WIND AND THE SNOW part III

Disclaimer: DC characters are not mine. No profit.

The days leading up to Robin's holiday were full; school in the mornings and afternoons, training with the shishou in the evenings, patrol at night. During this time, Van became aware of a number of things about his teachers, particularly the one he was coming to consider his master. Firstly, though both Kaze and Yuki had mentioned training in ninjutsu, it was abundantly clear that this, while not the least of their skills, was not the most prominent of Kaguya and the Shishou's abilities.

The pair were martial artists in a manner that Robin could only liken to others of the bat-family, or even the half-remembered Shiva; their expertise was widespread, their techniques fluid, the product of many years training. Training they lavished on their two pupils, though not, as Robin discovered, unstintingly.

Deliberately casual conversation with Yuki revealed a training regimen vastly different from his own, and, likely, from Kaze's. While both the cousins had been trained extensively in ninjutsu, using both unarmed techniques and a variety of smaller weapons, Yuki had then gone on to the Naginata, a long spear-like weapon, under Kaguya's tutelage. Van discovered, somewhat to his surprise, that she hadn't objected to this in the slightest, nor sought to train with the Katana.

"Kendo and live blade work are wildly different. I know it seems like they shouldn't be, but they are. I love playing kendo, but I don't want to use a sword like that. I never did. Kendo's a sport to me, and will remain so. I didn't . . . when Kaze was . . . here . . . I didn't want to be in a position where I'd have to compete with him in something so . . . lethal, I guess. I mean, ninjustu is a lethal martial art, too, but . . . y'know." Yuki had sighed, frustrated with her percieved inarticulateness.

Van had understood utterly.

Yuki's annoyance had had to be worked off with a strenuous round of the aformentioned kendo, before she got around to enquiring after Van's training. His non-commital answer had convinced her he was still just starting the basic ninjutsu katas that had been a martial arts grounding for both her and Kaze. Van opted not to disabuse her of the notion.

Now I know that some of Kaze's ninjutsu training went into my perepheral programming at the hands of the Doctor. There's no way I'd be at this level otherwise, no way I'd know enough and be good enough in the ninjutsu basics for Shishou to start me straight on bladework. 'Basics'. Heh. Full mastery of Ninjutsu is still only the'basics' for further training.

Strange. Though I know the Mireba family have been master Ninjas for centuries, the more extensive weapon-work seems to be a much more recent addition to their education. As recent as a generation or two, maybe three. Hn. I wonder if that's how long the shishou and Kaguya have been assosciated with this family. Doesn't seem likely, given how young they look. Abandoning that line of thought, Van set it in the back of his mind to allow his subconscious to chew at it for a while.

Kaze, I guess it's no wonder you didn't tell me about your Kenjitsu training; given that the Doctor thought long weapons useless to the creatures he wanted to create, he would have taken the memory of those skills away from you. The memory of how you trained for those skills, the training I'm recieving now. Oh, Kaze, I have more of you with me than I ever dreamed! The thought comforted him as he stripped off the Robin costume and slid into the exhausted, dreamless slumber that passed for his early mornings.

The end of the month came with such rapidity it caught Van and Yuki almost unawares. As it turned out, the start of the holidays saw neither of their names on the 'stayers' list at Bryleaf. Instead they moved into rooms at the Mireba skyscraper, and training, while already in earnest, became substantially more intense.

However, as Van's nights were free for an entire two weeks (what with him being officially in Metropolis), the amount of sleep he got compensated more than adequately. And, in the end, compensated more than was desirable . . .

He awoke screaming. An echoing shout that, due to the soundproofing of all the bedrooms in the skyscraper, should have alerted no-one to his distress. Not that Van cared in the slightest.

Shaking in terror, still half asleep and fully disoriented in the only semi-familiar surroundings, Van staggered for the door. Fumbling hands thrust it open, and he lurched into the corridor. Escape! Must escape! Kaze?! Kaze, where are you?! Harshly lit, the hallway bore sufficient resemblance to the corridors of the Doctor's facility to send Van spiralling further into nightmare.

"Escape. . . Survive. . . Where are you, Kaze? Kaze, we have to . . ." Nearly blind with terror, Van stumbled, would have fallen . . .

Strong hands grabbed him, held him upright. For a minute they seemed so like Kaze's hands. So safe. Van relaxed, and so too did the hands.

"Kaze?" Looking up, he realised his mistake. Red hair? Kaze has black! Panic sent him thrusting away from the figure, into a swaying defensive stance.

"No more," Van shouted deleriously, "I won't let you hurt Kaze or me anymore! Kaze! Where is he? What have you done to him?! Kaze!" Wildly he swung at the figure, who parried easily. Blow after blow he rained down, fighting as hard as he ever had, though not quite as skillfully. Sobbing with terror and loss, he kicked and jabbed.

