Omi never would have imagined he'd come back to this place voluntarily.
The memories are still fresh in his mind, and no small part of him wonders if this isn't just a huge mistake of overconfidence, waltzing back here as though with full expectation of keeping his freedom. He's prepared for it, though, and has a much stronger mouth dart this time as a failsafe.
In a rare exception to his standard practice, he doesn't carry his waist darts. This time, it would be more of a liability. He can't use them against the Justice League, and having them on his person will only create evidence for them should they turn this visit into an arrest.
Thus with every appearance of a typical schoolkid, he strides into the lobby and, with an assertiveness far more characteristic of Bombay than Omi, informs the receptionist that he needs to talk to Bruce Wayne.
And, at the awkward hesitation she shows getting such a bold request from this high school nobody, adds, "Tell him it's Omi Tsukiyono... He'll know who I am."
Dick was watching the whole thing go down while hacked into the security cameras. Hey, he was bored. Tsukiyono was persuasive, because the receptionist did send up to ask after the boss, but he was long gone for the day. Dick made his way down to take his place.
The receptionist is somewhat confused, but Dick's recognition of the stranger at least makes her think this is okay.
"Hey, while the big guy is out, I'm handling things," Dick said matter-of-factly.
Every time he interacts with Dick it goes very, very south. Even if this were something he could ask Dick, it would be a terrible idea to. Omi shifts and turns to face Dick more frontally.
"I need to speak to him personally. When will he be back?"
"Well, the length of an office day in the states is usually nine-to-five. If the local customs are different, he'll probably follow that instead, but we usually have dinner together."
"Local customs, in this case, would probably mean getting that dinner together at about 10 o'clock tonight... Is that a reasonable guess of the wait time?"
That would be quite a long time, if it was, and probably longer than he should spend here. He's prepared to wait a couple of hours, but the rest of the evening? He'd be better off to leave and come back another time.
pretend M'gann is somewhere in the building to do the psychic link
Dick thinks very carefully before he answers. He'd previously almost driven Tsukiyono right back into the vortex of shameful self-sacrifice Shuichi Takatori forced on him.
"...He's my foster father," he says, finally. It's a simple, direct statement. It's not something he puts into words very often. Their relationship is... complex. In some ways, they're equals; Bruce never underestimates his capacity for grief, for one thing, or his potential. Especially not since Cadmus.
But in other ways, they aren't. Bruce is his mentor, his teacher, and his commander-- but he's also his parent. Dick rarely vocalizes that particular truth. Most of the team probably isn't aware that Bruce also asks him about his homework and whether he's outgrown his clothes. Most of the team probably doesn't know that the faked mission with Parasite and Haly's Circus got him grounded for a month.
"If I tell him it's important, he'll drop everything and come right back to wherever I am."
That, he thinks, is the difference between Bruce Wayne and Shuichi Takatori. Bruce Wayne didn't just teach him a productive way to channel his frustrations; he let Dick join his family. He wasn't a perfect man, nor a perfect mentor, and especially not a perfect parent, but he tried. Dick knew he was jealous of Bruce's attention, and maybe that jealousy added some vitriol to their previous interactions.
Bruce didn't tell him everything (the Watchtower was still a sore point if he thought about it for too long), but he never... he wouldn't...
Dick knew he wasn't just a project to Bruce. He wasn't a tool. He assumed Batman had plans for him to be Batman when he grew up and he had no idea how to explain that wasn't what he wanted for himself, not anymore, not exactly... they'd still be a family. Maybe Bruce would be disappointed in him and that was a crushing prospect he wasn't at all ready to confront, but there were worst fates than disappointing your parents.
Like losing them forever.
He slipped his cell phone out of his pocket, selected 'Bruce' from the list of recent calls, and... he stopped.
"Just, let me know if it is important, if that's what needs to be done."
Robin has offered seeming olive branches in the past. Omi's not falling for it again. Besides, important in a sense of ripping a working man away from his day... this was important to Omi-- otherwise he wouldn't be risking recapture by coming back and even bothering the receptionist-- but he doesn't delude himself the same will hold true of Mr. Wayne.
Dick turns opposite to Omi's sight line and winds up in front of him, phone still in hand.
He takes a deep breath, and it should be easy, shouldn't it, to drop the metaphorical mask in front of someone who's gotten half his brain shoved down his throat, but no one likes being vulnerable. With more vulnerabilities than most of his superpowered friends, maybe Dick is a little more wary of it.
"Look, I just lost a bet with Bruce because of you." His voice lowered. "I'm gonna be washing the Batmobile, by hand, every day for a month. I thought you'd take the grappling pistol and run, but you didn't."
He isn't restraining Omi, but he is between him and the door. He runs a hand through his hair, averting his gaze, letting his shoulders slump with a sense of...
Is this what stage fright feels like? For once, he can't perform.
This isn't a job for the Boy Wonder. This is something only Dick Grayson can do.
"Bruce sees something in you. Something that reminds him of himself, that he has a hard time talking about, but I recognize it, too, and that's... that's hard for me to swallow."
A more shallow breath.
"Bruce is my family, and-and... I wouldn't have any other family without him. But he's not-- you know, he isn't my dad. He'll never be my dad, so he'll never be-- he's not supposed to--" And oh, God, he has to say it, doesn't he?
"He'll never have to love me. I'm not his son, not really, but I-- I mean, there's the paperwork and-and... and all the other stuff."
Omi has his memories, and Dick is fighting his embarrassment as hard he can. He'd rather go three rounds with the Joker, fresh out of Arkham Asylum, and drown himself in Joker venom.
"So, you know, sometimes... sometimes I feel threatened. And I get... angry, and insecure, and a little bitter, and..."
He sighed.
"I got really, really jealous of you. Of how much he respects you. And I'm sorry for letting that cloud my judgment and jeopardize your well-being."
