This is one of my favorite minor details in Dungeon Meshi, firstly because what in the femme fatale, but also because it's one of those little things that raises so many questions about worldbuilding.
The Occam's Razor defense attorney in me says that Ryoko Kui gave Kabru a boot knife because she wanted him to escape from his bonds here. And Kabru is a very competent swordsman, why wouldn't he have a boot knife, sure. He's already got a dagger, he can have this too.
And yet: the implications. Kabru, why do you have that? That is not remotely something that could be easily accessed or used in combat. Nobody is pulling out a pen knife from the heel of their boot during a fight with a monster. It's useless in the dungeon ... unless you're the type of person who isn't just worried about monsters.
I've mentioned this before, but I consider one of Kabru's functions in the narrative as being the character who fully brings the idea of human ecosystems into the story. There's a reason why he's always connected to large groups of people (Toshiro's party, the Canaries). He (along with Mr. Tansu, briefly) introduces the reader to the social and political forces working on the dungeon, showing us that none of this is happening in a monster-filled vacuum. His confrontation with the corpse retrievers, who very nearly kill Kabru's party permanently with their reckless murder-for-money scheme, reminds us that monsters are not the only things that prey on humans. Kabru understands the ways the dungeon causes people to put profit over human lives.
We only get hints of it in the story, but like any gold-rush-style economic boom, it's implied that there is a lot of crime and corruption surrounding the dungeon.
So yeah, it really makes me wonder why Kabru keeps a tiny knife in his boot, meant to be carried on him even in situations where he would otherwise be unarmed. Stored exactly in the place where it's easy to reach, even if, for some reason, your hands are tied behind your back.
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Help is just a click away
Danny was bored, it's not something new, the Infinite Realms were not the epitome of fun and the portals had been closed after the fight he had with his parents. It was safer that way, no one could get hurt, humans or ghosts.
That didn't mean the halfa couldn't miss them: his family, his friends, or the life he had before. All he had left were the ghosts, which was fine, but it wasn't enough. He felt unbalanced, unwell.
Clockwork told him it was because of his obsession, his obsession to help and protect was being fulfilled but only halfway. He had enough ectoplasm to last a lifetime but Danny was a human too, he needed to see the stars, to help people. He needed it desperately.
Clockwork noticed this and seeing that the boy could not return to his original dimension, he gave him permission to travel to the DC universe as long as he was careful. It was unlikely that they would attack the halfa there, they were all "special" and Danny would go unnoticed. But the boy still wanted to help.
So he formed a small business. He created a simple app and granted help to anyone who made a request. From saving a kitten from the trees to transporting very heavy packages.
It worked wonders and lowered his stress levels greatly. Danny thought he could get used to it, until people started making stranger requests and before he knew it, the so-called "Justice League" was at his door. Of course, he escaped, although that probably didn't help sell his innocence.
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i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.
He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.
And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.
And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.
Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.
Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."
There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.
It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.
Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.
At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.
"Do you like to do anything?"
Nothing. Just silence.
Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.
Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.
Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.
And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.
He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.
Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.
So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.
"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"
"Don't."
He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.
Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"
"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."
It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"
The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."
Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."
And they fall back into silence.
Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."
He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.
(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)
At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.
Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.
("Tucker told me once--")
("Tucker?")
("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")
(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)
(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)
It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."
The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."
The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.
When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.
Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.
"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."
When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.
Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.
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I cannot stop thinking about the poem that comes up if you enter "Stanley" repeatedly and then click on "how he defeated me" a bunch (written out fully with analysis under the cut). I've never been a big Bill fan, but you can bet your ass I'm obsessed with Stan Pines, and I can't believe I never fully thought through the parallels between them.
"Stanley Pines, the common clown,
Always dragged his family down.
One mistake, disowned, denied.
Only thing to do was hide.
One way out: the open road.
Reinvent, retry, reload.
A girdle, eyepatch, father's fez,
'I'm a new man!' so he says.
Couldn't outrun life's regrets,
Just kept placing bigger bets.
Changed his haircut, switched hotels-
Truth is just whatever sells.
When you've lost track of your lies,
When the poison starts to rise,
When the walls are closing in,
When it's clear you cannot win,
When your actions make it worse,
When they see you as a curse,
Give the wheel one last spin,
Take your chips and go all in,
And Lucky Stan- the roll's on black,
He got his life and family back.
His big break, it finally came,
Redemption from a life of shame.
You really think you won the day.
You packed your bags and sailed away.
You think you left the past behind.
But trust me
I'm still on your mind"
Combine this with some of the other things Bill says in the pages leading up to the poem, (calling him "Bootleg Sixer," ranting about how Stan is useless and only defeated Bill by following Ford's plan, etc), and it makes me wonder if Bill ever really believed in his own schemes.
Bill clearly values and respects Ford while deriding Stan, and yet many of the things he criticizes about Stan are also true about himself ("always dragged his family down," "one mistake," "reinvent, retry, reload," "just kept placing bigger bets," hell, "truth is just whatever sells" feels like a direct parallel to "reality is an illusion). In my mind, this implies that on some level he believes that people like him and Stan are destined for misery, but he convinced himself that he'd be satisfied with power and chaos, something that Stan gave up for his family.
Stan is someone who functions like Bill on a surface level while being fundamentally different in ways Bill can't even comprehend. To Bill, it's unfair that Stan "got his life and family back" while he is still alone in the universe, because he can't get his head around the fact that Stan is just a better person who worked to make up for his failures and earn his redemption in a way Bill never did. It wasn't just "his big break," Stan didn't win a bet or something. He spent thirty years committing himself to being the protector of his family and rescuing his brother from the exile he caused, and all that love and effort paid off in the end. He genuinely gave a fuck while remaining goofy and brash. Stan didn't need to become like Ford in order to be worthy, and so he works as an example of how people like them can thrive. It's proof that Bill's chaos isn't inherently inferior, it's Bill himself who couldn't hack it. He can respect Ford as an ally or an adversary, that logic might be able to triumph over chaos; but Bill cannot stand that Stanley was able to beat him at his own game.
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