey puppet fruitlessly. It had already leapt out of range. Yaga expected a glare, but received more of a long-suffering look. 

“Satisfied?” Jasmine’s voice was icy, the word coming out in English. 

Gojo gave a cheerful thumbs-up from just outside the room, and Yaga nodded.

“That will be enough for now.” Everyone could feel the difference. 

“Great!” A clap rang out in the room, and the Americans jumped. Gojo strolled in behind them, clapping slowly in a one-person applause. 

“It’s super cool to offer a demonstration right away, but we’ve already scheduled a period to show off your gadgets. Do you like pizza? I ordered stacks of them.” 

Yaga exhaled slowly, releasing his annoyance. Gojo’s constant flip-flopping between deadly serious and childish was a pain. 

The Fentons exchanged looks, and Daniel examined his fingers, checking if his scalp had bled. Jasmine still looked bewildered. 

“Fantastic!” Gojo practically sparkled. “Need a hand carrying anything?”  He wiggled his fingers invitingly. 

Jasmine turned to Principal Yaga with a bow and stood, taking the largest and smallest case for herself and letting Daniel hoist the middle one up to his chest, struggling.  

She gestured for Gojo to lead the way, trailing behind as the man skipped ahead. 

JASMINE POV

“Danny.” 

Jazz hissed under her breath as her brother struggled to lift the lightest box of the three. “Your translation isn’t working.” 

“I know.” He whispered back. “My ghost sense doesn’t even work like this, why would the language thing be an exception?” 

Her gut dropped out. She’d planned her whole presentation around being able to explain what each thing did - and to have her brother be available to showcase certain abilities. Also, how the heck was this guy guiding them, if he was blind?! Or, maybe he was blindfolded for some other reason. 

“I don’t know enough Japanese to present like this.”  Urgent matter first. 

Danny grimaced, hand straying to his waistline before forcefully jamming it into his pocket. 

“Thermos in my room has some curses I picked up at the airport. They’re all weak.”

Jazz nodded. 

“That might work. Can you force the translation thing to work through the belt?” 

“Not without overloading it completely, which defeats the point of it.” 

Jazz sighed, watching their guide’s white head of hair bob back and forth an an exaggerated swagger. 

“Maybe miss Zenin could help again?” she mused aloud. Danny gestured toward their guide. 

“Think he’d mind if I nipped up to the room?” 

“No running off without an escort, please~” their guide chimed in, not even looking back at them. Danny deflated, then perked up.

“Wait, if you can understand English, then-”

“No speak the english.” The man shook his head, turning around with a shit-eating grin under his blindfold.  “I no understand. Say slow.” 

Jazz felt an expression of utter disbelief on her face, and she tried to shove it away. 

Danny just laughed.

“Alright, alright,” Danny said, hitching his case a bit higher. “Just point me at my escort when we get there.” 

A thumbs-up, and they were on their way. 

“Ah! I’m Gojo Satoru, by the way. You can call me Gojo-sensei.”

“You’re a teacher?” 

Jazz elbowed her brother for that comment.

“Yep! They make me so proud.” Gojo-san (Jazz was NOT calling this ridiculous man ‘sensei’) swiped a finger under his eye - over his blindfold - as if he was wiping away a single tear. Danny’s grin split his whole face in delight. Yeah, no surprise there. Chaotic gremlins, the both of them. 

She resigned herself to some extra bullsiht whenever the two of them shared the same room. 

--

The area she was led to was probably used as a baseball field in its off time. The dirt diamond was the right shape, anyway, with appropriate fencing to block pitched balls flying stray. Several tables had been set up, sure enough loaded with pizza. 

Along one side, separated from the surprisingly tiny group of milling teenagers was a row of chairs and what must have been faculty seated in them. Most of them ignored her, speaking amongst themselves for now. 

“Pizza first, demonstrations after?” She asked, and received yet another fucking thumbs up. 

“That’s the plan!” Gojo-san agreed cheerfully. “Ah, there’s your guide. Kugisaki Nobara-chaaan~” He called that name over the group, and a brown-haired girl jerked to face him with a venomous expression. 

She stormed over, muscle in her jaw visible clenched. She snarled something about -chan, but Gojo-san interrupted. “Please take care of him!”  Danny yelped as he was manhandled between Gojo-san and this new girl. She looked confused, and a bit annoyed. 

“What the hell?” 

Jazz knew those words, at least. 

Gojo-san pulled a small paper envelope out of his pocket, fiddled with the top flap for a moment, then handed it over to his student with a long string of words she didn’t understand. 

“Alright! Bye bye~” 

And with that, he was gone. 

“Hello.” The girl scowled at them both, eyeing Danny in particular with an odd wariness. “My name is No- is Kugisaki. English is so-so. You want a thing in your room.”

“Yes, thank you. Here, Jazz, sorry.”  Danny set the metal case on the ground, and Jazz waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it. See you in a bit.” 

Kugisaki-san’s eyes were sharp, but her bow was perfectly polite as she excused them both. Jazz watched them leave, nerves jangling over Danny’s perfectly human clumsiness as his feet scuffed the sidewalk back. 

“Fenton-san?”

“Ah! Zenin-san, thank you so much.” Jazz could hear the relief in her own voice, and her new translator’s face reflected only sympathy back. 

As she waited for her brother to return and the clearly impromptu ‘pizza party’ to wind down, Jazz asked miss Zenin about what her biggest problems here, when trying to fight curses without her own spiritual energy. Her answers generally matched Jazz’s own experiences with ghosts. That, at least, was reassuring. 

KUGISAKI NOBARA POV

Nobara, of course, recognized Fenton Danny as soon as she laid eyes on him. The fact that his terrifying aura was completely hidden now didn’t put her at ease at all. 

Neither did Gojo-sensei’s too-serious advice, hidden in weirdly cheerful tones. 

The young man’s grasp on Japanese had apparently completely failed him, and he only offered confused, mildly alarmed expressions when she tried to drill him about his freaky behavior outside the school. 

Was he cursed? Did he have gaps in his memory, or something? 

Who was it that they met outside? 

He grabbed a weird metal thermos from their bedroom, thanked her, and hurried back to his partner’s side with it. 

She let him go, the little envelope clutched tightly in her fist, heart still not settled. 

She found Itadori and Fushiguro where she left them, pastel pink against black an easy contrast to spot. She wedged herself between the two of them with a grumpy “I’m back.” 

“Ahh, what took you so long?” Itadori cocked his head toward the Fentons, now unpacking their suitcases across a long table. Were those guns?  

“Fenton, Danny.” She replied. “That’s his name. He’s the guy who we met eating ice cream.” She clarified when Itadori gave her a blank, dumb look. It turned quickly to shock. 

“What! That’s him?” He looked at the Fentons, and back to Nobara several times, brow furrowing. “Are you sure?” 

“He doesn’t have an aura now.” She allowed, finger still tap-tapping on the envelope.

“He gave you something?” Fushiguro noticed first. 

“Gojo-sensei gave me something.” she corrected, and passed it over to him discreetly, still watching the Americans like a hawk. .

Itadoi craned his head over, eyes wide when he saw the contents Fishiguro revealed when he pulled it open. 

In case of emergency he said, like she could stand a chance against that level of power. 

Several black strands of hair curled slightly from the humidity, tucked inside the paper envelope. 

What a joke.