Author's Notes: Whoo hoo! More stuff!

Yes, I know I really shouldn't be posting so much stuff when I have so many other things to finish (Like ADF and Networking) but these ideas just keep coming and I just feel a desperate need to get them out. But, just to be clear, ADF is my main story right now followed by Networking with everything else afterwards. Until either is finished, updates for anything else are going to be spotty at best and inactive at worst. Now, onto the actual story itself.

Drew is one of those characters that I personally can't get enough of. Sure, most times he's portrayed as a JerkAss with little to no redeeming qualities and people seem to just love to place him as the trigger or catalyst or whatever to Jade's Dark Ascension. And honestly, I think that's just unfair. Sure, Drew's is kinda jerky but he's not really all that big a bully. He insults Jade and mocks her a lot but she isn't all that phased and pretty much anything he says is just shrugged off or rebutted, plus if he really was so bad then why does Jade hang out at school with him so much? Besides Paco, he's the only other kid we see her talking to on something of a regular basis.

Another point is the primary element of this fic: ShadowKhan. But not just that. Unlike so, so many other fics out there with Jade (Awesome and lovable as she is) turning back into the ninja queen and seeking revenge/world domination/respect/ect. Here, we have ShadowKhan!Drew. And unlike Jade, who's got more or less a year plus of magic experience under her belt before taking the mantle, Drew's just thrust into the middle of things. Hell, Jade's basically outright stated to be a gifted/chosen one throughout the series and has the skills, talent, and wits to show for it. Drew's…an Elementary 5th grader with average abilities for his age, average know-how, and a smattering of street smarts. Drew is, overall, average. Which makes him a perfect starting template. Now onwards, to the fic!

Callowed

Ichi一: One of Those Mornings

The morning was idiosyncratic. He'd no idea why the morning had decided to abandon the typical and begin with such queer happening, but, as he'd decided as his brain started to acclimate to the situation, he suppose he should've expected something along these lines. After all, the previous evening had been an eventful one to say the least.

It'd started at school, recess to be precise, and as things were wont to do, he was having it out with the class' resident eccentric: Jade Chan. Their frequent spats that could generously be called debates were something of a pastime for the fellow student body and as such had gather a crowd of spectators that'd ringed around them like a social noose. The current subject of debate was old hat and one that was the star of many a heated argument.

"Ninjas do so exist, Point-Dexter!" Jade, orange hoodie and blue pants clad, stamped her foot, kicking up fractural pebbles "We've been over this like, umpteen-billion times."

"As if." Drew Porter, weighty faded cap, baby blue shirt, and khaki adorned, huffed with arms folded "If they're so real, how come I haven't seen 'em?"

The crowd turned to the girl, hushed whispers and murmurs abound as they waited eagerly for her forthcoming rebuttal. "Maybe because you wouldn't know one if it reached out and gave you a wedgie. Ninjas are master of disguise, remember?"

Eyes and ears shifted, pinning on the opposite youth, his eyes darting about before retrieving his answer "If their such masters of disguise, how come you've seen 'em, Ninja Girl?"

Switch "Cause unlike you, I pay attention, Four-Eyes."

Switch "Oh yeah? Then how come you didn't see that pop quiz comin' in history?"

Switch "Please, Miss Hartman's super strict and mega tough. She gives those things out like, twice a week. Why'd you not see that dodge ball comin' in gym?"

Switch "Cause you knocked my glasses off, Jade. You think you're tough just cause you dodged some stupid balls?"

Switch "No, I know I'm tough because I've beaten up Demon Sorcerers, wanted criminals, and Dark Chi Warriors. You couldn't even man up and get a real tattoo."

Switch "S-s-So?! At least I didn't get in mondo trouble like you did!"

Switch "Please, at least mine was real. My Uncle had to get mine specially removed, which wasn't fun by the way. Yours came off with water. So who's the wuss now, Nancy Drew."

