Daitan'na: Grit of Gotham

Chapter Twelve:

A Paradoxical Riddle

It took me some time to contemplate whether I should consult with Batman that night. I read the note bearing the confusing, mysterious writing over and over and still couldn't work out what it could possibly even hint at. Sure, I figured it was a place but the clues aren't very helpful. So I made it priority to get it to Batman in the morning. I slept well, even though it kind of ate my brain out but I woke up actually feeling not half-dead.

I look to my right as I sit up, removing the blankets from my body. I stare at the empty space next to me on the bed. I sigh and try not to imagine the worst that could be happening to him. I have to keep the thought of this being my fault out of my head because what Nightwing said last night gave me hope and more faith in Jason. No time to point fingers, even at myself. Cracking this code is a step to finding him, I'm sure of it.

I take a nice warm shower and dress myself. I stick the card to my keycard and drop it in the breast pocket of my bottle green and black top. Once I have my jacket on, my boots pulled up, and my hair tied back, I go downstairs to have a quick breakfast. I finish my muffin on the way out and jog to Wayne Manor. It's not close but a run won't hurt. The air is fresh, the weather is crisp, and the streets are empty. Wayne Manor is away from the hustle and bustle of the big city, of course, because they prefer seclusion.

I take a nice deep breath and continue to jog. I see people in tracksuits and sweatshirts, on their early morning run. I smile at the thought of doing it everyday, to wake up and invigorate yourself like that. It never bothered me — the privacy of our home — until I experience how pleasant it really could be to be around different people, doing their daily routines. Maybe it'll feel even better to be one of them. It's not like my life back in Kunlun Shan was restricted or boring, I had a lot of freedom and I didn't know what to do with the abundance of it. I suppose having the dragons around (trust me, they're a handful) and fetching ingredients for Wei Zhihao made me feel what I had in my life was just enough. I never imagined the day I would come to prefer the hustle and bustle of the city rather than the serenity and solitude of the mountains. Maybe some things I just get tired of.

I press the buzzer on the little pad on the wall and ask Alfred to let me in. The gates swing open and I walk into their home. After greeting him, I move down to the Batcave, where I assumed Batman would be.

"If you are looking for Batman, he's not in there," Alfred says, at the top of the stairs.

"Oh?"

"The man doesn't spend his time all day in there, you know," He chuckles. "He's having breakfast with Damian. Care to join them?"

I find them in the dining room, eating breakfast like Alfred said. They look at me as if they're not surprised to see me at all.

"Do you guys eat…dressed like that everyday?"

They're in their full costumes.

"We just got back from a late patrol," Batman says. "Do inform me when you decide to stop by, Tomoe, it helps even though I'm aware you come by as you please."

"Today is just not the day I see you without your cowl, huh?" I joke. "Maybe I should pop in more often."

He doesn't crack a smile.

"Right. Sorry."

"What have you got?"

"This," I say and pass the card to him.

He reads it. Then he looks up. "Where did you get this?"

"Jason's hotel room bed. It smells of him."

Batman gives Damian the card and thinks to himself. Damian reads it aloud twice and grimaces at how uninformative the message is.

"Got any ideas?" I ask, hoping at least Batman could hypothesize.

"She's talking about a place, clearly. This could be the Thaumaturge. It's in English and you can't construct a riddle that easy."

I sit down. "Wei Zhihao can speak fluently in English too but I don't think this is her cup of tea (I raise Batman's teacup. They look at me flatly). Either way, the problem is the same."

"Sight eternal youth…" Damian muses. "This can be metaphorical or literal, we don't know what she has up her sleeves. Is she talking about two places or two areas of one place?"

"Dancing girls?" Batman says to himself. "What could she possibly mean? There can be dancing girls anywhere…in schools and…performances…"

Batman and Damian look at each other.

"That's it! A performance!" I exclaim. "You said you she was a magician back in her days, right?"

"Yes. This could be something big," Batman says. "If it is a show, I have to look in on this and make sure she doesn't have an audience."

He disappears out of the dining room. I glance at Damian.

"I think it's too early to assume so but," He looks after Batman. "Father is usually right."

"Your father is a genius."

"Of course he is."

"So what are you doing now?"

"I'm going to investigate. Check out theatres, stages, auditoriums, and stadiums to see if there really is a performance booked for a certain day."

