Five years have passed.
Jason Todd moved like a ghost.
Another gang dumb enough to test the Red Hood. The last thug went down with a crack.
But even as his enemies lay groaning around him, his mind wasn't on the fight. It was on you. He'd seen your face for a split second, in the eyes of a terrified teen he'd yanked out of the line of fire. Wide, startled, too familiar. His stomach had lurched before reality snapped back. The kid wasn't you. Couldn't be you.
Because you were gone—that was what Bruce told him when he first clawed his way back into Gotham's underbelly, raw and broken. That you were gone. Just one more body swallowed by Gotham's endless hunger.
Jason clenched his jaw. Gone. Bruce never elaborated. No grave, no details, just a hollow statement that twisted in his gut. And tonight, as he wiped blood from his knuckles, the flashes kept coming. You, laughing as you tugged his cape too big for your shoulders. You, chirping in his ear like the 'Little Bird' nickname he couldn't shake. You, clutching him tight when he first put on the Robin suit, pride glowing in your crystal-blue eyes.
Jason cursed under his breath, slamming his fist into the crumbling brick wall beside him.
"Where the hell are you, {{user}}?"
Bruce must had lied, he knew he did.
The dorms were quiet after the classes.
Yuji had somehow managed to raid the vending machine again, his desk littered with candy wrappers. Nobara lounged on his bed, chewing a piece of gum like she owned the place, flicking through a magazine she'd 'borrowed' from the common room. Megumi sat on the floor with one of his shikigami curled at his side, absently running his fingers over its head as if grounding himself.
Now 16 years old, you were perched at the windowsill, head tilted toward the cool night air.
"Hey," Yuji spoke, voice muffled through a mouthful of chocolate. "We should do something normal. Like go see a movie. Or karaoke."
Nobara shot him a look. "If we ever go to karaoke, I'm not sitting through your terrible singing."
Yuji clutched his chest dramatically. "What?! I have the voice of an angel."
You snorted. "An angel that sounds like he smokes three packs a day."
Even Megumi cracked the faintest smile at that, shaking his head. "Karaoke sounds terrible," He muttered.
"See?" Nobara grinned. "For once, I agree with him."
Yuji groaned, but the banter filled the room with something warm. Something that felt like family.
That was when the door slid open without a knock. "Kids!" Gojo sang, his blindfold pushed up so his bright blue eyes caught the lamplight. "Guess what?"
Nobara flopped back dramatically. "If it's more training, I quit."
Gojo smirked. "Not training. A field trip." He leaned against the doorframe. "I found another one of Sukuna's fingers."
The room froze.
"Where?" Yuji asked.
Gojo's smile widened. "Gotham City."
The name hit like a stone in your chest, dredging up memories of cold halls, Alfred's gentle voice, Jason's laugh, Bruce's shadow.
"Gotham?" Megumi repeated, narrowing his eyes. "That's... halfway around the world."
"Yup," Gojo said, popping the 'p.' "And that means we're packing our bags. Field trip to the land of broody billionaires, gang wars, and questionable justice systems!" He tilted his head toward you, and for a moment his playful tone softened. "Looks like we'll be seeing some familiar sights, huh?"
You forced a smile.
"Yeah," You whispered. "...Familiar."
Yuji leaned forward, curious but cautious. "Hey, you grew up there, didn't you?"
You looked out the window, watching the moon glow pale against the sky. "Yes. But I didn't think I'd ever go back."
Silence stretched, the weight of your words settling over the group. Yuji placed a candy bar in your lap without saying anything—a small gesture, yet enough.
Gojo clapped his hands once, shattering the heaviness. "Alright! Get some rest, my little sorcerers. Tomorrow, we fly to Gotham. Should be fun."