Portal Panic

by Weshney

When young ghosts seem struck by a mystery ailment, Danny is called in to help. Only to have his attention split as an unexpected visitor is dumped in his lap. Now, with even more problems cropping up close to home and a series of portals opening to the MHA world, Danny Phantom must figure out just who—or what—is causing them. Not Phantom Planet Complaint.

21. The Big Kahuna

Audiobook version can be found on YouTube by searching Weshney.

Artwork this chapter! AAAAHHHHHH! From both NDSeaborne AND NightcoreQueen! I AM SO HAPPY. IT'S THE FIRST ARTWORK ANYONE'S DONE THAT I DIDN'T COMMISSION OR MAKE MYSELF. THIS IS SUCH A MILESTONE YOU GUYS! To find it all in one place, go to The Big Kahuna chapter of Portal Panic on Wattpad!

Big thank you to NightcoreQueen and NDSeaborne for all the help with the chapter, as well! And thanks all my viewers for being patient. I wanted to get this out by Christmas. Which…I kind of succeeded on? It's old calendar Christmas today….Merry Christmas! LOL

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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.

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Wednesday, September 19th

2:18 am

Shota Aizawa lifted a cold mug and glared through crusted eyes at the green liquid within. Swirling the old matcha with a scowl twisting his lips, he tossed it back. It was his fifth cup. Most of his students preferred coffee, but he supposed he was just too old fashioned for the drink, relying instead on traditional tea for his daily dose of caffeine.

Long nights, while common for him, were always rough. But out of the last forty-two hours, he'd only spent four of them asleep. Non-consecutively.

It was frustrating. Despite his sacrifice, he wasn't making much headway on the Detnerat case. Sure, it'd only been two days since he'd started his search. But he'd watched every kind of footage he could get his hands on for the fifth thru eighth of September, and all he'd found was more tampering. Whoever these guys were, they were thorough.

So meticulous was the scrubbing that even after he'd found a lead, he was sure it'd been planted. Or at least intentionally left unedited. Two shoppers at a local H&N had criminal records. Small fry.

He'd still flagged them for the police, of course, since any detail could be worth something.

But still, this sucked.

Two short beeps sounded from the kitchen near Aizawa's current work station—aka one of the Heights Alliance lounge tables. The tired man's eyes followed the sound and he squinted hard at a flashing red "00:00" atop the stove. Getting up with a groan, he silenced the timer, lips pursing into an even thinner line.

Yesterday, Aizawa had been forced to inform his students that Hagakure was alive. The underground hero had fought the order, tried to get Nezu to hold off—her safety after so long was just too miraculous. But the principal had thrown down an ultimatum: "Tell them, or I will."

The memory of Kaminari's fist pump, of Koda and Jiro's relieved tears should have made him happy. Instead, his jaw clenched.

The sole purpose of Aizawa's quirk was to disrupt other quirks. What if the Isamu girl's trace had been messed with? Or something went wrong while Hagakure-san was still out of reach? Even if she was still alive and UA found her, they might not be able to get her home that way. 1A didn't need this kind of fragile hope. A lot of things could go wrong with villains involved.

And, regardless of what Nezu believed, "Jazz Smith" was a villain. Even if Aizawa wasn't sure which flavor yet.

He'd prove it, too.

Sliding back into his chair, he dragged his laptop just a little closer to himself and logged into a secure government server.

He'd spent enough hours on Mori's research for today. His timer could attest to that. Now he needed to give the foreigner some limelight, take advantage of the all-clear from Tsuragamae-san. She'd already been tailed for the better part of last night, but he still had a lot of ground to cover. He'd start by finding out what she'd done yesterday, then work backwards. He needed something, anything, to cast doubt on Nezu's theories.

Using his credentials, he accessed the Hero Network and navigated to a portion of the site that allowed him a backdoor into any computer under the jurisdiction of a Japanese warrant.

He'd retrace her steps. Check street cams. Look into where she'd gone. What she'd touched. What she'd done.

Booting Inko's home computer with a remote mirroring software, Aizawa opened the three browsers installed on the device.

With a quick glance to make sure Internet Exploder was, in fact, unused, he moved on to Bang. Scrolling through the browser's history, he noticed a pattern of recipes, English customs, UA's school website and the occasional remote login to Mustafu's public library.

Moving on, he checked Moogle Chrome.

Which was empty.

With a small "Hn," he propped his left elbow on the table, and, ignoring the tingling bite of damaged nerves where bone met laminate, tilted his head into the awaiting palm.

Minimizing the windows, Shota went into the computer's file system and dragged a folder from User Data into a program on the Hero Network.

A few seconds later, "Browsing History Restored" displayed on the screen.

He checked Exploder again.

Sunshine child he may be, but apparently Midoriya was just an average boy after all. If you ignored the fanatic All Might searches, of course.

Aizawa pinched his eyes shut against a stab of pain at their back before clicking on Chrome.

He suddenly sat straighter, left hand releasing his head and sliding back under the table as he leaned closer to the screen.

Kanagawa Shopping Mall. Detnerat. UA. Lunch Lady. Nomu. Quirks. Food. So many news articles related to food.

And all of it sprinkled through with the most random bullshit he'd ever seen. Either Jazz had extreme ADD or things like "How many Cheetah's Puffs can you fit in your mouth after eating a spoonful of peanut butter?" were decoy questions.

Ignoring the garbage, Aizawa looked at the search history from yesterday. Among the results were directions to a business. A business mentioned in another article found just an hour prior.

Writing the address and company name in a notebook to the side of his laptop, Shota swiftly opened street cam footage for areas surrounding Inko's apartment. Then played yesterday's saved feed at triple speed, starting with the time that browsing session had ended.

Sure enough, a redheaded foreigner came out the front door a few minutes later, wrapped tight in a puffy pink coat.

Using the cams, he followed her. To a bus stop, then a transfer. A walk. Another bus. And another. Where was she going so far up the coast? She wasn't following her directions at all.

By the fifth bus he noted her active avoidance of trains. Probably because they required electronic payment. Easier to track. For that matter, the buses she chose all took cash.

This was it. He could feel it.

She boarded another bus, heading into Shimizu ward.

He waited for her to get off, following the line all the way to its end. But she never did.

He replayed it, just in case he'd missed her exit—some stops had a lot of people, and he was just exhausted enough for his mind to play tricks. But she was gone.

Frantic, he skipped forward several hours and watched Inko's apartment for Jazz's return.

Using the same method, he worked in reverse, watching her backstep down streets and onto buses. Only, she disappeared again. On the very same bus that'd come from Shimizu ward.

No! NO!

"NO!"

Aizawa slammed his hands down on the table, flinching when footsteps thumped across Midoriya's room and down the hall of the floor above.

Shit.

With a frown, Aizawa raced to attach the incriminating footage to an email. Clicking send, he snapped his computer closed just as Midoriya burst from the stairwell, fists raised and sparks crackling.

"Sensei, are you okay!?" he whisper-shouted into the quiet.

Even with rage and adrenaline fueling his limbs, Aizawa responded in the most blasé voice possible, "Midoriya-kun, keep it down; it's the middle of the night."

"But…you screamed?" The boy's words were half-question as he scanned the shadows, hands sinking before they finally unclenched. Red creeping over his face and electricity fading out, he locked eyes with Aizawa again.

"Are you sure it wasn't a bad dream?"

"I—I don't think…I definitely heard—"

"Let me get this straight. So you thought I screamed," Aizawa cut him off, tone dry, "and your first thought was to rush in here, with no recon whatsoever, and announce your presence loudly?" He blinked once and exaggerated a sigh before picking up his tea mug. Expression held in what Mt. Lady loved to call his "resting bitch face", he walked over to the kitchen counter that held his electric kettle and waved to a nearby chair.

Midoriya sat carefully. Lowering himself into the seat, he adjusted the angle for a quick get-away. Probably wondering if Aizawa was Himiko Toga in disguise.

Good.

Shota turned his back to Midoriya, filling the kettle from the tap and switching it on. Grabbing a second mug from the cupboard and a squat, cardboard tub from the countertop, he scooped green powder into both ceramic cups. All the while, a glower slipped back on to the surly man's face, hidden by the angle and the dark.

He needed to call Nezu.

Jazz was in league with the crew that'd hit Detnerat. He was sure of it. And as soon as Tamakawa-san confirmed Jazz's trip to Shimizu had been edited with clean precision from all of the ward's cameras, even his boss would have to believe it.

Hearing the kettle hiss, Aizawa flicked it off and poured boiling water most of the way up the cups before filling the rest with cold from the faucet. Face dropping back into its neutral mask, he glanced over a shoulder at Midoriya.

"Did you want some?"

"Oh—uhm. Haha…No thanks," the teenager laughed awkwardly, abruptly hiding his phone screen against a thigh. "I probably shouldn't have any caffeine if I want to fall back asleep."

Aizawa studied Izuku carefully, and the boy shifted nervously in his chair.

Damn Nezu. Endangering Inko-san over a hunch.

Tossing back his sixth cup of tea, Aizawa felt it burn all the way down.

Kami curse it all. Who knew what their adversary was capable of?

---

Wednesday, September 19th

7:33 am

"Ready to cut them into shapes?" Inko queried, head tilting and hands folding a cinnamon colored dough one more time before sprinkling flour on top.

Jazz offered Inko a wet towel, but the older woman waved it off with a fond smile. "No thank you, they're going to be dirty in a minute here, anyways."