Drew stuttered, witty retort half formed in his throat that died bitterly on his tongue as the ring erupted in laughter. Jade planted her hands in her pockets, cocky smile and triumphant swagger as she about-faced and marched back to class, the ringing of the bell and the taunting mirth of his classmates echoing in his ears. For a moment, he'd stood there, hand limp at his side and face struggling between depression, embarrassment, and indignation. A breath later and his cheeks flared red, teeth locked tight behind a thunderous pout. He stomped forward, entering his class with a sour expression before taking a seat far from the Chinese girl.

So, Jade thinks he can't handle a real tattoo? Well, he'd show her! His dad was working late at the station and his mom wouldn't be home till twelve that morning, which left him plenty of time to enact his brilliant plan to show up Ninja Girl. The school day dragged, as it always did whenever he wanted to leave as soon as possible, and when the final bell did sound, he'd barreled out of his seat and out the double doors, his being nothing but raw determination. Trekking through downtown and narrowly avoiding none-to-few cars who's owners made their displeasure of his questionably suicidal action quite clear, he'd found himself at an apartment complex in one of the poorer neighborhoods. Keeping in mind to avoid eye contact with the resident riffraff and having secured any personal affects of significant worth within his knapsack, Drew climbed the worn, iron wrought steps until he finally managed to place the correct floor and then door with his memory. Knocking twice, he waited with baited breath in hopes that his contact was within the dwelling.

"Who's it?" the voice sounded rough, breaking at odd intervals and he sighed in relief "I ain't gots all day."

"Jayson," he drew himself up higher, spine straight and chest puffed out in a show of faux power "It's me, Drew."

There was a series of clanks as tumblers and latches were unmade before the door cracked open a bare sliver, a fad grey eye observing him with piercing clarity before retreating and the hall filled with the undoing of even more locks. A final loud, heavy clunk and the door creaked ominously open and Drew took a half step back as the voice was given form. They were tall, almost twice Drew's diminutive height with a wife beater over a black long sleeve that was rolled halfway up their biceps. Their pants were holey and he wore no shoes, simply faded socks that were most likely white in another life. His face was as rough as his voice, a head of low-cut, amber locks with a matching, gnarled beard he was currently scratching.

"Get in." he grunted and Drew hastily complied, nose assaulted by the stench week old food, cheap cologne, and failed dreams.

Jayson F. Mayers was the type of person his dad had really never particularly cared for. He'd been a high school drop out, simply walking out of his mid-term during the mid-way of his junior year and never looking back. Blessed with the build of an athlete but the motivation of a sloth, he was the textbook example of what not to be when you grew up. Drew's acquaintanceship with the young man had been chance. He'd been at the library getting books for his one of Miss Hartman's numerous class projects while Jayson had been using the free Wi-fi to look up…well, let's just say it wasn't very public domain appropriate. Drew didn't rat him out and Jayson didn't snub him and from there, they'd met from time to time. Mostly happenstance and always alone. Drew really had no particular wish to see what his father might say to seeing him in the company of such a person.

Jayson remade the final latch and hefted the wooden plank back in place, dusting his hands before collapsing into a tattered arm chair which was bleeding stuffing onto the floor. Drew hazarded a seat on a swivel chair, feeling it creak nervously under him as he tried to get a comfortable position.

"So," he reached onto the littered coffee table and procured a can of fermented grains, popping the top "what brings you here, little man?"

Drew swallowed a nervously wad, upsetting the raging butterflies in his stomach as he carefully worked up his nerve. "I need a tattoo."

Jayson swallowed, raising a dubious brow as he stared at the boy with new, sharp eyes "Why you need ink, little man? Thought your ol' man got made last time you tried sumthin' like that."

True, his dad had nearly blown a gasket last time he'd colored his skin until he assured him it was of the harmless, wash-away variety. But this time was different, This time, it wouldn't be washed away by friction or water or anything else lest he wanted it to. He gulped, stirring the butterflies into a frenzy. If he-no, he wasn't a chicken. He wasn't a Nancy Drew- When he went through with this, it'd mean having it as a permanent part of himself. It would always be there, forever staining his skin and reminding him of when he finally reached the point when his body became just another way of upstaging his rival.

