The problem, Tim decided, was that it just was too easy.

He had started the same way anyone started. He found himself staring at her ass.

Tim Drake was a stereotypical young man, if you happened to be picking up your stereotype on the TV Land Channel. No, he wasn't quite so like that. For example, he doubted that any of those people got their kicks from, well, getting kicks in. Stomachs. Those were good for kicking. The square of the chest. That was great, actually.

Tim, you see, had primarily been trained in the martial arts realm by the Lady Shiva Woosen. Shiva, who was one of the deadliest martial artist in the world. Shiva, who was -the- female mercenary. In the world where Deathstroke was a king, and Cain was the expelled prince, Shiva stood alone and respected. She had taken Tim under her wing and taught him all she knew in the non-lethal arts. Supposedly, she had done so to manipulate him into defeating King Snake, but that hardly explained why, for no reason, she had come to save him years later. Shiva was one of the best martial artist in the world. She had trained Tim, and therefore he had his style. Shiva was a female, and therefore used her legs more than her arms in fighting, and the punches were lightning quick and delicate blows of destruction, instead of the favored haymaker technique of men.

Tim had his own style, but it was essentially Shiva's. Quite an embarrassment, when Batman had taken him, along with the rest of the family, to meet the sensei of senseis. The Batman had come at the beck of the master to have his style evaluated, a quarter decade regularity. They were also to compete in a freindly tournament among the others. The sensei had read Robin's style, and proclaimed it to be the best masculine adaptation of the honed Feminine Fist.

Then the sensei had seen Batgirl, and let his jaw drop. Robin was familiar, through it was odd for a geriatric old man to have the same reaction of a 15 year old teenager.

That had been the start of it. The tournament.

David Cain had shown up to fight, to be evaluated. He had been surprised to see his daughter there, but only wished her luck as she fought, and won.

Afterwards, he'd approached the young scarlet fighter, and warned him that if he did anything inappropriate, he would hunt him down and make him ingest certain organs through various orifices that were not meant for such purposes.

The really surprising thing is that Batman had approached behind the assassin and informed the killer that he would have to wait in line if Tim did said inappropriate things. Shiva had come up behind Tim and said that, he certainly would not do any such things! She would make sure of it, she would be there for the full extent of Tim's first experiences in such matters.

Cain's eyebrows had gone up. Batman's probably had, except he had that face set, through the mask. Mask be damned, however, if Tim's hadn't gone up when Shiva had made her statement stick by reaching down and grabbing hold of Robin's left cheek. How her hand had gotten through his cape unnoticed, he wasn't quite sure. How he had managed to jump 2 feet straight up alone was another mystery. Batman had stepped around Cain, who was quite bemused, and started walking firmly towards Shiva, who had flashed a delightful smile at Cain, slapped Robin's ass playfully, and than dashed away, the Batman right behind her.

"She likes you" Cain had said. Robin tugged nervously at his collar.

"Who?"

"Shiva. She likes you. Remarkable woman."

"...oh" Robin managed to say. A part of his mind was screaming, 'She just grabbed your ass! That's a good sign!'

"yeah. From a long family of assassins and martial artists. Developed the feminine fist. She's a great fighter. She and her sister held off government purges in Japan of their kind, a few decades ago."

"Sister?" Tim asked.

"Yeah. Beautifull Woman. Never involved directly, but still a great martial artist. Better in bed, hehe. Older than Shiva by 10 years. I loved her..."

"How did she die?"

"Shiva... wasn't always as good as a fighter. She was overwhelmed, and they slit...Her, throat while she was asleep."

"What.. was Shiva's older sister's name?"

"We don't really know. The Woosan's let them choose their own name. She picked... Cassandra."

"...You said you loved...your daughter" Tim's face lit up in revelation.

"She comes from good stock, kid. Not by my contribution, either. I feel I betrayed her Mother when I made her into...what she was. We had a falling out, me and Her. I stole away in the middle of the night with Cassie, and was going to come back, but. The Japanese Security Agency announced it was going to purge assassin's from it's land, and I dared not risk it with an infant. That would be about... 13 years ago." Cain finished up.

Nightwing had approached, pleased as he always had been the other times after receiving great praise in his aerial skills from the master.

"What? 13 years ago..." Nightwing said. 13 years ago, Robin had been born and the flying Grayson's, had died.

"Ah. Nightwing. I've been meaning to talk to you. Are you aware that Desmond has been increasing the bounty on you?"

"Really?" Dick's face lit up. If the bounty was being increased, than that meant Desmond, Blockbuster, was feeling the heat Dick liberally applied to his operations.

"yes. I've decided, however, to steer quite clear of your state. The last time I was there, I lost something very dear to me." Cain said, sternly. Robin wondered away by than. He had, after all, just learned something very interesting, and was fully intent on investigating it thoroughly. First thing, he decided, was to learn how to read styles.

"Sensei" he said, approaching the man's position, where he was eating, a light meal inbetween his readings.

"Ah, yes. The young protegee of the Gotham clan. Come. Sit. Pour an old man some wine"

"Who are you to be calling yourself old? I am far older than you," another old man who sat beside the sensei bickered.

"Chiun, my freind, I am not so old as you, but I am indeed an old man. I won this position through sweat blood and tears, and you have only managed to maintain yours by mere influence."

"Mere influence? You best. I proclaim a contest than. Anyone of your protegee's against any of mine." the aged man said. Robin noted a golden fleck in his eyes, amber colored. Korien, Tim deduced.

"We shall have this news after this. I am to talk to the young one now"

"You're lucky. An American, so respectful. In my experience, American's are impatient and foolish."

"You base your opinion on a scant few. Look, if you had only selected a tutoring from Gotham, instead of one given to you, than you would surely have a better pupil. This one's master alone is younger than your protegee, yet he is a master of a flourish of arts, protecting his city and the world."

"And dressing like a flying rodent"

"Hey!" Robin said.

"His matters are his own. His chosen dress isn't a problem. He has managed to steal his disciples from the gapes of despair. This couldn't have anything to do with the fact that when your new president dispatched your pupil to destroy him, he was returned to the New York asylum beaten and bruised, could it?" the old sensei intoned, who had by now had his cup filled from the bottle of wine by Robin. He hadn't acknowledged Robin for it.

"Do you not have a protegee to speak to?" the Korean said.

"Do you not have a soap opera to watch, Chiun?" the sensei countered. The Korean bustled away to a tent, which held a TV, with a satellite dish connected to it.

"Yes?" The sensei said, addressing Robin.

"I... Sensei, I wish to learn to read styles."

"Ah. I see. No doubt, it would have a positive repurcussion for your line of work. I shall teach you, as long as you keep the wine flowing." The old master said.

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