Phantom on the Shore - A Batman X Danny Phantom Crossover fanfic

Lovely Bastard

Warnings for the following: Mild miscommunication(?), referenced/implied child abuse, referenced/implied child violence.

"Closing your eyes isn't going to change anything. Nothing's going to disappear just because you can't see what's going on. In fact, things will even be worse the next time you open your eyes. That's the kind of world we live in. Keep your eyes wide open. Only a coward closes his eyes. Closing your eyes and plugging up your ears won't make time stand still."― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Clash, Swish, Slash!

Damian endeavored to control his breathing, striking the training dummy with precision Sword in hand, he found solace in the rhythmic slashes. It was rather odd, at least in his opinion. He held a stark contrast to the varied responses of his family members to emotional distress. While his father brooded on patrol, Grayson engaged in acrobatic practices, Todd went on patrols with a more violent twist, and Drake immersed himself in the Bat-Cave computer or Young Justice League.

But when it came to himself?

Damian's response differed.

Clash, Swish, Slash!

Damian would return to his days as the heir of the League of Assassins. Although the title of the demon heir is long gone now, there was a sense of familiarity in each slash. Each slash would remind him of his mother. Each slash would remind him of his old teachers. Each slash would remind him of the strong scent of sand and dust.

(Each slash would remind him of his grandfather.).

Clash, Swish, Slash!

However, with each powerful slash on the training dummy, Damian couldn't ignore the increasing force exerted. The flash of a previous conversation with his father played in his mind. Although not outright told to him, he knew his father still saw him as he was in that fateful day. A mere eight-year-old who knew nothing more than to fight. Then to kill.

(He wasn't delusional. Being able to read the body language of his father was both a skill he learnt from the league and living at Wayne Manor)

Clash, Swish, Slash!

Detecting his father's expressions shifting to pity irked Damian. Pity for a child forced to bloody his hands and kill to survive. But that wasn't the thing that irritated him. Albeit unintentionally, he had grown used to the pitiful glances from all his siblings. Yes, it still annoyed him. But never too much.

No.

It was his father's blatant hypocrisy! His father pitied him killing because of his young age. But, turns around and shows continuous disappointment in Todd for killing. It is understandable to have a .. distaste for it. But the two of them were minors when they took their first life, were they not?

Clash, Swish, Slash!

What set them apart? Was it Damian's younger age that made his father more lenient, or was it the League of Assassins that corrupted him into viewing killing as the best option? The logistics of the latter being correct were low.

Clash, Swish, Slash!

(After all, his mother was the one to take in Todd and revive him. It was no miracle that Todd came back alive with a considerable amount of new techniques under his belt.)

Clash, Swish, Slash!

Another answer surfaced, stirring conflicted emotions in Damian. Was his father more lenient due to biological relation? Had his father considered Todd nothing more than a street rat he had picked up. Would his father look at him with the same disappointment as Todd if he weren't biologically related? A mere pest that happened to be a decent enough robin that—