Omi-- Bombay-- isn't really in the mood to be blocked or messed with. Maybe Robin can see that here, and is adjusting accordingly.
It's dangerous to believe him, because believing him is how it starts. He makes it sound like he cares until Omi lets his guard down. Then it's the ping pong smash, even if all he offered was a soft lob.
And it's not because Robin is a bad person. He's the exact opposite. The problem is what it's always been: himself. The reality is, Robin demonstrates the beauty of being a kid in that you're free to be honest a lot sooner than most people are. It hurts that the figures he most admires so unfailingly don't want anything to do with him, and sometimes their treatment even makes him angry or defensive because he tries so hard to be someone worth treating better... but he understands, deep down, that this is just what he deserves. Persia is the only one who ever really saw value in him.
"If I tell him it's important, he'll drop everything and come right back to wherever I am."
What it must be like to have someone like that.
Which is why this time Robin's approach is so depressing. He'd love to believe it was true, that somebody who was Somebody saw something worthwhile in him, but... That wasn't reality. It was just a beautiful lie. There was nothing to see and nothing to respect. Certainly nothing to be jealous over.
It's dangerous to believe him. Despite himself, Omi does anyway. At least, he believes that maybe Dick isn't acting here, however ill-founded those feelings are. He saw what kind of history went into that bond, and he understands that fear of losing it all-- all over again-- too, too well.
That's pretty uncomfortable, because it means Omi has to address that massive confession with the respect it deserves. At least he doesn't have to drop his guard to do that.
"...You don't need to be any of those things towards me. I've never been a threat to you, or to anything that you cherish."
Aya, Ken, and Youji, on the other hand... Well, they were never really a threat-- Omi adamantly believes they'd never have actually gone through with bringing harm to Dick if their rescue mission had gone further awry-- but the association is uncomfortable on the heels of that statement. Thinking about that stunt makes him furious all over again; it never should have happened. Wouldn't have happened had it been under his watch.
So as long as he's got Dick here instead of his adoptive parent, it's as good an opportunity as he's likely to get to tell him.
"Before I go, there is one thing I'd like to say to you... I'm sorry for the what the others did trying to retrieve me. It was wrong for them to abduct you, even with no intention of bringing harm. Making an innocent life feel threatened, and making a loving parent fear for their child's safety, is unpardonable. No exceptions."
"Hey, better me than someone who can't handle it. I've been kidnapped by the Joker. Your guys were downright pleasant."
He brushes it off because he just finished kicking himself, and he's not eager to start it up again.
"I'm angrier at myself for being an easy mark."
Also, hey, downplay is as close as he can get to forgiveness right now. He doesn't exactly forgive it, especially not to Omi, who wasn't to blame in the first place, but he also... he gets it. He does get it.
"And to show you there are no hard feelings, I've made the executive decision to call Bruce anyway."
He dials, and Bruce picks up before the second ring. He can hear the tail end of his apologetic Japanese excuse, before he switches to English and says "Hello?
"It's just me," Dick answers, like Bruce doesn't have Caller ID. "Listen, I've got a friend over, and he wanted me to introduce you, so I was wondering if you'd be back within the next hour."
"Certainly," says Bruce. There's no friend that wants to be introduced, not exactly, but Bruce knows when he's acting, no matter how hard Dick tries. They can extrapolate from each other's lies so well at this point that they almost don't bother to speak freely. When he was younger, Dick loved the secrecy. "I've just got to finish the tour of this office building, and I'll be right on my way. Did I tell you about my visit to the mobile flower shop?"
"Yeah, you did," Dick replied, taking the question as an acknowledgment that Bruce figured out the visitor's identity, and acknowledging his correctness in kind. "See you soon."
He slipped the phone back in his pocket, and moved away from the front door, back towards the elevator that would take him back to his suite.
"You can leave, or wait, down here, or upstairs in private with me," said Dick, keeping both hands visible at his sides as he retreated. "He'll be here sometime within the hour."
No credit to the skill of the guys who are professionals at sneaking up on others, it seems. Omi decides he'd rather not bring it up. Maybe it was even left out for the sake of mutual benefit.
That said-- how was doing the exact opposite of what he said a sign of no hard feelings?! Batman and Robin were supposed to be lawful heroes. No one ever mentions they're also trolls cut from the same cloth.
There is another possibility, of course: the possibility that this is a trap, the flower shop visit the bait, and the wait time a stall while they finalize everything they need to spring it. It was one thing to drop in on Bruce Wayne unannounced, another altogether to let them know he's waiting for them, and give them all time to prepare.
What'll it be, Omi? Leave or Stay? Your audience is coming, and will probably know it's you, because friend is classic indirect speech. Intrinsic as the communication tactic is to his own language, it's impossible to miss even in English. Robin is using a polite, discreet word to communicate a presence whose true nature he doesn't want to share aloud for one reason or another. Maybe it's to keep it from the secretary; maybe it's to keep it from him.
Omi hasn't forgotten what happened last time he stayed, and it's almost enough to send him right back out. There's just one problem with that. He's here because Bruce Wayne visited his home in person. He knows where to find them. That made the choice more like "have this confrontation on your terms or on his." He'll take his own.
Without looking especially pleased, Omi silently moves to a waiting area in the lobby and takes a seat. That's to say he isn't blindly following Robin into who-knows-where, and that he isn't intending to thank Robin for defying his wishes.
Besides, it will be harder for them to pull anything at all in a public space like this.
About a block away, in time to reach Omi a good ten minutes before he was expected, Bruce accessed the building security cameras with a wristwatch computer. Dick was more in tune with tech like that, young people always were, but sometimes, it was useful to have that access.
He called Dick when he saw Omi was alone in the lobby. Just to check.
"If you're saying you think I haven't messed up enough for one mission..." He trailed off, and Bruce smiled slightly.
"So long as it's your decision," he answered, dismissing the video feed, and hung up without anything more.