"Cool! Then I'll just preheat the oven and we can start on the fun part!"

Inko's smile dropped. "I don't have an oven. I thought we were cooking them in a fry pan. Like pancakes."

"There's no…" Jazz's head whipped back and forth, surveying the kitchen until her eyes came to rest on a tiny, black appliance built into the cabinetry left of the fridge. "But-but you've been baking all our fish? You have to have one!"

"I'm not sure my electric broiling drawer is going to give you the results you're hoping for," Inko joked, following Jazz's line of sight. "It only has two settings, low and high."

"But the spectre-doodles aren't gonna cook well in a pan. They need to be crisped from above." Jazz's gaze drifted toward the ceiling and she bit her lip. After a moment of worrying it she turned back to Inko, tone wheedling, "Can't we at least try it?"

The mother's gaze turned dubious at her house guest's puppy-dog eyes. "I don't know if that's—"

"Please?"

Inko's resolve crumbled like too-dry cookies. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

---

Wednesday, September 19th

7:40 am

Shota almost didn't hear the text. He'd just crawled into his buttercup sleeping bag at the front of 1A's homeroom, oblivion dragging so strongly at his brain that he'd nearly convinced himself the vibrations had been a dream. But then two short zzzt zzzts buzzed against his thigh, and he drug his mind up from the molasses of half-conscious thought.

Was it too much to ask for just one hour of uninterrupted sleep before class started?

With a woe-begotten sigh, he rolled off of his back and curled into the fetal position, the slate-grey linoleum now hard against his side.

If this was some peppy, good morning message from Hizashi, he'd have to make sure and call his friend back. At two in the morning tomorrow, possibly three.

The corner of Aizawa's lip twitched and he groped in his pocket for his cell, only taking slightly longer than normal to get around all the loose fabric with his fingers. Bringing it up to his face, he squinted at the small sun in his hands like a bear just stumbling out of its winter den, blurry eyes trying to make sense of the message on the screen.

A thrill shot up his legs and he scrambled to his feet, still inside his cocoon and nearly tripping over the polyester in his haste. It was a hero alert from Astral.

Smoke inside Midoriya residence.

Fire and Rescue notified.

SHIT.

Heart pounding, he forced himself to freeze in place rather than hatch from his sleeping bag like some vengeant moth in an all-out sprint for the door.

Kami fucking damnit! He told Nezu this would happen! His boss was being too—

Withdrawing. Intervention unnecessary. Cause: small appliance. Casualties: mouth-watering cookies. Single survivor saved from destruction. 10/10 would steal again. Fire and Rescue still inbound to turn off building alarm.

But—

What—

Relief and annoyance warred vehemently in Shota's chest, making him both jittery and vaguely nauseous.

What the fuck?!

Astral was getting removed from stake-out detail. Right fucking now.

The projection hero should have included more information in his first messages. And no pro worth his shit would risk being compromised over a cookie.

Even worse—Aizawa made a sound in the back of his throat that was somewhere between snorting back phlegm and a growl—he was now so awake that falling asleep was a distant dream.

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Wednesday, September 19th

7:52 am

The room was constructed of light-grey tiles and devoid of all but the chairs provided its occupants. Cutting it in half was dual-paned hurricane glass that's inner chamber could be filled with gas, transforming it from window to two-way mirror at the drop of a hat. Currently, both parties could see through. Well, Gran Torino and Naomasa Tsukauchi could. The infamous League of Villains member, Kurogiri, was drugged into sedation on the other side.

If they left him aware for too long, he inevitably tried to escape.

Cameras recorded everything, watched by Tartarus security guards in a room nearby. Should the living portal so much as twitch in his straitjacket, that half of the room would be filled with nitrous oxide.

Any moment now he would come out of his stupor, the mask that had been providing him an individualized, constant stream of the stuff having been removed roughly four minutes ago.

"Get ready. His brain activity has changed," announced into the heroes' side of the room and Tsukauchi felt his thoughts go tense.

No matter how many times they'd done this dance in the last twelve hours, something about Kurogiri just unnerved him. As a detective, though, he'd never allow that unease to show. Instead he called affably, "Kurogiri, welcome back. How'd you sleep?"

Sleep wasn't quite the right word, but he doubted the prisoner cared.

"If you are referring to my constant sedation, I suppose I could feel worse." Or not. "How is Gigantomachia? Is he well?"

Tsukauchi glanced at the ceiling-height camera behind Kurogiri. "Gigantomachia? Is that the big guy's name…?"

The small triumph was short-lived as Kurogiri's transmorphic yellow eyes started to jitter. Whatever fail-safe had been installed in the villain's brain was starting to activate.

"...Or are you still feeling the effects of the gas?" Tsukauchi tacked on, thinking fast.

He was relieved when, a second later, their captive's calm demeanor returned.

"The gas."

As a pang of falsehood shot through the detective's chest, he kept an easy smile on his face and tapped his left toes on the ground, out of view of the window.

He'd have to be careful, going forward. It seemed any direct questions about the League or its future activities really were off limits.

"Your Nomu have really stirred things up lately; you guys must be pretty proud of yourselves," an elderly voice meandered in from Tsukauchi's left, close to hip height.

Damnit Gran Torino. What was he doing?

"I am proud of Shigaraki Tomura's accomplishments," Kurogiri hedged, eyes narrow and misty protrusions undulating like well-fed fire. "No matter the way he achieves them. I cannot speak for anyone else."

Truth.

Tsukauchi dutifully tapped his right foot, but this was getting dangerous. Kurogiri was coming off the sedative too fast.

"Really? You can't speak for him, eh?" Gran Torino's cadence remained slow as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Lunch Lady's quite a powerhouse. I bet Shigaraki was tickled pink by how much trouble she caused at UA."

"Lunch Lady…?" Kurogiri mused. "Ah, you must mean our green Nomu."

False?

Naomasa tapped his left foot.

How? What part of that did Kurogiri believe to be a lie? Her name couldn't be it. It was said too much like a question for Tsukauchi's quirk to determine truth from falsehood. So it had to have been something in the second half.

"She did her job well."

He tapped his left foot a single time again.

Another lie? She must have messed up her original mission somehow.

Maybe by failing to retrieve Pony Tsunotori? Or perhaps the League really didn't have proper control of this Nomu.

It was strange; even with all these non-answers, Kurogiri was suddenly so verbal. Just what was he trying to do? Buy time? Maybe, but—

A niggling sensation chewed at the back of Tsukauchi's brain.

It was almost as if…he was trying to convince them of something.

…But what?

Kurogiri's body started shifting rapidly, expanding.

The epiphany hit as nitrous oxide was released into the chamber.

"Does the green Nomu even belong to Shigaraki or All For One?!" Tsukauchi shouted.

The laughing gas may have been invisible, but Kurogiri's movement slowed. Then he shrank. Finally, he slurred, "What do…hehe…mean? Of course…does…" And then he passed out.

False.

---

Wednesday, September 19th

8:47 am

He was in the vents.

Well, as one does when one is a genetically modified rodent running a school of superpowered humans.

Eavesdropping was the best way to get real information about faculty and students—their struggles, strengths, what they kept to themselves when they thought no one was watching. Any time someone mentioned the top notch AC, Nezu couldn't help but smile.

The tunnels were wider than average—cozy even—and made of a colorful, insulated plastic that was gentle on his paws. At semi-regular intervals were small, completely soundproof rooms with their own ventilation to the outside and locking doors. In a few he'd even added memory foam cubes that could be arranged into bedding should the need arise. And blankets.

This whole system was so important to his work as a principal that only Hound Dog, Cementoss and the original builders of UA knew of its existence.

Today he was going to sit in on a general education course. Hopefully Nanako-san was taking steps to explain personal finance in a more easily digestible way this year. Last year's unit had been a disaster.

Maybe he'd invite her to tea later if he didn't note any improvement this morning. He could run her through a short workshop. That is, after he got a hold of the police department and—actually. He hadn't checked his email in a few hours.

Nezu opened his phone and looked down at the screen. He had several new ones, but what he was interested in was the email from GeneLife Laboratory. Nezu clicked the link and signed in, filtering the page to only show the DNA results of the ginger hair from the portal hairbrush and Jazz Smith's identical looking strand from the visitor's center couch.

100% match.

Nezu sucked in a breath, feeling giddy. The excitement popped like a soapy bubble, spritzing him with panic as his phone started to buzz.

It was on silent, but if he wasn't careful, someone might notice the rhythmic vibration in the room below.

Hurriedly smothering the phone in his sweater vest, Nezu scurried down the vent until he reached a side room, ducked in, and closed the door behind him.

"Moshi moshi."

Kocho-san. I have information about Jazz Smith that you need to know.

That's what he liked about Aizawa. The human was prickly, but always had good intentions and got straight to the point. Though it was probably about time again for Nezu to mandate he take another sick (sleep) day.

"I'm listening."

I think Jazz Smith is related to the break in at Detnerat. She disappeared on a trip yesterday heading northeast toward Kanagawa. I tracked her as far as Shimizu ward before her presence was removed from the traffic cams. I'm working on finding alternate video sources to fill in the missing time, but I doubt there'll be even a trace of her. It's too much like the Detnerat case to be coincidence.

Nezu crawled into the memory foam cubes furnishing the tiny room and rubbed his face.