The figure evaded each strike, voice never wavering from calm, gentle tones as it spoke to him, soothed him. Finally, the owner of that voice took the offensive.

In an instant, Van found himself slapped into consciousness. An instant later, he slumped to the floor.

A moment after that, the same strong arms of earlier wrapped themselves around him, the same strong voice, calm and assuring, murmured simply "Daijobu. Just cry it out. Daijobu." Finally hearing the message imparted by the words, Van surrendered to it, sobbing his heart out as the voice crooned a gentle, wordless song. The same tune Kaze had always hummed, when he'd held and comforted Van, after one of the Doctor's 'sessions'.

The shishou held his latest pupil as the small figure sobbed, and his heart wept with the boy. Kaze, you are missed, my student. Greatly missed. When the boy's hiccuping moans slowed to the gentle breathing of sleep, Kaguya appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and softly approached the pair.

As always, she said nothing. Noting the death-grip clutch Van had on his master's shirt, she simply wrapped a blanket around the boy and the shishou, leaving the pair sitting in the hallway, Van sprawled into the older man's lap.

It was the early hours of the morning when Van awoke again. This time, he awoke calmly, from a gentle dream where Kaze had been holding him, singing to him softly that same song over and over. A dream where the Doctor was far, far away. Too far to hurt either of them.

Turning sleepily, secure in the arms that protected him, the boy gave a brilliant smile.

"Kaze," he murmured.

The shishou winced. Yuki-dono, you were right and wrong. His smile is a 'work in progress', but there's also a perfected variant. And it will never belong to you, no matter how you might wish it. It has already been gifted to the dead.

The smile vanished as the boy opened his eyes and saw who it was that was holding him. Those eyes, a warm azure, widened as they traved up the face, up to - oh blast! - his ears. Ears which were substantially larger, pointy-er, and furrier than a humans. Tensing, the shishou prepared himself for another round of screams.

"Oh," his student simply said, "that explains a lot." Pulling himself out of the suddenly lax arms that held him, Van wandered off in search of a shower, leaving behind a bemused (and relieved) shishou. Will that boy ever cease to surprise me?

Standing under the hot water, Van relaxed as it cascaded around his shoulders, washing off the last of the terror-sweat of the night before. I wonder . . . Kaze, I really do wonder. I'm genuinely unfazed by my master's inhuman-ness. But should I be? Is this the 'me' that I promised you would survive, "in any way possible" or is it someone else? Have I really kept my promise? I already know 'Tim Drake' is dead, but what about 'Ro-kun'? Have I truly kept my promise to you? I wish you were here. I wish I could ask you . . .Ask you what I was like. . . Further plumbing of his fragmented memories yeilded a conversation with . . . Alfred? From before the Doctor? While he could not recall the precise wording of the conversation, the gist of it had been; "You are equally as concerned by demons and flying manbats as you are by normal adolescent issues. This school may well provide you with a grounding you need."

Robin pondered this, the shower pouring down on him. If so, then maybe, just maybe, more of the'Tim Drake' me has survived than I thought. But either way, does this mean I kept my promise? Does it, Kaze? With a start, Van realised that the water had run cold.

Nothing further was said, about either the ears (for which Robin gave his tacit approval by pretending he'd never seen them, at least, in company anyway) or about Van's familiarity with Kaze (the topic of which all parties simply avoided. Yuki because she didn't know about it. Van to protect what shreds remained of his secret I.D., though he was substantially less concerned about it now that he was familiar with the shishou and Kaguya, both of whom he deemed less likely to talk than, say, the Batman. Kaguya and the shishou left the issue alone because they had no need to broach it. They'd seen, in the memories Kaguya had rewound from Kaze's corpse, all they felt they needed to know. If Van chose to use their teachings and any other skills he had to roam around rooftops at night, well, he'd hardly be the first.)

Training contined at a break-neck pace for the rest of the holidays, and into the new term. Though nothing changed in terms of content, there was a new closeness between the four of them, especially between Van and the shishou. They became less like simply a group that trained together, and more like a family. It was a stability and support Robin nolonger had with the bat-gang. The fragile trust that Batman had shattered had fractured the family into fragments. Though increasingly close to Nightwing and Batgirl, Robin remained only distantly polite to Spoiler, a situation which infuriated her. Batman he treated like a commanding officer, a fact which would not have disturbed the Bat, had he not wondered constantly how Robin - Vingt - had behaved towards the Doctor, his tormentor. . .