"Cause I just do, alright?" that came out snippy and Drew hastily backpedaled "You can do it right?"

Jayson studied him for a brief moment before nodding his affirmation. The man was an artist by trade. Or at least, he said he was an artist by trade. Drew wasn't too sure on just what he'd been doing after dropping off the face of public learning, but he did know that Jayson could draw exceptionally well. And that a few choice dwellers sported his work across their bodies. He'd seen a few of his work and was suitably impressed. He'd always been told home tattoos always ended up horribly wrong or horribly ugly, but Jayson seemed competent enough to produce well-done products. That and he was pretty sure anyone else might be morally conflicted about giving a minor a tattoo. Plus, he'd do it for free…hopefully.

"Got sumthin' in mind?" he placed his drink down, leaning back onto the chair that dribbled out more of its innards.

Drew nodded and reached into his knapsack, drawing out a sheet of paper and carefully smoothing out the creases and edges before presenting it. He'd spent all of his computer time for the next three months looking for the design before finally finding it on the one hundred seven-sixth page under 'Cool-ninja-demon-mask-thing-looks-cool'. It was just as he remembered Jade having: freaky eyes, fangs, and decorated with the overall appearance that simply screamed awesome. Jayson took the picture, studying with a critical eye before lowering it to look at Drew.

"Where you want it?" And Drew sighed another breath of relief before rolling up his right sleeve to his shoulder and slapping a hand just beneath it.

"Right here." Easy enough to show to his classmates and Ninja Girl and vague enough to be easily hid behind a short or long sleeve so he'd be able to avoid abruptly changing his style and tipping off his parents.

Jayson frowned, moving over to inspect the exposed flesh before checking once again with the picture. "Gonna have to make some adjustments, but other than that, no problem. You got anywhere ta be?"

"Nope." At least not for another seven hours. Jayson nodded and hummed before slinking to the back of the apartment.

Prepping to get the tattoo proved almost more nerve racking than getting the tattoo itself. When Jayson came back with a razor, Drew had, reasonably, been unnerved and scrambled back, promises of phoning police and social services ignored as he tiredly explained his reasons before proceeding to shave the area of barely there hair. Once that was done, he'd washed his arm thoroughly with a wet rag and soap and before leading him to his spare room that'd been converted into his workspace. There, he'd been seated in what was easily the best looking and feeling seat in the house, if not entire complex and placed his arm against the rest and watched as it was strapped down.

"Don't want you moving too much." He'd been told and tried not to think of the implications as he prepared his nerves.

He'd sat down in a rolling stool, digging in a draw before pulling out what looked like some weird amalgamation of household parts held firmly in place by duct tape. Assuming it some poor man's inking needle, he simply waited as Jayson rolled back up.

"Ready?" Drew nodded slightly, trying his darnedest not to let any of the shaking, restless nerves translate to the motion. The man said nothing further and he flipped on a radio behind him, the sound of some underground rap group blaring and catching him off guard.

Then the needle hit and broke skin. Drew bit his lip, sucking in a breath as his pain receptors started firing and conveying to him that yes, this does hurt and yes, this might've been a pretty stupid and rash idea. Part of him, okay most of him, wanted to stop. Wanted to get away from this wickedly sharp needle and go home where his dad would get mad but then make the pain go away. He wanted to stop. And he wanted it so, very badly. But it didn't and he forced himself to endure. Even as his raw nerves sung as the steel dragging across his tender, exposed skin, drawing droplets of crimson blood.

After what felt like hours despite it only taking two, the strap was undone and Drew blinked the teary blurs from his vision and turned his head towards Jayson who nodded in satisfaction. Rubbing the remainder of his lamentation dry, he rose his arm and attempted a look at the finished result of his agony.

"I had to simplify it, needle's not small enough for that and there wasn't a lot of space to work with." Jayson explained and Drew heeded this as he took in the sight of his ink.

