It starts with a simple question.

“Hey, when did Fenton transfer in?”

No one has an answer.

Not a vague one. Not an approximate one. Nothing.

He’s just… there.

Always has been, apparently.

In class lists. In group projects. In attendance records that go back months.

Teachers call on him without hesitation. Students pass him notes like they’ve known him forever.

But when pressed—when someone actually tries to remember the moment he showed up—

There’s nothing.

Just a blank space where a memory should be.

Damian notices first.

Of course he does.

Because Damian Wayne does not forget.

Ever.

And he definitely does not forget people.

Yet when he tries to recall his first interaction with Danny Fenton, there’s only a strange, hollow gap.

Like a page torn out of a book.

That is unacceptable.

He starts watching.

Closely.

Danny is… normal.

Annoyingly normal.

Late to class sometimes. Bad at math quizzes. Laughs at things that aren’t funny.

But there are cracks.

Small ones.

Easy to miss if you’re not looking.

Like how Danny never reacts when people call his name from behind.

Not even a flinch.

Not even a pause.

Unless he chooses to respond.

Like how reflections don’t always match.

A fraction of a second delay in mirrors.

A flicker in windows.

As if something is deciding whether or not to show up.

Like how he never casts a shadow the same way twice.

Damian gathers evidence.

Schedules.

Camera footage.

Records.

Everything says Danny Fenton is a perfectly ordinary student.

Everything feels wrong.

Then the footage glitches.

Security cameras capture the hallway outside a classroom.

Students enter.

Students leave.

At exactly 10:17—

There’s a distortion.

Not static.

Not interference.

Just a moment where the image… bends.

And then Danny is there.

Mid-step.

Like he walked in from somewhere that wasn’t recorded.

Damian freezes the frame.

Enhances.

Rewinds.

There is no entry point.

No door opening.

No window.

Nothing.

He confronts him after school.

“Fenton,” Damian says. “When did you arrive at this institution.”

Danny looks up from where he’s sitting on the stairs.

“…Today?”

“Incorrect.”

Danny tilts his head. “Then what do you mean?”

“When did you first appear.”

There’s a pause.

A long one.

Danny doesn’t look confused.

He looks… careful.

“That’s a weird question,” Danny says lightly.

“That is not a denial.”

Danny smiles.

It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You ever get that feeling,” Danny says slowly, “like you walked into a room and forgot why you were there?”

“That is not relevant.”

“Or like you missed something important, but you don’t know what?”

Damian steps closer. “Answer the question.”

Danny stands.

For a second—

Just a second—

The air around him feels off.

Heavy.

Wrong.

Like reality is trying to correct itself.

“I think,” Danny says quietly, “I wasn’t supposed to stay.”

Silence.

“What does that mean.”

Danny looks past him, toward the empty hallway.

Like he’s listening.

Not to Damian.

To something else.

“It means,” Danny continues, voice softer now, “there was a point where I should’ve… left.”

“Left where.”

Danny shrugs, but it’s not casual this time.

“Somewhere else.”

The lights flicker.

Once.

Twice.

The hallway feels colder.

“And you didn’t,” Damian says.

Danny meets his gaze.

“No,” he says.

The cameras glitch again that night.

Worse this time.

Frames dropping. Time skipping.

At 2:03 AM—

The hallway is empty.

At 2:03 AM—

Danny is standing there.

Not moving.

Not blinking.

Just… there.

Then—

He looks directly at the camera.

The footage cuts.

The next day, no one mentions it.

No one notices anything wrong.

No one questions anything.

Except Damian.

Because now he knows.

Danny didn’t transfer in.

He didn’t enroll.

He didn’t arrive.

He stayed.

And something—

Something that noticed—

Is starting to realize that.

Damian finds him on the rooftop again.

“Fenton.”

Danny doesn’t turn around.

“They’re looking for you,” Damian says.

A pause.

“Yeah,” Danny replies quietly.

“I know.”

“Who.”

Danny finally glances back.

For a moment, his expression is something unfamiliar.

Not fear.

Not exactly.

Something older.

Something tired.

“…The ones who remember I left.”

The wind picks up.

The city hums.

And somewhere—far too close—

Something shifts.

Danny looks out over Gotham.

“Hey,” he says, like this is normal, like this is fine.

“If I disappear again—”

“You will not,” Damian cuts in immediately.

Danny huffs a quiet laugh.

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s what I thought last time too.”

The lights across the city flicker.

Not randomly.

Not naturally.

Like something is searching.

And this time—

It’s getting closer.