Van hadn't known that 'family' was what he'd craved until he had it. Oddball as the set-up was (with only two members sharing even a species, let alone a gene pool), it was full of closeness and love, more so than Van's fragmented memories of his biological family. Kaguya and the shishou took pride in him and his acheivements, both physically and academically (when Yuki forced him to bring along a term paper he'd done well on, they'd been thrilled and since then the homework had flowed as freely as the katas.) Unlike his biological parents, they did not expect straight A's and take an interest only if these were not attained. Instead, they asked simply that he do his best, and were happy with whatever that 'best' produced. As a result, Van gave his utmost in everything, rather than just doing enough to produce the good-on-paper results his father had required. It was a happy, encouraging set-up, and precisely what he needed after his suffering at the hands of the Doctor.

Van's only regret was that Kaze wasn't with him to share it. It was a regret that ate at him, even as he acknowledged that his life was as close to idyllic as it was ever likely to get.

Unfortunately, he was uncannily accurate on that score.

"Young Justice?" Blue eyes, for once not masked, stared up at him in confusion.

"Yep. They're your team. The team you co-founded. Don't you remember?"

" . . . no. Not really."

It was the response Nightwing had secretly dreaded. Years of the Bat's stoicism training paid off, however, and he managed not to flinch. He doesn't recall them. Even at the worst, I still had the Titans, or at least their memories and friendship to keep me sane. Damn you, Doctor! Every time I think we finally know all the things you did to him, every time I think he can finally start to heal, we find something like this! The urge to go and pulverise the Doctor was overwhelming, though Nightwing nobly resisted it. Largely because the man was already long-dead, and the details of all that he'd done to Robin gone with him. His fists clenching slightly, Nightwing became aware that Robin hadn't finished speaking.

". . .However, I'm familiar with the dossiers on them in the Crays. Current data indicates they've been inactive for several months, ever since I . . . since the Doctor . . .Why the sudden interest?"

"Well, they're your team, and they want to meet up with you again now that you're back."
". . ."

Nightwing frowned, and his voiced hardened. "You're going, Little Brother, if I have to drag you there myself."Little Brother, how can I tell you you need this? You're turning into a fractured version of him.

". . ."
"Besides, Superboy's been asking after you. A lot. Won't leave Cassandra alone."

"Superboy. I think I remember him."
"Yeah?" Hope flared in Nightwing, maybe it's not as bad as I thought! only to be crushed by his little brother's next words.
"He was on the roof . . . that night."

"Yes. Yes, he was." This is going to be harder than I imagined. "C'mon little brother, get your helmet on and let's go."
"The bike? we get to take the bike?" The sudden enthusiasm in the younger boy's voice made Nightwing smile.

"Yeah, just as far as Bludhaven, though. Then we'll get kitted up and take the car."

"You're on!" Tying on the helmet and sliding into a leather jacket, Robin contemplated the situation. Superboy. Superboy . . . I owe. Bigtime. I owe him my life, or part of it. At the very least I owe him an explanation. I don't really remember the others. I guess the Doctor had plenty of files on neurological patterns for super-teams and friendships. Enough to erase them thoroughly. Still, I seem to recall . . . a flying motorcycle? He was startled from his reverie by the harsh roar of the engine. A moment later, he was racing down the highway, exhiliaration flowing through him, on the bike behind his 'big brother'.

Racing towards a meeting with his past, and possibly his future.

There are any number of choices a person can make. Some change nothing, are insignificant in the grand scheme of a person's life. Others, when taken or avoided, alter the very fabric that life is cut from: A decision to go and see a Zorro film. A decision to spend the evening at the circus. A decision to open the front door without checking first who was there.

A decision to go with a brother and, for a night, leave a bedroom at a boarding school empty.

END part III. Part IV coming soon.

NOTES:

1. Feedback has indicated to me that there is some confusion over the shishou's and Kaguya's martial abilities. In this part I have endeavoured to clear this up. They are not purely ninja, though masters of the form. Instead, they are, like most of the bat-gang and many other superheroes, proficient in a number of styles and methods, and use that which is appropriate to the situation. I made the mistake of assuming this was apparent when I armed Kaguya with a razor whip and set the shishou to teaching Van the intricacies of blade work. I apologise for any misunderstandings, and once again cheerfully request feedback; without it I don't know about these problems to fix them.

2. Naginata a long handled weapon. Vaguely like a spear, only not, really. Used by women of the Samurai class for a number of centuries, to enable them to protect their honour and their children, etc.

3. The paraphrased conversation with Alfred did indeed occur in the Robin comics (don't know the issue number off the top of my head, unfortunately), but it did so in canon after the great betrayal. However, it is too stunningly convenient for me not to use it, so for the purposes of this fic, it's been temporally relocated to before the betrayal. Ah, I love AU rules!