WIND AND THE SNOW

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Robin. Or Batman. Or any of the other DC characters that I'l borrowing for this fic. I do however own the original characters, so please ask before you run away with them. I'm making absolutely no financial gain from this piece of writing, now or ever, and am not worth suing.

SPECIAL NOTE: This chapter is dedicated to j., without whose cheerful, encouraging emails this part would still be nowhere near ready. Thanks!

PART 2

It wasn't often that the Bat was considerate. Typically, he drove his followers as stringently as he drove himself. It had been the cause of more than one conflict in the Batcave, and would likely be the source of many more.

But this time, the Bat was being considerate. And, wonder of wonders, it had only taken three days of combined nagging from Nightwing and Oracle to make it so.

"Robin," Batman walked over to the Crays, where his junior partner was engrossed in a police file. Glancing at it, Batman recognised it as the file on Kaze. Despite the information he'd obtained for - and from - Gordon, the case remained stalled, and someone was working hard to keep it that way. A number of files seem to be doing that at the moment. Though not in any connected manner. Noting the intensity of the boy's gaze, the Bat sighed silently. From the look of it, Nightwing is right. He could use the rest.

"Yes, Batman?"

"You have some school holidays starting in two weeks. Go to Metropolis for a fortnight and see your family."

". . ."

"This isn't a punishment, Robin. It's a chance. You've had little time to rest since . . . You should get to re-know your family on a first hand basis."

". . ."

"Tim?"
"Understood." Forcing a smile until Batman turned back to his own task, Robin contemplated this new complication to his life. Well, at least he let me know before applications to spend the holidays at Bryleaf closed. But no roof-swinging for two weeks! That's gonna really suck.

Batman rose, and Robin quickly followed, as they left the Cave for the nightly patrol. While Robin was now working more and more frequently solo, he still periodically went out with the Bat. It was an arrangement that worked well, and suited them both. Robin used it as an opportunity to both practice team-work and hone his ability to anticipate his mentor. Batman, well . . . though he'd never admit it, Batman found his patrols with Robin to be a sheer relief; the boy was competent and needed none of the cosseting that Spoiler seemed to require.

I'll have to see if Connor Hawke can be convinced to stick around still longer. Maybe if I arrange for him to get a job in Gotham, he can remain Spoiler's baby-sitter. Hn.

The Batmobile roared off into the night, it's two passengers each absorbed in their own planning.

ELSEWHERE

"Our hunt has produced no results as yet, Father." The tall man standing with his back to her did not move, gave no indication he had heard. Talia waited patiently. Then,

"What of the search for an appropriate host for the Eighteen program?"

"That is proving more successful. We have discovered two candidates, both conveniently located in the one school," she hesitated.

"The catch, dear Daughter?"

"The school is in Gotham."
The reaction this provoked proved more immediate. He turned to face her, his features seemingly chiseled from granite. His eyes, catching the eerie green light reflecting from his newest Lazarus pit, glowed demonically. Then, R'as Al Ghul smiled. A feral, wolfish grin that held only vicious glee. A smile that served only to deepen the malice in his countenance.

"Ah. The detective. This should prove interesting."

THE NEXT DAY

"Yo! Van!" Turning at the familiar call, Van waited as Yuki raced up to catch him. Though the perennial smile graced his lips, in this instance it was a little more relaxed, an almost-grin he'd developed especially for Yuki. It still didn't reach his eyes, but she seemed to appreciate the effort.

Walking besides each other, they were almost a matched set. Both of slight build, each with a signature mass of black hair (though Yuki typically wore hers in a Kaze-esque braid, in contrast to Van's high ponytail), each moved with an easy grace that complemented the other. They'd had plenty of practice; over the preceding term they had become staunch friends. Not like Kaze and I. Never like Kaze and I. But at least this way I nolonger constantly seek him in her, I nolonger flinch at her voice.