He entered the building without fanfare. He waved to the secretary, and approached Tsukiyono, but he left a fair distance between them.
He wasn't optimistic, because optimism did horrible things to expectations, but he wasn't pessimistic, either. Pessimism's effects were similar, and he had an easier time coping with the damage, but this was a development. Not a positive one, not a negative one... simply, a development.
He isn't surprised to see him, and he isn't Batman, either; it's just plain-faced, smartly-dressed Bruce Wayne. He doesn't take a seat, and doesn't bother smiling, but he does greet Omi pleasantly.
"Sorry if the wait was too long," he said. "I hope you're having a good afternoon."
Omi doesn't content himself to any technological distractions while he waits. It's better to stay alert of his surroundings here, and there's plenty to stew over in the meantime besides. Thus when Bruce Wayne enters the building, Omi is immediately aware of the fact and stands to greet him.
It's professional pleasantries right now. Omi can't read anything across that face. He decides that for now, he'll match that, and offers a bow that acknowledges their status difference.
"Not at all. That you would carve time out of your day on such short notice-- apologies for my ill-mannered visit. Please let me treat you to a coffee as a small gesture of apology-- there's a lovely cafe just south of here."
"Apologies for my ill-mannered ward," Bruce deadpanned, unable to help himself. He doesn't follow up with any of the twenty excuses that his mind immediately comes up with. Most of them are a variation on the theme of "He's spoiled," and while Bruce could credibly claim that Dick was like that when he found him, giving him so much independence at such a young age reaped for them both nearly as much detriment as benefit.
He'd yet to regret it, however. Dick was the kind of person whose talents had to be utilized to their fullest potential, lest he waste away from spiteful boredom and lack of direction. His work ethic alone demanded constant stimulation, and Bruce quickly realized that the only two environments capable of providing on that level were an international traveling circus and a late night in Gotham.
"I'm happy to follow you," he said, quickly shooting off a text to Dick that he was leaving.
Omi was similarly talented, and it pained him to see all of it polished to a lethal point. Blood corrodes, but sometimes, the quality of the base material can recover its fullest splendor.
"No, that's not true at all," Omi immediately replies. "He was-- he was very respectful."
Omi doesn't elaborate; what Dick said to him was between them. With the agreement secured, Omi nods to him and walks for the door.
He has little to say while they're walking-- this isn't exactly a social visit, after all. He's spending the walk preparing himself mentally, thinking over what questions he intends to ask, and how he's going to press when he meets the inevitable deflection or counter. His company seems similarly content to mull in silence, something Omi is glad for.
The smell of coffee beans wafts out past the entrance and the burnt red canopy dressing it. A small wooden sign between the door and an outdoor table advertises the day's specials. Inside is a small seating area with a few tables for two, and beyond that the bar with its menu across the top of the wall and a few snacks inside a glass display: fruit, bagels, biscuits and other baked goods.
"We're together," he says to the barista, and pulls out his wallet. "Iced coffee with almond."
There's a half-beat's surprise that the barista quickly smooths over. "Of course. And you, sir?"
"French roast, black," he says. Every instinct he has wants to pay himself, being an adult as well as wealthy, but that's going to be needlessly fractious right now.
Once they're settled at an outdoor table -- sound will dissipate more easily outdoors -- Bruce gets down to business.
"I'm guessing you have questions," he said. "I'll answer them as straightly as I can."
It was odd to think sometimes, yet he remembered being young. Maybe it was because he was eight when he lived through that moment he'd never stopped living through. The fact was, it served him well. Dick, Kaldur, and the rest appreciated feeling like they were being taken seriously, and while he couldn't always manage it, he did try to meet them halfway.
"I don't have many secrets Dick doesn't," he admitted.
Omi pays the barista without a trace of uncertainty or offense, and once they have their drinks, they settle into the chairs in the outdoor seating area.
It's unsurprising that Mr. Wayne correctly assessed the reason for the visit, though how straightly he'll really be answering them is a point Omi is admittedly suspicious of. He opens his mouth to start to speak, then at the last second decides against it. There has to be a better way to start off than that.
He takes a sip of the iced coffee through a straw. It's entirely a stall.
"...I do have questions," he says quietly. Evenly.
The evenness doesn't hold. His voice drops with his gaze, and it's edged with unease. He realizes that if there is a better way to start off, it's not a way he can afford. He can't dress this up and make that four-alarm fire of a shop visit less frightening, anxiety-inducing, and infuriating than it was.
"I want to know what you're playing at with me. Visiting our shop... knowing I'm going to recognize you, to order flowers for that funeral. Is your goal to signal that you know where to find us? Is it supposed to be some kind of joke to order that from us? You can't pretend that wasn't designed to get a reaction."
Needing his drink to cool first, Bruce doesn't have a built-in stall, but he also doesn't need one.
"It was to get a reaction out of you," he said quietly. "But I didn't have a set reaction in mind. I wasn't aiming to set off a particular one from you. I wanted to see your natural reaction to the aftermath of your work."
Something in Omi's stomach twists. He's pretty sure it's anger, but who it's for is anyone's guess. Maybe everyone. Angry at the man in front of him for manipulating his feelings, apparently just for curiosity's sake no less. Angry at him for presenting the situation as more tragic than was warranted. Angry at himself for falling for it. Angry at the target all over again for everything he did to warrant that death sentence.
Maybe Mr. Wayne got a false impression of remorse from that day. If he did, Omi isn't going to correct him, no matter how much he wants to make the point clear: he'd kill the bastard again. In a heartbeat.
So instead, he focuses back on his real purpose of getting answers. That means asking questions. And under all of this anger and panic and worry about what's going to become of Kritiker, of his friends, of the city if their work is stamped out, there's another question burning a hole through that knotted stomach.
"Why?" Omi presses, just as quietly. "What does it matter to you?"