"That's a pretty bold claim. Traffic cameras are informative, but they lack audio and perspective. Are you certain that you didn't just lose track of her?"

Positive. Cyber forensics confirmed the feed's manipulation just a few minutes ago.

"Hmm. While that does make it seem likely that she is associated with the villains at Detnerat, we still don't know that she's an intentional participant. We can't dismiss the possibility that she's a runaway or that she's working for her captors to protect her family."

You're still on about that? Aizawa accused. Nezu could hear the wheels of a chair move, quiet footsteps and then the light creak of old laptop hinges. Kocho-san, Smith was investigating Lunch Lady. She knew exactly what keywords to use in her searches—just a second, I'm sending over a list now. There's way more here than what any information on the news would account for. I'd bet money she knows that Nomu personally.

"If Smith-san is in cahoots with the villains we suspect control Lunch Lady, it's rather strange that she would have to do research to find the other woman," Nezu refuted, and, because Aizawa couldn't see it, took off his shoes to spin a foam cube with his back feet. "If she doesn't have access to that kind of information, I doubt she's a core member. Should she be a hench or hitman, she would hardly use an unprotected computer to look up her boss's plans. She's too smart. Or she wants to be caught—which is entirely possible. Don't forget that both Hagakure and Kamada-san were doing well. Why else would Jazz-san accept an invitation to counsel young Bakugo-kun again tonight? I'm sure she suspects it's a trap."

Nezu—

"I have made arrangements to detain her should she not come willingly," the mouse hybrid cut him off. "But what else did you find in her browsing history?" There was something Aizawa wasn't saying. His whiskers twitched with the knowledge.

After a prolonged pause, a sigh came through the phone. Jazz's other searches were…I spent some time thinking it over before class and there was a disturbing pattern, Aizawa admitted. I thought it was all random trash. But then I noticed a lot of questions were about things that should be common knowledge both here and in the US. It's possible Smith was searching for how to exist in society."

Nezu felt a zing down his spine all the way through his tail. He knew what Aizawa was thinking, why he'd been so reluctant to share. Restricting the gloat to just his smile, the principal allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. But it didn't last long before his expression twisted into a frown. "Either way, I got a call this morning that really turns things on its head for us. Lunch Lady is owned by neither the League of Villains nor All For One. Shigaraki only took credit for the attack. Which means, if she is directly connected to the break in at Detnerat as we suspect, it is under the direction of an entirely new organization capable of creating ectoplasmic Nomu. Oh. And the DNA on the hairbrush was a match. If Jazz Smith is related to the Detnerat villains, then they also have a portal user on roster."

---

Wednesday, September 19th

12:17 pm

A thin, redheaded foreigner in a light-blue cardigan and chevron-patterned scarf walked down a pedestrian alley, a kid's All Might backpack slung over her shoulder. Poking from the open zipper on top of the candy cane meets traffic cone monstrosity were an assortment of school supplies.

Many quick-bite eateries edged the alley, and one shop owner even called a friendly "Ohayo!" as the woman passed, despite her showing no interest in his wares. She still returned the wave, though.

Only. Fuck. That wasn't a shop owner. It was Takeshita. What the hell was the bamboo hero doing out of costume and so far from Suruga ward?!

And he wasn't the only one.

That was the third hero Mimic had seen just this outing.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shiiiiiiiit.

This was not good.

He should have nabbed Jazz yesterday when he'd gotten the call from Tengai. Instead he'd trailed the brat home, certain he could learn more by watching her first. It was too greedy.

Fuck.

Joi Irinaka had messed up. There were no two ways about it.

Only hours after the target had reached her destination—a completely average apartment complex on the west side of Mustafu of all places—trouble had shown up.

And now, the most he could do was damage control to make sure these heroes—Joi's thoughts spit the word like venom—never found out about the Shie Hassaikai.

At least he'd had the wherewithal to eliminate the redhead from all traffic cams coming into and out of Yuikitada. But Christ on a stick, the boss was gonna disintegrate him.

Joi's thoughts shivered like a chihuahua in a breeze, but he made absolute sure the movement didn't extend to his current form.

Maybe, just maybe, if he was careful he could leave with a different prize and avoid having his atoms temporarily rearranged.

Jazz exited the alley and came to a stop at a crowded crosswalk just as a rumble started down the street. A roving pack of tourist go-karts were on their way, driven by costumed riders. As they formed two lines and came to a stop at the light, a young local next to Jazz hastily dug in her purse. Out came her phone, but so, too, did a little oblong case that fell and hit the cement below. Springing open, it tossed two earbuds like fish yeeted from a stocking truck's chute.

The woman proceeded to take pictures, completely oblivious, as Jazz knelt down, reaching towards the lost merchandise. The crowd suddenly rushed forward, and someone bumped her from behind with a "Sumimasen!" [Sorry! Pardon me!] jostling her arm.

Now was Joi's chance!

He undid the clasp holding himself onto Jazz's wrist, and the bracelet he possessed dropped. He spread the charms, using them like spider legs to lessen the sound and absorb as much impact with the concrete as possible.

Making use of the heavy steps thundering around, he jumped several inches left, positioning himself and his cargo in front of a cap toe shoe. Aim true, the kick sent the bracelet flying and out toward the street. Now all he had to do was scuttle into the storm drain and he'd be—

No. Nononono.

FUCK.

He couldn't move. Something invisible was holding him in place.

Joi watched on, internally screeching, as the crowd disappeared and he was suddenly lifted into the air.

What the hell?!

The bracelet floated toward a cramped stairwell recessed into a nearby building. To its side hung a sign that detailed which businesses could be found on what floors. Next to that was the entrance of a pharmacy where colorful fruit gummies and breath mints hogged the first display. Instead of going in, Joi ascended the stairs, stomach shriveling when he caught sight of a figure tucked into a ball on the third landing. The white-haired man's headband, baby blue jumpsuit, grey cloak and black utility belt marked him as a pro hero, even if he was passed out on the floor. But what the fuck was his quirk? Why was Mimic trapped in the—

The charm bracelet was suddenly placed with utmost care on the floor at the body's feet and Joi exploded out of it, slamming himself and absorbing into an A-frame Katsudon sign a half meter away.

Heart pounding, Joi only had eyes for the hero blinking awake in front of him.

Had he noticed?! Would Mimic have to kill him, or would—?

The hero stretched forward with a cheeky grin, spine arching as he rocked onto his feet and into a crouch. "Sweet, one more thing to rub in Eraser Head's face!" he gloated quietly, before scooping up the bracelet and promptly vanishing down the tiny stairwell.

Joi sagged, causing the sign he inhabited to drop nearly seven centimeters of height as it opened wider, its feet skittering across the ground.

Fuck that was way too close.

He had to get out of here. There was no telling when he might be caught and he'd already done his best for damage control.

Maybe Chisaki-sama wouldn't hurt him too bad after all. Joi's choice did have at least one positive outcome. If the Shie Hassaikai had taken Jazz, the heroes would have been all over them like ants on candied apple.

Hitching a ride on a passing boot that was leaving the Katsudon restaurant, Mimic shuddered at the sweaty foot inside. It was disgusting, but still ten times better than what his boss would do to him should he give himself away. And even five times better than taking over that cursed bracelet had been. Hiding in a fridge with the infamous Moonfish prowling hungry just outside would have been less nerve-wracking.

He swore that shit was haunted.

---

Wednesday, September 19th

2:42 pm

"So you're telling me." Danny inhaled deep as his hands formed an inverted V near his nose and his lips curled inward. Biting them together from the inside he tried not to scream. "That you arrested Boxy a week ago…because…while looking for Lunch Lady…he trespassed on an open plot of land, didn't do any damage to said plot of land, all while actively trying to contact the owner. Is that about right?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad, But I—uh…Yes? " a broad ghost responded, tilting his head with an awkward half-shrug and eyeing Danny from beneath his black cowboy hat. The bright green slits made the deathly pale skin stretched over his skeletal face that much more eerie, but Danny wasn't even remotely phased by the display.

"Why wasn't I informed about this!?" Danny admonished. "What happened to following the rules, Walker?"

The ghost's pupil-less eyes squinted in a frown, and he took a threatening step forward. "Hey now," he growled. "I submitted my paperwork to all the proper channels. If you—" he jabbed a black-leather covered finger directly at Danny's chest, "—don't read my reports in a timely manner, that ain't my business."

"Walker, we've been over this. If the situation surrounding an arrest feels strange, I require a verbal alert as well as a written report so either I, or my allies, can investigate. If the Box Ghost thought Lunch Lady was missing, I would think to flag that, wouldn't you?!"

"I did. Which you'd know if you read my report."

"Next time, send a messenger. I'm not asking." Danny stared Walker down for a tense moment more, aura creaking with the distinct presence of a wind-ravaged glacier. Satisfied when the other man finally looked away, Danny rubbed at a building headache with a huff.

"Danny-san, look out!"

Danny sidestepped a ghost rat trying to run over his boot, and instead, an angry down pillow with claws slammed into his face.

Reaching up, he pulled off a disgruntled Gryphon and held the owl-cat at arm's length.

Scowling at Walker's snigger, Danny handed Lost Holm's resident therapy pet out to a small boy with blue skin, pointed ears and equally spiky hair. The kid accepted the cat, trying his best to hide a smirk as he pulled her close to his batman print t-shirt.

"Sorry."

"Sure you are, Caleb."

