Chapter 5: Condolences

[Third Person's PoV] 

Location: Gotham City/Batcave

Date: January 6th

Time: 11: 12 AM

Danny stood on a treadmill in his human form, running in place. His breaths came hard and fast, his chest rising and falling as he exhaled deeply through his mouth. The rhythmic hum of the treadmill blended with the soft sounds of his sneakers striking the belt. Sweat dripped from his forehead, trickling down his temples as he pushed himself to keep going.

When the treadmill beeped, signaling the end of his session, Danny slowed to a stop, stumbling slightly as he stepped off. He bent over, resting his hands on his knees, gasping for air. "What's next?" he managed to ask between breaths, glancing up at Bruce Wayne, who stood stoically in front of him, his arms crossed.

Bruce's expression was calm, his tone measured. "Next, you'll be sparring with Dick. You're not at your peak yet, but it's important to start building your combat experience early."

Danny straightened up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Ghost or no ghost?" he asked, flexing his fingers and clenching his fists experimentally.

"Both," Bruce replied. His voice carried an edge of authority as he elaborated. "You need to train both your human body and your spectral form. Mastery over both will ensure that if you ever lose access to one, you won't be defenseless. But for now, no ghost—just your human form. Take five minutes to recover."

Danny nodded, his expression shifting to one of determination. Five minutes later, Dick Grayson appeared, dressed in casual sparring clothes, a playful grin on his face as he stretched his arms.

Bruce turned to Dick, his tone sharp. "Don't go easy on him. Teach him what you've learned, but make him earn it."

Dick rolled his shoulders and smirked. "Got it," he said, cracking his knuckles as he sized Danny up.

"Begin," Bruce commanded.

Without hesitation, Dick lunged at Danny. "Don't let your enemies strike first!" he warned as he swung a punch.

To both Dick and Bruce's surprise, Danny reacted instinctively. He raised his forearm, deflecting the punch, and countered with a quick jab to Dick's cheek.

Dick staggered back, a hand on his face. "How…?" he muttered, more stunned than hurt.

Bruce's eyes narrowed, and his voice was firm. "I told you not to go easy on him."

"I wasn't!" Dick protested, rubbing his cheek. "But seriously…"

Bruce shifted his focus to Danny. "That punch… It looked practiced. Where did you learn that?"

Danny glanced at his fist, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. "My mom," he admitted quietly. "She's a ninth-degree black belt. She taught me how to throw a proper punch when I was little, trying to get me into karate. I lost interest back then. Looking back, I think she was trying to bond with me, and I didn't appreciate it. Now, I wish I'd learned more from her."

"Wait, seriously?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow.

Danny chuckled softly. "Yeah, she thought it'd help if she ever ran into a ghost."

Bruce's gaze remained analytical, but he gave a small nod. "Continue."

Dick frowned, his posture shifting into a more defensive stance. "I won't underestimate you now."

"Please do," Danny quipped, his smirk returning.

The two clashed again, with Dick dominating the exchanges. However, Bruce watched closely as Danny kept getting back up each time he fell, the boy's resolve unwavering. Each time, Danny lasted a little longer, his movements becoming sharper, his counters more deliberate.

After twenty minutes, Danny managed to swat away one of Dick's punches, duck under a high kick, and launch a counterattack. Though Dick easily blocked it, the effort Danny put forth made Bruce raise an eyebrow.

'He's a fast learner,' Bruce thought, rubbing his chin. A small smile tugged at his lips. 'Could I have found another genius like Dick? That remains to be seen. Still, it might have something to do with his heritage.'

Bruce's mind wandered briefly as he recalled his research. 'Jack Fenton—a genius inventor who focused obsessively on ghosts, to the point of being dismissed by the scientific community. He even approached Wayne Enterprises once, only to be rejected for his ectoplasmic theories. And Maddie Fenton—a brilliant scientist and a ninth-degree black belt by her teenage years. Together, they founded Fenton Works. Danny inherited their intelligence and their strength, though whether he can reach their potential remains to be seen.'

An hour later, Danny was on one knee, his body trembling, his breath ragged. Sweat dripped from his brow as he used a fist for support. He looked up at Bruce with a tired but determined gaze.

Bruce's voice broke the silence. "Now turn into a ghost and spar again. This time, control your strength against Dick."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Why should he get to go easy on me while I can't go easy on him?"

"Because if he doesn't control his strength," Bruce said bluntly, "he could put a hole through you."

"Ah… right," Dick muttered, rolling his eyes. "A guy who could barely do five push-ups now gets super strength. Talk about unfair."

Danny smirked as his eyes glowed an eerie green. "I'm going ghost," he announced. In a flash of light, two glowing rings appeared around him, transforming him into his spectral form. He rose to his feet, his posture more confident, his grin widening. "This is going to be fun."

Dick smirked back. "You'll have to hit me first."

Danny charged forward, his fist cocked back. But as he swung, Dick grabbed his arm, twisted, and slammed him onto the mat with practiced ease.

"Having fun now?" Dick teased, grinning.

Danny grumbled, flipping back onto his feet. "I'm just getting started." He lunged forward again, his green eyes burning with determination as the sparring continued.