"Because I've seen the road you're on," he says. "I spent a long time staring down it."
Talented people... use their talents. And it is such an easy trap to fall into, the lack of success the authorities have means the authorities are useless. Someone else needs to take the place of the authorities... eventually, it isn't difficult at all to find yourself at "Someone needs to do what the authorities won't."
"But well aside from whether or not this or what criminal deserves it, you don't deserve to be the one..."
How to describe it without turning Omi against him?
"You don't deserve to be the one who has to sacrifice his soul."
That's the polite way to say it. What he means is that Mr. Wayne's words don't make any sense in any context-- foremost of all in the one that framed this as about him. It wasn't. At least, it shouldn't be. It wasn't even about the criminal. It was about the community. The city needed people who would protect it, who had the power to help in ways that the police couldn't. Through those sacrifices, they prevented additional deaths among the innocent people around them. Protecting those people was more important than any cost to themselves.
Having established that someone had to do it, then, how could someone who still had a life and family and dreams of their own be a more fitting choice? Of course it made sense he should be the one to make that kind of sacrifice. He's the one who died in every meaningful sense of the word years ago.
For just a moment, memories of that dark night in the sewers flash before his eyes. The chill in the air, the suffocating stench, the claustrophobic feeling as the kidnapper closed in with murderous intent...
From his own perspective, of course he doesn't. Bruce felt a deep swell of anger, yet again, for the entire Takatori clan.
Not for the first time, he's glad he decided to take on Dick Grayson. He still makes a mess of things with him, Bruce was never the sort of person who should be a parent, but he is... capable of learning. He is capable of remembering things that happened before, like the times he's tried to force Dick into making the conclusion he wants him to make.
And he also remembers what's happened the times he's left him to be, when he really needed guidance, even if it was guidance that Black Canary provided more skillfully and delicately than he ever could.
"Well, I won't ask you to understand my perspective," he began, mostly to give himself a moment to figure out his phrasing.
"Though, I will offer some elaboration. I think your intentions are good, and your reasoning makes more sense than I wish it did, for what you do. But the slope you're on is a slippery one. My own parents were killed," and while that is common knowledge, his grip around his coffee cup tightens.
"I was eight, and I saw it happen. I've never been able to solve the mystery of who did it, and that's the cross I bear, will probably always bear. If I had him in front of me, I'd certainly want to kill him. But I'm..."
This is a hard thing to admit.
"I'm afraid that, if I did kill him, or anyone else, I would be... used to it. Things get easier over time, even the ones we hate about ourselves. My fear is that, if I could justify killing someone, I could justify doing nearly anything else to them. After all, nothing is as bad as killing them.
"From that perspective, I can almost admire those friends of yours, who risked a lot to get you back. The ire of the Justice League is no small thing, and most of the members have known Robin since he was nine. Yet they looked at that, and decided that you were more important. That's a special kind of courage, and I plan to honor it by not pursuing them for that specific crime, since I see no risk for them doing it again."
Omi recognizes how painful it must be, and what a gesture it is, for Bruce Wayne to speak so personally to him about his own traumatic losses. That knot of anger in his stomach triples in size anyway, and drowns it out.
He has the uncomfortable sense that as he tells his story, Bruce Wayne might just be sympathizing with the target, imagining the child he might be orphaning in that action rather than the families of ten innocents he might be sparing the same grief. Like that visit to the shop just to introduce the people left behind.
His memories flash again, to Kuro. To Hirofumi. Those occasions where he'd had to play both sides: the executioner and the one left behind.
"It's brainwashing. Textbook, actually."
He remembers nights spent crying in his bed, aching for those severed connections. For just a second, he can see a little girl with the surname of Kanazawa in his place.
Mr. Wayne must think he's being noble, or earning himself more trust, by saying he won't pursue his friends for that specific crime. But the implication is that he does still plan to pursue them for other crimes. Plans this knowing full well that they had good intentions and were even, by his own admission, taking an action that made far more sense than he wished it did. Plans this, perhaps, even after seeing how capturing any of them could be an effective death sentence. Yet he still sits there speaking as though he never wants to be responsible for a human death?
Batman hadn't known Omi existed when he and his collection of teenaged superhero affiliates flew out here. What was their purpose then? Deep down, didn't that original purpose still exist? Of course it did. And that purpose was to destroy Kritiker completely. He could claim concern for Omi's soul, but this wasn't about him at all, except insofar as he was a strategy. Use him and his willingness to associate with them to stop Weiss from the inside out.
"--people who'd brainwash you to think every criminal needs to die, it's hard to believe they wouldn't convince you your life is just as worthless."
But it was. Even his own parents-- and that was before Persia ever found him! It had nothing to do with Kritiker.
Omi really wished Robin's voice would get out of his head right about then. Weiss. Batman. Batman was trying to use him to destroy Weiss. He couldn't let that happen.
There's a small slip in his composure when he answers.
"I have no comment on what things I have or haven't done. Nor on anything my friends have or haven't done. But if you really care so much about preventing deaths, then why don't you attack the problem instead of the solution?"
"You've got Dick's memories," he says, after a long moment. "You know how seriously I take the mission... and that I'm not at all opposed to multitasking."
With that, it was clear that Omi had enough on his mind to absorb him for a long time.
He hated to leave things this way, but pushing too hard risked too much. He did leave a Japanese-language business card on the table as he stood up to leave.
"I appreciate your hospitality, and I'll be in the country a while longer."
Dick needed the immersion, anyway, and there were dozens of things he could pursue, both in his work and his work. He'd tasked Katana with investigating a potential lead on the whereabouts of the original Roy Harper; if she found anything, he could pass that on to the team to keep them busy and on hand.
He couldn't stay forever, but he could try to see this through. He would try.