It was different, not as complicated as the original with filled gaps and spaces with few lines but there was sophistication to this stripped down style. Tribal, he believed it was called. Drew left the apartment after his newly acquired tattoo was cleaned, swathed in jelly, and then covered with gauze and with implicit instructions to avoid the sun and to take showers, not baths. He'd never particularly favored showers but had done as told nonetheless. After a brief wash, he'd donned his nighties and gone to sleep.

Only to wake up to the sight of half a dozen men dressed like some badly dubbed, B-rated foreign flick with dead, red eyes and blue- Freakin' Blue!- skin. While that alone was enough to warrant his immediate interest/bewilderment, the fact that they all were bowed with the leader presenting him with a tray of his preferred morning fair of pop tarts and OJ while the two flanking him held a fresh set of clothes and his knapsack took the cake. The boy discretely pinched himself, the brief flash of pain doing nothing the dispel the sight before him.

"Drew? You up, buddy?" The boy blinked at the sound of his father's voice, the room amazingly empty upon finishing as the head of the household entered, a concerned crease to his brow "You alright? You didn't wait up on me last night."

Oh. Right. That's because he didn't want his dad to see the pretty obvious bulge on his arm that was hiding the sorta-illegally-gained ink that would no doubt landed him in hot water for who knows how long. Chuckling sheepishly, he shrugged his shoulders and was surprised he felt no pain originating from his freshly acquired body art.

"Guess I was just tired. I was pretty beat from getting that tat-tactical seat at lunch! Yeah, yeah, that's it." His dad gave him a wry look before shrugging and leaving his son to prepare for his day of public education.

Drew rubbed at his eyes, feeling the dresser for his glasses as a wave of energy surged through him, leaving him feeling buzzed and alert but his surroundings no less clear as he searched for his prescribed eyewear.

"Thanks." he said in gratitude as he was handed his glasses-He placed them on and beheld the sight of the same, ninja-like man, creature, thing from before. He/she/it looked at him before reaching its opposite hand round and producing his breakfast. The boy simply stared as he cautiously retrieved the poptart from the tray, nibbling on the plain crust as the tray was placed on his lap a moment later. He gave them a look, morning energy channeling to fear as he nervously bit into the sweet filling.

"Um, can you guys like…I dunno…leave?" And just as ordered, they all sank into their shadows, the shaded pools shrinking into nonexistence and leaving a gapping Drew in their wake.

Breakfast was finished with a hurried, frantic pace born of the fear of the unknown and the desperation to understand it sprinkled with a bit 'Oh God, Why Me?' before he searched about for his clothes only to find them AWOL. As his mind raced as he tried to divine their whereabouts, a stray thought entered his head and he swallowed dryly as he guardedly asked for his clothes. Sure enough, the shadow of his bed stretched, a tendril snaking forth and blooming wide as the whatever rose just high enough to present his clothing and upon being relieved of his burden, disappeared back into the inky blackness as the shade melded once more with bed's shadow.

Drew looked the clothes over with a crucial eye. The cargos were a shade darker than he normally wore and the shirt was bluer with dark edges but he'd no time worry of such things. After all, he thought as he retrieved his knapsack, he had homework he'd need to copy if he wanted to elude his teacher's wrat-

The tattoo was glowing.

Drew stopped, hand fisted over the doorknob as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. The white gauze that'd been wrapped tight around his shoulder hummed with a red light that bled through to be viewed by all who observed. Frantic, Drew grabbed the bindings and tore them off -Consequences be damned, his freakin; tat was Glowing- beneath which his tattoo was lit with a scarlet tint, pulsing in rhythm of softer pace than his own speeding heart.

Right…So, School was out the question.

- \=/ -

Before, Drew only approached the complex with a clear head and sure footsteps, presenting a front of solidness that if not ward at least dissuaded a fair number of undesirables from attempting harm to his person. In his current state, the lad cared little for posturing and instead simply hauled ass up the flights until reaching the appropriate floor and then proceeded to nearly bash the door in, surprising himself long enough for Jayson's irritated and edged voice to register from inside.

