Tonight was supposed to be simple.
A job from Penguin — the self-styled kingpin of Gotham's underground.He wanted a few rivals erased, nothing complicated.Quick, silent, profitable.
I stood on the edge of the shipping yard, the cold sea breeze tugging at my cloak, moonlight glinting off the row of kunai in my hand. The targets were gathered around a crate, arguing about shipment routes like clueless children.
A flick of my wrist.A whisper of steel.
Three kunai buried themselves into throats before they even realized I was there.They dropped like puppets with their strings cut.No drama, no noise, no witnesses.
It should have ended there.
But then the air behind me shifted — light footsteps, quick, precise, too light to be an adult.
Annoying.
"Stop right there!" a young voice shouted.
I slowly turned.
Robin.
The Boy Wonder himself stood on top of a shipping container, cape fluttering, bo staff in hand, glaring at me like a judgmental little bird in red and green.
"Tch," I muttered. "Of all nights…"
He leapt first, staff swinging in a downward arc.My Sharingan spun to life, picking apart his movements in precise slow motion.
I sidestepped.Caught the staff with two fingers.Flicked it away.
He barely regained his stance before my fist met his ribs. The impact sent him skidding across the concrete, tumbling until he slammed against a metal crate with a grunt.
To his credit, he got up quickly.
He swung again. And again. And again.
Every strike came fast, trained, disciplined — impressive for a normal human.But against my mastery of taijutsu, he might as well have been fighting a shadow.
Kunai in hand, I deflected every blow with casual flicks of my wrist, my movements fluid, graceful, almost bored.
He lunged.
I kicked him in the chest.
The boy flew backward, crashing into a stack of pallets.
Before he could breathe, I was already moving.
Shuriken whistled through the air — he rolled aside at the last moment, but one grazed his arm, slicing fabric and skin.
I inhaled.
Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu.
A roaring fireball erupted toward him.Robin dove out of the way, but the flames engulfed his cape and singed half his suit. He hit the ground panting, smoke rising from him.
"Too slow," I murmured.
I threw another kunai.This one hit — burying itself into his shoulder with a wet, sharp sound.He let out a cry and dropped to one knee.
Still, he pushed himself up, raising his bo staff again with stubborn defiance.
"You're… not getting away," he gasped.
I admired his spirit for a moment.
Then I shattered it.
We clashed again, steel against metal, sparks flying across the dock.He moved with desperation; I moved with elegance.Every attack he attempted, I predicted.
Every strike he made, I redirected.Every opening he exposed, I exploited.
He tried a last-ditch overhead swing.I stepped inside his guard and stabbed a kunai deep into his thigh.
He screamed, collapsing as his leg gave out.
"That's enough," I said softly.
I kicked him square in the chest, sending him rolling across the dock like a ragdoll. He landed near the edge, groaning, beaten, barely conscious.
I could have ended him.But killing Robin would cause too many problems — Batman problems.
And I wasn't in the mood for that.
So I turned away.
No words.No threats.No grand declarations.
Just silence.
I stepped onto the edge of the pier, letting the moon reflect off the dark water below.
Then my form unraveled.
Feathers.Wings.Darkness.
My body dissolved into a swirling flock of crows, scattering across the night sky as Robin watched helplessly.
By the time he blinked, I was gone — swallowed by the shadows of Gotham, leaving nothing behind but echoes and fear.