Omi has to actively resist the desire to start yelling at him. Because he's leaving already? Because he doesn't understand anything? Because Omi's frustration simply has nowhere else to go? Every passing moment spent with Bruce Wayne makes him that much angrier, and he can't even pinpoint why. (Perhaps, Omi, this is why he's leaving.)
He keeps his mouth shut, sucking in a quiet breath and clenching his fists to contain himself. Fine, fine! It wasn't like there was ever anything Omi could do to go up against the Batman himself. What is he supposed to do for Weiss? For his friends?
He has no idea what to make of the business card either, or what the hell kind of way that was to offer one, like it was a piece of garbage for the barista to collect next time she came by to wipe the table. Of course, Bruce Wayne's phone number was Bruce Wayne's phone number. That could not be an easy commodity to come by. But Omi doesn't even have a card case with him! Where is he going to put such a valuable thing?
He drinks down the rest of the iced coffee so fast he gives himself a headache. He stands, tosses the cup of ice expertly into a trash bin four feet away, and looks again at the business card on the table. Somehow, in the time between Mr. Wayne's exit and finishing the coffee, all of his anger has drained off, leaving mostly a hollow sense of despair in its wake.
But there's something else, too. Omi carefully picks up the card with both hands and takes a few seconds to read it. And he becomes aware of a painful sensation in his chest that he doesn't understand. Like something is missing. Like a scared and childish part of himself wants to go running after Bruce Wayne and beg him not to leave him alone.
It's got to be bleed from Robin's memories.
Omi grits his teeth and runs away to the nearest supplies store for a card case.
Two minutes later, a man seated at the table behind Omi stands and disposes of his Americano, then looks off in the direction Bruce Wayne had gone. Without fanfare, he walks away in the opposite direction.
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no subject
The memories are still fresh in his mind, and no small part of him wonders if this isn't just a huge mistake of overconfidence, waltzing back here as though with full expectation of keeping his freedom. He's prepared for it, though, and has a much stronger mouth dart this time as a failsafe.
In a rare exception to his standard practice, he doesn't carry his waist darts. This time, it would be more of a liability. He can't use them against the Justice League, and having them on his person will only create evidence for them should they turn this visit into an arrest.
Thus with every appearance of a typical schoolkid, he strides into the lobby and, with an assertiveness far more characteristic of Bombay than Omi, informs the receptionist that he needs to talk to Bruce Wayne.
And, at the awkward hesitation she shows getting such a bold request from this high school nobody, adds, "Tell him it's Omi Tsukiyono... He'll know who I am."
no subject
Dick was watching the whole thing go down while hacked into the security cameras. Hey, he was bored. Tsukiyono was persuasive, because the receptionist did send up to ask after the boss, but he was long gone for the day. Dick made his way down to take his place.
The receptionist is somewhat confused, but Dick's recognition of the stranger at least makes her think this is okay.
"Hey, while the big guy is out, I'm handling things," Dick said matter-of-factly.
no subject
Every time he interacts with Dick it goes very, very south. Even if this were something he could ask Dick, it would be a terrible idea to. Omi shifts and turns to face Dick more frontally.
"I need to speak to him personally. When will he be back?"
no subject
Color Dick intrigued, though.
no subject
That would be quite a long time, if it was, and probably longer than he should spend here. He's prepared to wait a couple of hours, but the rest of the evening? He'd be better off to leave and come back another time.
pretend M'gann is somewhere in the building to do the psychic link
"...He's my foster father," he says, finally. It's a simple, direct statement. It's not something he puts into words very often. Their relationship is... complex. In some ways, they're equals; Bruce never underestimates his capacity for grief, for one thing, or his potential. Especially not since Cadmus.
But in other ways, they aren't. Bruce is his mentor, his teacher, and his commander-- but he's also his parent. Dick rarely vocalizes that particular truth. Most of the team probably isn't aware that Bruce also asks him about his homework and whether he's outgrown his clothes. Most of the team probably doesn't know that the faked mission with Parasite and Haly's Circus got him grounded for a month.
"If I tell him it's important, he'll drop everything and come right back to wherever I am."
That, he thinks, is the difference between Bruce Wayne and Shuichi Takatori. Bruce Wayne didn't just teach him a productive way to channel his frustrations; he let Dick join his family. He wasn't a perfect man, nor a perfect mentor, and especially not a perfect parent, but he tried. Dick knew he was jealous of Bruce's attention, and maybe that jealousy added some vitriol to their previous interactions.
Bruce didn't tell him everything (the Watchtower was still a sore point if he thought about it for too long), but he never... he wouldn't...
Dick knew he wasn't just a project to Bruce. He wasn't a tool. He assumed Batman had plans for him to be Batman when he grew up and he had no idea how to explain that wasn't what he wanted for himself, not anymore, not exactly... they'd still be a family. Maybe Bruce would be disappointed in him and that was a crushing prospect he wasn't at all ready to confront, but there were worst fates than disappointing your parents.
Like losing them forever.
He slipped his cell phone out of his pocket, selected 'Bruce' from the list of recent calls, and... he stopped.
"Just, let me know if it is important, if that's what needs to be done."
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"No... You don't need to go that far."
He turns to leave.
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Dick turns opposite to Omi's sight line and winds up in front of him, phone still in hand.
He takes a deep breath, and it should be easy, shouldn't it, to drop the metaphorical mask in front of someone who's gotten half his brain shoved down his throat, but no one likes being vulnerable. With more vulnerabilities than most of his superpowered friends, maybe Dick is a little more wary of it.
"Look, I just lost a bet with Bruce because of you." His voice lowered. "I'm gonna be washing the Batmobile, by hand, every day for a month. I thought you'd take the grappling pistol and run, but you didn't."
He isn't restraining Omi, but he is between him and the door. He runs a hand through his hair, averting his gaze, letting his shoulders slump with a sense of...
Is this what stage fright feels like? For once, he can't perform.
This isn't a job for the Boy Wonder. This is something only Dick Grayson can do.