"You wanna spar at lunch? We've got a bit of extra time today because of the morning assembly."
"I'd like that." Another reason they were beginning to be seen as a 'matched set' by most of the school; in Van, Yuki had found a boy whose enthusiasm for Kendo, if not his skill, equaled her own. And thanks to that enthusiasm, his skill was improving daily. They sparred regularly, above and beyond club training, and she had a sneaking suspicion he practiced on his own as well. On top of completing his homework. The model student. Yuki snorted softly. She wondered if he'd be a model student in other studies.

"Hey . . . Van?" her voice was hesitant.

"Yeah?"
"I was thinking . . . I saw your name up on the list for stayers these hols. You'll be in town the whole time?"

"Yeah."
"Well, my Shishou is coming over from Japan. Figures there's no point staying there since I'm here and now that Kaze's . . . Anyway, I told him a little about you, and he wants to meet you. Will you come?"

"Uh . . . I'm not really sure . . ." Think, Robin, think! By "shishou" she almost certainly means her martial arts teacher. Could that blow my cover? I don't know anything about the teacher or his perceptive abilities, but I'll have to assume it could. But then, would refusing perjure my cover as well? what adolescent schoolboy wouldn't be curious and go?
"Please?"

". . . Okay." I'll play it by ear. With a bit of luck, all this will involve is a cup of tea and a chat. No martial arts, or at least if there is, limited to a discussion of Kendo.

In the end, he was right about the cup of tea. That, at least, was something.

It was still term-time when "Shishou" arrived. He then promptly set up camp in a purpose-built dojo in the Mireba industries main skyscraper. At least, Van assumed it was purpose-built. It certainly looked that way, and when he asked, Yuki confirmed it as they walked there after school to undertake Van's visit. Surveying the set-up, Van's alertness, and his suspicion, went up another notch. An instructor employed by the family, from what Yuki said. A retainer. Must be pretty highly valued to have this sort of set-up built for him on the off-chance he would come over to America at some point. His anxiety increased. This Shishou, whoever he is, must be someone exceptional. And someone who values his privacy, given that there's no mention of him anywhere in the Crays or any other computer network I've managed to access.

Taking the elevator into the building, Van's sense of foreboding grew, this place is like a fortress! More accurately, he realized, the dojo area and it's access was well fortified, the rest simply as strongly secure as any average skyscraper; less so than the Waynetech building. Before he could fully puzzle out the implications of this, Yuki led him into a large, dimly-lit room . . .

. . . and left him there with only a short "I'll be back soon."

She'd barely slid the door shut behind him when a metal whip lashed out of the darkness.

It carved a glistening trail through the air - and Van's shirt. Van himself was nolonger there. Ducking and weaving, he avoided the murderous lash, barely having time enough to be thankful he and Yuki had swapped their uniforms for looser, more flexible streetclothes before coming.

Whoever was using the blade-like whip went beyond expert and into the realm of artistry. And, Van realized as the line of leather and razors sliced through the air where he'd been standing only seconds earlier, they weren't trying to kill him. If this whip-person wanted me dead, I would be a corpse.

He came to that realization the same time that a low, hoarse voice growled a single word into the darkness.

"Enough."

Gradually, as the room brightened slightly and his eyes adjusted, Van noted there was a low dais at the end of the room. On it were two figures. One, seated, was what appeared to be a man in his early thirties, tall, though obviously oriental, with a narrow face and prominent cheekbones. Features that should have clashed with the long, straight cascade of red-gold hair springing from his head, but instead served to complement it. Any illusions of youth, though, were shattered when Van looked into his eyes. They were old eyes, wise and iridescent, and they stripped him to his core. At the same time the long nose beneath those eyes sniffed the air, evaluating scent. Evaluating him. Van felt his soul laid bare under the twin onslaught.

Forcing his eyes away from the man's took a supreme act of will, one which Van accomplished only with difficulty. Gazing at the second figure, Van missed the widening of the man's gaze, the only outward sign of his surprise at the boy's ability to break the contact. By this stage, of course, Van's attention was utterly captivated by the ageless man's companion.