"But she was a villain, was she not? How could she put herself out so publicly?"

"In the underworld, yes, but to the oblivious citizens of Gotham, she's just a retired magician every kid adored."

"I see. Can I come with?"

He squints. "Don't you have anything to do?"

"Well, with Jason missing with the Thaumaturge or Wei Zhihao or god knows who, helping you on this is my only choice."

"Ttt. I'll call Nightwing and ask if he wants to join."

"You don't seem to have a problem with him coming along." I sniff.

"Yes, because I actually know him."

"That hurts, Damian," I say dramatically. "Even after all our bonding in China you're still a little cold fish."

"That was not bonding and how could you even joke after what we've discovered? After what's happened to you?"

"Answer me this then, Damian, will a few days of utter shock, hurt, anger, and regret make you a nicer person?"

"No."

"Exactly."

He shakes his head. "There's more coming, Namakettei. Wei Zhihao will strike bigger than she ever has."

"Oh, I know, Damian…I know."

—

So Nightwing did want to join and now they're out of their costumes, in normal, everyday clothes. I look at Damian's bare face and cock my head. He glares at me.

"What? What did I do this time?" I throw my hands up.

"Stop looking at me."

I shrug and turn away.

We've shown Nightwing the note, told him what we decided to do, and now he takes charge.

"We're going to act as innocent as possible, okay?" Nightwing says, giving Damian a look. "A big brother and his little brother, and a friend. We're going to ask about a rumored magic show and—"

Damian growls. "The thespianism is unnecessary. We ask the questions, squeeze the answers out of them if we must, and move on."

"And no force will be tolerated. Damian, you're going to act like a normal boy because you're not in your costume."

"What's normal?"

"You guys get along great, don't you?"

Even though Damian can't stop being a little ass for just a second, I can see they do get along well. Nightwing is a cheery, funny guy and Damian seems to roll with it, as if he's quite used to it. Of course he is, they're all just one big family…of crime fighters.

We walk down the balmy, busy streets, to the closest theatre. It has become quite hot and Nightwing offers to buy us ice cream as we come across an ice cream truck.

"You two up for it?"

"Damian's heart is cold enough as it is, he doesn't need ice cream." I snicker.

"Though it'll certainly make it sweeter."

"Dick." Damian says gruffly.

"Damian!" I exclaim, shocked. I know he's mean but that's just crossing the line. He's a boy!

However, Nightwing is unfazed. "Oh, don't worry, Tomoe, that's my name. Though I saw what you did there, Damian, you usually call me Grayson."

I stare at him. Then at Damian. He nods, a tired look in his eyes.

"Ohhhh. Okay."

So only Dick and I got ice cream and Damian walks between us, looking like the most annoyed person on the planet. Maybe because I forget to lick the other side of my cone often and it keeps dripping down and onto Damian's shoulder. I smile apologetically.

"We're here, you prattlers," He says and we stop talking over his head. "Hurry up and finish your cones."

The theatre is massive and by the looks of it — old. Perhaps too grand for a magic show unless she really was renowned but we ask anyway. There's a counter nearby where a guy is sleeping behind and Damian raps the glass barrier impatiently.

"Get up!"

The man jolts and almost falls off his chair.

Dick gives Damian another look.

"Hi, sorry, can we have a moment of your time?" Dick asks. The guy blinks his sleepy eyes at us. "My little brother and my friend are big fans of magi—"

"Did the Thaumaturge book a performance here?" Damian demands. There goes Dick's plan of acting like normal, loving brothers.

"The Thaumaturge?" The guy says, awake now. "Haven't heard that name in a long time. Sorry, buddy, no grand performances until the opéra comique with the gal from Paris (he points at a poster on the wall). Coming next month."

"What about one where there's dancing?"

"Nope. Not that I know of."

We leave the theatre and head for a stadium. Before we left, Damian had contacted Tim and asked about where she usually executed her magic. He said the one he went to was at a stadium, the exact one we're headed to, an extremely extravagant one with lots of dancers and performers. Then he recalls one where she performed in a park. On the way to the stadium we stopped by at an auditorium, a concert stage where we saw people setting up, and even a school where a talent show was being prepared. Nobody has heard of a rumored magic show. It's been several hours and I'm getting tired but I keep the mood up because I don't need an even angrier Damian, who's still quite determined.