"Bruce sees something in you. Something that reminds him of himself, that he has a hard time talking about, but I recognize it, too, and that's... that's hard for me to swallow."
A more shallow breath.
"Bruce is my family, and-and... I wouldn't have any other family without him. But he's not-- you know, he isn't my dad. He'll never be my dad, so he'll never be-- he's not supposed to--" And oh, God, he has to say it, doesn't he?
"He'll never have to love me. I'm not his son, not really, but I-- I mean, there's the paperwork and-and... and all the other stuff."
Omi has his memories, and Dick is fighting his embarrassment as hard he can. He'd rather go three rounds with the Joker, fresh out of Arkham Asylum, and drown himself in Joker venom.
"So, you know, sometimes... sometimes I feel threatened. And I get... angry, and insecure, and a little bitter, and..."
He sighed.
"I got really, really jealous of you. Of how much he respects you. And I'm sorry for letting that cloud my judgment and jeopardize your well-being."
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It's dangerous to believe him, because believing him is how it starts. He makes it sound like he cares until Omi lets his guard down. Then it's the ping pong smash, even if all he offered was a soft lob.
And it's not because Robin is a bad person. He's the exact opposite. The problem is what it's always been: himself. The reality is, Robin demonstrates the beauty of being a kid in that you're free to be honest a lot sooner than most people are. It hurts that the figures he most admires so unfailingly don't want anything to do with him, and sometimes their treatment even makes him angry or defensive because he tries so hard to be someone worth treating better... but he understands, deep down, that this is just what he deserves. Persia is the only one who ever really saw value in him.
"If I tell him it's important, he'll drop everything and come right back to wherever I am."
What it must be like to have someone like that.
Which is why this time Robin's approach is so depressing. He'd love to believe it was true, that somebody who was Somebody saw something worthwhile in him, but... That wasn't reality. It was just a beautiful lie. There was nothing to see and nothing to respect. Certainly nothing to be jealous over.
It's dangerous to believe him. Despite himself, Omi does anyway. At least, he believes that maybe Dick isn't acting here, however ill-founded those feelings are. He saw what kind of history went into that bond, and he understands that fear of losing it all-- all over again-- too, too well.
That's pretty uncomfortable, because it means Omi has to address that massive confession with the respect it deserves. At least he doesn't have to drop his guard to do that.
"...You don't need to be any of those things towards me. I've never been a threat to you, or to anything that you cherish."
Aya, Ken, and Youji, on the other hand... Well, they were never really a threat-- Omi adamantly believes they'd never have actually gone through with bringing harm to Dick if their rescue mission had gone further awry-- but the association is uncomfortable on the heels of that statement. Thinking about that stunt makes him furious all over again; it never should have happened. Wouldn't have happened had it been under his watch.
So as long as he's got Dick here instead of his adoptive parent, it's as good an opportunity as he's likely to get to tell him.
"Before I go, there is one thing I'd like to say to you... I'm sorry for the what the others did trying to retrieve me. It was wrong for them to abduct you, even with no intention of bringing harm. Making an innocent life feel threatened, and making a loving parent fear for their child's safety, is unpardonable. No exceptions."
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He brushes it off because he just finished kicking himself, and he's not eager to start it up again.
"I'm angrier at myself for being an easy mark."
Also, hey, downplay is as close as he can get to forgiveness right now. He doesn't exactly forgive it, especially not to Omi, who wasn't to blame in the first place, but he also... he gets it. He does get it.
"And to show you there are no hard feelings, I've made the executive decision to call Bruce anyway."
He dials, and Bruce picks up before the second ring. He can hear the tail end of his apologetic Japanese excuse, before he switches to English and says "Hello?
"It's just me," Dick answers, like Bruce doesn't have Caller ID. "Listen, I've got a friend over, and he wanted me to introduce you, so I was wondering if you'd be back within the next hour."
"Certainly," says Bruce. There's no friend that wants to be introduced, not exactly, but Bruce knows when he's acting, no matter how hard Dick tries. They can extrapolate from each other's lies so well at this point that they almost don't bother to speak freely. When he was younger, Dick loved the secrecy. "I've just got to finish the tour of this office building, and I'll be right on my way. Did I tell you about my visit to the mobile flower shop?"
"Yeah, you did," Dick replied, taking the question as an acknowledgment that Bruce figured out the visitor's identity, and acknowledging his correctness in kind. "See you soon."
He slipped the phone back in his pocket, and moved away from the front door, back towards the elevator that would take him back to his suite.
"You can leave, or wait, down here, or upstairs in private with me," said Dick, keeping both hands visible at his sides as he retreated. "He'll be here sometime within the hour."
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That said-- how was doing the exact opposite of what he said a sign of no hard feelings?! Batman and Robin were supposed to be lawful heroes. No one ever mentions they're also trolls cut from the same cloth.
There is another possibility, of course: the possibility that this is a trap, the flower shop visit the bait, and the wait time a stall while they finalize everything they need to spring it. It was one thing to drop in on Bruce Wayne unannounced, another altogether to let them know he's waiting for them, and give them all time to prepare.
What'll it be, Omi? Leave or Stay? Your audience is coming, and will probably know it's you, because friend is classic indirect speech. Intrinsic as the communication tactic is to his own language, it's impossible to miss even in English. Robin is using a polite, discreet word to communicate a presence whose true nature he doesn't want to share aloud for one reason or another. Maybe it's to keep it from the secretary; maybe it's to keep it from him.
Omi hasn't forgotten what happened last time he stayed, and it's almost enough to send him right back out. There's just one problem with that. He's here because Bruce Wayne visited his home in person. He knows where to find them. That made the choice more like "have this confrontation on your terms or on his." He'll take his own.
Without looking especially pleased, Omi silently moves to a waiting area in the lobby and takes a seat. That's to say he isn't blindly following Robin into who-knows-where, and that he isn't intending to thank Robin for defying his wishes.