"We didn't mean to!" A fuchsia-pink jumpsuit called, running across the jail yard to stand at the young ghost's right side. Now that Hagakure was stationary, her hood subconsciously tilted skyward. Not surprising, though. She'd been enthralled by the Ghost Zone's black and green swirls ever since the moment they'd passed through the portal.

With an exaggerated eye roll, Danny floated up, offering a hand out to Hagakure. She instantly grabbed it, bending at the knees and launching off the ground like she was born to fly. The Ghost Zone took her, lifting her higher in the air until Danny's hand redirected the highschooler's forward momentum into a spin around himself, leaving her circling like a satellite as he lazily spiraled in tandem.

The delighted laugh that followed eased some of Danny's compound frustration.

As reluctant as he'd been to bring her with, it was good to see her having fun. And it was relatively safe. Nobody in the Sector One jail was stronger than a class three. Besides, he owed her some freedom after she'd been stuck at his house so much, to the point that he'd even brought her a friend to play with when Haru had refused to come. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. And for reasons Danny could not fathom, Caleb actually liked "Uncle Walker".

With a smile threatening to overcome his frown, the halfa gestured with his free hand across the jail yard.

"Now, where's Boxy? We're taking him with us."

"Hold up now, you can't just—!"

Danny looked his warden dead in the eye. "I can't just…what, exactly?"

"Yes Sir," Walker bit out, turning on an obsidian wingtip boot to lead them inside.

---

Wednesday, September 19th

3:15 pm

Jazz was back at UA. In her arms were four books from the Mustafu public library absolutely wormed through with sticky notes and about fifteen worksheets she'd printed off her phone.

Well, Inko's phone, technically. Using Bluetooth.

Jazz never went anywhere without a nice assortment of pdf's she could use for work, and for some incomprehensible reason, Bluetooth here was just…Bluetooth. Not Blacktooth. Not Blueteeth. Just Bluetooth. With the same functionality and everything. It'd made Jazz question her sanity for a solid twenty minutes. Like, was the creator a dimension hopper who knew the lore on Harald Gormsson, or had the Viking King existed in this world, too?

Baffling inconsistencies aside, Jazz was well prepared for Bakugo's next session.

Well, physically anyway.

Mentally was a different story.

Her brain was busy panicking over her lost charm bracelet. To the point where she'd almost canceled on UA.

Her prized possession had gone missing several hours prior, managing to fall off her wrist somewhere between the Moonbucks where she'd been tutoring—the wanted ad had finally responded—and Inko's. She was high-key freaking out because not only did it contain her Fenton gear and emergency supplies, but the ecto-beacon inside was what allowed Alastor to locate her mind. Without it, she couldn't talk with home.

But Bakugo-kun needed her, and as long as she repeated internally, I'm in Japan. It's either right where I dropped it or at a lost and found, she could calm herself enough to get through the next hour and a , she promised herself, she'd go right back to searching.

Jazz looked right, making herself smile at Inko and their escort, Midnight, as they approached the visitor's center. The hero was actually rather sweet despite her outward appearance.

As they neared the door, Midnight held out an arm, stopping Jazz and her host from entering.

"Wait just a second."

Pushing away background anxiety, Jazz tilted her head.

"You had such an impact on Bakugo-kun that our principal wants to meet you. He's on his way and should be here any—Ah! Would you look at that? Right on time!" Out the side of her mouth, Midnight murmured, "Uwasa o sureba…" [If you gossip…]

The words weretoo quiet for the Gabber to pick up, but Inko giggled in response, so it must have been something like "speak of the devil…" That or—caught off guard, Jazz snorted a laugh and quickly covered her mouth with a hand, face aflame.

That had been super impolite, but what in the Helena Carter was she even looking at right now?

The cheerful voice she'd heard on the phone couldn't possibly belong to the person speeding toward her. This Nezu guy seemed downright pissed. And insanely unprofessional. His tired outfit looked similar to a black tracksuit and even though his scruffy, long hair whipped about in the wind, she'd bet money it hadn't seen a brush in days. What'd really set her off, though, was that he was crammed inside the passenger seat of a comically small sports car, thin knees drawn up to his chest while something short and white floored it in the driver's seat nearby. The automobile bolted forwards at no less than twenty miles an hour before drifting to a stop on the hard blacktop in front of Jazz's small group.

Now that it was closer, she nearly laughed all over again.

The outer body wasn't made of metal, but plastic. Because it was a Power Wheels—no, sorry—Mighty Wheels. An All Mighty Wheels. With "Panther" brand hood ornament included.

And the little smudge of white she'd seen in the driver's seat? It was some kind of weasel (or maybe a mongoose) that dropped a pair of aviator sunglasses down its face to peer over their tops with a self-satisfied smirk.

Jazz took extra care to keep incredulity out of her smile.

Jumping out of the vehicle, the mammal smoothed an adorable button down vest, dress shirt and slacks to be presentable. Almost as if it, not the human, was the principal.

"Ms. Jasmine! Midoriya-san! Thank you for agreeing to come back again so soon!" the weasel declared in familiar, unaccented English, now slipping his sunglasses to the top of a triangular head where they perched awkwardly. As Inko bowed and murmured a return greeting, the animal turned to face Jazz more directly. "I'm Nezu, or Mr. Principal if you prefer, and this is young Bakugo-kun's homeroom teacher, Mr. Aizawa. We'd like to have a quick word with you before the session starts."

Ohhhh. The infamous Aizawa-sensei.

Jazz reassessed Aizawa's perpetual bedhead, done-with-the world stare and five o'clock shadow.

That made sense.

The principal, however, was a little different. Tidbits surrounding the mysterious Nezu tended to be gushed out as side tangents to other stories. Like how, during the end of term exams, he'd absolutely trounced two of her classmates with genius-level foresight. Most of her knowledge of him surrounded how "smart", "cool", "trustworthy", and "caring" he was.

It was hard to reconcile her inner image with the living plush toy before her.

Nezu gestured over at the arched door of the visitor's center and Jazz snapped out of her daze. "Of course; it's nice to meet you in person." Her brows scrunched together. "But if you don't mind me asking, why the rush? We could have just met up after it was over. Unless something happened that I need to be aware of going in?"

"No, no. Nothing like that," Nezu denied, paws waving in front of him. "I just happen to be busy later and we were hoping to pick your brain on how to help a few other students while I had the time."

Mr. Aizawa strode to the front of the building, grabbing and holding the door open. Severely bloodshot eyes regarded Jazz impassively, before he gave a quick nod and angled his head in invitation.

Maybe the dour man wasn't quite as annoyed as Jazz had originally thought. For someone who was overworked and chronically sleep-deprived, having a missing student, well...

Jazz gave an understanding smile, eyes soft, and his lip twitched. Except not up. Down.

It was gone in a flash, but he was definitely mad at her.

Unease trickled into Jazz, and she covertly glanced at Nezu and Midnight.

They were still relaxed and smiling.

It was probably just Aizawa-sensei being Aizawa-sensei. If UA had something planned, Inko wouldn't still be here with her.

"Ah, Midnight-sensei. Would you mind escorting Midoriya-san to the USJ?" Nezu asked, switching to Japanese. "All Might and Thirteen just started a hurricane simulation. I bet Midoriya-kun would love a chance to check on his mom and it'd be a great opportunity for her to see his improvement in person."

Jazz and Inko exchanged a look. Inko seemed flustered, but excited at the prospect of a visit. Still, she hesitated, clearly not wanting to abandon Jazz if she was needed.

Despite the disquiet strumming down her nerves like a guitar pick hissing lengthwise across a string, Jazz managed, "Don't worry Inko-san! I'm a big girl, remember? I'll be fine. Besides, patient confidentiality and all that." Jazz forced herself to wink and squeezed Inko's shoulder.

The other woman turned minutely toward Midnight, then looked back to Jazz with a beaming smile and a nod.

"Then I'll head out."

As the pair started off, the greenette looked back one final time and Jazz offered a cheerful wave. Then, to punctuate the gesture, she turned and strode toward the visitor's center, only locking eyes with Mr. Aizawa's "neutral" ones a moment before heading in.

---

Wednesday, September 19th

3:22 pm

Nezu could see Jazz tense as soon as he mentioned removing Inko. But to her credit, the foreigner's shoulders quickly relaxed. Full of bravado, she reassured her friend and went into the building, settling softly on one of the light beige chairs with chin neither raised nor drooped, but completely level to the ground.

Nezu followed, pouncing upward into his own seat with one large leap before repositioning to face her, tail naturally moving out of the way.

Aizawa stayed standing, leaning against the front desk with arms crossed, his attention not once straying from their guest.

"So, Ms. Fenton—" Jazz stopped breathing and Aizawa's eyes shot over to Nezu. The principal ignored the sharp glare.

"Ms. Fenton?" Jazz laughed, regaining her composure. "My last name is Smith, Mr. Principal. I think you may have mixed me up with—"

"Please." Nezu held up a paw as low-pitch infrasound tickled his skin, and Jazz's words cut off. She hadn't heard it, with the rumble being quieter than human hearing could detect, but his own tone was enough to make her hold back her next words, mouth slowly closing.

It had been obvious that the "Fenton" in FentonWorks was a surname. But when Jazz's DNA had come back as a match to the one on the Fenton brush, well, the probability of it being her surname had risen exponentially.

