Training meant pain.
Training meant pressure.
Training meant responsibility.
But it also meant strength.
And strength…
was something I would need.
Because one day Batman would learn I existed.
One day Damian would be born.
One day Gotham would call to me.
And I would be ready.
Lessons Before Language
Most toddlers learned to say "Mama" or "Dada."
I learned:
how to breathe silently
how to fall without injury
how to hide my presence
how to read intention from footsteps
how to steady my heartbeat
how to strike without emotional hesitation
Before I could form full sentences, I could mimic basic stances.
Before my teeth finished growing, I could
mimic basic stances.
Before my teeth finished growing, I could dodge faster than some trainees.
It wasn't because I was superhuman yet.
It was because I refused to be weak — and because the League refused to let me be normal.
Talia's Training — "Strength must be disciplined."
Talia trained me personally for the first year.
Not with blades.
Not with weapons.
Not with death.
With discipline.
She taught me:
balance
flexibility
breathing control
fast crawling and early running
basic coordination
the ability to remain still for minutes at a
time
Whenever I stumbled, she simply said:
"Up."
Whenever I succeeded:
"Again."
Her praise was rare, but when it came, it was powerful.
"You learn faster than any child I've seen."
Her hand would brush my cheek.
"You truly are my son."
At age two, Ra's al Ghul took over half of my lessons.
And his methods were…
Aggressive.
Not abusive.
Not cruel.
Calculated.
His philosophy was simple:
"A child who learns fear late… dies early."
So he introduced me to danger in small, controlled doses.
Heights (standing on narrow beams with guards ready to catch me)
Sudden loud noises (to test if I flinched)
Intense presence and killing intent
Fast hand movements to test reflexes
Each time, I responded calmly — or with quick, instinctive movement.
Never crying.
Never panicking.
Never breaking.
Ra's studied me like a living puzzle.
"His instinct is sharper than Damian's was
he told Talia.
"Sharper than yours was."
"Sharpen him further."
The First True Trial — Dodging Blades
I was three years old when Ra's declared I was ready for the "First Trial."
A controlled blade-dodging test.
Wooden daggers—not sharp, but heavy—and thrown fast enough to bruise or break bone if I failed to avoid them.
Talia argued.
The guards hesitated.
But Ra's ordered it.
So I stepped onto the mat, small and barefoot, looking up at three assassins holding practice blades.
Ra's spoke:
"If he is special, he will survive.
If he is not… we will know."
The assassins threw—
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Three wooden blades flew toward me with staggering speed.
My body moved before fear could reach it.
I ducked one.
Rolled under another.
My body moved before fear could reach it.
I ducked one.
Rolled under another.
Leaned aside from the third.
Not perfectly.
Not gracefully.
But effectively.
Ra's smiled.
Talia exhaled.