Besides, it will be harder for them to pull anything at all in a public space like this.
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He called Dick when he saw Omi was alone in the lobby. Just to check.
"If you're saying you think I haven't messed up enough for one mission..." He trailed off, and Bruce smiled slightly.
"So long as it's your decision," he answered, dismissing the video feed, and hung up without anything more.
He entered the building without fanfare. He waved to the secretary, and approached Tsukiyono, but he left a fair distance between them.
He wasn't optimistic, because optimism did horrible things to expectations, but he wasn't pessimistic, either. Pessimism's effects were similar, and he had an easier time coping with the damage, but this was a development. Not a positive one, not a negative one... simply, a development.
He isn't surprised to see him, and he isn't Batman, either; it's just plain-faced, smartly-dressed Bruce Wayne. He doesn't take a seat, and doesn't bother smiling, but he does greet Omi pleasantly.
"Sorry if the wait was too long," he said. "I hope you're having a good afternoon."
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It's professional pleasantries right now. Omi can't read anything across that face. He decides that for now, he'll match that, and offers a bow that acknowledges their status difference.
"Not at all. That you would carve time out of your day on such short notice-- apologies for my ill-mannered visit. Please let me treat you to a coffee as a small gesture of apology-- there's a lovely cafe just south of here."
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He'd yet to regret it, however. Dick was the kind of person whose talents had to be utilized to their fullest potential, lest he waste away from spiteful boredom and lack of direction. His work ethic alone demanded constant stimulation, and Bruce quickly realized that the only two environments capable of providing on that level were an international traveling circus and a late night in Gotham.
"I'm happy to follow you," he said, quickly shooting off a text to Dick that he was leaving.
Omi was similarly talented, and it pained him to see all of it polished to a lethal point. Blood corrodes, but sometimes, the quality of the base material can recover its fullest splendor.
Omi was worth further investigation.
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Omi doesn't elaborate; what Dick said to him was between them. With the agreement secured, Omi nods to him and walks for the door.
He has little to say while they're walking-- this isn't exactly a social visit, after all. He's spending the walk preparing himself mentally, thinking over what questions he intends to ask, and how he's going to press when he meets the inevitable deflection or counter. His company seems similarly content to mull in silence, something Omi is glad for.
The smell of coffee beans wafts out past the entrance and the burnt red canopy dressing it. A small wooden sign between the door and an outdoor table advertises the day's specials. Inside is a small seating area with a few tables for two, and beyond that the bar with its menu across the top of the wall and a few snacks inside a glass display: fruit, bagels, biscuits and other baked goods.
"We're together," he says to the barista, and pulls out his wallet. "Iced coffee with almond."
There's a half-beat's surprise that the barista quickly smooths over. "Of course. And you, sir?"
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Once they're settled at an outdoor table -- sound will dissipate more easily outdoors -- Bruce gets down to business.
"I'm guessing you have questions," he said. "I'll answer them as straightly as I can."
It was odd to think sometimes, yet he remembered being young. Maybe it was because he was eight when he lived through that moment he'd never stopped living through. The fact was, it served him well. Dick, Kaldur, and the rest appreciated feeling like they were being taken seriously, and while he couldn't always manage it, he did try to meet them halfway.
"I don't have many secrets Dick doesn't," he admitted.
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It's unsurprising that Mr. Wayne correctly assessed the reason for the visit, though how straightly he'll really be answering them is a point Omi is admittedly suspicious of. He opens his mouth to start to speak, then at the last second decides against it. There has to be a better way to start off than that.
He takes a sip of the iced coffee through a straw. It's entirely a stall.
"...I do have questions," he says quietly. Evenly.
The evenness doesn't hold. His voice drops with his gaze, and it's edged with unease. He realizes that if there is a better way to start off, it's not a way he can afford. He can't dress this up and make that four-alarm fire of a shop visit less frightening, anxiety-inducing, and infuriating than it was.
"I want to know what you're playing at with me. Visiting our shop... knowing I'm going to recognize you, to order flowers for that funeral. Is your goal to signal that you know where to find us? Is it supposed to be some kind of joke to order that from us? You can't pretend that wasn't designed to get a reaction."
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"It was to get a reaction out of you," he said quietly. "But I didn't have a set reaction in mind. I wasn't aiming to set off a particular one from you. I wanted to see your natural reaction to the aftermath of your work."
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Maybe Mr. Wayne got a false impression of remorse from that day. If he did, Omi isn't going to correct him, no matter how much he wants to make the point clear: he'd kill the bastard again. In a heartbeat.
So instead, he focuses back on his real purpose of getting answers. That means asking questions. And under all of this anger and panic and worry about what's going to become of Kritiker, of his friends, of the city if their work is stamped out, there's another question burning a hole through that knotted stomach.
"Why?" Omi presses, just as quietly. "What does it matter to you?"
What does he matter to you?
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"Because I've seen the road you're on," he says. "I spent a long time staring down it."
Talented people... use their talents. And it is such an easy trap to fall into, the lack of success the authorities have means the authorities are useless. Someone else needs to take the place of the authorities... eventually, it isn't difficult at all to find yourself at "Someone needs to do what the authorities won't."
"But well aside from whether or not this or what criminal deserves it, you don't deserve to be the one..."
How to describe it without turning Omi against him?
"You don't deserve to be the one who has to sacrifice his soul."
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That's the polite way to say it. What he means is that Mr. Wayne's words don't make any sense in any context-- foremost of all in the one that framed this as about him. It wasn't. At least, it shouldn't be. It wasn't even about the criminal. It was about the community. The city needed people who would protect it, who had the power to help in ways that the police couldn't. Through those sacrifices, they prevented additional deaths among the innocent people around them. Protecting those people was more important than any cost to themselves.