"Who da Fuck knockin' like that?" It was very nearly a shout and proved sufficient in jarring him from his daze and deliver an articulate response.

"Jayson! Open up! It's me!" Drew bounced nervously from foot to foot, eyes darting to his skin which had started to take a strange tint that only served to stoke the fires of his frantic fears.

The numerous latches were undone in what felt like explicitly slow motion before the door finally opened and Drew shot inside, ignorant of the man's shout of protest before stopping to pace in the living room. Jayson was saying something and from his expression it wasn't anything nice, but Drew was too caught up in himself. In the apparent changes and ambiguity of the lucidness of his mentality before a rough hand shook hard against his shoulder and Drew was drawn back into the world and the sound of Jayson shouting in his ears.

"Calm the hell down! Now tell me What. The Fuck's. Wrong?" He shot a look to his arm and saw that there was no protection around it as instructed and quickly grabbed at it.

Drew froze, feeling Jayson's fingers digging in tight against his still tender flesh, nails scrapping, tugging, piercing. It hurt. Jayson was hurting him. He was hurting him and he wanted it to stop. He squirmed and wiggled but whatever margin of strength he'd acquired was insignificant against the man's superior might. He couldn't get away. He wanted to get away. He needed to get away. He needed it to stop. Stop. Stop Stop Stop Stop. And suddenly, it did.

Jayson was sent flying, crashing into a wall as something grabbed the back of his head and coolness rested against his throat. His vision cleared of stars and he halted, noticing not only the strange figure clad in black in front of him but also the blade poised dangerously close to his Adam's Apple. He gulped. Drew was position dead center by a trio of the figures, each armed and staring death at the man who'd dared to harm him. It was only as the panic fled and rationality returned that he finally regained enough of his senses to realize what had transpired.

"Stop!" he shouted, all moment ceasing "He was just checking it out! He wasn't trying to hurt me! So just…back off."

Obediently, they complied. Jayson fell to the floor, hacking and coughing as breath was returned to him and Drew swiftly rattled off an apology. "I'm sorry, man. I really am! But this morning, these guys showed and started doing stuff for me and then my ink started glowing and I thought since you gave it to me that maybe you know how to fix it so I was wondering if you could remove it cause I don't want it anymore, no matter how awesome it looks, and I really, really need you to do it now cause I'm missing school and a big test today not to mention my dad'll be super mad if he finds about about any of this so if you could hurry up-"

"get out." Drew paused in his rant, a dubious and nervous brow raised in question

"Get the hell out." Jayson rose, eyes refusing to look at the boy and Drew once more started up on his rant, now even more desperate to have this thing removed so he could get back to his normal, not crazy life.

"I said." Drew took a full step back, eyes wide as he watched Jayson brandish a gun in his direction "Get the Fuck outta my house before I splatter your punk ass all over the wall!"

Drew simply stared, mouth working but no words emerging as he attempted to work up another plea. The man cocked the weapon and proceeded to fire. Pain blossomed from his forearm, shooting pain the likes of which he'd never experienced sending a ragged holler from his throat as Jayson's own joined his as his arm was wretched back at an unnatural angle before a truly sickening crunch sounded. Tears staining his eyes, Drew flew out the door, uncaring of anything in his haste to remove himself as far away as possible from that place. That horrible, horrible place.

And then he felt himself sinking.

- \=/ -

Hours passed since then and Drew sat on a park bench, head held low and hands calmly set upon his lap. He reached up and rubbed a forming teardrop with his now mostly blue hand. His eyes had acquired a crimson shade to replace his normal soft umbra. His hat was gone now, lost after a failed attempt at acquiring lunch after breaching from the cool, yet oddly soothing, pool of darkness had incurred the fury of the targeted establishment's owner. He and his troupe had fled with swiftness, the pilfered fair forgotten along with the cap his father had gifted him with two summers hence. Breathing a breezy breath, he leaned back against the aged oak, letting the silence seep into his sense, drowning his accumulative sorrows.