She was radiant. There was no other way to describe it. Her features, though not classically beautiful in any sense of the word, shone handsome with the strength of her personality. She stood tall, her height accentuated by her willowy figure. A figure amply displayed by the tight, dark clothing she wore. Her hair, as silver-dark as her companion's was gold-red, was pulled back into a long braid. As Van watched, she slid from an offensive stance to one of parade-ground precision, the whip she had been so easily swinging slipping into a metal belt around her waist. He did not mirror her now-relaxed posture.

Somewhere, somehow, Van found enough of his voice to produce a single word.
"Why?"

The man chuckled, bringing Van's attention back to him.

"Because we could. Because Yuki-dono's descriptions made us curious. Rightly so, it seems." He gestured peremptorily at Van's now-bare chest, "the marks on your chest and arms are as those Kaze-dono's body. The marks on your back go beyond similarity. The mark on your temple. . . Let us simply say you survived that which Kaze-dono did not."

Van was in turmoil. Obviously the man had somehow managed to get into the morgue and examine Kaze's corpse without either the police or, more tellingly, Oracle knowing. I was right! He is someone exceptional! And beyond that, capable enough to see the . . . torture scars. . . on my chest and the perepheral programming scars on my back and arms, all while I'm moving rapidly in a dimly lit room. Doesn't look like he used starlight lenses either. Interesting. Hopefully not fatal. He was, he knew, more than a little at their mercy. Now, the pressing question was what he - and they - would do about it.

Once again, he found his voice.

"So. What happens next?"

"Now, little one, training begins."

Seemingly from nowhere the woman produced a black long sleeve shirt and tossed it to him. Van caught it in one hand, still in his defensive stance. Searchingly, he examined first her face, and then the man's. A long moment later, he dropped the stance and slipped the shirt over his head. Truce accepted.

From the recesses of the room, the man produced a daisho - a set of two swords, one shorter than the other. Kodachi and katana, Van recognized. Carefully, he showed Van how to put on the long sash he also provided, and how to slip the daisho in. Van paid close attention. He had the feeling he'd only be shown once.

By the time that was organized, the woman had left, all without saying a word. The man noticed Van's glance towards the dais and chuckled again.

"Kaguya-dono has gone to train Yuki-dono. I will undertake your training personally."

The man - or not-quite man - as Van was beginning to think of him, worked him hard all that afternoon and into the evening. The training was as strenuous as anything he'd encountered in the cave, and equally as fascinating. In that short time the shishou began to teach him the basics of bladework, a deadly - yet stunningly beautiful - dance of steel and spirit, similar, yet also radically different, from the Kendo he practiced with Yuki. Remarkably, the shishou seemed to know exactly when to pause to keep Van from excessive fatigue, timing the short 'breaks' with more skill than even Batman. At this rate I'll still be good for something when I go on patrol tonight. A glance at his teacher's iridescent eyes convinced Van the other man knew the content, if not the specifics, of what he was thinking. Disturbed, he hastily looked away.

Equally as disturbing was the amount of "assumed knowledge" the shishou expected him to have. Van found it no-little disquieting that he had all that was required and more. The Doctor's programming has a lot to answer for. Hn. I wonder if he incorporated bits of Kaze's pre-programming skills and training into my martial-arts program? It would certainly explain a lot. Then, as the next set of grueling exercises began, he had no more time for thought.

It was a while later that a sweaty, happy Yuki collected an equally sweaty Van for the walk back to Bryleaf. The two left in good time for dinner, though not before Van had been given a training schedule by the ever-silent Kaguya and summarily told to return the following day.

"It's good that Shishou likes you," Yuki chirped happily, "and training together in ninjutsu will be even more fun than Kendo! So, what did he start you on? flexibility? kata?"
"When you started, what was the first thing you learned?"