"Well, who do we ask?" I look around as we get to the stadium. I see no one.

"Uh, Damian, look," Dick says gently. I think he's had enough. "I don't think it's a performance. It's too…"

"Predictable?" Damian narrows his eyes. "I know that, dammit, I'm not stupid. But we have to try. If there is going to be a performance there is a possibility that's just a distraction. What if while there is confetti showering our heads and bunnies popping out of hats Todd is getting tortured underground? Nobody would hear his screams."

"But if she truly wanted to kill him she could have done that by now," Dick says.

"She wants us to find her, Grayson. Get the satisfaction of seeing our horrified faces when we pick up Todd's icy, unmoving body from the gr—"

"Okay, stop," I cut in. "Damian, you're right, anything is possible. But going about blindly isn't helping our case. What if she never told anyone of a performance? What if she just crashes in a park and starts the show? She wouldn't go through the trouble of booking a theatre."

"Yes but if she wishes to protect her status to the rest of Gotham she has to play by the rules. Don't you think people will suspect something if she comes out of nowhere after so many years and performs spontaneously in a random spot?"

"No, I think they'd be quite hap—"

"Let's not argue," Dick says.

"We are not."

"Then let's stop talking and get back to the Wayne Manor. Maybe listen to what Batman has gathered."

Damian agrees this time and we return. I'm pretty sure we all feel like the day has been wasted but at least now we know it's not a performance where people could be in danger. It doesn't quite make a correlation to Jason unless she appears somewhere in Gotham to display tricks she wants to play on him. Which I think again, is unlikely and very risky in her case. So it's nothing public. It's something we have to dig further for.

It's almost evening. We find Batman in the Batcave, at the computer. I look at the screen and the many tabs. One shows a list of dancing schools in Gotham. Then a file of a ballerina marked a murderer. He also pulled up a search on dance classes. I see his work is very thorough, very widespread but also like ours, unproductive.

"Nothing is adding up," He says to us. "We can't even make sense of the first line and the second line is leaving us with nothing."

Dick places a hand on his shoulder. "We'll have something soon. If we narrow down our theories, there has to be something left."

We think hard in silence.

"We've been thinking of the message as two different meanings. What if they mean in one? Eternal youth…dancing girls…a place with kids?" I suggest.

"Could be an orphanage."

"Or a home."

"Then we've got another shot," Dick says. "Let's check out orphanages."

Damian looks uncertain. "I don't think it's that e—"

"No, Damian," Batman says. "Dick is right. Go. We have to do something."

"We're wasting time."

"And if we sit here and do nothing, Jason is losing time."

Damian looks at his father then nods.

"You and Dick, go. Tomoe, stay. I have to speak to you." Batman orders.

Damian and Dick pause, thinking they might need to hear it too. I shake my head and wave them off. "See ya."

Once they leave, I look at Batman. "Well?"

"Damian told me about what happened in China,"

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"Ahhh…then I think I know what you want to confront me about," I frown.

"I think you do. Your fear in battle is—"

"I know, I know, Damian already lectured me," I sigh. "I don't think I have to hear it twice."

"Damian and I think differently, Tomoe, in a lot of cases. He's harsh but right. I can be harsh but I choose to help instead. I acknowledge your lack of experience in this field. You possess the strength, agility, and the weapon for a fight but not the heart. You still fear the wrong, the bad, don't you? You think too much about what happens to people at the moment that you don't think about the better good, the future. There are sacrifices we have to make, small ones, even for ourselves in desperate moments, like the one you encountered in Jinan. The little things you don't have the temerity to do can lead to something worse. You have to overlook them to focus on the main goal. I don't expect you to be any better next time but take in my words…I still believe you have the potential to be a great crime fighter. Damian didn't just grouse, he told me everything, the good things and the bad things about you. He may not sound like it but he accepts you."

"I'm happy to hear that…thank you, Batman. You seem to read me like a book or you're just that good…I'll try, I swear. I'll think about the bigger picture."

"Good. Now I hope you have been practicing with your Sai because—" he stands up and gets into a stance. "It's time to show me if you have gotten better."

I grin and get my Sai out.

"Will do, sir."