Seeing the woman's whitened skin gain a slight sheen of sweat, Nezu assured, "No need to be afraid. I've asked you here for a civil conversation. You see, I have a theory about what's been happening, and I'd like your cooperation to get things resolved."

Before she could utter a sound, Nezu continued, "We have been investigating the disappearance of two students. One of which I'm certain you know personally enough to refer to as 'chan' and mean it. I'd like to think of this in a positive light, considering that we know the girls are not only alive, but doing well."

"Assuming that our tracing quirk wasn't messed with," Aizawa hissed, unfolding his arms and starting to push off the counter. "Kocho-sensei, this isn't what we agreed on. I told you—"

"Correct." It was one of those rare times that Nezu allowed his words to come out deathly monotone. "You told me."

"I only agreed to let you come; you took my silence at the rest as acquiescence. If you cannot trust me to handle this, you may wait outside and send Lifeless in."

Nezu's gaze turned back to Jazz, and while she studied both his gentle expression and Aizawa's stormy one closely, a small, thoughtful furrow had appeared between her brows.

"The old good cop, bad cop routine, eh…?" she tried to joke, voice coming out more defeated than mischievous.

"I assure you it's nothing so clique," Nezu returned, then, inflection dry, he teased, "His half empty glass just tops off my half full one quite nicely."

Jazz squinted like she wasn't sure if she'd misheard.

Yes, his grasp of English was high enough to twist an idiom.

"But as I was saying. From what we can discern, you come from a family with at least four members whose business name is FentonWorks. You deal in ectoplasmic inventions, several of which are used to control or subdue ectoplasmic quirk users. Considering that ectoplasmic Nomu have recently started to make an appearance, I can only assume it is to keep a tighter leash on them and their instabilities."

No need to mention the Nomu's involvement with Detnerat just yet. Maybe Jazz would let something slip about her employers later on.

"At this point I'm sure you think I wish ill of you, knowing that Lunch Lady—" Jazz flinched, "—has attacked our campus and Hagakure-san was stolen by an ectoplasmic portal. But, you see, that's the interesting part."

"I don't believe you are a villain, even if you were sent to spy on us. From what I gather, your brother—Danny, I presume—is the source of the portals and has had one of two things happen to him. Either his natural quirk was used as a basis for the ectoplasmic Nomu, or he was experimented on in the early stages of their creation and has a new, unstable quirk as a result. He has dropped more than a few breadcrumb inventions for us to find, along with an assortment of other things."

Nezu dug into the pocket of his slacks, pulling out a familiar brush that was now devoid of hair. "I believe this belongs to you."

Laying it on his lap, he ran a paw pad across the "F" carved into its wooden handle. "I take it you are here on your family's behalf, trying to remove them from a situation that they are being forced to take part in. If you need help to save them, I will do everything I can to assist you. But know that in the process, I must save my family, too."

He stared solemnly at Jazz. "I normally wouldn't offer this. But I believe you to be a genuinely good person. You treat everyone you meet very kindly, and have spent significant effort to help Midoriya-san. You even came to young Bakugo-kun's aid, knowing it would put you on UA's radar."

Nezu went silent, then held the hairbrush in Jazz's direction, handle first.

After a long pause, the woman sighed and accepted it with a quiet, "Danny's gonna kill me."

Nezu felt himself hyper-focus.

Was this it?

"Before I explain, I need you to promise that you'll protect me." Jazz's eyes darted over to Aizawa, watching him hard with an indomitable stare. "Especially him."

"No," Aizawa instantly snarled, and Nezu fixed him with an irritable look.

"Sorry, Mr. Principal. But unless Aizawa-sensei agrees, I'm not talking. Anyone willing to get himself a pulverized elbow, cracked ribs, super broken arms and a crushed orbital floor—" Jazz touched her right cheek lightly, just below her eye. "—among other things in defense of his students is someone I want on my side."

The exact nature of Aizawa's injuries following the USJ incident had never been released to the public. Only the hospital staff and those the erasure hero had told personally would have known the particulars.

If the wiry man's scrutiny was in tents before, now it came with a bedroll and cot.

"...Fine," Aizawa finally growled and he leaned slightly forward. "But if you intentionally put any of my students at risk, I won't hesitate to bury you."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Jazz reassured, then her eyes swung back to Nezu. "So you'll protect me?" Her voice softened. "...Even if it's from the government?"

That didn't bode well. What would be so dire that she would worry about government intervention?"

"I can't grant you blanket immunity from the law, but I will personally guarantee your safety. No one will hurt you under my watch."

Jazz worried her lip, eyes lifted to the ceiling, then, after a deep inhale, started speaking. "What I have to say is going to sound insane, but please hear me out because it's the truth."

A high ping of ultrasound frequency suddenly assaulted Nezu's ears and he suppressed a shiver. While he hadn't forgotten that Tsukauchi-san was listening to their conversation just outside the building, it had still been several minutes since the much deeper infrasound had gone off. At least with the new pitch, though—obnoxious and startling as it was—he was certain she believed what she was saying this time.

Well. Since rising to power at UA, Nezu'd heard plenty of outrageous stories. What was one more?

He took his sunglasses off, tucking them into the front of his vest before nodding at Jazz to continue.

"I guess I should start with the big kahuna. I'm not from this dimension."

Truth.

Oh.

"Where I'm from, all humans are quirkless, and ghosts are the ones with superpowers."

Truth. Truth.

Oh shit.

This was not AT ALL how Nezu had expected this conversation to start.

But…then again.

The cogs in Nezu's brain turned.

Old legends about ectoplasm always referred to it as ghost residue.

Nezu suddenly recalled standing next to the vending machines where Hagakure had disappeared, feeling the ectoplasm in the air. He'd wanted to run. Flee. Burrow deep into the ground where the claws of death might not take him. He froze, breath quickening, the visceral reaction reminding him that genetic knowledge was just as important as scientific discovery.

"You think we're stupid enough to believe that?" Aizawa accused, eyes narrow.

"No." Jazz shook her head. "I know I wouldn't. It's mind-bending stuff. But I can't help that my truth is stranger than fiction."

Background bursts of ultrasound interspersed Jazz's words, proving them true. It was, however, intensely grating. Breaking off a second part of his mind to listen for only the infrasound, Nezu resolved to try and tune out the rest of the high pings.

"Aizawa-san, sit down. I have a feeling this is going to be a long story, and I, for one, would like to hear the whole of it."

Aizawa cast an unimpressed look Nezu's way, picking up on his boss' tone. "Kocho-sensei. You can't possibly believe her. There are a million other explanations for what's happening."

Nezu turned to Jazz and inclined his head again. "Ms. Fenton, please go ahead."

With an almost apologetic look for Aizawa, Jazz bombshelled, "Up until seven years ago, I didn't believe in ghosts, either. But then a permanent rift opened between the Infinite Realms—another dimension where ghosts reside—and my hometown."

Infinite Realms, Nezu rolled in his mind.

Sol had mentioned that place. Claimed that Lunch Lady's "haunt" existed there.

Haunt: verb. When a ghost manifests regularly at a particular place.

Nezu felt energy flood his body. But with nowhere for it to go, he simply ached with the urge to use his running wheel.

"Because of that, we came under attack. Plenty of ghosts aren't bad, mind you, but the human world is basically international waters. As you can imagine, troublemakers flocked to a place with no laws."

"Luckily, though, we weren't as defenseless as we thought. A young ghost saw our predicament and used his budding abilities to help protect the people of Amity Park. He gave us enough breathing room to implement our own solution to the problem."

"Ectoplasmic weapons," Nezu clarified, tilting his head to the side and reaching up to rub at the fur on his face.

"Yes," Jazz affirmed, pleased, as if Nezu was her student and had known about a subject they hadn't studied yet. "Among other things. My parents manufacture weapons, but are inventors at their core."

Nezu felt his lip start to twitch up. "I take it the toaster was not intended to fight ghosts?"

"Toaster? Wait—you have our toaster?! Oh my God that's so embarrassing! You didn't make anything with it, did you?" Jazz squeaked, hand reaching up to cover a deep blush.

"I did."

Her head tilted back and she melted into a mortified puddle in her chair. "My dad's got an ego. A lot of the stuff in our house has his face on it," she groaned. "Even the toilet paper."

Nezu felt the smile that'd been creeping up on him break free of his self-control.

"So what does any of this have to do with us? How do you know Hagakure-san?" Aizawa demanded, clearly not as amused as Nezu had let himself become. Even so, he finally walked around the side of the lobby and took a seat near his boss.

Jazz straightened back up in her chair as if Aizawa had flicked her. "Right, sorry. I just wanted to lay some groundwork so you'd better understand everything."

"Let's start with the attacks on UA. Lunch Lady isn't an 'ectoplasmic Nomu', because she's not a Nomu at all. She used to be one of our rogues."

So Nezu was right. Jazz had implied that Lunch Lady was a ghost.

It would have been a farfetched claim had his staff not already hypothesized that Lunch Lady was made of ectoplasm. Flight, telekinesis, permeation and invisibility were also trademark powers of a poltergeist.

…Although, did Ectoplasm-sensei's clones count as ghosts? They were made of ectoplasm.

Was UA perpetually haunted?

Was Lunch Lady immune to Aizawa's quirk because she was a ghost?

Nezu had a million questions swimming in his brain like mackerel chased by dolphins. He didn't dare ask them, however, too afraid to disturb the flow of information.