…

Location: Gotham City/Wayne Manor

Date: January 7th

Time: 7: 15 AM

"Do you remember the story if anybody asks you anything?" Dick asked, descending the staircase with a school bag slung over his shoulder. He was dressed neatly in Gotham Academy's uniform, the crisp fabric looking impeccable as always.

Trailing behind him was Danny Fenton, also wearing the school uniform, though he fidgeted with the tie as if it were choking him. A bag hung lazily over his shoulder, and his expression was a mixture of exhaustion and mild annoyance.

"Yeah, don't worry," Danny muttered, rolling his eyes. "I remember. My parents caught Bruce Wayne's interest with one of their inventions. Just as he was about to become one of their investors, the accident happened. Bruce Wayne took pity on me since he was getting to know my parents and decided to take me in for the time being."

Dick glanced over his shoulder and smirked. "Good. You've got the details down."

Danny sighed. "You've only made me recite it, like, ten times. I think I've got it memorized."

"Just making sure," Dick said with a shrug as they stepped outside.

Waiting by the limo was Alfred Pennyworth, his ever-composed demeanor unshaken by the brisk Gotham morning. He stood beside the open car door, giving them a polite nod as they approached.

"Master Richard. Master Daniel," Alfred greeted warmly.

"Morning, Alfred," Dick replied, stepping into the car.

"Yeah, morning," Danny mumbled, giving a slight bow, climbing in after Dick.

…

Location: Gotham Academy 

Date: January 7th

Time: 7: 43 AM

Outside the gates of Gotham Academy, Tucker Foley stood nervously, his dark skin glistening slightly in the morning sun. He adjusted his glasses, fiddled with the brim of his red backward cap, and scanned the area anxiously. Beside him, Sam Manson, her raven-black hair framing her pale face, tapped her combat boots against the ground, her black eyeliner smudged slightly from her restless night.

"Where's Danny?" Sam muttered, her voice edged with concern. Her green eyes darted to every passing student, but none of them were the boy they were waiting for.

Tucker sighed, tugging at the strap of his backpack. "I don't know, Sam. He hasn't answered his phone, and that's not like him. I'm starting to get worried."

A sleek black limo pulled up to the curb nearby, but neither of them paid it any attention. They were too focused on the sidewalk, hoping to catch sight of their best friend. When the limo door opened, and Dick Grayson stepped out, they barely glanced at him. However, when Danny Fenton emerged after him, their heads snapped toward his voice as though on a swivel.

"Thanks, Alfred," Dick said, giving a polite wave to the driver.

"Yeah, Alfred, thanks for the ride," Danny added as he shut the door behind him. His voice sounded light, but there was an undertone of weariness.

Hearing Danny's voice, Sam and Tucker's eyes widened with relief. Without a second thought, they ran toward him, tears already welling up.

"DANNY!" they shouted, their voices echoing over the murmurs of other students. They ignored the curious stares and closed the distance in seconds, tackling their friend into a crushing hug.

Danny suppressed a wince as their embrace pressed against the bruises hidden beneath his clothes. Still, he sighed and wrapped his arms around them in return.

Watching the scene, Dick gave Danny a small nod before turning to leave, giving the trio their space.

"We heard what happened," Sam said, her voice trembling as tears spilled down her cheeks, streaking her eyeliner.

"We tried calling you, but you didn't answer!" Tucker exclaimed, his own eyes glassy with emotion. "We were so worried, man!"

Danny swallowed hard, forcing back the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, guys. I didn't mean to worry you. I just...needed some time alone."

Sam sniffled, her arms tightening around him. "We get it. Just don't shut us out again, okay?"

"Yeah, we're your friends," Tucker added, his voice softer now. "We're here for you."

Danny gave them a small smile, his resolve hardening as he realized how much he needed them. "Thanks, guys. I mean it."

---

The three of them made their way toward the school's entrance. Sam was busy wiping the smudged makeup from her cheeks with her fingers.

"Hold up," she said, veering toward the girls' restroom. "I need to fix this mess."

As Sam disappeared, Danny and Tucker lingered by the hallway. That's when Dash Baxter, the school's resident bully, approached them. His blond hair was slicked back, and his blue eyes carried an unusual solemnity.

"Hey, Fenton," Dash said, his voice devoid of its usual bravado.

Danny sighed, already exhausted. "Not now, Dash. I'm not in the mood."

Dash held up his hands in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture. "I know, man. I just...I wanted to say I'm sorry. Your sister—Jazz—she was a good person. She helped me a lot when I was struggling with some stuff. I didn't really get a chance to say it before, but...I'm sorry for your loss."

Danny blinked, stunned into silence. Dash gave him a firm pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving both Danny and Tucker standing there, slack-jawed.

"Okay, what was that?" Tucker finally said, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief.

Danny shook his head slowly. "I...have no idea. Guess he's not a total jerk after all."

Tucker shuddered dramatically. "Still, that was weird. So unnatural."

Before they could say more, Sam returned, looking more composed. "What's with the weird looks?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Dash just gave me his condolences," Danny replied, still processing the encounter. "I didn't think he had any to give."

Sam shivered at the thought. "Good thing I missed it. That sounds...creepy."

The three of them chuckled softly, the moment breaking the tension as they headed toward their classroom together, their friendship providing the strength Danny needed to face the day.

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