Having established that someone had to do it, then, how could someone who still had a life and family and dreams of their own be a more fitting choice? Of course it made sense he should be the one to make that kind of sacrifice. He's the one who died in every meaningful sense of the word years ago.
For just a moment, memories of that dark night in the sewers flash before his eyes. The chill in the air, the suffocating stench, the claustrophobic feeling as the kidnapper closed in with murderous intent...
He sucks in a long sip of iced coffee.
i need to use these icons while i have 'em
Not for the first time, he's glad he decided to take on Dick Grayson. He still makes a mess of things with him, Bruce was never the sort of person who should be a parent, but he is... capable of learning. He is capable of remembering things that happened before, like the times he's tried to force Dick into making the conclusion he wants him to make.
And he also remembers what's happened the times he's left him to be, when he really needed guidance, even if it was guidance that Black Canary provided more skillfully and delicately than he ever could.
"Well, I won't ask you to understand my perspective," he began, mostly to give himself a moment to figure out his phrasing.
"Though, I will offer some elaboration. I think your intentions are good, and your reasoning makes more sense than I wish it did, for what you do. But the slope you're on is a slippery one. My own parents were killed," and while that is common knowledge, his grip around his coffee cup tightens.
"I was eight, and I saw it happen. I've never been able to solve the mystery of who did it, and that's the cross I bear, will probably always bear. If I had him in front of me, I'd certainly want to kill him. But I'm..."
This is a hard thing to admit.
"I'm afraid that, if I did kill him, or anyone else, I would be... used to it. Things get easier over time, even the ones we hate about ourselves. My fear is that, if I could justify killing someone, I could justify doing nearly anything else to them. After all, nothing is as bad as killing them.
"From that perspective, I can almost admire those friends of yours, who risked a lot to get you back. The ire of the Justice League is no small thing, and most of the members have known Robin since he was nine. Yet they looked at that, and decided that you were more important. That's a special kind of courage, and I plan to honor it by not pursuing them for that specific crime, since I see no risk for them doing it again."
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He has the uncomfortable sense that as he tells his story, Bruce Wayne might just be sympathizing with the target, imagining the child he might be orphaning in that action rather than the families of ten innocents he might be sparing the same grief. Like that visit to the shop just to introduce the people left behind.
His memories flash again, to Kuro. To Hirofumi. Those occasions where he'd had to play both sides: the executioner and the one left behind.
"It's brainwashing. Textbook, actually."
He remembers nights spent crying in his bed, aching for those severed connections. For just a second, he can see a little girl with the surname of Kanazawa in his place.
Mr. Wayne must think he's being noble, or earning himself more trust, by saying he won't pursue his friends for that specific crime. But the implication is that he does still plan to pursue them for other crimes. Plans this knowing full well that they had good intentions and were even, by his own admission, taking an action that made far more sense than he wished it did. Plans this, perhaps, even after seeing how capturing any of them could be an effective death sentence. Yet he still sits there speaking as though he never wants to be responsible for a human death?
Batman hadn't known Omi existed when he and his collection of teenaged superhero affiliates flew out here. What was their purpose then? Deep down, didn't that original purpose still exist? Of course it did. And that purpose was to destroy Kritiker completely. He could claim concern for Omi's soul, but this wasn't about him at all, except insofar as he was a strategy. Use him and his willingness to associate with them to stop Weiss from the inside out.
"--people who'd brainwash you to think every criminal needs to die, it's hard to believe they wouldn't convince you your life is just as worthless."
But it was. Even his own parents-- and that was before Persia ever found him! It had nothing to do with Kritiker.
Omi really wished Robin's voice would get out of his head right about then. Weiss. Batman. Batman was trying to use him to destroy Weiss. He couldn't let that happen.
There's a small slip in his composure when he answers.
"I have no comment on what things I have or haven't done. Nor on anything my friends have or haven't done. But if you really care so much about preventing deaths, then why don't you attack the problem instead of the solution?"
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With that, it was clear that Omi had enough on his mind to absorb him for a long time.
He hated to leave things this way, but pushing too hard risked too much. He did leave a Japanese-language business card on the table as he stood up to leave.
"I appreciate your hospitality, and I'll be in the country a while longer."
Dick needed the immersion, anyway, and there were dozens of things he could pursue, both in his work and his work. He'd tasked Katana with investigating a potential lead on the whereabouts of the original Roy Harper; if she found anything, he could pass that on to the team to keep them busy and on hand.
He couldn't stay forever, but he could try to see this through. He would try.
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He keeps his mouth shut, sucking in a quiet breath and clenching his fists to contain himself. Fine, fine! It wasn't like there was ever anything Omi could do to go up against the Batman himself. What is he supposed to do for Weiss? For his friends?
He has no idea what to make of the business card either, or what the hell kind of way that was to offer one, like it was a piece of garbage for the barista to collect next time she came by to wipe the table. Of course, Bruce Wayne's phone number was Bruce Wayne's phone number. That could not be an easy commodity to come by. But Omi doesn't even have a card case with him! Where is he going to put such a valuable thing?
He drinks down the rest of the iced coffee so fast he gives himself a headache. He stands, tosses the cup of ice expertly into a trash bin four feet away, and looks again at the business card on the table. Somehow, in the time between Mr. Wayne's exit and finishing the coffee, all of his anger has drained off, leaving mostly a hollow sense of despair in its wake.
But there's something else, too. Omi carefully picks up the card with both hands and takes a few seconds to read it. And he becomes aware of a painful sensation in his chest that he doesn't understand. Like something is missing. Like a scared and childish part of himself wants to go running after Bruce Wayne and beg him not to leave him alone.
It's got to be bleed from Robin's memories.
Omi grits his teeth and runs away to the nearest supplies store for a card case.
Two minutes later, a man seated at the table behind Omi stands and disposes of his Americano, then looks off in the direction Bruce Wayne had gone. Without fanfare, he walks away in the opposite direction.