"Unfortunately for UA, you guys managed to hit the bad-luck jackpot. Granted, it could have been worse—there are plenty of nasty ghosts that even we struggle to handle on occasion—but the second I heard who UA's chef was, I knew exactly why she'd singled you out."

"Which was…?" Aizawa prompted, voice slipping back into a more neutral tone. He must have noticed the same thing Nezu had.

Once again, Jazz had known something that hadn't been released to the public—Lunch Lady's fascination with Lunch Rush.

Well, at least Aizawa didn't seem quite as hostile as earlier. He probably thought that even if he didn't believe Jazz's story, she was revealing information he could pick apart later.

"Ghosts form when enough energy or emotion imprints onto ectoplasm. Mostly this happens when a living creature dies, but they can manifest in other ways, too. During this process, a ghost will often develop what we call an 'obsession'. Sometimes it matures later, but an obsession determines what a ghost will build its identity around for the rest of its existence and what sort of powers it will have."

"I'm telling you this because Lunch Lady's obsession is feeding other people, particularly children. She used to work in a school cafeteria before her death. Her specialty is high calorie, greasy meals, and she thinks red meat is one of the most important foods a person can eat…"

'This lunch room is a disgrace; these children are skin and bones!'

'Without proper nutrition you're weak!'

'They need more MEAT to grow healthy and strong.'

"So her powers center around food because her obsession does…" Nezu breathed.

YOU NEGLIGENT FILM OF SLIME MOLD! HOW DARE YOU STARVE THESE CHILDREN!

"...and Lunch Rush is nearly opposite of everything she stands for."

"Yup. Aaaand his name sounds a lot like hers," Jazz added.

"You claim her obsession is 'feeding', but if that's the case, why did she try to kidnap one of our students?" The accusation was back in Aizawa's voice.

"Did she?" Jazz's brows shot to her hairline before drawing back together, her hand reaching up to curl a finger around her chin as she looked down. Speaking almost to herself, she mused, "Oh, well, I guess that's not totally out of left field. She did that to a couple of kids at Casper High." Her eyes rose, locking with Nezu's own. "Was the student a vegan?"

"Not that I am aware. But Lunch Lady may have thought Ms. Tsunotori too skinny," he amended.

"Definitely sounds like her," Jazz agreed as Aizawa demanded, "What are you talking about, Kocho-san?"

"Do you remember how when Lunch Lady first arrived, Ms. Tsunotori had just spilled her Dr. Salt?"

"Yeah, what about it?" he grumbled.

"Lunch Lady's first words before the conflict were 'Oh no! What a waste. You look like you could have used the extra calories,' " Nezu quoted.

Aizawa's eyes jumped from Nezu's face to Jazz's, then sunk to the floor, a frown twisting his lips.

Probably conflicted by how many things were adding up.

"So who is Technus?" Nezu asked and Jazz froze, face growing pale. "Lunch Lady claimed to not have a portal quirk—uh, ability. But she mentioned that name."

"Oh thank goodness!" Jazz sagged in relief. "I thought you were gonna say he was here, too! That would have been a nightmare."

At Nezu's look, she explained, "Technus can possess and control technology and his ultimate goal is world domination. At home, we fight him with AI infused firewalls that our family friend coded. But it'd be almost impossible to take him on here."

A firewall built specifically to combat technomancers? This family friend must be the infamous "TF".

Nezu glanced at Aizawa, and, knowing his employee as well as he did, could see the other man's anxiety behind his blank expression.

Yes, he agreed. They had been very fortunate to avoid this "Technus". But something else was bugging Nezu. Something even more pressing.

"Based on your reaction, can I assume that you are trapped in our dimension and the ghost creating the portals is not someone you are allied with?"

Jazz winced, looking particularly guilty as she peered at them through squinted eyes. "That…would be the complicated part."

---

Wednesday, September 19th

4:31 pm

Finding out the multiverse was real hadn't really tripped Shota up—he worked at UA; portals to another dimension were just an average Wednesday for him. What really annoyed him was that this foreigner was trying to explain all her problems away with "ghosts".

…And he was starting to believe her. Tch.

"Sooo. You know that young ghost I mentioned earlier? The one that helped protect my hometown?"

"Yes?" Nezu prodded.

"He's…" Jazz's voice took on a teasing tone. "Special."

It was a good-natured insult, Aizawa knew. The grin threatening to appear on her face and Nezu's polite chuckle were too obvious for it not to be. But he didn't really know enough English to understand why, even with the translator's help. That was Hizashi's department.

"This is no time for jokes," Aizawa grumped. "Get to the point."

Just because he was warming up to "Jazz" didn't mean he would be buddy-buddy with the maybe-villain.

Jazz inspected her nails, then casually dropped, "He's my younger brother." Aqua eyes shot up to hold Aizawa's captive. "That serious enough for you?"

Fuck.

How the hell was he supposed to know that she'd joke about her dead brother?

Shota didn't flinch, but his neutral mask did drop into a grimace. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"He's still around, just—you know—dead and kicking," she ribbed.

He didn't—you know—know. But he also didn't comment this time, opting to keep his mouth shut.

"I'm sorry for your loss as well, Ms. Fenton. If you'd like, I can get us some refreshments before we continue?" Nezu jumped down from his chair, heading to the opposite side of the lobby and leaving Aizawa more alone with Jazz than he wanted to be. "This is the visitor's center; I have coffee, cocoa, tea, milk drinks or even lemonade, if you prefer." The mammal opened a cupboard beneath a self-serve bar, reaching in and grabbing a small bag attached to a string. "I personally find heavy topics go down a bit smoother when paired with a nice cup of Earl Grey."

"No thank you, I appreciate the offer," Jazz deflected as Nezu grabbed a styrofoam cup and filled it from the hot water dispenser. "As you guessed, my brother's name is Danny. And he died when the rift first opened. With all the ectoplasm nearby, and how much emotion was involved, his ghost manifested immediately."

Nezu paused in dunking his tea, a concerned expression on his face, but after a heartbeat he resumed his course and came back to their group at a leisurely pace. Instead of returning to his chair, he placed his steaming cup atop the coffee table and held his arms out to her, head tilted.

Jazz blinked several times, then looked over at Aizawa questioningly.

It was obvious to Shota, who knew how much Nezu enjoyed being held, what the principal was offering, but it was bound to be strange to an outsider.

Still, it was none of his business, so he slid his hands in his pockets and half-shrugged a resigned acceptance before looking away.

Bewildered, Jazz picked up the small animal with utmost care and cuddled his back to her chest.

"I know I set it up to sound like some massive invasion, but those didn't happen until at least a half a year later. Danny had some time to get used to his newfound powers before things got too bad. It took a while for most of the other ghosts to even realize a new portal had formed." Jazz tentatively ran the fingers of her right hand along Nezu's head between his ears. When he didn't object, she started petting him more absentmindedly. "Actually, come to think of it, our first ghost was Lunch Lady, too," she laughed. "Poor Casper High lost all of its stockpiled food to the fight, and us students were picking rotten meat out of everywhere for weeks. It was disgusting." Nose wrinkling, she whined, "I can still smell it if I think too hard."

"Ahh—sorry. I got distracted. What I was saying was that Danny's special because not only did his obsession form later, but he also ended up with one that gives him the potential to grow."

"In all those fights, he finally learned what was most important to him—us. So his core changed to reflect that. No matter how powerful a ghost was that came to attack, he could adapt. He was always gaining new powers and working hard to control them."

Aizawa felt a weight grow in his gut. He didn't like where this was headed.

"Which…is where we're at right now with his new portal ability."

Kami. Fucking. Damnit.

Aizawa turned to Nezu, but found the principal already studying him.

Looked like he might as well mentally prepare for another fucking Problem Student ™.

---

Wednesday, September 19th

4:56 pm

"So now that you have contact with your family," Nezu confirmed, his little body quivering lightly in Jazz's arms, "would it be possible for us to talk to them as well?"

She had given her audience the Cliffs Notes version of the past few weeks, managing to omit her visit to Lunch Lady, the problem with the Ghost Zone and Danny's status as a halfa through minced words and careful misdirection.

During the conversation, as much energy as Nezu had gained, Aizawa had lost, his blinks growing more and more sluggish. The grumpy man may not have liked what he had learned, but his relief was tangible enough that the tension keeping his body from falling over was slowly losing its death grip on his muscles.

"Well, you could have, if I hadn't lost my bracelet today," Jazz admitted, stomach turning sour at the reminder.

Aizawa's attention refocused, and he suddenly seemed annoyed, pulling eye drops out of his pocket and administering them with sharp movements.

Jazz winced. She knew it didn't look good. It was just another convenient reason why they couldn't talk to the girls. But it wasn't like she'd wanted to lose it. It was really, really bad for her, too!

It just sucked because it sounded like a lie and Danny was gonna lose his mind when he couldn't get a hold of her. She'd ask to go look for it, but the chances of Nezu letting her do that were close to zero.

"What do you mean? Is the bracelet required for communication?" Nezu asked instead of reprimanding, head tilting to look directly up and behind himself at her. "I thought Alastor simply spoke into your mind."

"He does, but he was using a particular ecto-signature that the bracelet emits to find it. Apparently our two dimensions aren't that close together." Jazz sighed and finally put Nezu down, getting up, herself, and walking around the table to allow blood back into her legs.

They'd been here a while.