"Me? Oh, Kaze and I started with basic exercises - y'know to get our limbs to do the right stuff at the right time. Reflex training, I guess."

Van was careful not to let on the concern her statements caused in him. I was right. He's figured it out. Figured out that I already have all those basic skills. I only hope he puts it down to me getting the same programming as Kaze, and doesn't realise there's more to it. Hn. But he's sharp, that not-man. Very sharp.

"You look worried. I - I'm sorry."
"No - it's nothing, really."

"It's not nothing. I can tell. But I won't ask, because it isn't my place. Because everyone has secrets." She smiled at him then, a sunny, cheerful grin that lifted her face from merely pretty to dazzling. Van could not help but smile back.

He was a little surprised when she laughed delightedly.

"There. See? Your smile - it was a little warmer than normal! A little less like it was covering all your hurt. Hah! I knew it!"
"Knew what?" Van asked, feeling foolishly self-conscious.

"Your smile - it still doesn't reach your eyes yet, but it's creeping closer! It really is a work in progress!"

AT THE DOJO

The room was silent, echoingly so. On the dais the two figures of the shishou and Kaguya knelt. They moved sparingly, sipping tea from beautifully simple pottery cups.

Though no-one would have guessed it from the stillness of the chamber, a lively discussion was taking place. No-one, that is, with the possible exception of Jonn Jonn'z, for the two were conversing entirely mind to mind.

:There is more to him than simply a shared ordeal. I can smell it.: Moodily, the Shishou sipped at his tea. :Are you sure you want him trained like this? like one of us?:

The woman was calm as she poured more tea, at odds with the passion in her mind-voice. :Yes. I'm sure. When we visited the morgue and I rewound Kaze's memories from his corpse, this boy, Van, figured prominently in them. As someone Kaze wanted to protect, and help. As someone who had protected and helped him. Maybe more.: She hesitated momentarily, then, :I do not know what this 'Ro-kun' pseudonym business means, nor do I particularly care. But I do know this; before he escaped to seek help, Kaze bound it to the boy. He nolonger remembered us, nolonger remembered his family or Yuki, and nolonger really understood what it was that he was the carrier - and protector - of. He certainly nolonger knew it could act as a beacon to summon us, and with us the aid he so desperately sought. But even though he'd lost all that to the Doctor's 'ministrations' he knew that it itself was a protection of sorts, though he nolonger knew why it conferred that protection. In some small way he still understood that, and He Chose To Give That Protection To Van.: She enunciated each word carefully, emphasising her point.

:That Van is now the bearer of it is reason enough for me to protect him. That Kaze voluntarily gave him it to protect him should be reason enough for you, my friend.:

Silently, her tea companion mulled over that thought.

:You're right, of course. And the best way to ensure he stays safe is to make sure he can take care of himself. To train him.:
:To train him as you would one of our family. For, really, that is what he is. Whether he wants it or not, that is what Kaze made him. Now, for Kaze, and for us, we must make that inheritance mean something:

:As you wish, Hime-sama.:
:Don't call me that. Ever. Even mind to mind. I have a name and I want you to use it.: Looking up, she softened slightly, smiling at him, :after all, here is not like home.: The shishou's response to her ire was neither verbal nor mental, simply a slight lifting of the corners of his mouth.

They passed a few more minutes in congenial silence, each savoring the last of their tea. When it was gone, the shishou reached a hand up to his hair and pulled the long locks free of the half-falling arrangement they'd been bound into.

:A pure human student. To teach with swords and cunning and mischief and whatever else I choose. To render safe from both our kind and humans, who are usually worse. This: He thought, allowing pointed ears to poke from their hiding-spot under his hair, :is going to be such fun!: Fangs teased the sudden grin that sharpened his features, a grin mirrored by his counterpart.

END PART TWO

Notes:

Dono see previous notes for details, otherwise, simply a polite form of address.

Hime-sama Princess.