He couldn't return home, not as he was now. He wasn't Drew Porter anymore but some, some kind of freak. Part of him wanted to shoulder Jade with the blame. After all, he'd never have been driven to acquire the tattoo if not for her besting him in their verbal spar. However, despite the roaring voice that raged for her head, screamed out longingly for her blood, Drew was in enough right-of-mind to notice that he himself was also at fault. If his pride hadn't have been so easily wounded, this series of unfortunate events would never have unfolded. Not to mention the voice howling for Jade did so with far more gusto and fury than he'd ever did. Thoughts out a split personality been birthed from this ensuring madness did little to ease his troubled mind.

"Seems you are in need of a friendly ear." Drew started, eyes darting to and fro "I'd be more than happy to offer my own."

"Who said that?" Drew franticly called for his shadow men/ninja/whatever, but they refused to answer his creed "Who are you?"

"Why, I did." The boy's eyes widened as he took in the sight of his shadow, the inky shade flexing and molding until it was long, tall, and wide. Vaguely, he registered the outline of some broad shouldered figure but what caught his eye was the face. Drew's stomach roiled at the striking resemblance between it and his ink: from the shape, to the eyes, and even the sharp, wicked looking fangs. "And I believe we'll become quite acquainted in the near future, young shade."

Drew gulped. And to think he thought this morning to be the most queer thing to ever befell him. Well, he suppose it was nice to be wrong from time to time.

This was not one of them.

Author's Notes: And there you have it folks! We had ShadowKhan!Drew! Yeah, first chapter's just Drew shifting from normal, everyday human 5th grader to not-so-normal, unique ShadowKhan. So, as you people seem wont to do, here are some answers to a question or two you might have.

Drew: The Protagonist: My reason for having Drew as the lead is simple: I like him. Despite how poorly he's portrayed in other stories to be this horrible, awful wretch of a human being, I like him as an overall character. He's a rare example of a character we see, but don't really know all that much about. His entire canon personality seems to be 'Picks on Jade'. And I love when they do that because it gives you freedom to write about that character. My Drew, as depicted by my head canon, is somewhat street smart, snaky, sarcastic, a bit spiteful, and a bit of an attention hog. Conversely, he's also logical, quick-witted, kind-at-heart, protective, and an overall good friend. Just have to stick with him long enough.

ShadowKhan: Assimilation: Because Drew used a simplified mark instead of the whole, genuine article, the effects are mitigated and far weaker than normal. Notice that Drew never has more than six ShadowKhan at any summons and that he only seems to be able to call them out when he needs something. Unlike Queen Jade, he can't just shot 'em like canon fodder. His appearance is another difference. Jade turned blue in a few hours, Drew's been marked for over twelve hours and while he's noticeably bluer, he's got a fair bit of his normal tone in there as well. He's got red iris', but no solid red, demon gaze. And, unlike most incarnations of Jade, doesn't have fangs. Sharper teeth, yes, but no fangs. His strength, speed, and agility are all enhanced, but not to a superhuman degree overall, so basically he's a strong ten-year-old with mostly blue, brown skin with red eyes and sharp teeth. You'll find out why next chapter.

Jade Chan: Queen of All ShadowKhan: Jade will, as expected of something like this, become a primary character shortly. Her role, as will be shown, is something I'm excited about, mainly for the dialogue. This is why her name's in the Character listing even though we didn't see much of her this go round.

Home Tattoo: Done Right: Courtesy of WikiHow!

Man in the Shadows: It is NOT Tarakudo. Drew lost the chance to talk to the big guy when he changed the mark. Who it is should be pretty obvious, though. I mean, there's only so many generals to choose from.

Mythos: Japanese Legends: Expect to see a freakin' lot of that. Part of the reason this might not update all that much is the sheer size of what all I'm trying to draw reference from. I mean, there's a lot of there! Which I why you can expect my Oni to be different…I hope.

P.S. Anyone know how I can get a character added to the list? If you do, PM me.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed, please drop a review and as always, TTFN!