With a long stretch toward her toes she added, "If I had it, all I'd have to do is wait until a call came in from Danny, and then ask Alastor to add you to the conference. It'd be a little tricky to not talk over each other with Alastor stuck parroting our words in the middle, but not too bad."

Nezu picked up his second cup of tea from the coffee table and hummed as he took a sip, turning toward Aizawa.

Interesting enough, the other man looked affronted.

What did they know?

"Ms. Fenton. If I were to find and return your bracelet to you, would you be willing to stay by my side until your brother called?"

Did Nezu intend to send Aizawa out searching? If so, that explained the teacher's expression. It was exactly how she would now be picturing his face whenever Hagakure told the cat food/futon story.

…Or had they already found the bracelet? Maybe they were even the reason it was missing.

"Of course." Jazz leaned slightly forward, equal parts hopeful and anxious. It wasn't like they were going to let her go anyways, but at least this way she might get a chance to talk with Danny. "If I hadn't been afraid of being labeled a kidnapper or locked away in a lab, I would have come to you guys from the get go." Jazz looked first at Nezu, then Aizawa. "Hagakure-chan adores you both."

Nezu's gaze dropped and he swirled the last of his tea before polishing it off. "Earlier today, a hero found your bracelet at an intersection off Bokeh Street." Cup empty, he scratched a circle into the side with a claw, giving it dangly lines with little shapes attached. "Provided we find a way to establish stable communications with your world and you check in daily, I will let you return to Inko."

His eyes rose to Jazz, but she was too stunned to speak.

With a cheeky grin he pronounced, "Since there doesn't seem to be a villain involved, and you have been highly forthcoming, It seems unfair to keep Midoriya-san from her lessons, wouldn't you agree?"

Jazz finally got her mouth to move and blurted, "Really?!"

---

Wednesday, September 19th

5:10 pm

Explosions and swearing rocked the house, sloshing Mashirao's soup. It was a good thing that it didn't spill over the sides, however, because it would have gotten all over his robotics homework and possibly even the fabric of the kotatsu table he sprawled under.

"They're quite the lively bunch, aren't they?" His sister asked, filling the next break between yells.

"Bakugo-kun's always been a handful, but I didn't know his mom was where he got it from."

The poor fennec fox hybrid had been forced to stuff her sensitive ears with cotton, and Mashirao felt bad.

"Like I said. You can go back home if you want. I'll be okay now," he promised.

He would. Hagakure was safe. Even if she wasn't here.

Ojiro had actually thrown up when he'd gotten the news, and then ugly-cried into Hound Dog's coat.

It was super embarrassing, but at least they'd been alone.

His teachers were working on an actual solution to bring Toru-chan home. Even if he didn't know a ton of details, Nezu was very confident in the direction the faculty were headed and currently had someone in custody. Inui-sensei seemed to think they may even make contact with Toru-chan soon.

It was more than he could have hoped for.

A small, gentle smile graced Mashirao's lips as he stared down at his soup.

But then another crash sounded from next door and it turned lopsided.

Moment ruined.

Sharing a look with his sister, she hastily covered her ears with her hands and closed her eyes tight.

"KEEP IT DOWN OVER THERE!" Mashirao bellowed, howl tearing through the other noise with the presence of a falling tree.

There was a moment of silence, then, "Katsuki, look what you did! Is that any way to treat your—"

More crashes sounded and a "Stop it, Old Hag!" screeched from somewhere near their neighbor's living room.

Several drops of embarrassed sweat beaded on Mashirao's forehead.

"I'm really sorry, Kazuko."

"You're fine; it's not your fault." Bluntly changing the subject, she asked, "So how was school today? I heard my little baby bro blew some stuff up with bombs. Did you have fun?"

Oh yeah. Chemistry. Ugh.

"It wasn't my fault! I got paired with Mei-san!"

His expression must have been something else because his sister giggled.

Lips pinching into an offended scowl, Mashirao fake-whined, "You're mean. Maybe I should tell Iida-kun. I bet he'd love to find out what you're really like."

Mashirao made a show of reaching for his phone that chilled on the couch at his back.

"Don't you dare!" Kazuko exclaimed, cheeks suddenly flush as she sprang at his hand from her place actually on the sofa.

Laughing, he pushed off the heated table's comforter skirt and used his tail to pop to his feet, cell held high out of her reach. She frantically climbed up his much taller body, open mouth resembling a squiggly oval.

And people thought he was the monkey.

Even though it'd been five days since she'd gotten here, yesterday had been the first chance he'd had to introduce Kazuko to 1A. Between transferring to support, moving them into the duplex and meeting with Inui-sensei, he'd been too swamped.

But still, when he'd finally gotten to, it'd been the funniest thing he'd ever seen.

His older sister—the famously composed and reserved heir of the Ojiro household—had a full-on meltdown upon meeting Iida-kun for the first time. He'd never seen her so star-struck. It was like she'd been expecting snot-nosed children, and had found an otokomae.

Her positively smitten expression was one he'd never forget. And it paired so well in his memory with Iida-kun's completely oblivious one.

Now that he didn't have the weight of Toru-chan's fate hanging over him, he was able to take on the task of relentlessly teasing his sister.

"Ouch!"

Did she bite him?!

"Okay, okay! I'll stop!" he chuckled and took a quick peek at the notification banners in his outstretched hand.

His sister shoved his side hard, and he staggered, before she stalked back to her position on the sofa, tan tail bristling. Settling daintily in her grey hoodie and sweatpants, she fixed him with a mopy, copper-eyed glare.

Grin sheepish and watching her closely for signs of attack, he lowered himself onto the vacant side of the couch.

It was time for a break anyways and he needed to check his phone. The group chat was going crazy.

Scrolling to the top to catch up on all the messages he'd missed, his smile faded and he felt jealousy squeeze his heart.

1A had done a hurricane simulation today.

He'd missed seeing Sero-kun's wet tape splat Tokoyami-kun in the face and Uraraka-san's anti-gravity ragdoll Midoriya-kun in the high winds.

Continuing down, he realized what had caused the newest influx of messages.

It was another check-in day for what they'd found on Lunch Lady. Only this time, everyone was fired up. Knowing Toru-chan was alive had pushed the class into a frenzy.

Lunch Lady definitely had a food theme going on, so Sato-kun had looked into chef and restaurant gossip. Momo-chan was still searching for clues through her household staff, and Iida through his brother. As Midoriya-kun had suspected, Koda-kun's animals were unwilling to track ectoplasm, and they no longer avoided any specific areas nearby, so his quirk had turned into a dead end. Kirishima-kun was too busy to do anything at all with his construction duties.

Ojiro made his way through the reports, not particularly concerned after what Hound Dog had told him. He did, however, notice the timestamps matched up perfectly with the hissy fit next door.

So much for Bakugo's cold and disinterested act. He clearly didn't like their lack of progress.

A new message buzzed and Mashirao read on with interest.

Pinkie Puff Pastry

Guuuuyz!

IGoT A HIT!

!

Some1 i follow on tweeter posted this

/K-popRevolution/status/875021013381238784

Seeing the username in the link, Mashirao felt dubious, but he clicked it open anyways.

Apparently K-popRevolution was the name of a breakdance group.

In this twit, they all posed dramatically on a set of stairs, trying to look tough with sandwiches in hand.

They failed. Hardcore.

Suppressing secondhand embarrassment, Mashirao looked at the text below the picture instead, which he could tell was gonna be just as cringey by the format alone.

Lit old green lady brought ya bois sum snacks and they be tasty af, yo!

Big shout out to r new fan, fr fr! 🙌

Perfect end 2 a perfect EXO Monster routine!

See u all in the finals next wk!

He got why Mina had sent it, but also.

A new text popped up and Mashirao choked on his spit.

Cherry Vanilla Snow Cone

Godzilla had a stroke reading this and died.

Yeah, that.

---

Wednesday, September 19th

8:24 pm

Nezu was wired and finally taking it out on his running wheel. He naturally became active at dawn and dusk, so add in all the information he'd just absorbed, and he needed to run.

As promised, Jazz was nearby. But instead of sticking her nose in a book as expected, she'd actually chosen to use the elliptical. Long hair tied back in a loose pony-tail, she sweated it out in one of UA's spare tracksuits.

The gym was packed with teenagers, but the adults were left alone, the students plenty committed to their activities.

At the moment, Nezu and Jazz awaited contact from her younger brother.

Danny would most likely get a hold of her at night, but it depended on their intermediary's personal schedule. The radio ghost was actually fairly busy—apparently his boss, John Pershing, was a big-shot military general that joint-ruled a large sector of the Infinite Realms.

Once the call did come in, Nezu not only wanted to talk with Hagakure-san but also schedule a time for Maijima-sensei to link up with the Fenton parents. He was hoping to duplicate the ecto-beacon for Jazz to use, as Nezu wouldn't be returning her bracelet. Then, maybe from there, they could start work on a direct means of communication.

He wasn't so cruel as to cut Jazz off from her family, but despite everything, they still didn't know how Detnerat fit into all of this. As much as he trusted Jazz, he wasn't naive. She had kept her trip north a secret, and they still weren't sure who had edited her from the traffic cameras. Keeping her gadgets at UA and having a tail continue to watch her at all times was the bare minimum of safety measures his cynicism would allow.

Breathing hard, Nezu noticed Jazz's steps falter, before she promptly turned his way.

Nodding back, he looked down at his front paws. Rather than slow his pace gradually, he opted to take the fun way out.

