In his fights against ghosts over the last year, Danny had been called "halfa" many times. It started with Sydney Poindexter and snowballed from there, and soon he was hearing it from over half of the ghosts he knew. He simply accepted it as the name of his obscure species.
It never occurred to him that he might be wrong.
"Danny," Jazz called from the kitchen table, where she sat reorganizing some of Team Phantom's files, "What is this word supposed to mean?"
Danny floated over to glance at the laptop's screen, not worried about being seen by his parents - they weren't home anyway. "Which one?"
"This one… halfa?" Jazz elaborated, pointing at the word with an expression of distaste plastered onto her face.
With a raised eyebrow, Danny glanced at his sister. "You haven't heard it before? It's what I am, a half-ghost, half-human hybrid. Lots of ghosts call me that."
Jazz was silent for a long moment, gazing at the computer for a few seconds before meeting Danny's blue-eyed gaze."I don't think you understand what this means." She gently pulled him out of the air to sit on a chair beside her, turning to face him properly.
"What do you mean by that? It's just a word, right? We've gotta be called something."
"Danny, the word halfa is a slur. It is used to insult people who are… impure, racially speaking. It's not something you want to be called, definitely not as often as you apparently are." Jazz explained, carefully observing Danny's reaction. At first, he didn't respond at all, but then a frown began working its way onto his face, accompanied by a furrowed brow.
"I…" He nodded slowly, "I can understand why they would use a word like that, I guess. But does that- does it mean that there isn't a word for what I am?"
Jazz placed a reassuring hand on Danny's thin shoulder. "There might be, but… you know it doesn't matter, right? You're still my little brother, and you're still a hero!"
"Yeah…" Danny agreed with an obviously false smile, "It doesn't matter one bit."