He latched onto the bars during his next lunge and held tight, feeling the weight of his stomach careen forward as he flew back and turned upside down. The world blurred and a startled laugh pricked his ears as he spun inside the impromptu centrifuge.

About twenty seconds later it came to a stop and he stumbled out, the ground shifting beneath him. Pretending that what he'd done wasn't totally ridiculous, he calmly asked, "Ms. Smith, would you mind carrying me to my office? It's on the floor just above this one."

With a highly amused grin, Jazz bent over and picked him up, placing him on her shoulders. Holding his feet to either side of her neck as if Nezu was a toddler, she started towards the door.

---

Wednesday, September 19th

8:27 pm

What?! Danny shouted internally, sorry for Alastor but so angry he couldn't help it. You went to UA?! WHY?! You knew how dangerous that was! What were you thinking?! Over.

I was thinking that there was a kid here who was having a mental breakdown because of us, and I could help him. Inko-san asked for the favor, Jazz defended. It was her friend's son. Over.

Danny rubbed at his forehead, hand slicking through his hair.

He should have known. Being too responsible had always been Jazz's greatest weakness. If UA had gone after her, she would have fought tooth and nail not to be found. But leave a broken kid in her path and she'd always stop to help, regardless of how much it screwed her over. Danny was a prime example of that—she'd lost a lot of sleep for him in their teenage years.

Still annoyed, but slightly less bitter, he sighed, So what's the damage? I assume that if you're talking to me things are at least somewhat okay? Over.

Yeah. They went great, actually. Almost too well. But I think it's because they'd already done so much investigative research before we talked. My story must have filled in a lot of blanks for them.

But hold on, before we continue, can you grab the girls? Nezu wants to talk to them and we're almost to his office. Telepathic voice changing inflection, Jazz requested, Alastor, I'm physically touching someone who wants to join our call. Can you add him in? Over.

Frowning at how quickly Jazz had managed to sidestep a tonguelashing, Danny gave a begrudging nod to the group next to him. The girls exchanged a look at his mood—well, Kamada did, anyway, Hagakure probably returned it(?)—before their attention moved over to Alastor.

The World War I veteran paused in his curious inspection of the FentonWorks lab equipment. Eyes closing, he placed a hand over the top left pocket of his wool jacket. (Of the four on his front, that one was closest to his core.) His glow brightened slightly, and suddenly Danny could feel several more minds press against his own.

Kore wa tote—daijoubu de—koemasu ka? This is ver—supposed to fee—ear me?

Danny felt slightly sick from the sudden discourse of three inflections mishmashed into one foreign sentence. It stopped almost immediately, clearly affecting the speakers as well.

"Heavens to Besty!" Alastor grumbled both aloud and mentally. "Quit your chatter and listen good. Ya can't be stepping all over each other like that. It sounds like a swarm of cicadas. Take turns, and end your transmissions with 'Over.' "

"Now if ya want to speak, and someone's already talkin', picture a raised hand and I'll do the rest. Over."

Alastor gave Kamada and Hagakure a stern look as the Gabber app relayed his words. His crossed arms, fold-edged army cap and golden-tan uniform—its sleeve emblazoned with an orange pentagon holding five silver fleur-de-lis—made him feel like a drill sergeant staring down new troops.

The girls squirmed in place and the corners of Danny's mouth ticked up despite himself. Then, a pressure appeared in one of the minds touching Danny's own, and Alastor announced, Transmission from Jasmine, go ahead. Over.

Danny, Nezu can speak English really well, but the girls won't have a translator. Maybe we should jump off the call for now so they can catch up in Japanese. We can always get back on later. Over.

Biting the back of his lip with a canine, Danny imagined himself with his hand up.

Transmission from Daniel, go ahead. Over.

Nezu. Before I get off, I'd like to at least say I'm sorry. Danny felt two minds press harder against his own and he was sure it was the girls from their sour faces in person. He gestured for them to wait because he didn't want to be yelled at before he'd even finished. I'll introduce myself properly when I get back, but I understand how many issues I've caused you and your school.

You won't hear me say, "I don't expect you to forgive me," because that's way too cringey and Hagakure-chan might shoot me with the Fenton Foamer if I do. Instead I'll promise that I'm working hard on a solution and will return the girls to you as soon as I can. They're in good hands, so please take care of my sister for me. Over.

In the background, Danny could hear Haru whisper in Japanese to Toru. Probably explaining what he'd said.

Transmission from Hagakure, go ahead. Over.

Sore wa tashikada! Watashi wa machigainaku Foamer o tsukamudeshou! That's for sure! I'll definitely grab the Foamer! Toru threatened. Over.

Foamer was the only word he'd understood of the Japanese, but he knew it was a threat from Alastor's tone. Sticking his tongue out at Hagakure, Danny waited for Alastor to speak again.

Transmission from Kamada, go ahead. Over.

Oh. I don't need my turn anymoru. I can wait. Passu—Eto, Over.

Transmission from Nezu, go ahead. Over.

Mr. Fenton. While things have been fairly hectic over here, I don't blame you at all. From what I've heard, you seem to be quite the exemplary young man.

Of course I'll take good care of Jasmine; she has helped us even when it was to her disadvantage.

Now, in the interest of speeding things up, I'd like to officially extend an offer of support from UA. Training pesky quirks is our specialty, after all. Over.

---

Chapter Notes:

-This chapter I had a bit of fun with NDSeaborne and NightcoreQueen in the discord. They both really inspired me to try and have some fun with a couple of the scenes. And since we were in a nice little lull in the story I figured why the hell not? The idea that Nezu crawls around in the vents to spy on UA teachers is Nightcore's idea. But I just was dying because I just kept imagining this giant network of tunnels in the vents built like hamster enrichment tubes. Nezu's just up there like "This is for the children. It has nothing to do with my own personal enrichment. Nothing" *Proceeds to scamper around the tubes with the zoomies.*

-This very same duo also came up with something based in this chapter that is a very fun idea based on the fact that Nezu drives powerwheels to get across campus. We've decided he has a full fleet of different kinds of cars. And at some point it'd be really funny if the UA kids decided to race them.

-NDSeaborne made art! They decided to draw the scene where Nezu and Aizawa show up in the Panther *cough*Jaguar*cough* to the meeting with Jazz! I loved the lineart so I asked if I could color it!

-Nightcorequeen also made art of the racing scene we brainstormed up!

-genelife is a real dna lab in japan. But apparently it's not common to look at your dna because people are worried about finding out they came from a family that is looked down upon in history or something?

-I came up with the go-karts riders on the street because I just visited Japan and had the pleasure of riding them myself! They were really fun and a lot of pedestrians tried to take pictures of us as we passed lol.

-Takeshita is the hero with bamboo on his head from the gentle criminal arc flashback. He was danjiro tobita's classmate who didn't remember him.

-NDSeaborne came up with Astral the Projection Hero. He can make astral projections similar to what danny can do with his clones, except the projection is always invisible and not sentient on its own. Only the body or projection can perceive things at any given time, so if the projection goes out of sight of the body he has to choose which sees things. Neither body can see during the split second he switches views between the two.

Also the projection can carry things as long as it isn't too heavy.

NDSeaborne also made concept art of Astral!

-Quick correction from last chapter. Yuikitada is not a ward. It is a subsection of Shimizu ward, I think it's a district but I'm not sure. I switched it out in the last chapter to be more accurate.

-"if you gossip" (the subject will appear).

-Kocho-sensei means Mr. Principal. Since Nezu is speaking to Jazz in English, he introduces himself with the english version.

-Helena Carter is the actress known for her mentally unhinged roles like Bellatrix Lastrange in harry potter, the woman innkeeper from Les Miserables and various others roles in Johnny depp/tim burton movies

-When nezu pauses in his walk with the tea, looking concerned, it is because Tsukauchi had pressed both the true AND false buttons when Jazz said "he died when the rift first opened"

-aizawa keeps being affronted every time the bracelet is mentioned because he's thinking of how he's gonna have to deal with Astral, who did a good job by noticing and collecting the bracelet before it could get lost

-the cat food futon story is something NDSeaborne and I came up. Since Hagakure canonically loves pranks, at Denki and Mina's request she used her invisibility to repeatedly leave cat food (of the same brand Aizawa uses to feed strays) under his futon on the floor in his room for over a week.. It drove him nuts because he was sure he didn't leave any in his pockets, and the only thing he could think of was that a cat was somehow breaking into his room at night, trying to feed him back. He never did find out it was his students. But every time he laid down, unless he checked first to remove it, he could feel the mound lifting up his futon in just that one spot. And sometimes it crunched

-my thoughts on tsukauchi's quirk (that is heavily implied but not outright said in canon—his code name's True Man for pete's sake) is that it can tell him whether people believe they are lying or telling the truth. For instance, if they are under mind control and believe they are telling a lie, but tell the truth, it will read as a lie even though it's the truth and vice versa. It completely depends on what the person believes to be true. So if they're crazy, good luck. Also, in my story, it only works within a certain vicinity of him, and doesn't transfer to video or audio. He has to be within hearing range. That's why he was hiding just outside. They set up ductwork so that he could listen in.

-mice are more active at dawn and dusk.

-John Pershing was the General of the Armies for the US in WW1 and led the American Expeditionary Force. He was unfortunately known for tactics that, while aggressive and often led to his victory, were speculated to have much higher casualties of his troops than necessary.